You might not expect the day after Thanksgiving to be a big sales day at a hardware store, but it is. I'm told that about 15 people were waiting for the store to open Friday morning.

Tools are a very popular Christmas gift around here and we had some good deals. Of course, like most years we got a product that we have no chance of selling. This year it is an aeroponic garden.

An aeroponic garden is a device that lets you grow stuff indoors without any soil. Here is a link for one. Even at 50% off the normal $100 price this is a dog.

Black Friday is not our biggest sales day, but it is still a big day, sales-wise.

Mrs. Sneed, our middle son and I spent Thanksgiving at our daughter's house. We had a delicious meal. There was some Sneed family drama in the run up to Thanksgiving, but in the end, no one "had the right to remain silent", so it was a big success.

Year upon year, Thanksgiving weekend is when our weather takes a turn for the cooler. And the windier. This year was no exception. Our 70ish daytime weather is gone for a day or two and we even had a bit of rain. Always welcome, that rain.

Tonight there is a winter storm advisory for the parts of Southern Arizona that are over 4500' in elevation. Since Hooterville is mostly in the range of 2400' to 3000' we will be spared the brunt of it. We are expecting a low in the low 40's.

Winter in Hooterville means a daytime high of 60 and an overnight low of 40. In Minnesota, they call that early summer.



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

As longtime readers know Merle Wayne Sneed is often mystified by the things other people do.

Having a intimate conversation on a cell phone in a hardware store springs to mind. Using an "outside" voice while conversing, is doubly bad.

This picture is from the car wash that I frequent and hangs over their express line. Express means that you ride in the car while it is washed. All you get is the exterior washed, no drying, no windows, no vacuuming. It costs $3.99.

I went to this car wash Monday morning and pulled up to the regular wash line to wait for the ticket-writer to ask me what sort of car wash I wanted. She was busy talking to a woman in the express line. So I waited and waited.

Over the course of the next few minutes, the ticket-writer made three trips across the lanes of the car wash to a podium about 50 feet away. She would talk to the driver, walk to the podium, go back to the driver, back to the podium, etc.

It finally occurred to me that the jack-a-loon in the express lane was paying for the $3.99 car wash with a credit card and it wasn't going well.

That brings me to my rant of the day. Is it too much to ask that a person using the cheapskate line at the car wash bring cash? Is $4 too much to carry? Really?

I suggested to a guy who looked like he might be the manager that the Express Wash ought to be cash only. He said that if they don't take credit cards, they lose business.

The car behind me in line backed up and left while the credit card tango was in progress. That can't be good for business.




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 have the perfect weather for growing citrus. A bit of sandy soil, regular watering and a bit of fertilizer twice a year and you can't go wrong. Since it doesn't really freeze here much, they do just fine. This is a lemon tree (I think) that is in a container at the car wash.

How do you explain evolution to a six-year-old? For that matter, how do you explain it to people who think the world is 6,000 years old? One is about as easy as the other.

Noah and I were watching a documentary called, Walking With Prehistoric Beasts this morning and in one scene he saw something that looked like an ape, walking upright like a human. It totally baffled him and started a whole discussion about what it was. He wanted to know if all the monkeys turned into people? But, how about the monkeys that are still here?

I know otherwise intelligent adults who ask that last question. Even some who will still protest that they are not descended from a monkey.

Of course that assertion is true. We did not descend from a monkey or an ape. We merely share a common ancestor with that branch of the tree of life. If we both, monkeys and humans, trace our way back down our little branches, we eventually find our common ancestor. Farther back, the ones we share with life forms totally different than us, like Hippos, maybe.

Eventually, we all trace ourselves to the first life form. The inescapable conclusion is that we are all distant relatives of one another. Tigers, ants and people.

Richard Dawkins has a new book out called, The Greatest Show On Earth. Dawkins explains why what we know of evolution is true.

The Bible-Thumper-in Chief at the store saw me reading the other day at lunch and asked what I was reading. I told him the title, fully expecting the worst, but he thought it was the story of the circus and that set him off on talking about himself.

Close call.





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

Yesterday was Miss Riley's 1st birthday. It hardly seems possible that she is a year old.

She hopes to master the art of the stroller. She will be an old hand by tomorrow.

Mom made this huge cupcake for the celebration and a good time was had by all.






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 went to a funeral today. It was for an elderly woman, whose death was neither out of the blue nor unexpected. She had been dying for sometime.

In fact, if you think about it, we have all been dying for sometime. It is just that in some cases it is more noticeable than in others.

I'm reminded of the death of a prominent person some years ago. Actually, I can't remember the name of the prominent person, but he or she was prominent enough to have television reporters asking stupid questions about him or her on TV.

One news person, no doubt trying to seem serious, asked the doctor conducting the press conference about the death of the celebrity, if the dead person died of heart failure?

The doctor replied, "We all die of heart failure."

Sometimes our heart fails because of natural causes and sometimes because something stopped it, but one way or another, the last thing that happens is our heart stops beating for good and we die.

And another thing is that we all die suddenly, no matter how long it takes us. We might linger for months or years, but one moment we are alive and the next second we are quite dead. There is no in between. The nearest near-death experience was still life.

But, I digress.

I never actually met the deceased, but I am friends with her son, so I went to the funeral.

As funerals go, this one was unusual. No minister, no music, just a short military tribute, because the woman had served in the military and a few words about the deceased written by her son and read by a funeral home guy. It seemed about the right amount of funeral to me.

The usual speculation about what becomes of us when we are dead was confined to a release of doves at the conclusion. Symbolizing the release of the soul from its Earthly bonds, I suppose.

No promises, no predictions, just the age old human hope that somehow we can cheat death.

Of course we don't now what happens to the souls of the dead for sure, or even if there is really a soul. It is all speculation, whether based on the stories of the ancients or on the confidence of modern science. What happens to the "us" in us remains unresolved.

What we do know is that with or without mortuary intervention, sooner or later we return to the cosmic soup from which we came. Then the elements that were us are mashed up and we are off again to become a part of something else, somewhere.



Just about sums it up for me. Except that I plan on living til about 100.












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

(AP Photo/Paul Sakuma)

The price of a box of Eggo frozen waffles hit $172 on the Chicago Mercantile Exchange earlier today, on fears of further disruption in the nation's frozen waffle supply.

Skip Kenderson, a waffle futures trader for the securties firm, Blanche, Kenderson and Wallie, noted that cuts in production at two of Kellogg's four Eggo bakeries are behind this run up in prices.

"This is the most unstable market conditions we have seen since the Ford administration instituted price controls in the 1970s," said Kenderson. Kenderson predicted that short of a miracle, America's dependence on imported waffles would reach record levels by early 2010.

"This is a setback for us all. America has always been the leader in frozen waffle technology and a supply disruption means that Asian waffle exporters, particularly Chinese makers, can flood the market with cheap imports.

Millie Caruzo, a mother of six in Duluth, said that she would definitely be open to buying imported waffles if it comes to that, despite concerns about health and safety issues.

"Look, I have six kids and we can't do without our frozen waffles. Sure I've heard the stories, but this whole lead thing is way overblown, if you're asking me," Caruzo said.

In Washington, President Obama summoned Kellogg's senior managers to brief him on the crisis.

Possible steps include an Executive order instructing Homeland Security Secretary Janet Napolitano to develop a plan to close the borders to prevent Eggos from being smuggled out of the country.

Presidential spokesman, Chester A. Riley, would not rule out federal intervention to get production going again, although he denied that those plans have already been signed off on by Mr. Obama.

The American Grocery Board is asking all of its members to be on the look out for hoarders who may be trying to cash in on this shortage.

Blaine Magondance, a spokesman for the grocery board said that his members are reporting brisk sales on Eggos and that most stores are completely out of the delicious breakfast treat.

"I can't say that we have any hard evidence of organized criminal activity surrounding the rapidly shrinking waffle supply, but we are being vigilant," Magondance told reporters Wednesday.

Not all the news was bad, however. Stores in the Texas panhandle and the southern portion of Oklahoma, report that they have on average, a 9-month supply of Eggos.

"We don't eat that shit much out this way,"' said Buddy Jones, Jr., mayor of Waddle Springs, an oil town north of Amarillo. "It's business as usual here in beautiful Texas and we invite everyone to come down here and stock up."

Kellogg VP Mindy James told reporters that she doesn't expect this shortage to be resolved until the summer of 2010, at the earliest.

That news had a chilling effect at the Democratic National Committee headquarters, where an unnamed staffer said, "Dude, if this thing drags into the fall, we're so f*cked in the mid-terms."









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 woke up this morning, I discovered that our internet service was on the Fritz. How did we ever survive without the internet? My god, I had to read the analog newspaper.

Oh, and by the way, the Hell with health care reform, we have bigger fish to fry.

Specifically, I need some kid of federal, state or local regulation making it illegal for Some Guy Named Bob to own a cellphone, or at least one that makes outgoing calls. Maybe he can have 9-1-1 calling, but that's it.

Sunday afternoon, I happened to check my phone and was surprised to see that I had a voice message. It was from Some Guy Named Bob, asking me to call him as soon as possible. I called him back and got his voice mail, so I left him a message to call me back.

About five minutes later, I had another voice mail from him. Apparently he replied to my message, rather than calling. I called again and got his voice mail...again.

A few minutes later he called me again. He wanted to tell me that The Seafood King was going out of town and couldn't make golf Thursday. Did I want to play anyway?

I told him that my friend's mom died and that the funeral is Thursday, so I was probably not going to make golf anyway.

Maybe five minutes later he called back and asked if I could change my day off from Thursday to Friday, so that I could play golf Friday.

"Uh, funeral on Thursday, Bob."

When I went to lunch today, I had a voice mail from Some Guy Named Bob, telling me to call as soon as possible so that he could ask me something. I called him.

"We're you playing golf on Thursday?"

"No."

"Is there anyway you can change you day off to Friday? Dr. Bealer is getting off a half day and we are playing Friday afternoon." (Dr. Bealer is another of his friends.)

I can't change my day off, Bob."

"Did the Seafood King leave yet?"

"Not until Thursday."

"Okay, I guess he can't play."

"Nope."

"Uh, see you the following Thursday."

"Thanksgiving, Bob."

"Okay then, I'll call you."

"Okay."


















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'm sure that I read a variation on this idea somewhere, but let's pretend that I thought it up on my own.

We organize into families, so that we don't have to fight with strangers.









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

"There's no such thing as a free lunch.:--Milton Friedman (maybe).


Ever think about the ways in which we try to get a free lunch, or at least a metaphorical free lunch?

I know people who have attended high-pressure sales pitches for timeshares in order to get some free stuff. Three hours in hell for a few bucks, go figure. Not to mention that about half the people I've ever known who attended one of these things, wind up buying one and most of them find out that they now own a small slice of hell.

How about the millions of people who line up at the crack of God-knows-when Thanksgiving night to get a crack at a stinking bargain television or something else? Would you wait all night in the cold for the right to by some consumer electronics cheap?

It's the cheapest man who spends the most--An old mechanic's saying.

My friend, Some Guy Named Bob, took advantage of Applebees offer of a free meal to veterans of the US armed services yesterday. He waited an hour and a half to be seated, so I have to question the idea of a free meal in this case.

I don't mean to be cynical about this honor the veterans stuff, but if the line of folks waiting to take advantage was that long, I have to think that Applebees made out on the friends and family that accompanied the veterans.

Some Guy Named Bob proudly served in US Army for 17 years, including three tours in Vietnam. I admire Some Guy Named Bob for his commitment to country.

It is wildly popular these days to think that all war is misguided and unjust. Tragic is a better description. But it is also tragic that despots and madmen would squash our rights in a heartbeat, too.

Even in his retirement Some Guy Named Bob is committed to making positive change in life. He devotes a lot of his time and energy toward helping disadvantaged boys and girls. Some Guy Named Bob is quite a guy, even if I bitch about his million annoying habits.





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 you work retail you meet a lots of jerks. Merle Wayne Sneed's first rule of jerks is that if you think you've met the biggest jerk alive, you're wrong. Case in point.

I'm sorry if this post seems arrogant, because I'm not an arrogant guy. I just don't suffer fools easily.

Bright and early this morning, I got a call over to the radio at work to assist a customer in finding some screws. Sure enough, when I got to the hardware aisle there was guy waiting for me.

He said he wanted some screws and was quite specific about what he wanted. It was specific gibberish, but specific.

This fellow is about 50ish and apparently is the manager, or more likely, the assistant manager of a used sporting goods store near us, given his swell store shirt.

He said he wanted 1/8" x 1" fine tread screws, with threads all the way to the top. I got him something close to what he was asking for. I say close because his description wasn't real specific, even though it might seem like it was.

"Those", he snapped at me, "are not what I want. He said that the screws he needed don't have a point on the end.

"Oh, you want bolts then?"

Yes, he wanted bolts, plus two washers per bolt and nuts to fit the bolts.

I set about gathering his hardware and putting two washers on each bolt and then a nut on each. He snapped at me again, telling me to just put them in a bag because he was in a hurry.

In the process of bagging the items I dropped a nine cent washer on the floor and it rolled away and out of sight. The guy started to look for it and I told him not to sweat it. Actually what I said was, "The janitor will get it."

He said something to me that was drown out by by the assistant manager going by with a noisy stocking cart. Plus I'm hard of hearing, especially with the radio earpiece in.

The guy repeated what he said, but all I heard was "...worked for me, I'd fire..."

"Fired for what", I asked?

"For what...said", he replied.

"What did he say?"

"Not him, you", he tells me.

"What did I say?"

"You said, leave it for the janitor. If you worked for me, I'd fire you."

This was the point at which I lost my vision due to the blood rushing to my eyes. Here was some dip shit loser, who has bungled his way into the management ranks of a used sporting goods store telling me that he would fire me.

The dumbo can't tell a screw from a bolt, but he is a fricking captain of industry.

How often have you had words with someone and then only after leaving, thought of the perfect rejoinder? Well, I thought of one before I left, for once.

I looked him right in the eye and said, "Guys like you don't get to fire guys like me."

He response was to say he would at least suspend me. Dumber that a box of rocks.

I explained to him that I work in the hardware store because it is interesting and keeps me busy, not because I need some piss ant retail job. I fact, I added, I have a lot of skills and can fix most things. I'm of more value to the store than it is to me. So, if a guy like you tried to fire a guy like me I would be out the door before you could get half the words out and never give you another thought.

Then I said, "You have 30 pieces at nine cents and ten pieces at ten cents. Tell the cashier you owe her $ 3.70."

I can't wait for the next time I see him.










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

"God give us grace, to accept with serenity the things that cannot be changed, courage to change the things that should be changed, and the wisdom to distinguish the one from the other."--Reinhold Niebuhr

"God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, Courage to change the things I can change, And wisdom to know the difference.--Reinhold Niebuhr
more common version

Merle Wayne Sneed doesn't subscribe to the idea of a personal God. But you already now that. So, you might ask, what is up with the quote?

God or not, there is a lot of wisdom in those words. More than one Sneed has used those thoughts to help him break the grip of addiction. Those simple words have amazing transformative powers.

But this isn't about addiction. It is about accepting the things I cannot change. I have the courage to change the things I can in life, that is not my problem. It is dealing with the things I cannot change and moving beyond my disappointment, that cause me problems.

As a boy growing up in a terribly dysfunctional home, I coped with my daily disappointments by telling myself that it just didn't matter or that I didn't want "that" anyway. You can't hurt me, if I don't care and if I tell myself enough times that I don't care, maybe I won't.

Acceptance can be a bitter pill.

I cannot get into the specifics, but Mrs. Sneed and I are facing a huge disappointment in our lives and we are struggling, each in our own way, with how we will deal with it.

How does one find the serenity to accept the things he cannot change, when that change breaks his heart? I wish I knew that.

People do what they do for their own reasons, sometimes without regard for the collateral damage their decisions cause. Other times people do what they do for perfectly good reasons and hurt is just an unfortunate byproduct.

In the end, I have a right to my anger, my disappointment, my hurt, my point of view. I have a right to express my concerns, my reservations, to list the reasons that something is not a good idea. But, I'm only entitled to live my life, not yours.

And that's the rub.










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

As promised the much-awaited Halloween pix. A word of warning first.

My head is the size of China. I can't help it. Clicking to enlarge my picture may make your computer screen bulge out. Do it at your own peril.


This is me and my hippy old lady.


Here she is again, this time without my giant noggin casting a shadow.


Andy Warhol, I presume?


Andy along with Marilyn (It is really Aiden and his terribly clever Mom).


Aiden's dad was a very good sport, even though he was, and I quote "boiling". Aiden's mom made the can of soup costume.






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 wonder if the Sneed family got many trick or treaters this year? I personally couldn't tell you because we weren't home.

Our son and daughter-in-law threw a big Halloween bash, which was actually a cover for a dual surprise birthday party for Daughter-in-Law Sneed's parents, who both turned 60 around now.

So, trick or treaters, if any, were met with a darken door at Casa Sneed. No tricks were in evidence, so if they came here, they took our absence in stride.

Our Son and his family live in a neighborhood of young families, so they had about a zillion kids pounding on the door. It all evens out.

Daughter-in-Law Sneed is a very creative woman. Actually, calling her very creative is like saying Einstein had an interest in physics.

Aiden was dressed as Andy Warhol, his mom, as Marilyn and his dad as a giant can of Campbell's soup. They were fabulous. Somehow, the pictures are missing, but we hope to find them soon.

Mrs. Sneed and I went as a couple of old hippies. We are, after all, a couple and old. The hippie part was a breeze.

I'll post the pictures as soon as we figure out who has some.



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