Who am I voting for?

None of your beeswax, that's who. Listen - when a fella steps into a voting booth and draws the curtain, which lever he pulls is something he should only share with his wife, or maybe his clergyman. Nowadays everyone's squawking about "I'm voting for this guy because of blah blah blah..." My advice? Can it, and pronto. Ol' Sherm doesn't need to hear your life story. I've read the book, seen the movie - nincompoops like you are a dime a dozen.

Plus, the bozos that pass for candidates nowadays aren't worth squat. Hoover! Eisenhower! Roosevelt! Now those were candidates worthy of a vote!

Now that Ive blown off a little steam, I guess what I'm really sayin' is that I hope you fulfill your constitutional and patriotic duty and vote this year. It'd be a real shame if you didn't.

I'm thinkin' of giving Comcast the heave-ho

I just got my first tab in the mailbox for our new DSL line, and Jumpin' Jack Armstrong, I thought I was going to faint when I opened it up - it's darn near 60 clams a month! That was the monthly nut on my first house back in the 30's, now it barely gets you email. Why one measly wire and a box with a couple lights on it costs that much is a dome-scratcher, that's for sure.

I guess it's just one more sign that our big blue marble is going to H-E-double hockey sticks in a handbasket, and pronto.

Let me bend your ear about horses

In my book, there is no more noble creature on God’s green earth than the horse. All they ask for is some hay and a decent pair of shoes, maybe a carrot now and then, and in return you’re rewarded with a friend that will never shoot you a cross-eyed look. I rode my first one when I joined the cavalry back in 1915, when I was but a wee lad of 15 years old, and well – let’s just say that something clicked. Life just looks different from on top of a horse. When a fella plops his keyster on a saddle, he feels like he can do just about anything.

One of my favorite horses was a beaut’ named Sophie I took care of back during the Korean frackas. I had to leave her behind when things wound down over there, and I often wondered what became of her. I figure she was either hitched to a plow for the rest of her life or immediately turned into a stew. Who knows.

Here’s a dusty old snapshot of me painting of picture of Sophie with a retired old Korean general sitting on her. I gave the painting to the general’s family so that they could hang it in a place of honor in their hut. For all I know, the painting may have been cut up and turned into a stew as well. Korean folk are a proud people with a rich heritage, but it's been my experience that they'll eat just about anything they can get their mitts on.



And here’s a close-up I painted of her. I’m no Picasso, but I have my moments.