The Saturday Devotion: A Salute to the Average Joe

We celebrate the best and brightest. They are the ones who dominate television and print media. The average joe dreams of brushing up against one of these icons. "What a thrill it would be," he thinks, "to meet one of these extraordinary people." We covet their celebrity, their beauty, their fitness, their adulation by the masses. The average joe often thinks himself to be second-class and less than the supposed heroes.



I do not want to take away from achievement, beauty, victory, or extraordinary talent. I do want to shine a light on the importance of doing a job well outside of the spotlight.



We all know them; we are them. We get up every day and go to work. We come home and take care of responsibilities there. We are polite and helpful. We love our country. Our energy comes from our daily touches with people. We have gratitude for our health, our homes, our families, and our freedom.



We do our part and then some. We are the army that mobilizes in disaster and hardship. While we may bicker at times and have a bad moment or two, our neighbors can count on us and it matters not what color they are or what church they go to if at all. We have a desire and a compassion that drives us to lend a hand.



A society cannot work without us average joes. We will move through life unrecognized by the media giants, but well known in our little corners of the world. We love and are loved by many.



So here's to the average joes (male and female) Heroes of the routine, the blood cells of a great community.



Until the next time

John Strain

The House Where The Weenie Dogs Live

This is a recycled post from October 29, 2003

This is a Halloween story. There was an eerie house in our neighborhood. I walked by it almost daily when I walked my dog Hobo. Something about it was strange - we never saw people we only heard that awful sound. From a distance the house appeared like any other house, but the comparison ends there. This house was evil. It was a vessel of untold torturous tales. No matter the time of day or night the beasts were vigilant. They would lie in wait for an unsuspecting sojourner. I could feel an evil force draw me near, but I somehow resisted the curiosity of the place. Others were not so lucky. As I walked my dog the silence seemed to spread as we neared the premises. The birds went quiet and the air stopped moving. Then at a time designated to strike the most fear in my heart all hell would break loose. The beasts would throw themselves against the door attempting to attack me and my trusty Labrador. Their gnarling teeth could be heard snapping wildly in the air. Their growls, barks, and howls sent chills up and down my spine. Hobo's hackles were up as he looked around trying to glimpse the threat. These beasts were too crafty and they would not attack with people around. Instead they would bide their time and feed on the unsuspecting and the curious. Many went in - no one ever came out. I am of course talking about weenie dogs. Are you laughing? Don't say you were not warned. I wrote a poem about this house and its dangers - I called it:



The House Where the Weenie Dogs Live

The sounds that came from there at night,

Set upon one an awful fright.

Now I know everyone was right-

about the house where the weenie dogs live.



I wish poor Billy had taken heed,

but his curiosity caused a larger need.

So on his corpse those beasts did feed-

at the house where the weenie dogs live.



Some say they're small and cannot harm,

now they wield a prosthetic arm.

Others say they're a common pet,

We haven't heard back from them yet.

One thing is sure they won't forget-

the house where the weenie dogs live.



The Devil Dog and Kujo know,

where they can and cannot go.

The Wolf Man with his teeth and hair,

is certain he's not welcome there.

Everyone else should best beware-

of the house where the weenie dogs live.



I've done my part, I've tried to warn,

It's up to you to heed or scorn.

But if you scoff this much is true,

Those vicious beasts do wait for you-

At the house where the weenie dogs live.

---

Until the next time

John Strain

Political Correctness Reaches New Level of Absurdity

This just in from Washington State's Puyallup School District: No Halloween part so as not to offend the real witches.



News Story



When I first heard the term "politically correct" somewhere around 1991 I had a negative reaction in my gut. Since then I have nearly developed an ulcer. Lunacy, stupidity, illogic, unfairness, and projection of false beliefs on the innocent are but a few things that pop into my head as reasons why I feel this way. The result of being politically correct is usually; the majority should suffer for the "supposed rights" of a small minority. It seems, only one cry baby can spoil things for the entire group.



This latest case in Washington State is an example of the political correct police going completely crazy. A letter sent home to parents gave three reasons for canceling the traditional Halloween party and parade throughout the school district.



1. It is not educational. (I am sure everything else done at the school is.)

2. Some children cannot afford a costume. (Creativity makes up for any lack of money where Halloween costumes are concerned.)

3. Real witches might be offended. (Huh?????? Lord knows we would not want to offend a real witch.)



I cannot make this stuff up. How does this kind of thinker get to the positions of authority to enact such insane policies? Are the rights of people in that school district all met to the extent the real witches are the only ones left to guard? Let's tear down the Ten Commandments, the flag, and make sure crosses are nowhere to be found. Take the word God out of the pledge and for God's sake let's not have a Halloween party.



John Wayne please come back, I miss you. Ronald Reagan where have you gone? You two have been replaced by an army of pussies, who, on one hand, defend terrorists responsible for the deaths of thousands of Americans and, on the other hand, see to it that the rights of witches being offended (without evidence) outweigh the rights of little children to experience some traditional fun.



I am waiting for the backlash. Many have bowed to be "politically correct" out of politeness, but when their rights are routinely viewed as less important than the rights of every obscure minority, they will begin to wonder - what about us? What about our needs? I am legally blind. So what, that's my problem. I do not expect traffic to stop so I can cross the street or for restaurants in the northern hemisphere to provide large print menus. It is my problem and I must adapt.



Somewhere along the line a person with a problem convinced folks that their individual problem was really everyone else’s problem. It is nice to hold the door for a guy in a wheel chair, but there should not be a law to do so. Stop the madness. Who says being offended is a crime? I get offended all the time. If I am really offended, I do something about it, but most of the time I just move on. That is what these morons should do, instead of canceling Halloween parties for little kids, they should just move on.



Gee, I hope I did not offend anyone.



Until the next time

John Strain

Leaves and Turds

Last year at this time we were in Tennessee on holiday to see the beautiful fall foliage. We had plans and reservations to go this year too, but at the last minute, a medical emergency in our traveling companion's family brought the trip to a screeching halt. We were disappointed of course, but our concerns were with the family and the importance of looking at leaves was put into perspective. My friends at work were more upset about me not going on vacation than I was. When I came to work on Friday last week instead of being on the highway, I opened my office and it was covered with beautiful leaves, fake; but beautiful. Susan is one of those people who always does the nice, thoughtful thing. It was my turn to benefit from her kind nature this time and it felt good. When I opened my office door, it was quite a surprise to see leaves all over the place. It sure made me smile. Comments were made throughout the day about me needing to rake my office. I tried to borrow the leaf blower from the maintenance guy, but I ended up just leaving them on the floor for a few days. I finally picked them up on Tuesday.



In a completely unrelated subject, I would like to write a few words about dog turds. I am the proud owner of a 13.5-year-old incontinent Labrador. He pees outside, but he has no clue when he has to poop. He often drops a load when he tries to stand up, because he has to strain so hard. Barbara and I have gotten used to it. When the bombs fall, I get a couple of paper towels, police up the turds, and throw them outside in the trash. Barbara and I have begun making bets on the way home about the number of turds that will be on the floor and the location of said poops. Tomorrow my guess is 3 poops next to the red chair. You can get in on this if you like, just post your guess and I will let you know who came closest to the actual outcome. I take to heart the saying, "If life gives you dog turds, make a game out of it." Or was it, "If life gives you lemons, make lemonade?"



This is the kind of post that makes my mother proud. It also describes me. I can speak of the poignant and the poo poo, in the same post, kind of like my normal conversation.



Until the next time

John Strain

Taxes

I realize society must levy taxes on its citizens to pave roads, provide police protection, and study the mating habits of woodpeckers. Speaking of woodpeckers, I bet they give women splinters. Be that as it may, back to the subject at hand: taxes.



Have you ever stopped to think about all of the taxes you pay? The biggest chunk comes out of your earnings. State, federal, FICA, Medicare, and other taxes are all listed with little minus signs next to them to show you what you don’t get. It is always funny to see a 15 or 16 year old when the concept of taxes dawns on them. All week they thought $5.00 per hour for 20 hours would get them $100. Then the surprise hits when they open the envelope and see a check for $72.38. What the?



Then there is sales tax which is 8.75% where I live. It will be 10% soon I am sure of it. If you decide to purchase cigarettes, alcohol, or gasoline, there is extra tax added to those little luxuries.



Now look at your phone bill and cable bill. Be forewarned, they'll piss you off. $2.77 here and $1.03 there add up after awhile.



Let us not forget the property tax, personal property tax, and other taxes associated with your car and home. Every time I turn around, Uncle Sam is patting me down for loose change. Hotels charge extra for entertainment tax, airlines charge several kinds of taxes. Enough already.



All of a sudden the Beatles song "Taxman" is playing in my head.

Let me tell you how it will be,

There’s one for you, nineteen for me,

‘Cos I’m the Taxman,

Yeah, I’m the Taxman.

Should five per cent appear too small,

Be thankful I don’t take it all,

‘Cos I’m the Taxman,

Yeah, I’m the Taxman.

If you drive a car, I’ll tax the street,

If you try to sit, I’ll tax your seat,

If you get too cold, I’ll tax the heat,

If you take a walk, I’ll tax your feet.

Taxman.

‘Cos I’m the Taxman,

Yeah, I’m the Taxman.

Don’t ask me what I want it for

(Taxman Mister Wilson)

If you don’t want to pay some more

(Taxman Mister Heath),

‘Cos I’m the Taxman,

Yeah, I’m the Taxman.

Now my advice for those who die,

Declare the pennies on your eyes,

‘Cos I’m the Taxman,

Yeah, I’m the Taxman.

And you’re working for no-one but me,

Taxman.

I am declaring Tuesday to be "Bitch About Taxes Day" here at John's Online Journal, so sound off. Anyone for some Boston Harbor tea?



Until the next time

John Strain