How about another blast from the past of Merle Wayne Sneed? Too bad, we're doing it anyway. This is a picture of my maternal grandfather and one of his three wives, taken in the late 1920s, I think. He outlived them all. The woman in the picture is wife number one, my mother's mother and my true grandmother. My grandfather fathered at least 16 children. My mother's mother died in about 1929 and I'm given to understand that she gave birth to the first 15 kids, six of whom died in infancy or were stillborn. Child number 16 is alleged to have been born after wife three died and was illegitimate, as they called it in those days. It is all very murky, since the eyewitnesses are all dead, too. My grandfather died at age 68 in 1949. Speaking of SOBs, we played golf this morning. It was in the 70s and clear. You couldn't ask for better weather. Where the SOB part comes in, is that when we went to our cars in the lot, someone had put a note under Some Guy Named Bob's windshield wiper that read, "The next time you block my door your car will not be so lucky. You dumb bastard." Poor Some Guy Named Bob was visibly upset over the note. What sort of imbecile leaves a note that says, "The next time you block my door..." Does the genius think that Some Guy Named Bob sought him out and parked too close, or that he will find him and do it again? There is nothing worse than a coward who leaves an anonymous and meaningless threat. It probably made him feel real good though. 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 reached a sort of truce with my cousin and this Facebook thing. I had quit Facebook altogether, but I got an email from the cousin bugging me to unquit. She had some pictures that she wanted me to identify. So, I'm back in for that purpose only. This is one of the pictures. This is me and my brother Gary, taken in 1954. Yes, there were cameras in 1954. We had just moved to Hooterville from Tampa, FL. Much of my life until I was 18, involved moving to or from Hooterville. My old man loved the place. Apparently, Mom crisscrossed Gary's suspenders to keep him from taking off his pants. As they say, "Nice try". Nothing ever worked the way it was supposed to when it came to my brother. My brother died in 2005 from heart disease, brought on by a life of doing the wrong stuff. Today is Ash Wednesday, or so I'm told. Like most things in life, my interest in Lent is limited to its effect on me. Do what you will, but try not to bother me too much. So how does Ash Wednesday affect Merle Wayne Sneed? Let me tell you. The first customer that I waited on today, was fresh in from Mass at St. Elmo's, just down the block. He had a huge black smudge in the middle of his ample forehead. It allegedly began as a cross, but by the time he got to the store, it had morphed into a blob. Based on the size of the black spot, I figure he must have asked for extra ashes, since he has extra forehead. How does one keep eye contact with a guy who has a big black smudge on his forehead? You don't or at least I don't. I kept staring at the smudge. "Yoo-hoo, down here hardware man." And this went on all day. In the beginning the smudges were crisp and orderly. By the end of the day, they were not so much so, some having even migrated to other parts of the face. What do they do they say at the end of the Ash Wednesday mass, "Go forth and buy hardware"? They must. Then, tonight at bowling, I had to be the stand-in league secretary because of Lent. The league secretary is the guy who collects the money from the bowlers. It is not nearly that easy, because many of the bowlers would rather use their money for drinking, so they have to be badgered to pay up. Plus, because of the drinking aspect of bowling, there are disputes about how much money they think they paid versus how much they actually paid. Normally, my buddy the Seafood King, handles this chore, but since he owns a chain of fish joints, he had to go help sling fish on the first night of Lent. The Catholics line up outside his door waiting to get in. Most retail places count on the Christmas season, The Seafood King looks to Lent to make the big money. Here's something I have never quite understood. Why is going out for fish at a restaurant a sacrifice but staying home and eating meat isn't ? Even when I was a half-assed Catholic, lo those many years ago, I never got that part. Okay, that's enough offending for one post. As you were. 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 people have asked, "Hey Merle Wayne Sneed, how do you keep cool in those 150 degree summers down there in Hooterville? The answer is that it is a dry heat. Our average daytime humidity during the hottest part of the summer is about 8 to 10 percent. Those 150 degree days feel like 140, 145 tops. Okay, so that's an exaggeration. It rarely gets over 110 in Hooterville, 113, 114 max. With low humidity, it feels like 110 tops. Dry heat is overrated. The traditional way to cool one's home here in the desert, is the evaporative cooler, affectionately or not so affectionately called a swamp box by the locals. This device is well-suited to our low humitity. "But, how does an evaporative cooler work, Merle Wayne", you might ask? An evaporative cooler pumps water over pads, usually aspen shavings, and at the same time draws hot air in, to be cooled by the evaporating water. The cooled air is blown into the house. A home whose inside temperature would be an intolerable 95 degrees if left uncooled in the summer, can be chilled to a barely tolerable 80 degrees using an evaporative cooler. Not comfort, but whatever is between heaven and hell. The downside to evaporative coolers, besides their marginal efficiency, is that they are high in upkeep and messy as hell. Evaporating water leaves a salty toxic soup. Until about twenty years ago homes in Hooterville were poorly insulated and air-conditioning was impractical for the average citizen. Hootervillians cringed at $400 per month cooling bills. We were divided into the cooler people and the air-conditioning people, terms that could be used interchangeably with rich and poor. But times have changed and improvements in insulation and in air conditioning technology have rendered the evaporative cooler obsolete for new homes. No new home has been built with evaporative cooling in a decade. Our hardware store is in an old part of town. We have no new homes to speak of, so we do a land office business, come cooler season. That begins now, peaks in May and drags on until October. We sell pads, pumps, motors, cleaning supplies, you name it. If it is for evaporative coolers, we sell it. I got my first big customer of the season today. A guy came in to buy supplies for the evaporative coolers for his apartment complex. He bought $1500 worth of stuff. That is a big sale for our store, the biggest I've ever seen. Another guy spent a couple of hundred for his carpet business. But what is Merle Wayne Sneed's interest in the sales of the store and in its financial well-being? You might be tempted to think that good sales mean continued employment. You would be wrong. Losing my job is way down the list of things I care about. We get bonuses on good sales and cooler season means good sales. It can be expressed as a mathematical equation, a=b, where a equals good sales and b equals my bonus. 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

Perhaps you saw in the news that American Express is paying people to cancel their accounts. Not just anyone though, only those customers that AmEX thinks pose a risk of default. Customers who carry high balances on several types of cards are suspect. According to the folks at AmEx, those customers receiving the "invitation", aren't being asked to quit AmEx, they are being offered the chance to simplify their finances. AmEx mumbo-jumbo. In exchange for a $300 gift card, invitees must pay off their outstanding balance by April 30. AmEx is doing this promotion to try to get a jump on other companies that these people owe money to. They hope get as much cash out of their shaky customers as they can, just in case a cardholder decides that he can only pay one credit card company and chooses Visa over AmEx. Or in even a worse scenario, files for bankruptcy. Let's be clear about one thing. Credit card companies are predators. They are lions and we are a herd of antelope. Some of us are going down and it isn't the lions. I've had AmEx for several years because Costco has a deal with them. I get a rebate on my Costco purchases using AmEx, in addition to the normal Costco annual rebate. I'm pleased to say that I've never paid American Express a penny in interest and never plan to. Every year I get a bit of a rebate from AmEx. Instead of this disingenuous "invitation" to quit, it would be refreshing if American Express sent a more honest offer to these shaky cardholders. Dear Valued Cardholder, We at the American Express family appreciate the thousands of dollars in interest that you've paid us over the years. It has meant a lot to us, it really has. We know that you've done you best to honor your agreement with us. But sometimes your best just isn't good enough. You have probably read that many people are losing their jobs and with it, their ability to pay us the money they owe. Maybe you have even lost your job, which is why we are writing today. Despite the money we paid to the members of Congress to tighten the bankruptcy laws, many people are still filing bankruptcy. This is an intolerable situation, one that we must deal with proactively. If people quit paying us, where will we be? We could lose our jobs and we don't have to tell you have scary that is. But, with your help, we can get in front of this problem. We want to give you $300, to help you through these tough times. Everyone can use a little extra these days and we think you are no different. All you have to do is pay us the $6800 you owe us by April 30th. That's it, no strings, just $300 to spend anyway you choose. That's right, pay us by April 30th, and we will send you $300 cash. Well not cash, but a prepaid credit card that you can use at participating merchants who accept AmEx. No sense in us losing out on those lucrative merchant fees. We know that you are no doubt saying to yourself, "Hey, but I don't have $6800." Well, we have good news. We've noticed that you have a number of other credit cards. Balance transfers are easy and convenient, Visa, Mastercard and Discover cards are options that may be available to you. Many people find that relatives and friends are often willing to help in a pinch. Retirement and college savings are another option. Remember, we are willing to give you $300. That's money that you can use to pay bills or just enjoy. Our pleasant customer service professionals are available 24 hours a day. Let's make this a win-win. Act now this offer may be rescinded at any time. Your AmEx Customer Service Team. 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 do not wish to brag, but I am compelled. I was given my own mailbox at the hardware store. A sign of my growing importance to the success of the store. All important communications, internal or external, will be delivered to my new box, where I will be able to read them at my leisure. For instance, if Mr. Ace himself wants to send me the latest, I'll get it. President Obama can reach me should he need a tip or two on righting the ship of state. If the Pope should suddenly decide he likes the cut of my jib and wants to open a dialogue on Catholic/Deensism relations, reaching me has never been easier. No more wading through the pile of junk in the "associates" box, looking for things pertaining to me. Plus, I don't have to share a mailbox with the high schools kids who sweep and mop the store. Just thought you all should know. 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

Too Poor to Cheat

President Barack Obama has warned the nation's mayors not to waste the stimulus money that is coming their way. HAAAAAA! He evidently forgot that he was talking to politicians. This money will be spent on studies, experts, consultants and repaying the cities for things that they have already built. Oh, and let's not forget keeping municipal workers working. Who the heck is looking out for the guys and gals who are just getting by? No one, that's who. I was just estimating our 2009 federal and state taxes due next year. It is something I do at the beginning of the year, so as not to be unpleasantly surprised by a huge tax bill. For every hour that I work at the hardware store, I get to keep $7.13 after sending the various governments their share. Hardly worth it. I could make that much doing odd jobs once in awhile. What kind of country is it when working makes no sense? Overall, the governments get 24 cents over every dollar Mrs. Sneed and I earn in payroll and income taxes. Our employers kick in another 7.5 cents. That's before we get hit with the sales tax of nearly 9 cents on every dollar we have the audacity to spend. Of course, there are always the additional taxes on spending for things like gasoline and utilities. It never stops. It is no wonder that the country is full of small time operators who evade taxation by dealing in cash and not reporting their full income. Nearly every handyman and other independent tradesman, is fudging on his taxes. Speaking of fudging on their taxes, I noticed that the government thinks that 52,000 high-rollers may be using the Swiss to hide their real incomes. UBS, the Swiss banking giant has been colluding with the richy-rich to set up off-shore corporations to disguise their income. This leaves a burden that the rest of us have to pick up. If you meet a really rich person, be sure to thank them for being stinking cheats. We really need a different way to finance the government. 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 Lewis C. Murphy-Wilmot Branch Library

Well, I decided to cancel the whole Facebook thing. As nearly as I could tell, the cousin who contacted me, is the ringleader. She seems to spend most of her time sending silly messages to her relatives. I actually read this on my cousin's Facebook page. "Carol sent a cute puppy to Janet, using Cute Pets." Need I say more? Anyway, let's talk libraries. We live about a half mile from our neighborhood branch library, the Lewis C. Murphy-Wilmot Branch Library. I'm not kidding, that's the name. It was simply the Wilmot Library for about 35 years. It was named Wilmot because it is on Wilmot Rd. Mr. Wilmot was a WWII military hero of some sort. The leaders of Hooteville love to name stuff after on another, so they just couldn't leave Wilmot alone. Lewis C. Murphy was the mayor of Hooterville for 16 years, ending in 1987. He could have remained mayor for life, but he gave it up after four terms. In Hooterville, Murphy is the clear leader as the people's favorite mayor of all time. Murphy was a Republican in a city full of Democrats. The fact that he was elected once and reelected three time, is a tribute to his skill and his personal appeal. Mayor Murphy died in 2005 and in the finest Hooterville tradition, the folks running our government looked around for something to name after him. They decided on the Wilmot branch library, apparently forgetting that they had already named a bridge after him, Murphy Overpass. The name Wilmot was kept as part of the new moniker to avoid a nasty fight with the public over removing it. The public doesn't always share the city official's penchant for changing the names of things in tribute to themselves. Years ago, our city's largest park, Randolph Park, a one-square mile facility in the center of town, was renamed Reid ParThe renaming was in honor of Gene Reid, the retired, long-time Parks and Rec. Director. This caused a furor among the citizenry and any Hootervillian worth his salt still refuses to call it Reid Park. Newcomers to town, who don't know any better, believe that it is really called Reid Park, legitimizing the atrocity. The Wilmot Branch Library is kind of an eyesore, the truth be told. It was designed by a crazy person, as near as I can tell. One story, glass and concrete and way too small. Plus the floor plan makes inefficent use of the space available. It was added ontoin the 1990s and another expansion was supposed to be underway, but hasn't yet begun. But we love it anyway. The City had grand plans to tear down the Wilmot Branch Library and build a new one, but public outcry nixed that idea. A couple of years go Hooterville made an agreement with Pima County to take over the whole library system. The County has done a good job of expanding the hours of operation and modernizing the system. 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 don't know how it is where you live, but things are bleak here in Hooterville. We're broke and getting broker. Everyday the Hooterville Daily Dish regales us with the latest calamity. This agency or that, this government office or that, this school district or that, have cut back something or laid off someone. It's depressing to read. We are having rallies and protests against the latest and worst of the cuts. Everyone recognizes that we're broke, but everyone wants to be exempt from the pain and suffering. I guess I can't blame them for that. In other matters, I got a phone call from an elderly cousin last evening. The last time I spoke to this woman was...never, I think. She is the daughter of my mother's sister. She called to ask for my email, so that she could invite me to belong to a Facebook group, consisting of some of my long lost relatives. Since I'm not a total (emphasis on the total part) a-hole, I agreed. A decision I immediately regretted. I checked out their group and found a picture of my deceased brother (pictured above) posted. It was from when he was eight and showed him wearing his cub scout uniform. The group was trying to figure out who it was. Anyway, I have enough issues just dealing with me being me, without getting involved with a group of distant strangers. Okay, I am a total... Some people long to connect with their roots, me not so much. 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

Cholla

I took this picture of a Cholla (pronounced choi-ah) cactus behind Son Sneed's house. Like all cacti, the Cholla family has spines rather than leaves to minimize transpiration. To compensate for its lack of leaves, the plant's skin is green to aid photosynthesis. In addition, it has shallow roots to increase its efficiency in utilizing rainfall and a waxy skin to retain moisture. Cholla is a very scary plant, often known as a jumping cactus. It doesn't actually jump, it just seems like it does. It has adapted to reproduce by developing segmented arms. A passing animal or person that brushes it, gets a segment affixed to them. A very painful segment. Nature's plan is for the segment to drop off or be rubbed off by the carrier away from the host plant. If the segment falls on suitable ground, it will take root and form a new plant. Is nature amazing? I know that most of the Sneed blog readers don't give a rat's behind about golf, but if you get the Golf Channel on your local cable system, look for a program called Uneven Fairways. It is just one hour, but it gives an amazing look at the African-Americans who were denied the chance to play on the Professional Golf Association tour. Pro football had black players as far back as the 20s and Jackie Robinson broke baseball's color barrier in the 40s. It wasn't until 1962 that the PGA eliminated their "whites only" rule. Many fine golfers were denied the right to pursue their dream because of bigotry and ignorance. 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

"Okay, smile at the camera. I said smile, don't frown. Kid on the right, open your eyes. You in the back, what are you doing?" "Ready? You, the short one, look at the camera, not the old man." "Perfect. Daughter Sneed and Mr. P are in Yuma, AZ. at a rodeo this weekend. Mr. P is one of those civic-minded do-gooders, so they are there, helping to make the rodeo there a big success. Noah is staying with us from Friday until Monday. Last night he stayed at his cousin Aiden's house, so that Mrs. Sneed and I could go out. That meant that this morning we went to Son Sneed's house for a visit and to collect the little weasel. Miss Riley was the star of the show. Three months old and as cute as a button. E asked me if I had any recommendations for books similar to the Millionaire Next Door. A couple of things spring to mind. When I think of financial advice books, I'm interested in advice that eschews debt and advocates for living below your means. They are few and far between. Rich Dad, Poor Dad, was pretty good. The original, that is. Robert Kiyosaki has branched out into buying real estate using leverage, which we can all agree is a formula for disaster. That's why the "experts" are getting rich by selling books about how to do it, rather than getting rich just doing it. Robert Kiyosaki and guys of his ilk, teach that anyone can get rich in real estate, with the right advice. If that were true, we wouldn't have a zillion homes being foreclosed upon. As a side note and in support of my point, Son Sneed and I were talking about a house across the street from his, which is for sale. The buyer paid $440,000 for it in 2007 and is desperate to sell it now. It is listed at $339,000 and is advertised as a short-sale, meaning the lender has agreed to take that amount to satisfy their loan. When you hear that a bank has toxic assets on their books, this is one of the things they are talking about. The banks have tons of loans on the books listed as assets, but backed by properties worth far less than the mortgages. This lender is carrying the $440,000 mortgage on their books as an asset, but you can see that by the time this is sold, there will be a $125,000 write-off against that asset. That alternative is still more attractive to the bank than repossessing it and trying to resell it. But, as always, I digress. I'm also a huge fan of Dave Ramsey and his philosophy of having no debt. Dave has a series of books, Financial Peace and The Total Money Makeover, to name two. Some people find Dave's advice simplistic. I've seen him referred to as a one-trick pony by the smart guys, but the reality of life is that financial prosperity s simple, it's just not easy. As a caution, Dave is a fundamentalist Christian, which can be a bit off-putting to some, me included. 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

Avid Reader asked me what books I've read that changed my life, and what books I enjoyed as a kid. I guess I've never thought about that before. When I was a kid, I enjoyed reading biographies. I lived in Omaha from the time I was 8 until I was 13, so much of what I read then, was rooted in the Midwest. I read a lot of books about the plains Indians and the lives of the settlers and those of the cowboys. I read all the "Little House" books, many times. I remember when I was on the 4th grade at Bellevue Elementary, we did silent reading just before lunch. On more than one occasion I would be rousted from my reading by a nervous silence in the room and find my class mates patiently waiting for me to realize that the lunch bell had sounded. Our teacher would not dismiss us until everyone had put his book away. My mother was always an avid reader. Even though she only had a 9th grade education, she loved to read and was a regular library patron. My mom fancied novels, things like Tobacco Road, God's Little Acre, Grapes of Wrath, that sort of thing, along with the James A. Michener works. I read whatever she brought home for herself. When I would go to the library alone, the librarian sometimes looked at my selection and told me that it was a 'book for grownups' and that I might like something more 'my age'. But I didn't. I fondly remember reading Rally 'Round the Flag and The Mouse That Roared, always the fan of a spoof. My mom let me read Catch-22 when she was done with it. My reading has not been some grand intellectual pursuit. I've tried to read a bunch of the classics, but I'm not a fan of period literature and I don't like to think too much. I just like to be entertained. My dad once bought a set of the 'great books' from a door-to-door salesman and insisted that we would enjoy reading them. I tried but mostly in bits and pieces, but they didn't take. I used to be a big fan of popular fiction. John Grissom, John Sanford, Patricia Cornwell, that sort of who-dun-it stuff. Not so much anymore, though. I'm a lifelong fan of humorists like Garrison Keillor and Dave Barry, although Dave is best taken in small doses. A couple of books have had a lasting effect on me as an adult. From In Search of Excellence, I leaned about the value of doing a job well and the role good customer service makes in being successful. The Millionaire Next Door is a book I've read more than once. It is another testament to the formula for happy living. Unlike the title suggests, it is not a book that glorifies consumption. It is about thrift and priorities. Lately, I have read three books by Malcolm Gladwell that examine society and how things are connected. Outliers, The Tipping Point and Blink. Each is outstanding in its own way. Freakonomics, by Steven Levitt, is another book in the same vein that I enjoyed. Sometimes I get interested in a topic and read everything I can about it. For a period I was a self-proclaimed expert on the Lincoln assassination and another time I read everything I could find about Tombstone, AZ, and its silver mining history. Since I got my iPod, I find that I don't read as much as I used to, although I do download books and listen to them. Hope that is helpful, A.R. 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

Thursday's theme is fish. I don't particularly care for fish, I don't like to fish, I don't own fish, what's to say about fish? Well, there's this. When I was nine years old, I nearly slept with the fish. And it was not because I was on a Mafia hit list for kids. It was because I might have ignored the fact that I couldn't swim and nearly drowned in a lake. In Omaha, Nebraska in the late fifties, suburban moms didn't load their kids into their SUVs and take them to "lessons". That included swim lessons. In fact, the SUV wasn't even invented. Those moms that drove and there weren't many, drove station wagons. A step up from Conestoga wagons, but certainly no SUV. But I digress. I didn't learn to swim until I was about ten. Swimming lessons in my neighborhood involved jumping into the pool and acting like you were swimming. If you didn't actually swim, you headed to the shallow end or you sank. I spent a lot of time in the shallow end. One Saturday, my dad loaded us all up in the car and took us to a lake for a barbecue with the guys from his work. There was a lot of beer to be drunk at the barbecue and whenever there was a lot of beer to be drunk, my old dad did his share. He was that kind of guy. Anyway, I was hanging around the lake with a couple of other kids and someone got the bright idea to climb on a log and ride it into the lake. Despite the fact that I couldn't swim, I hopped on too, because I was a follower. Things were going along pretty well until someone got the brilliant idea to rock the log, with the predictable results, one of the other kids fell off. When one guy falls off a log in the middle of a lake, anyone left on the log is pretty much doomed to the same fate. I know this for sure, because I fell off and sank into the lake like a rock. I recall flailing and frantically trying to breath. I managed to pop my head up above water and I could see people on the shore watching me. Then I sank again. One of the times I bobbed to the surface, I saw my father sitting on a horse on the shore looking on. A horse, you say? Why yes, having ingested a large quantity of beer, my dad decided that or bragged to his drunken pals, he could ride a horse. So, he went to a nearby stable and rented a horse, just to prove his point. The last thing a drowning kid wants to see when he is drowning, is his drunken old man sitting on a horse watching the proceedings like a general surveying the battlefield. What he really wants to see is his old man swimming to his rescue. Didn't happen, which is probably good, because he might have drowned us both trying to save me. Plus the horse would have probably kicked me in the head. Instead, a teenage kid, who was a lifeguard, swam out and pulled my scrawny butt to safety. All's well that end's well. I was grateful not to have drowned, even if it meant catching hell for nearly ruining a perfectly good picnic. 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

When I first started reading the news online...wait just a minute...before I forget, that was me in the picture yesterday. Okay, when I first started reading the news online...hold it! One more thing. Sleeping Dragon made this comment about yesterday's post. "Wow! Snow angels, without snow look just like a traffic accident." Is that the funniest thing you've read lately or what? So, when I first started reading the news online, I didn't think I was ever get the hang of it. Now I can't read a regular printed paper. I read the Hooterville Daily Dish online and in a particular order. I begin with the obituaries. That may seem odd, but I'm not getting any younger and I know a lot of people, so you never know who will pop up in the obits. I particularly enjoy seeing that an old enemy has big the big one, not that I have enemies. Anyway, this morning a guy I knew from my old bicycling days was smiling back at me. The notice said he died after a long illness. It is shocking to see a former friend among the departed. Luckily, my religion, Deenism, teaches that the universe is just a construct with me as the central character, I don't ever have to worry about dying. Whew! 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 was out early making snow angels. The likelihood of a particular weather event actually occurring is inversely proportional (Ka = pH α 1/ Ka) to the level of hysteria among the television weather people--Merle Wayne Sneed's First Law of Weather Prediction. There was snow in a lot of places in Southern Arizona overnight, just not any to speak of in Hooterville. Snow is not uncommon in the Southern part of our state because despite what you would think, most of the area is over 3000 feet in elevation. Most people don't think of the desert Southwest as a high locale, but it is. Arizona is more mountainous in terrain than flat. Most people wouldn't guess that that Tombstone, AZ is located at 4540 feet above sea level or that Bisbee, AZ, the famous mining town, is higher in elevation than Denver, the Mile High City. In the Northern part of the state, Flagstaff on the old Route 66, now I-40, is over 7000 feet. It is only the Central and Western parts of Arizona that are low desert. Phoenix is about 1000 feet in elevation and when you go to the Western part of the state, Yuma is near sea level. I guess I have to put away my sled and go to work today. I just called and the hardware store is going to be open. 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 could be my last post for awhile. Things are getting scary around here. The headline in today's Hooterville Daily Dish screams, "Snow forecast for Hooterville." Casa Sneed is located at 2592 ft. above sea level, so we are in the target zone. The local CBS TV affiliate, Channel 13 (a coincidence? I don't think so) has its team deployed at outside locations around the city, giving us updates. The fat guy who is built like a bowling pin just told us that it is windy and cold. Burr.... As of 5pm local time the temperature has dropped to 57 degrees. We don't know how much lower it can get before our infrastructure fails. Chuck the Weather Man keeps breaking into the news to show us cool green stuff on maps, which he assures us is incoming snow. We might be hicks, but Hootervillians know snow is white, so I don't know what Chuck is trying to pull. Chuck advises us that the best way to survive this is to check their website often. They have posted this picture on their website so that we will know what is possible. This file photo is neither in the city or a picture of today, but you get the idea. They say that we may get as much as an inch of snow in the city itself. I hope we can get out of the doors by morning. I hope work declares a snow day. I wish I had thought to get some cannned goods and bottled water. Damn it, where are the spare batteries? Oh, the humanity. Wish us the best, we need it. 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

All week it has been warm and sunny, with the highs in the 70s. Today Winter is letting us know that it is not completely gone. This is typical Hooterville late-winter weather, cold one day and hot the next. We celebrated our oldest son's 36th birthday today. How did a young guy like me, get kids that are so old? Mrs. Sneed outdid herself with the menu, French toast with cherry topping, hash browns, bacon, Mimosas for the drinkers, a real feast. All topped off by a giant chocolate cake. 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

Regardless of how we screw things up, Spring shows up, just as scheduled. Maybe it is still Winter where you are, but in Hooterville it is Spring. The roses are starting to leaf out. Regret is the insight that comes a day too late--Unknown Truer words have never been spoken. Maybe you've had an undeserved sharp word for a loved one or failed to keep a promise or maybe an angry pedestrian punched the side of your car and you jumped out and threatened to kick his ass. All things that in retrospect you wish you could undo, but you can't. My buddy, the Seafood King, had a major blowup at bowling Wednesday and when we played golf on Thursday he was still beating himself up over it. We have a team in our Wednesday night bowling league that is notorious for slow play. It is not just that they are slow, one member is tortuously slow, inconsiderately slow. The Seafood King asked him to speed it up and this only seemed to make the guy slower. The Seafood King took this to be obstinacy and unleashed a verbal hissie fit on the guy. To little avail. Of course, like in most cases like this, the Seafood King came off looking like a total jerk and the real total jerk came off looking like a victim. As our mothers always told us, two wrongs don't make a right. To make matters worse, another member, the religious sort, abruptly collected his stuff and told the Seafood King that his language was offensive to him. The Seafood King told him that this is men's bowling, not the Girl Scouts, another fine moment. Man, I've only been on the wrong side of that story about a million times. 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 theme for Theme Thursday is statues. I was supposed to go to the Theme Thursday blog and announce my intention to do a statue themed post, but I'm not always that organized. Without further ado, here is my contribution. This is a statue of Francisco "Pancho" Villa, the Mexican revolutionary and hero or villain, depending on your perspective. Since we only know the history that is taught to us in our government-sponsored schools, Americans tend to see Villa as an outlaw killer and Mexicans, particularly in the Northern States of Mexico, see him as a defender of the average Mexican and flipper-offer of the US government. This statue was presented to the City of Hooterville in 1981 by the Mexican President, Jose Lopez Portillo. Portillo claimed that the statue represented a symbol of how two former enemies had become allies. Some people think it was a joke, but there's no proving it. Villa is a part of folklore in these parts, so Hooterville graciously accepted the gift, much to the chagrin of those citizens who are haters of most things Mexican. We have plenty, believe me. The statue was originally located along side a midtown roadway, but when a major new road, the Kino Parkway was built in that right-of-way, they moved Villa's likeness downtown. City officials replaced the Villa statue with a statue of Fr. Eusebio Francisco Kino, the Catholic missionary and explorer who established 24 mission in Northern Mexico and Southern Arizona. Even though Fr. Kino's middle name was Francisco, there is no record of anyone calling him Pancho. Fr. Kino had the uncanny ability to get the peaceful indigenous peoples to give up on their superstitious beliefs and adopt his new-fangled brand of mumbo jumbo. The native peoples of our area, the Pima, were agrarian, so subduing them was kind of easy. Especially since the missions provided them with protection from the raids of the hostile Apaches. Kino had no success in converting the Apaches to Catholicism, because they preferred to kill intruders, rather than adopting their religion. Father Kino remains a big deal to many in these parts, even though he died in 1711. In fact one of the two official statues representing Arizona in the US Capitol is a likeness of Fr. Kino. 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

Warning! The following post may contain material that causes drowsiness. Do not drive or operate machinery while reading. The latest and greatest from the Stimulus Bill includes a tax deduction for buying a new car. I like to think of it as another dopey idea for people who can't do math. This provision allows a tax deduction for the sales tax on the purchase of the vehicle and another deduction for the interest paid on a loan to finance it. Suppose that you buy a car for $25,000 bucks. Here in Hooterville, where the sales tax rate is 8.1%, you would pay $2,025 in sales tax. That translates into a one-time income tax savings of about $300, if you are in the 15% marginal rate or about $500 if you are in the 25% bracket. If you were to finance the new car, you would also get to deduct the interest you paid on the loan. The interest on a $25K loan over 5 years is about $4,000 at a 6% interest rate. It breaks down like this. Year 1 - $1300 - tax savings $195 (15% rate) or $325 (25% rate) Year 2 - $1100 - tax savings $165 (15% rate) or $275 (25% rate) Year 3 - $ 900 - tax savings $135 (15% rate) or $225 (25% rate) Year 4 - $ 600 - tax savings $ 90 (15% rate) or $150 (25% rate) Year 5 - $ 100 - tax savings $ 15 (15% rate) or $ 25 (25% rate) Total saving on income taxes over 5 years is between $900 and $1500, or $180 to $300 per year. So the question is, should you go deeply in debt to buy a depreciating asset in order to get $25 per month from the government? 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 Open Letter to the President

Dear President Obama, I just filed my federal income taxes and it seems as though the Sneeds owe you some money. If you've had time to check your email this morning you might have noticed our return. It would be very helpful if you and the fine members of Congress could pass the stimulus bill asap and send us our $1000 tax bonanza before April 15th. Better yet, could you check to see if the $600 or so that we owe you can just be deducted from the $1000 coming our way? It would really streamline things all around. You can just send us the balance or direct deposit it in our account (I included the bank account number, keep it under your hat). As always, our best to you and yours. Merle Wayne Sneed p.s. Any news on the dog adoption? 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

Silent Poetry Day

Who chooses? The pass, the catch, the jubilation, Hands point skyward, "Thank you Jesus", is on their lips, The pass, the catch, the disconsolation, Heads hang low, "Why God?" is on their lips. Does God pick the winner? A child plays in the yard, strong and agile, He laughs, eyes filled with joy, A child looks from the window, sad and lonely, Eyes filled with pain and sorrow. Does God pick the healthy child? We eat, we drink, we shop, we live, The bounty of life seems endless, Someone hungers, someone thirsts and someone dies, The pain of life is endless. Does God pick the hungry? Bombs rain down with death and destruction, We sleep peaceful in our beds, they are far away, Bombs rain down with death and destruction, Someone dies in the night, torn apart, the bombs are near. Does God pick the victims? Who is this God who decides who wins and loses? Who is this God who decides who is sick and who is well? Who is this God who decides who is full or whose stomach is empty? Who is this God who decides who lives and who dies? We see, but we don't see, We see, but we look away, We see, but we don't act, We look for God , but God is not here, just you and me. We chose who, that's who. 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

Our newest Sneedlet, Miss Riley, is getting bigger and cuter. Then there is the matter of the other two. I'm at an exciting Super Bowl party at Daughter Sneed's house. I don't have a dog in this fight, but it looks as if the Cardinals are over-matched by the Steelers, but it's early. This recession is starting to hit our hardware store kind of hard. I was able to check yesterday and it looks as if our sales are down maybe 15% from last year. And last year was no bargain either. I'm wondering how long it will be before the cuts start? I don't know how it is where you live but here in Hooterville the locals are counting on the big stimulus bill to help cure what ails us. That strikes me as a bad sign. Our local government does a lot of stupid stuff and they don't need more encouragement. We've had a big master project called Rio Nuevo (New River, more or less) underway in our old downtown for about ten years now. It is better known as Rio Nada to the locals. So far they have spent something like $86m on planning and have nothing to show for it. The guy running the project says that the stimulus money will let them really ramp up planning. Hooey! From today's Hooterville Daily Dish; For the projects without concrete plans, Rio Nuevo director Greg Shelko said the city would "ramp up design work to take advantage of the money." You can't make this crap up. I had hoped that the stimulus plan would put people to work, but it's shaping up to be a 'keep the bureaucrats bureaucratizing' bill. Mr. President needs to nix the whole business unless they get back to what it was supposed to be. 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