tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-64995572011-04-21T19:12:22.301-04:00The Truth (more or less), as I recall it.re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comBlogger411100tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1094011534218891782004-09-01T12:06:00.000-04:002004-09-01T00:12:19.700-04:00

Unlucky in love, and failing to find a good job even with a college education, the young man decided to join a monastery. When he signed up, the abbot told him every new monk had to make a vow. The young man thought for a minute, then made a vow of silence. For twenty years, the young monk diligently performed his duties and never spoke a word. One day the abbot sent for him and said, "You have

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1092413695183582162004-08-13T11:53:00.000-04:002004-08-13T12:19:09.013-04:00

(Another email forwarded to me from Wife. This is a lot easier than coming up with something original!) The email: I never quite figured out why the sexual urge of men & women differ so much. And I never have figured out the whole Venus and Mars thing. I have never figured out why men think with their head and women with their heart. I have never figured out why the sexual desire gene gets

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1091799707161954892004-08-06T09:38:00.000-04:002004-08-06T10:27:11.203-04:00

(Taking a cue from Fayrouz Break Room, the following was in an email forwarded to me by Wife.) Here are some conversations that airline passengers normally will never hear. The following are accounts of actual exchanges between airline pilots and control towers around the world. Tower: "Delta 351, you have traffic at 10 o'clock, 6 miles!" Delta 351: "Give us another hint! We have digital

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1091215504167572572004-07-31T12:15:00.000-04:002004-07-31T12:20:30.930-04:00

Sister-in-law #2, A, recently had surgery to place titanium rods in her back. She has been instructed to "take it easy" for a while. A, like Wife, possesses an unusually hard head, as well as a propensity for tripping over almost anything handy (a shadow will do in a pinch). A has fallen at least three times since having the surgery. One of the falls resulted in a rod becoming bent, which I

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1088632127257630542004-07-01T14:18:00.000-04:002004-07-01T11:10:34.753-04:00

Last night, June 29, Wife and I commemorated the thirtieth anniversary of the evening we committed matrimony. Wife does not agree with my contention that marriage licenses should be regulated like driver's licenses; renew them every four years, or they expire. We rented a room at a local restaurant, where we were joined by thirty or forty (or fifty?) friends and kinfolk, some of whom I had never

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1088022126019604182004-06-23T13:55:00.000-04:002004-06-23T17:12:15.596-04:00

I hate viruses, and this virus was personal. It was apparently an attachment, clinging to some air which I downloaded into my lungs from the atmosphere at some point a couple of weekends ago. And while I normally update my personal virus protection on a daily basis, thereby maintaining it at 100-proof, I must admit that I had been a little lax that weekend. Due to the alcohol content in my system

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1087058229230535972004-06-13T11:55:00.000-04:002004-06-13T19:40:39.750-04:00

Wife's nephew, C, is an engineer in the U.S. Air Force. He reported for duty in Japan earlier this year, and we email each other from time to time. My latest email, several weeks ago, remains unanswered. We were getting worried, but then he called us yesterday. From Iraq. He can't tell us where he is - not even if he is in northern Iraq or southern Iraq (probably due to security, although most

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1086428905835588972004-06-11T11:29:00.000-04:002004-06-11T11:00:46.960-04:00

I've never given much credence to purported sightings of ghosts, UFO's, Bigfoots (Bigfeet?), and such things. However, when several relatively sane people (including and my own sister) reported that, while travelling along a certain road late at night, they had seen The Devil himself standing beside the road, I had to wonder what was going on. Playing in a band made it necessary for me to travel

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1086632050639958772004-06-07T13:15:00.000-04:002004-06-07T20:06:19.010-04:00

I've been a little preoccupied with real life lately, but I figured I'd better post something before Blogger declares this site abandoned. Here are some links. Sarmad, at Road of A Nation, has started a forum encouraging communication and inviting discussion. Two of the current topics are "Ask Iraq" and "Ask America". I believe that anyone reading these discussions can gain understanding, but

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1081869941471372412004-05-27T12:08:00.000-04:002004-05-27T12:13:31.060-04:00

My knowledge of working on cars is as follows: I can check the oil and put gas in the tank. Daughter calls to advise that her Hyundai has quit, leaving Daughter and Boyfriend-of-Daughter stranded about 20 miles from home. I inquire why she is calling me, rather than C (Father-of-Boyfriend), who can fix anything (except a computer - more on that in a future post). Daughter explains that she did,

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1081459773603125022004-05-24T12:24:00.000-04:002004-05-24T12:32:55.830-04:00

The young man was eager to follow in the footsteps of his father, mother, and two older brothers, all of whom had served honorably in the Air Force. The day after he graduated from high school, he joined. For the first few weeks of Basic Training, the young man called home every weekend, telling his father enthusiastically how delighted he was to be in the Air Force. Then, in his final week of

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1085083260447624482004-05-22T13:40:00.000-04:002004-05-22T18:21:21.536-04:00

(This is the translation of an ancient scroll, recently discovered somewhere in the Middle East, concerning stress.) Verily I say unto you, if ye endureth stress daily in thy life, ye shall expire at an early age. Readeth ye these writings, and taketh them to thine heart, and ye may yet liveth to be an burden upon thy grandchildren! An scenario: Yay, even though ye have had thine cart pack-ed

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1084974124930356602004-05-20T08:48:00.000-04:002004-05-22T18:20:35.753-04:00

(If you're interested in what has led up to this post, start reading the archives with Stress Test (Part I).) I had my heart catheterization on May 17. I arrive at the hospital at 7:30 and sign an agreement guaranteeing that the hospital will be paid, even if I have to sell Wife to a pimp. I am also required to agree that I will not hold the hospital liable if something goes wrong and they kill

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1083875528715876302004-05-07T08:37:00.000-04:002004-05-07T08:37:15.293-04:00

This is actually Stress Test Part IV. When I started this series of posts, I never expected them to drag on like this. Of course, I also never expected to be told that, at some point in the past, I have had a heart attack without knowing it! I have just returned from my follow-up visit with the cardiologist, Dr. C. He has advised me that, although some of the problems indicated by the stress

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1083179186095450862004-05-01T12:52:00.000-04:002004-05-01T12:52:52.030-04:00

I go back to see R (have I mentioned that R is a Babe?!?), who will have the results of my stress test. While I am waiting, I wonder why doctor's offices call you a day or two before your appointment to remind you of the time, then, when you arrive early for your appointment, it is usually 30-45 minutes past your appointment time before a nurse fetches you from the waiting room?!? (Even more

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1082566518948248582004-04-28T12:58:00.000-04:002004-04-28T13:04:41.090-04:00

I arrive, accompanied by Wife, at the Cardiologists office for my stress test. I sign in, and a short time later someone calls my name. As I am following the "technician", or whatever she is, to the scene of the stress test, I notice that she reminds me of a bell: small head, narrow shoulders flaring out to a substantial midsection, followed by even wider hips, then skinny legs ending in large

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1082158475360248782004-04-27T20:13:00.000-04:002004-04-27T20:24:53.700-04:00

Dr. S has been our family doctor ever since he started his practice around 27 years ago. He has recently decided that he would prefer to chase a little white ball around a golf course rather than treating us ailing folks. Disappointing, since, as his patients will testify, he's a pretty fair doctor. Conversation in waiting room: Stranger: Hi! This is my first visit to Dr. S. I used to be a

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1082489636890495342004-04-23T18:26:00.000-04:002004-04-23T18:26:27.170-04:00

The Farmer (see Roosters (Part I)) finally goes to visit his neighbor, and explains that he he desparately needs a young rooster, since his old rooster has become almost totally useless. The neighbor tells the Farmer that he is in luck! The neighbor has a virile young rooster, named Brewster, and, since the neighbor has several roosters, he would be willing to part with Brewster for only half the

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1082487668090193432004-04-22T11:53:00.000-04:002004-04-22T11:53:35.903-04:00

Realizing that his rooster is getting on in years and is no longer able to keep his flock of hens satisfied, the Farmer decides that he needs a new, younger rooster. One day he comes home from the market with a fine young rooster. The Farmer puts the rooster in the barnyard, then goes inside for supper, intending to come back later to see how the new rooster is getting along with the rest of the

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1081120759467170542004-04-21T11:27:00.000-04:002004-04-21T11:27:44.200-04:00

Wife, who doesn't have a jealous bone in her head, is an ardent student of Confucius. (Wife: "Why the hell would anybody care what someone named 'Confuse Us' has to say?!?"). Her philosophy is: OK for re_coll to meet girl in park, as long as re_coll not park meat in girl! On one occasion when I had to go out of town for a week-long business meeting, Wife decided to tell me a story the night

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1081191180239087432004-04-20T15:54:00.000-04:002004-04-20T15:54:59.670-04:00

A co-worker is having some difficulty with her computer. As I walk by, she stops me and requests assistance. I study the display on her monitor, tap a few keys, and tell her that the problem is "error code peter 4". She demands an explanation, but I admit my ignorance. I do, however, helpfully point out that another co-worker, G, experienced this very same problem less than a week ago, and that G

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1082001412278026742004-04-18T14:07:00.000-04:002004-04-18T14:07:00.826-04:00

A nun's car breaks down one evening. Fortunately, she is near a monastary, so she seeks shelter for the night. The evening meal is fish and chips, which the nun enjoys immensely. After supper, she insists on complimenting the cook. When she is escorted to the kitchen, she discovers two monks. She asks enthusiastically, "Who is responsible for this fabulous meal of fish 'n' chips?!?". The elder

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1082004761496338102004-04-16T17:48:00.000-04:002004-04-16T17:48:08.810-04:00

Occasionally, after a local gig, some of the guys in the band, along with their spouses/girlfriends/boyfriends (or all three), will come over to my house for breakfast. Tonight (why should this night be different?), Wife has slurped down more alcohol than she should have (Wife gets wobbly reading the label). The drummer and his wife, along with the female singer/keyboard player owner, and Wife

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1081839650996602632004-04-13T11:34:00.000-04:002004-04-13T11:34:50.076-04:00

The first string on my Stratocaster (guitar) has begun buzzing on the frets. This is because, after 20 years of tuning, the strings have worn down the groove in the nut. Raising the action is unacceptable; only a new nut will satisfactorily remedy the problem. Unfortunately, the proprietor of the local music emporium (we'll call him M, for legal reasons), does not currently have an appropriate

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1081122281880503352004-04-08T17:43:00.000-04:002004-04-13T01:53:00.170-04:00

Although not widely publicized, John Kerry recently visited Iraq. Please excuse my uneducated attempt at transliteration of the Arabic language. Mr. Kerry, after visiting Baghdad, took a tour through the outlying areas of Iraq. At one stop, in one of the poorest areas, he decided to make a speech. Mr. Kerry started out by stating that he never, ever, supported the U.S. invasion, to which the

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1081297396804023972004-04-06T20:43:00.000-04:002004-04-06T20:43:14.030-04:00

Wife announces that she would like to make love doggy style, so I hump her leg, then pee on the carpet. Wife whacks me on the nose with a rolled-up newspaper and makes me sleep outside that night! What'd I do?!?

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1080667552024997292004-04-01T23:26:00.000-05:002004-04-02T13:38:56.310-05:00

This post, originally titled "Links! (Part II)", required some thinking, which makes my head hurt. (I'm going back to posting nonsense!) At the instigation of Aidan at Dancing Elegantly, here is my impression (I repeat: my impression) of the Iraqi bloggers. This impression is based on my reading each blog mentioned, or at least checking for new posts, every day, beginning with Salam Pax sometime

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1080247301610957942004-03-30T17:43:00.000-05:002004-03-31T06:13:05.840-05:00

Taking a cue from The Commissar, and following up on a suggestion from Aidan at Dancing Elegantly, I have decided to post a bunch of links to interesting blogs written by other folks. (Besides, Wife does not understand blog addiction and is threatening to remove new guitar from guitar stand and insert it in less-comfortable [not to mention definitely un-playable] location if I don't record

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1079469988668073932004-03-26T16:40:00.000-05:002004-03-26T16:40:33.343-05:00

Two friends, T and D, discover that, between them, they have enough money to purchase a case of Pabst Blue Ribbon beer. In fact, they have a few dollars left over, so they also acquire a bottle of that favorite of wine connoisseurs the world over, Boone's Farm Blackberry Wine! T and D retreat to D's domicile, where they, in short order, dispense with the Boone's Farm. They are about half way

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1078670279853516812004-03-24T12:22:00.000-05:002004-03-24T12:22:08.576-05:00

These came from the humor forum at Baghdadee. I'm "Americanizing" them here, mainly because I don't want to appear to be picking on the Iraqi's, but you should really go and read the original versions also. A preacher and a taxi driver die and find themselves standing before the Pearly Gates. St. Peter asks the taxi driver his name, checks his list, smiles, and says, "Enter, my son!". The

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1079401550655755292004-03-23T13:12:00.000-05:002004-04-17T08:52:57.280-04:00

When they met and commenced dating, she determined that he was perfect: young, handsome, witty, wealthy, and he owned a large ranch. She decided to marry him, and so she did! Less than a month after the wedding, the Handsome Young Groom (HYG) decided to take the Beautiful Young Bride (BYB) for a horseback ride. The HYG chose to ride the same noble, fearless, spirited steed which he had ridden

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1078945507992368812004-03-22T04:18:00.000-05:002004-03-22T04:23:21.936-05:00

Tarzan is out swinging through the trees one day. He miscalculates and crashes into one of the trees. A short time later, a couple of natives find him. Tarzan is in pretty bad shape, so the natives take him to their Witch Doctor. After several days, Tarzan regains consciousness, and the Witch Doctor explains to him: Right arm was mangled, so I replace it with arm of chimpanzee. Left eyeball was

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1079403886323691582004-03-18T12:52:00.000-05:002004-03-23T14:29:43.093-05:00

The morning after our wedding, Wife and I are snuggling in bed. I decide that now is as good a time as any to establish pecking order. I point to my shoes, which are (somehow) still spinning precariously on two blades of the ceiling fan. Me: Honey, you see those shoes? Get them and put them on! Wife: But, Baby, you know I could never fill your shoes. Me (firmly): And when we have a decision to

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1078349018949221962004-03-17T12:55:00.000-05:002004-03-17T12:55:58.890-05:00

Dog, who currently weighs around 14 pounds (having put on a few in her old age), is a ferocious beast who has kept Wife and Me as pets for the past fourteen years or so. Dog was grown (about 2 years old) when Wife brought her home one night, so I suppose that, in people years, Dog would be around 112. Dog is actually a wimp (I just put in that "ferocious beast" thing in case she reads this, and

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1079407776345522412004-03-16T16:30:00.000-05:002004-03-16T16:30:38.110-05:00

We older folks sometimes resist change. I remember when GrandPa had to fix the toilet in some rich person's house. GrandPa came back home and told GrandMa about how impressive the rich folks' house was. "Why", said GrandPa, "they have carpet all through the house! They even have carpet in the bathroom! Can you imagine that?!?". GramdMa was not impressed: "It's a waste of time and money!", she

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1078193592439590322004-03-15T11:54:00.000-05:002004-03-15T11:57:41.903-05:00

Sister-in-Law #1 and Spouse have a lot of land; however, some of this land borders a swamp, and is perpetually wet and boggy, and therefore not useful for much of anything. So, Spouse of Sister-in-Law #1 decides to dig a pond, and he proceeds to rent a backhoe and do just that. After several months of digging, pond has three levels: Water, original ground level, and upper level where dirt from

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1078257731667622172004-03-11T12:50:00.000-05:002004-03-11T12:50:03.936-05:00

Wife, Daughter and I are out shopping in one of the local, state-of-the-art malls. The designers of this particular mall have determined that, rather than having the steel girders (which support the roof) visible, they will enclose them within sheetrock, which they will then paint white for aesthetic purposes, resulting in four foot square columns. Wife and I are proceeding down concourse, with

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1078110993871675902004-03-06T09:35:00.000-05:002004-03-06T09:47:49.623-05:00

Back in the day, I occasionally mutilated...er, manipulated...the Truth: Me : I used to be a lumberjack in the Mojave Forest. Friend : Uh, the Mojave's not a forest; it's a desert. Me : Well, of course it is...now! Eventually, I realized what a fool I must have sounded like, so I decided that I would, from that point on, be completely honest, no matter the consequences: Wife (

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1077229393767999512004-02-29T11:36:00.000-05:002004-04-13T03:35:13.670-04:00

I cannot hit the proverbial barn with a pistol, so the only reason we even have one (a pistol; we don't have a barn) is because Father-in-law, upon expiration, left one to Brother-in-law, who then gave it to Wife. Oh, and by the way, I don't too much like snakes. I am reading Iraqi blogs, Zeyad and the gang, one morning when I hear a commotion outside. Now, being fairly isolated, we get visits

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1077151723964079242004-02-19T23:11:00.000-05:002004-04-17T08:50:52.373-04:00

We are visiting Mother-in-law when she receives what turns out to be an obscene phone call. As is her custom, she picks up phone and yells "HALLOW???". Mother-in-law listens intently as Caller describes, in detail, his plans if she will meet him somewhere. Mother-in-law then describes to Caller, in detail, what her contribution will be. Caller, embarrassed, hangs up, which disappoints

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6499557.post-1077137289580771462004-02-18T16:52:00.000-05:002004-02-20T15:50:15.920-05:00

My band, after a gig, stops at Shoney's. Since there are about nine of us (actual musicians plus entourage), Management decides to herd us into one of the "private" rooms, away from the "normal" customers. As usual, the conversation turns to sex. One of the entourage/roadies, B, feels compelled to share with the rest of us how he came to learn about sex. This, in explicit detail, is the

re_collhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/02342855190533488107noreply@blogger.com