There has been an interesting development in the case of the crazy person who is sending us letters about Lacey the Wonder Dog. I think I have figured out who it is and where she lives. The person lives about five blocks from here. Five blocks. It is inconceivable that the mutt could be an actual nuisance to a person five blocks away, unless of course, the person is crazy. The letter sender is a 62 year-old woman, who appears to be a part time resident of Hooterville, since her property tax bill is sent to an address in NY City, Manhattan to be specific. I called the post office on the chance that they might tell me who owned the PO Box on the return address for the certified letter that we got. No dice on that. It seems that in America you are still free to send harassing mail with the aid of the Postal Service. I was surfing the internet, trying to figure out how to find the owner of the PO Box and I stumbled upon a service that said they could provide it for about $3.00. I gave them the info and in a few seconds, I had a list of people who had rented the box. The only person on the list in our neighborhood, is the suspect. This ties in with my hypothesis that the complainer was someone who walked a dog past the house, rather than an actual neighbor. I am compiling a list of possible retaliatory tactics. Should anything come to mind, leave me a comment. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

This is not the actual Eiffel Tower, although those are actual clouds. This is a shot of the half-size replica of the Eiffel Tower, at the Paris Hotel in Las Vegas. It will never substitue for the real Eiffel Tower, but it has better-looking cocktail waitresses. Perhaps you heard that the Phillies won the World Series yesterday. Merle Wayne Sneed is a happy guy about that. I can't explain what makes a person a fan of one particular team. Sometimes it's civic pride, but not always. I have only been to Philly once, yet I'm a lifelong fan. Go figure. On the election front, the consensus is growing among the pundits that the election will end in an Obama landslide. I suppose the news folks have a vested interest in continuing to comment on the closeness of the race, but as I have steadfastly maintained, it's over. It was over on the day the Republican nominated John McCain. When times are tough, the last thing folks want is more of the same and McCain represents more of the same. Whether or not he would actually be more of the same is immaterial, because perception is everything in politics. Those of us old enough to have experienced the Carter years understand the mood of the country very well. The citizens are sick to death of being sick to death. The last time the mood in the country was this sour, Reagan won in a landslide. It will happen again. We have also reached critical mass in the mind of the public and come Tuesday, large numbers of people who would normally vote for McCain will say, "screw it, he isn't going to win anyway." And the will vote Obama, making Obama's victory much larger than it appeared just a few days ago. Just saying. I played golf with the usual suspects today. We had our usual mayhem. Some Guy Named Bob, our scheduler, f*cked it up again. Some Guy Named Bob told us that out tee time was 10:40 AM, but at the last minute he remembered that it was really 10:10 AM. He called me and The Seafood King at 9:15 to "remind" us to be there at 10:10, like we wouldn't both remember that he said 10:40. A reasonable person might ask, "Why not have someone else schedule the times?" You have to know Some Guy Named Bob, to understand the answer. Even if we tried to 86 Some Guy Named Bob, he would just make a reservation anyway, completely ignoring us. It's hopeless. Our weather is a bit unseasonably warm, but not too hot. It was only 90 today. It is forecast to be 90 again tomorrow. 90 on fricking Halloween, Hooterville is ridiculuos. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

This is a tip of the hat to Mouse, who posted pictures of altars today. This is a Buddhist shrine at, get this, Caesar's Palace in Las Vegas. Why you ask, is there a Buddhist shrine at Caesar's Palace? Well, it is a replica of a shrine that was built in Bangkok, Thailand that supposedly brought good fortune to a hotel that had some trouble. It is supposed to bring good fortune to Caesar's Palace and all its visitors. So far mostly Caesar's Palace is having all the good fortune. The shrine was a gift of a Thai newspaper tycoon and his wife, along with some rich guy from Hong Kong. In my continuing election coverage, there has been an unwelcome development in the slim-to-none chances of McCain winning. Georgia, a state thought to be leaning toward McCain, has lurched left and is now considered to be a toss-up. For those of you who are still anxious about the outcome, rest assured that President Obama will soon be in our lexicon. Just think of Merle Wayne Sneed as your cyber-Prozac. There is no copay. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

A Week To Go

I have always loved skylights. This one is at the Belliagio Hotel in Las Vegas. Well, the news on the doggie lawsuit front is minimal. I spoke to one of the old ladies who had moved into the lead as my chief suspects. You may recall that they have about 12 dogs and walk them past our house every morning. She said it wasn't them and that she had "enough balls" to tell me to my face if she had a problem with Lacey. Oh, well. A week to go until the election and some people are still wondering about my iron-clad guarantee of an Obama win, and probably a big one. The Gallup poll for today indicates a two percentage point lead for Obama. This is within the poll's margin of error, meaning that McCain could be ahead, at least theoretically. But it really doesn't matter, as you may recall from 2000. The guy with the most popular votes doesn't always win. Andrew Jackson, Samuel Tilden and Grover Cleveland also got more popular votes than the guys they lost to. Here's how I see it. At the moment Obama has 259 solid electoral votes and McCain has 127. By solid, I mean that they lead in those states by at least 10 percentage points in the public polling. Thirteen states are too close to call either way. Obama needs to add 11 more electoral votes to become president. McCain needs to find 143. If Obama carries Florida, North Carolina, Virginia, Ohio, Georgia, Missouri or Indiana, he wins. Just one of those states. McCain has to pretty much sweep everything left in play. Obama has huge leads in the 3 West Coast states, California, Oregon and Washington. He is solidly in the lead in the upper Midwest, Michigan, Wisconsin, Minnesota and Illinois. Plus he is a lock in all the East from Pennsylvania and New Jersey north to Maine. Is there any reason to think that any of those states would go for McCain? No way, they are Democrat bastions. So if you are still having doubts, relax. My prediction is Obama wins the popular vote 5o% to 47%, with 3% going to the fringe. Obama wins the electoral college vote 363-175. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

This past Friday, Keith our mailman, left a card letting me know that he had a certified letter for me and that I would have to go to the post office and sign for it, since I was away when he tried to deliver it. A certified letter is usually bad news when it concerns me, so I was dreading having to go get it. Who would send me a certified letter I wondered? I did a mental check of the things I might have done wrong that would result in a certified letter, and I came up empty. The possibility that it could contain good news was too small to be considered. So, this morning I drove down to the post office and picked up the dreaded letter. Here it is, in its entirety, minus the name and address of yours truly. This is the second letter, as you can see and as was the case in the first, I have no idea what the cowardly jackass is talking about. Lacey the Wonder Mutt, stays in from dusk to after dawn, so she sure isn't keeping anyone awake by barking. I am the self-appointed Mayor of the cul-de-sac and I know and have spoken to most all of my constituents. I am fairly sure it is not one of them sending these threats. We thought that the dead woman down the street might have sent the last letter since she was crazy, but you may recall that she was quite dead on the 22nd, so that eliminates her. My new suspect is a couple of old women that live down the street about a block. They have about a dozen dogs that they walk past the house in a giant pack and poor Lacey does bark at them. But that's her job, more or less, and it is in the morning. This letter did include a return PO box, since it was sent certified. I sent a nice reply to my anonymous complainer chastising him or her for being a spineless coward and inviting him or her to discuss it with me in person. Okay, the reply wasn't that nice. I'm not counting on an acceptance. Probably the thing that pisses me off the most is that Lacey is Son Sneed's companion and now he is worried about the threats in this letter. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

We celebrated Mrs. Sneed's birthday this morning. Daughter Sneed cooked a fantastic breakfast and all the Sneed's who are anybody, were there. A little known law here in Hooterville makes it illegal for a grandmother to open her gift without the assistance of at least two assistants. Luckily we have two. = They were so proud of their gift opening skill that they just had to take a picture...or a hundred. It has come to my attention, via feedback from various Sneeds, that I sometimes write stuff in my blog that they don't know about me. Like stories from my childhood. Uh, that's why I have a blog. You're welcome. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

A guy up to his knees in mud is clean compared to the guy up to his knees in sewage--Merle Sneed This is a photo the fountains at the Bellagio Hotel. Despite the fact that Nevada relies heavily on Colorado River water and the dwindling Lake Mead, they continue to use water with reckless abandon. Go figure. I read a post today by blog friend Nan Patience concerning the unrelenting demands for cash from the presidential campaigns. I feel her pain. For a candidate of the people Obama, sure does need a lot of cash. Same for McCain. What ever happened to the people who wanted to clean up the system? Oh yeah, they got other people to stand in the sewage for them, so that they could claim the high road. The fact is, that no matter your preference in this race, your guy is in bed with some sleazy folks, who know how to game the system. The moment we put limits on what campaigns could spend and how much we can give, the creeps came up with clever ways around it. 527s, unions, PACs and non-profits are piling hundreds of millions into this campaign in order to secure their influence in an Obama or McCain, but mostly Obama administration. Like sheep, we go where we are led. Our ability to identify and be outraged by the crooks is limited by our biases. This list from Opensecrets.org, lists the top 527 groups and what they have collected and spent in order to get their guys elected. When these shady groups are able to pour $20,000,000 each into influencing elections, we have reason to be afraid. Most of these organizations contribute 90% of their money to one party or the other. At the moment it is mostly Democrats getting the large bucks, but that is transient. I had coffee with friends yesterday and a fellow happened by, stopping at our table. He was an Obama supporter, who was put off by Sarah Palins $150,000 wardrobe redo, paid for by the Republican party. Who does he thinks pays for Obama's suits? It is standard operating procedure in the slimy business of modern politics. The federal treasury has become a giant ATM and the competition to make unlimited withdrawals is fierce. Is that cynical enough for you? Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

Many of us, the Vegas high-roller types, enjoy great perks because of our stature. Free suites, limos and unlimited food are among those perks. Let's just say that we travel in different circles than most of you ordinary folks. I don't like to brag or anything, but Mrs. Sneed and I received a coupe of cans of Coke Zero for free. No charge. In honor of our visit, Coke set up a booth in front of the Coca Cola store and I convinced them to give out free drinks to all of my friends who happened by. We also went to see the Las Vegas production of The Jersey Boys at the Palazzo Hotel. As a guy who grew up in the 50s and 60s, it was a walk down memory lane. The show was fantastic and get this, an usher who no doubt recognized us, offered to move us down to better seats than we had. Sure we were still in the balcony, but in the first row of the balcony. The Frankie Valli role was sung by Rick Faugno, who has the most amazing range of any singer I've heard since Valli himself. Here's a video clip that I pulled off YouTube for those wanting a moment of the great Frankie Valli. Finally, the cul-de-sac caper, the mysterious case of the Dead Woman Down the Block, came to an ignoble end this morning. After having been absent for more than a week, Maria showed up today and confirmed my worst fears. The woman died of natural causes. That's it, no crime of the century, no whodunit, no nothing. Just went to bed and woke up dead. Apparently, after she hadn't been seen in a day or two, someone, probably Opal, called the authorities, who broke in and discoverd the old gal, deceased. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

J-O-B

Well, we're back from our big trip to Las Vegas, none the worse for the wear. In fact, of the many trips to Las Vegas we have taken, this was the best. I had to go back to work today and not much changed in the four days I was away. They still think my brilliant ideas are, unworkable at best or stupid at the worst. For instance, one of the things that I try to focus on in the store is checking our inventory in my spare time, making sure that what we actually have on the shelf reflects what we are supposed to have. This is kind of important for many reasons, not the least of which is that if we are out of a product and our inventory system doesn't know it, we can go months without restocking that item. The process we use involves writing down inventory discrepancies and giving them to the boss. I try to be very conscientious about noting problems and reporting them. My latest suggestion was for the boss to give me system permission to correct the inventory count in the official system myself, rather than making a list for her to correct, when she has time. I already use a hand-held scanner to scan the products on the shelf and check the physical inventory against what we are supposed to have. I could make an immediate adjustment, using the scanner, if I was trusted to do so. Well, it seems that not just anyone can change the inventory. The bosses have to do it. Of course, when I write down the discrepancies for them to correct, they don't double check me. So, all they are is the key puncher in the system. Think about that. They are trying to maintain control over inputting the data, not the data itself. Of course, the boss doesn't see it that way, because she is married to the current system. Speaking of jobs, not everyone in Las Vegas has landed a cool casino job. Some people have unimaginably terrible jobs, standing out on Las Vegas Blvd., harassing passersby with excellent offers of free drinks, girls for hire, helicopter trips and the biggie, Timeshare opportunities. How low must your self-esteem be to take a job where you hear "NO!" a thousand times a day? I only hear no about five times a day and look at me. Here's a little video tribute to all the people at the bottom of the barrel. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

Noah lost his first baby tooth yesterday. Today I would like to put aside the election, the ailing economy and all other national and international issues. I want to return to my roots, as a bitter little man. The subject of today's post will be cashiers. If you are a cashier, you may wish to stop reading. In the hardware store, someone got the bright idea to equip us with radios, so that the cashiers could accost the customers as they enter the store, ascertain their need, direct them to the proper aisle and call yours truly to assist in their important hardware purchases. This plan would be okay except someone forgot that cashiers are for the most part concrete thinkers and many are incapable of independent thought. For instance, we have a cashier who will direct a customer to an aisle no matter how ridiculous their request might seem. I think that she just sends the customer to an aisle number at random and calls someone to assist them. She became famous for announcing over the radio that a customer was on the way to aisle three for "road antlers". The customer actually wanted a road atlas, but the cashier misunderstood and figured WTF, I'll just send them somewhere and let the dumb hardware guy figure it out. Then there was her announcement that someone was headed to the battery aisle to buy batteries for water. I radioed back that water doesn't require batteries, and I swear she told me to find the customer and figure it out. The customer wanted water for car battery. Many people still insist on distilled water for their car batteries. This person is so dense that I swear that if a terrorist came in looking for a nuclear bomb, she would send them to aisle seven and announce, "Customer on the way to aisle seven, looking for "NuClear Balm". The Lovely Mrs. Sneed and I are off to Las Vegas tomorrow afternoon for her annual birthday bash. What better way to celebrate her birthday than to take the last few dollars from our retirement accounts and blow it in Vegas? We will return on Tuesday. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

Mrs. Sneed announced that she hates people that decide the race is over three weeks before the election. She means me, I think, but Merle Wayne calls them as he sees them. always has, always will. The latest Gallup Poll shows Obama with a 49% to 47% lead among likely voters. What if Merle Wayne Sneed's longstanding prediction of an Obama blowout victory is wrong? Well, its not. As we learned, how many people want a particular candidate is largely irrelevant. What matters is where they live, and in the places that matter, Obama will swamp McCain. This map from the folks at Real Clear Politics is interesting At the moment Obama has 249 of the 270 electoral votes needed for election solidly locked up. Plus, he has another 37 electoral votes leaning his way. For McCain to win, Obama has to lose a state or two that is leaning his way and McCain has to win everything not rock solid for Obama. John McCain is a fine American and a good man, who is dedicated to doing what is best for his country. Don't let anyone tell you differently. But, Americans are clamoring for change and it's Obama's moment. In other news... I played golf with the usual suspects today. Some guy Named Bob is in charge of booking our golf reservations, so it is probably unfair to criticize his efforts, but... We live within about a fifteen minute drive of eight golf courses on our side of town. Despite this, Some Guy Named Bob booked us at course 25 miles away. I am at the stage that I don't want to drive 25 miles to do anything, especially with Some Guy Named Bob and The Seafood King in tow. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

“I see great things in baseball. It's our game - the American game.”--Walt Whitman The Philadelphia Phillies won the National League pennant tonight and I'm happy about that. Merle Wayne Sneed is a baseball fan and a lifelong Phillies fan, which is odd for a guy who has only been to Philadelphia once in his life. I'm not a hardcore fan, I can't pull up current statistics or even tell you who's leading the league most of the time. I enjoy baseball when I have the chance to see it, and I follow my Phils throughout the season, at least until they are out of contention. Beyond that, I don't pay that much attention. Baseball is a game that everyone can understand. The strategy is plain for all to see. Unlike football, where there are dozens of things happening on the field at any time and dozens of plays, baseball is elegant in its simplicity. Last week, my oldest son called me to ask why I was a Phillies fan. Evidently he and his wife had been speculating about it and decided to go right to the source for an answer. When I was eight and living in Omaha, my first little league baseball team was the Phillies. The story is no more complicated than that. The protocol for eight-year-olds was that you rooted for the major league team of the same name as your little league team. Over the little league years I played on teams called the Dodgers, White Sox and the Reds, but I always remained a fan of the Phillies, I just couldn't shake them. When I was twelve, I was beaned by a fastball thrown by a kid named Karl and serious injured. Even though, I continued to play baseball after that, I was never the same. I never lost my fear of being beaned again. Through the sixties and seventies, I agonized over my love for the Phillies because they were horrible, rivaling the Cubs in futility. I tried to switch my allegiance to the Dodgers, but it just wouldn't take. I was thrilled in 1980 when the Phils won the World Series and disappointed in 1983 and 1993 when they lost it. Over the years I have been fortunate to visit the major league ballparks in a half dozen or so cities. Mrs. Sneed is always a good sport about going to the games, even though she positively hates it. So, the Phillies are on to the World Series, where I will hope the best for them. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

"I would not want to belong to any group that would have me as a member."--Groucho Marx Some variation on that quote has been attributed to Groucho for decades now. It has always had a special meaning to me, because when it comes to joining groups, I'm just not that good. The surest way to ruin your passion is to belong to a group that shares that passion. Invariably the pursuit takes a backseat to the human urge to exert authority. Long time readers will recall that I joined the Master Gardner organization in our county. I was really excited about the opportunity. That excitement lasted a few weeks, after which, the fun was squashed by the realization that the group was filled with people dead set on making up a bunch of rules. It turned out that simply showing up and doing the work needed to maintain the public gardens was not enough. There were various deadlines and requirements for the kinds of hours worked. Way too much organization for me. So, today when I got a friendly email reminding me that rules are rules and I had better get cracking, I opted out. I have always had a problem with 'having' to do something. Mrs. Sneed has pointed out, many times, that I don't like being told what to do and that about sums it up. I just don't like being told what to do and I really hate having to rush off to do something, even something I like. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

“Debt is the fatal disease of republics, the first thing and the mightiest to undermine governments and corrupt the people”--Wendell Phillips He said a mouthful. Yesterday the Merle Sneed blog reached it's 20,000th visitor. Imagine that, 20,000 folks with too much time on their hands. who knew? My milestone visitor was not one of the many friends that I have made in the blogging community, but instead was a visitor from South Korea, who found me by Googling "Sticks and stones may break my bones". There must have been a good reason, don't you think? Hopefully, I was of some help to him or her. As I mentioned just a few days ago, three of my former coworkers at Tedious Systems, came in Friday morning and were called into a meeting where they were given cardboard boxes and told to clean out their desks and hit the road. These were good high-paying jobs, which cannot be replicated, at least in Hooterville, the minimum wage capital of the country. These people will all get a decent severance, but if you are living paycheck to paycheck anyway, as two of these folks were, that just postpones the pain for a few months. Now everyone a Tedious is assuming the worst is yet to come for them. And the tough times are not limited to thse who are worried about their jobs. My dearest friend in the world has lost 35% of the value in his IRA account and has to take out money every month to live. If the market just stays flat from here, he will be down 40% for the year. The problem is, when you lose 40% one year, you have a smaller base to grow from, so it takes a 67% increase to get back to where you were. With the seven percent he will have to take out next year, the problem becomes even more severe. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

"We are alone, absolutely alone on this chance planet: and, amid all the forms of life that surround us, not one, excepting the dog, has made an alliance with us."--Maurice Maeterlinck If your name is Squirrel, you might not want to read this post. I took this picture through the dining room window, so the quality isn't the best. Lacey the Wonder Mutt, has taken up her new post, which is to stare intently at the fountain in the backyard. We recently have had a visitor Squirrel running around the backyard and generally enjoying an oasis from the heat and dust. The squirrel evidently hid behind the fountain. Lacey spent weeks trying to catch the poor squirrel and unfortunately, last week she succeeded, sending poor squirrel to eternity. Now the numbskull sits in wait, should another hapless squirrel happens by. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

Man, what a week and I don't mean in a good way. Let's see, the Dow is down 22% or something, meaning that a quarter of a lifetime of savings is gone, at least for the immediate future. And of course, there is my dead neighbor and the mysterious disappearance of both of her neighbors. As bad as it seems to me, for other people it was worse. Tedious Systems, my former employer laid off some folks yesterday, including three of my former colleagues. They had a worse week than me by a long shot. What else? Oh yeah, I'm sick to death of politicians. All politicians. I wish everyone could vote today and shut these people up. Obama is going to win going away, so why do I have to hear another month of this bullcrap? Some people are troubled by the vitriol of the crowds turning out for McCain. Let me tell you, that on the left the hatred is just as thick. We just can't see it when it is coming from our side, whichever side that is. These people are all the same. From McCain and Obama down to the local Justice of the Peace race, candidates are just insufferable. I cast my ballot yesterday and although I did not actually write myself in, I did leave a number of choices blank. I won't disclose my vote for President, but I will share a few other choice. I voted for my incumbent Congressperson because her opponent is a right-wing nut bar. We don't have ordinary Republicans in Arizona, we have the lunatic fringe. In Arizona, John McCain is considered by many to be a lefty. So I opted for the devil I know. We have a ballot proposition to amend the state constitution to define marriage as between a man and a woman only. This is the brainchild of the Phoenix Mormons, of which there are plenty. The Catholic hierarchy jumped on the bandwagon hard. I voted no. We have the sleazy payday loan skunks trying to push through something called "Reform Payday Loans". A yes vote curbs some of the abuses and allows them to stay in business. A no vote shuts them down in 2010. I voted no. I declined to vote for any of the candidates for Corporation Commission. They regulate certain businesses like the power and gas companies. Since they have about no power, I didn't waste the brainpower it takes to figure out who is who. In Arizona we vote for judges. Every four years we have to vote to keep them or toss them out. No one ever gets tossed so I voted to keep them all. The local school district wants more money, but it is a corrupt mess so I voted no. I've never voted no for schools before, but until they show some signs of competency, I'm voting to keep my money. A couple of county officials ran unopposed and seem to do an okay job, so I voted for them. One Republican and One Democrat. I figure that the lack of opposition is a tacit admission by the other side that they are doing a good job. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

An entrance to the river walk at the Santa Cruz river west of downtown. Of course the rivers in Hooterville are dry except for periods of heavy rain. I finally caught up with Sylvia this evening and she knows bupkis. According to Sylvia, she came home from grocery shopping on Tuesday to find the cops in her driveway. She told me, and I'm not making this up, that she didn't want the milk to get warm so she hurried into her house, without asking the police why they were there. You'd have to know Sylvia to understand that. While we were talking in Sylvia's front yard, Allysia, who lives at the end of the cul-de-sac, happened over, bringing the number of people who know nothing to three. What I did learn, from the two of them is that Opal, an older woman who lives next door to the allegedly dead woman, has also been fighting with her and she might have alerted the police that something was up. Sylvia suddenly remembered that she saw Opal in the dead woman's driveway talking to the coppers. You see what I'm up against here? Allysia is big pals with Opal and vows to get some scoop from her when Opal returns from being out of town. Out of town, isn't that convenient? Then there is the matter of Maria, who is the neighbor of the dead woman on the opposite side as Opal and a victim of the dead gal's threats. Her house is completely dark and none of us has seen her all week. Very mysterious stuff. If Maria doesn't show up soon, Sylvia will call the cops, assuming her milk isn't getting warm. In other news, I got my early voting form in the mail today and I will be voting in the morning. Remember, Merle Wayne Sneed has been guaranteeing an Obama blowout for months now. In our congressional district there is very little in the way of choice beyond the vote for President, so voting doesn't require much actual thought. Many races are unopposed so I will be writing myself in for races where I don't like the single candidate. I don't expect to win, but I will give it my best. I promise tax cuts for the middle class and huge tax hikes for the rich bastards. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

Details, I Need Details.

The investigation into the strange doings on the cul-de-sac is at a standstill. For the moment I remain stymied. Sylvia is proving to be a pain-in-the-ass when it comes to providing details. I went to her house this morning, but she was already gone. No doubt hanging around her church or something equally holy. This evening, I traipsed back over to her house, Sylvia, not the dead woman, and even though I could hear Sylvia shouting at Chuchie, I couldn't get her to answer the door. Sylvia talks in a voice that most would consider yelling, so it is easy to hear her. Mrs. Sneed, who is an expert sleuth, has learned via the internet that the allegedly dead woman was an expert on butterflies. Clearly this was in the days before she got bats in her belfry. In other news, I have settled into a pretty nice routine at work. I'm working all day on Tuesday and Wednesday and half days Friday and Saturday. It works out to be 27 hours per week. This job may have moved from a nice diversion, to a financial necessity due to the shenanigans on Wall Street. Mrs. Sneed would like to retire in the near future, so if the economy, and by economy I mean our retirement accounts, doesn't recover soon, someone is getting their asses kicked. One thing I'm noticing at work is an increase in people calling the store for prices. I guess that's good for the environment, but it's a pain in the butt for yours truly. People who call in rarely come in. Some guy called me today and asked for a price on a replacement cartridge for his shower water filter. He gave me the model number for the filter, but he didn't know the cartridge model number. I had to look it up and then check to see if we had the one he needed. I gave him the price and told him I had it in stock and his response was that it was too much money and he hanged up on me without so much as a thank you for checking. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

"Who knew that when unscrupulous lenders were giving out mortgages to people who couldn't repay them, they were doing it with my life savings?"--Merle Wayne Sneed 2008 There is a mystery on the cul-de-sac tonight. The police, crime scene investigators and the County Coroner were at the house across the street and down three houses. The lady who lives there is a handful. This isn't the first time the cops have been there. Allegedly, she threatened to shoot Maria, who lives next door to her. As scary as that sounds, she is about 70 years old and uses a walker, so Maria would have to stand real still while the old gal got her aim. It spooked Maria, none the less. Anyway, Son Sneed says that the cops were at my neighbor Sylvia's house taking to her too, so I figured that I would just get the dope from Sylvia. Sylvia often has the good info. Unfortunately, Sylvia is the religious sort and was gone to church this evening. Her husband, Chuchie (a Mexican nickname for Jesus) claims that he got home after Sylvia left for church and he didn't know anything. Chuchie likes to talk about me when we chat. Talking about me was the last thing I was interested in doing tonight, even though I am a fascinating fellow. I also interviewed the neighbor across the street because she is chummy with Slyvia, but that was to no avail either. I had never met this woman, although we regularly exchange waves in passing, so I barged up to her door and asked for any details she might have. Zippo. I did learn that she is a dancer in a nudie bar, which is kind of interesting. The betting is that the old gal just up and died, but I'm holding out hope for something more juicy. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

Over the years, people have asked me, "Merle Wayne, why don't you ever show what things look like from the roof of your house?" Fair enough. This device is a Solar Tube, a type of skylight. I installed it last week in hopes of brightening the living room a bit. The reviews have been mixed. The tube is plated with a silver substance that gives it a mirrored surface. The light is gathered by the dome, reflected thorough the tube and diffused at the ceiling into the room. Most houses in my neighborhood have white coating on the roof to reflect the sun. I was touching up some areas, which explains the new white coating. I am going to coat the entire roof soon. Its a huge job. In the late afternoon, the skylight is ineffective because of the light streaming in the windows on the opposite side of the room. It works best from mid-morning until about three in the afternoon. This is not a good picture, but from the inside it looks like a recessed light. The tube doesn't transfer heat, which is important here. Free light, how can you beat it? You may recall the new air conditioner. The Santa Catalina mountains dominate the northern view. To the east is a glimpse of the Rincon Mountains. Plus my flagpole and some palm trees. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

The lovely Mrs. Sneed and I went to see the new movie, Ghost Town, starring Ricky Gervais, Greg Kinnear and Tea Leoni. It was rather pleasant if your intention in seeing it is to be entertained. High art, it ain't. But what can you expect from a movie that stars Ricky Gervais, who can only play himself and Greg Kinnear who is always the same character (maybe himself)? It was predictable, but it was also a pleasant hour and a half. Ghost Town is the latest in the series of movies in which the plot involves a dead person, who must help a mortal in order to move on to 'somewhere', presumably heaven. I can think of several other movies with this motif (is that the right word?). 1. It's a Wonderful Life 2. Heaven Can Wait (original and remake) 3. Angels in the Outfield (original and remake). 4. A Guy Named Joe 5. Michael. Can you think of more? Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

Inmate Simpson

Clarence Stewart's booking photo following his conviction. Why did I get mixed up with that stupid bastard? -- Clarence Stewart, O.J. Simpson's robbery and kidnapping accomplice and recent convict. Okay, Clarance never actually said that, but I sure he thought it about a million times. On the other hand, this was actually said. “I don’t like to use the word payback,” said Mr. Simpson’s lawyer, Yale Galanter. “I can tell you from the beginning my biggest concern was whether or not the jury would be able to separate their very strong feelings about Mr. Simpson and judge him fairly and honestly.” I prefer to think that hanging around with the wrong crowd and thumbing your nose at the law eventually catches up with you. Have a nice stay, Prisoner Simpson. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

“The short memories of American voters is what keeps our politicians in office”--Will Roger Congressman Willie Weasel, R-TX I'm watching the House of Representatives voting on the latest rescue plan for the economy. With two minutes to go in the 15 minute voting period, one-third of the Congresspersons have not voted. This is the one-third that is waiting for the bill to get a majority total before they vote no. They are the weaseliest of the weasels, the people with no conviction beyond their conviction that they should be reelected. Merle Wayne Sneed's guarantee of an Obama win is starting to jell. The bloom is off the Palin rose and it look like curtains for McCain. Obama can talk about change all he wants but he still has the 535 knuckleheads to deal with. Good luck. Oops, 533 knuckleheads since he and old Joe will be out of Congress and trying to get this sorry bunch off the dime. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky

Mailboxes

“My favorite review described me as the cinematic equivalent of junk mail.”--Steve Buscemi There are twelve houses on our cul-de-sac, but they gave us a 15-home mailbox. Maybe that's all they had. That's us, number eight, second from the left on the bottom. It's a prestigious location, don't you think? I was talking to my mailman Keith one day about these community mailboxes. I kind of like them because they are convenient and secure. Keith dislikes them because it requires fewer mail carriers to service community boxes than individual ones. You gotta love a union man. This is the typical box in our neighborhood, outside of the cul-de-sac. Most people don't go for the deluxe pedestal, complete with the house address, though. These days many people worry about their junk mail being stolen, so they install secure boxes. A house for your mail. Isn't America great? Some mailboxes are traditional boxes on a wooden post, and some are fancier variations on that theme. This makes me wonder if it shouldn't be a mailbox at the cemetery . Some people turn their lowly mailbox into a monument, and others into a shrine. Things in this blog represented to be fact, may or may not actually be true. The writer is frequently wrong, sometimes just full of it, but always judgmental and cranky