We had ourselves quite the birthday celebration here at the adobe. Taylor Kate is now a whole 3-years-old and seemed to have no problem with being the center of attention all day long. That she was.

The big bash had a “tea party” theme, so wifey had to figure out how to construct a birthday cake shaped like a teapot. During the drawn-out construction phase it looked like anything but a teapot, but she made it work somehow. What I was real curious about was how she would undertake the cutting of such an odd-shaped cake and not have it tumble over and roll away only to be snatched and swallowed near whole by Taylor’s puppy dog prowling precariously nearby. She did it, albeit very, very carefully.

Being that she’s 3-years-old and recently mastered all known toiletry protocols, she proudly told anyone within earshot that she’s a big girl now. Happily, being that she’s a big girl now, her impressive pile of gifts was comprised almost entirely of clothes, clothes and even more clothes. So, I guess things worked out right in that respect. Even as young as 3, chicks dig clothes more than most everything else.

We had us a house full of folks, food up the proverbial whazoo, oodles and oodles of down-home culinary delights and 3 different brands of beer. After a bit of the proud Pop Pop routine, my brother and I retreated to the safer confines of the stereo room and fired-up Zappa’s “Joe’s Garage.” And, as per usual, that got damn near everyone else fleeing to the other end of the adobe just as soon as Zappa got to tearing up the neck of his Les Paul during “Watermelon in Easter Hay.” Works every time it’s tried, without fail.

I know. I know. My hosting skills are surely lacking, but what did you expect from such a deranged individual such as myself? Thing is, the monster stereo and the surrounding areas (blast zone) are my domain. So iffin’ you’re hoping for some Top 40 vibrato swill or some redneck from Appalachia whining about his lost love (cuzzin) , you best stay well clear of what usually goes on at this adobe. Besides, where is it written that The Circle Jerks and Suicidal Tendencies should be banned whenever a family gets to honoring one of it’s own? Could be worse. I could have spun some disco.

Stupidly, I introduced Gage to my ancient PlayStation that has been gathering dust for many a moon. Now, every time he hits town he wants to fire it up and do Crash Bandicoot for hours on end. That’s all copasetic and whatnot, but the first time he tells me he’d prefer to vegetate in front of the television rather than getting out and about--he’s going to be in for a rude reawakening. Bicycling, kayaking, baseball or whatever it may be will always take precedence over lumping out in front of an imported television. Ain’t gonna be no hopelessly chubby grandkids on my frickin’ watch. Ain’t happening.

So, there it is. Taylor is all of 3-years-old and on her way to a wedding shower somewhere in New Jersey. She’s a girlie girl, she’s as cute as a button and we look forward to sharing in her continuing adventures.

I really don‘t want to waste too much of my time on all things illegal immigration, but since the Nord End is fast becoming a Spanish-speaking community, let’s do it.

To the dimwitted folks that e-mailed me and called me everything from a bigot to a racist to a xenophobic Republican bastard…get stuffed and then some. As I said, I think anyone who entered the country illegally ought to be sent packing faster than Barry Bonds. But, I also recognized that such an undertaking is politically impossible. With that having been said, we need to find a way to assimilate the illegal folks sure to be given some measure of amnesty into our communities rather than having them create separate communities within our communities.

But, the wave, the influx of illegal aliens crossing the border has got to come to a stop. From a financial and security standpoint, we all suffer if our borders continue to be more porous than the Eagles secondary. I don’t care if we have to militarize the borders, the borders need to be secured. And fast.

During the past tumultuous week or so, we’ve had massive street protests, American flags being replaced by Mexican flags and Mexican flags being burned by outraged folks of the indigenous variety. If you ask me, our national politicians had better think before they act on the pressing immigration issues that have the potential to create even more racial strife than we are currently having to deal with. Fact is, they failed to protect our sovereignty, and now things have the potential to boil over as they grapple with how to correct their previous egregious mistakes.

As far as I’m concerned, they need to clamp down on the borders, figure out the best way to incorporate those that made their way here illegally, and make damn sure that whatever de facto amnesty program they decide to adopt will not drive anymore divisive stakes into the melting pot that is this country of ours. On a mostly selfish note, I don’t need anyone else hating me simply because I’m a white American.

I dunno

I see a local blogger has taken exception to my having blasted him of late. Trust me, I could really care less what the Young Republican Myrmidons of Pennsylvania think of me, but when somebody gets to hammering on the residents of this area because of the decision of twelve jurors (Hugo trial), I’m going to hammer right back at him. Deal with it.

We are not pathetic. And the outcome of Hugo’s trial does not speak volumes about the mindset of the hard-working people that call this area their home. And for some color blind (black-and-white, never gray) YCOP myrmidon to suggest that we’re a bunch of pathetic coal miners’ offspring--dullards--not capable of his utter brilliance is going to set me off every single time. Rather than judging us for something we had absolutely nothing to do with, why not give us an brief synopsis of what went wrong during Hugo’s trial? Since he thinks only a fine line separates a medical professional from being a legal scholar, he should be up to the task. And since working in a frickin’ hospital somehow qualifies him to spot the abject ineptitude of entire populations, we wait on his every proclamation so easily condemning the lot of us. As if.

I did find it extremely amusing that he would dare to call me “The old guy” at the very beginning of his whiney post and then finish his post by stating “This kind of garbage is why I have been considering shutting down my site.”

Non-Dude, if some “old guy” has an up-and-coming wizard of all things worth knowing such as yourself thinking about running away from that which he holds so dear, then maybe you should have never taken your thin-skinned act into the wonderful world of blogging in the first place. Shut down your site. Do it. Run away from the ‘net fight you started. You found it so easy to castigate all of your neighbors, but you apparently can’t stand any backlash brought on by your completely empty-headed and ill-advised stupid comments. Run, Young Republican, run.

I have to say, the “old guy” bit was a hoot when you consider that I bicycle a minimum of 100 miles per week, do sixty push-ups every morning, beat the snot out of the heavy bag on a regular basis, do isometrics like potheads look for excuses to toke up, kayak every chance I get and work a very, very physical job on top of it all. If I’m an old guy, I’m feeling pretty good about being old. I hope you’ll be able to say the same thing many years from now, but, somehow, I kind of doubt it.

Whatever. I have to go make my Geritol milkshake and update my will.

Where’s my cane?

In actuality, the Hummer is calling to me and I’m about to pedal the length of Wilkes-Barre and then some all by my lonesome.

While being a worthless “old guy” may not appeal to the know-it-all Republican, pretend iconoclasts, it sure as hell works for me.

Later