Getting the mail in Hazen

Cissie said I had to fix the tire on the tractor before we went down to the post office to get the mail. I just told the Commander to sit in the right place and everything worked out fine.

Insurgents invade Kingdom of Kadizzle

For the past two weeks I have been fighting the little yellow insurgents in our yard. I will admit to chemical warfare. I sprayed the fellows up to four times. Yesterday I used weapons of mass destruction. I hit them at the roots with a weed wacker. I think they are moving in from neighboring yards. I am thinking about a troop surge, but the only support I might muster is The Commander. The Commander says my negligence has caused the insurgency.

I woke up one morning early, and just like Bush I went out on the back deck and declared victory. I could not see a dandelion in site. Then The Commander came out and told me the blossoms fold up at night. Sure enough as soon as the sun came out the enemy was in every nook and cranny of the yard.

Distraught I hired a weed fighter named Dumbsfield. Dumbsfield kept telling me we were winning against the weeds, it would just take a little more time and a little more money. The neighbors could see we were getting no where and insisted I should fire Dumsfield. I started with regular dandelions, but now I seem to have developed a super hybrid. If the insurgency spreads to other yards in the neighborhood, I am going to look like a fool.

It turns out there are two types of weeds in the yard, the sheeights, and the sunny’s. It seems the weeds may be killing each other. Maybe if I just sat on the porch I could let the sheeights and sunny’s just kill themselves and save all the money I am spending on weed control.

I got into this whole mess because I was advised there were WMD’s in my yard. Weeds of Mass Destruction. I can’t figure out if this is true or not. The only mass destruction has been to my wallet.

CHRISTOPHER HITCHENS on The DEATH of JERRY FALWELL-CNN 360

A Tribute to Jerry Falwell

Todays Problem

You don't have to be a weather man to know which way the wind blows. Maybe you remember this verse from a song in the sixties. I always liked it, because it seemed to say a lot about many things. However, when it comes to sailboats it is also true. After sailing for twenty years I usually have a pretty good idea which way the wind is blowing, but in the sailing game it is nice to know exactly where the wind is blowing. So this means someone has to go up the mast on my boat and install a wind indicator. The ideal person has to be small, and mechanically inclined. I could go up myself, but bending the mast or tipping the boat over are not things I want to see happen.

In the past the crew has hoisted The Commander up there, but this year she seems reluctant to go. Sitting on the trailer the top of the mast is about sixty feet in the air. People at the dock used to ask me how I got her to go up the mast. I told them I usually hoisted a banana up first. The Commander was not pleased with that comment. My new option is to try Charlie from up the street. Sometime today we may give this a try.

The new wind vane is necessary because birds ruined the old one. Birds like to sit on them. It was not unusual to find pheasant wings or other parts on the deck of my boat. Owls would sit on the top of the mast and drop leftovers on my boat. In the process they bent and destroyed the wind vane.

Not a good day.

Yesterday started out fairly well, but took a disastrous turn when The Commander brought the mail home. The Commander tossed me a thick letter from the IRS. According to the agents of the Bush Administration I owed them $21,000. Now I know the war is expensive, and I would like to help, but this is a little too much. The letter gave me three options. One option was just to write them a check and have it done with. No problem!

My first panic attack occurred when I could not find my tax records for the year in question. At this point suicide seemed like the best option.

The IRS had several problems with my taxes, but their biggest issue seemed to be $61,000 of unreported income. We all make mistakes you know. Can't they understand that a little sum like that could be overlooked in a Kingdom the size of Kadizzle.

Since I could not find the shells for the shotgun, I decided to see if I could undo the riddle. After six hours at the computer the picture began to emerge. It seems Lord Kadizzle had failed to file a capital gains report. It also turned out his Lordship failed to put a W-2 form in with the return in question.

Thank God for little things. After six hours of consternation, and a new version of my 2005 taxes my calculations show they actually owe me two thousand dollars. This seems like an incredible turn of events, so I decided I better go to sleep and see what reality looks like in the morning. Well today I will send them the letter and ask them to send me my two thousand dollars. This will either work or get me a lot closer to federal prison. Until this clears up there will be no more criticism of George Bush. George, you are doing a great job, and just let me know if you need anymore money for the war.

Who wants to be me?

There are many days when I don't want to be me, so I can't imagine why anyone else would. However, I have noticed that people are writing comments to me, as me. I will try to explain. A couple days ago the Bismarck Tribune published a letter I wrote. The Tribune has an online comment section whereby people can respond to letters. A person can sign the letter any way they want. The net result is comments from Mr. Quinn, and Mike, to Mike Quinn. Now, I know a lot of people think I am crazy, but I hope I am not so crazy that I have other personalities that disagree with this personality, maybe I do. If indeed it is me writing to me, I would like to tell the other me's we must act in unison. If we don't stick together we are in trouble. Remember the old saying, Together we stand, separate we fall.

If you think you are me, let me know. I can give you a test that will help you determine if you are me. Some parts of the test are fun. I will put a pizza in front of you and see how much you eat. Usually this alone can let me figure out if you are me. If this doesn't work I can do a DNAA test. This is the test my wife uses to identify me. DNAA stands for Does Nothing At All. Here is how my wife does the test. Before she leaves the room she says "Do the Dishes, and take out the garbage". When she comes back she says "You have Done Nothing At All". Now, she knows it is me.

Roadside Bomb found in front yard

When I awoke this morning there was a disaster in my yard. A dog involved in a Jihad left an improvised dirty bomb right where my shoe would travel as I went to get the paper. I told my wife I was going to root out this Jihadist before this type of terrorism spread through the neighbor hood. I figured this dog was hiding out up the street being sheltered by sympathetic neighbors, that had taken him in as a stray. When I got there the dog was gone, apparently he went to another yard. I kicked over my neighbors garbage can and let the air out of his tires, but I did not get the dog.

On the way home I noticed my other neighbor was building a fence around his yard. I asked him what this was for. He said it was to keep his children off the street. My intelligence indicated he was going to harbor Jihadist dogs behind the fence. I suspected he ways lying. Why would he have grass in the yard unless he was going to harbor Jihadist dogs? The only reason to have grass is so dogs can learn to plant dirty bombs.

I explained to my wife that I was going to make a preemptive strike and go up to the neighbors and destroy the fence under the cover of darkness. Well the next day I noticed my neighbor had a vicious dog chained to his garage. I demanded “Why do you have this dog?”. He explained that he needed the dog to defend his property because someone was wrecking his fence. Now I have been fighting with my neighbor for months and there seems to be no end in sight. My wife asked me why I fight with that neighbor, when he never had a dog until I started messing with him. I explained to my wife that I may have been wrong, at first, but now he has a dog, and I am going to fight until it is gone. Now the other neighbors heard about all of this and they all have dogs. It is just a matter of time until I find more dirty bombs in my yard.

Giovanni Sollima - Sogno ad Occhi Aperti (Daydream) PART 1

Take time to enjoy this, it will make a perfect start to your day

Our Arab Friends?

Rick Santorum - Body Armor

John Stewart:Liberal yes,funny yes, smart noo

John tells it like it is

Boat Work Today

Getting the good ship in the water is not a simple matter. The first thing you have to pour into the boat is money. This year new life lines, new stereo speakers, a new wind vane, and new battens for the sails make up only part of the bills. Monday I jacked up the boat with a twenty ton hydraulic jack so I could work on the keel. This was not a simple job. Lowering the boat was just as bad. Today I hope to install the speakers, and finish up the lifeline job.

Last year I set a new world record for pouring money into the good ship. I had to haul the boat to Bismarck and have extensive fiberglass work done where the mast goes through the deck. This involved removing the mast and reinstalling it.

On a day with fifty mile an hour gust out of the west The Commander and I were headed East. It was a good and exciting downwind run. Under these circumstances it can be dangerous if anything goes wrong. We have done this many times in the past. I noticed the commander was nervous. Finally I asked "Why are you so worried?". The Commander explained she was concerned about the mast. I asked "Why are you worried about the mast?". She replied "Because YOU put it up". If for some reason that mast let loose it would have been the mother of all disasters with the wind we were experiencing. The Commander does not have the appropriete faith in repair work done by Lord Kadizzle. The mast held just fine and we made it back to port setting some new speed records on the way.

Today's Project, combination garden fence and pen for His Lordship

As mentioned earlier this will be today's project. The Commander says until the crops come up we can use the enclosure to contain His Lordship while she shops.

Kadizzled Editors busy at work over coffee

The Commander and Lord Casita (Ed) are reviewing all the world and local news so Kadizzled can keep you up to date. You make think this is a fly by night organization, but we sleep at night and fly in the morning.

Living under oppression

I have read all kinds of articles on retirement, but none has ever mentioned what is happening to me. Lord Kadizzle entered the world of 24 hour leisure before The Commander made the transition. Now that The Commander has officially retired from her forester position, Lord Kadizzle has full time adult supervision. This means plates, cups, and other dishes must immediately be washed and returned to their homes. The half life of underwear on the floor is now the quarter life. As far as making any decisions, that is a thing of the past, all decisioins come from Comandante. Any moment The Commander will bust onto the scene with the familiar command "Make me some coffee", that is my signal freedom in the Land of Kadizzle is over for the day. It will not be long after she sits down and gives the command "Get the cream", then she will proclaim, "You are going to help me put the fence up around the garden". My day in servitude will begin. I do not get to make the simplest decision anymore. A nice noon nap on the couch is very difficult under the Commander's homeland security. Now, we live like the Japanese with shoes on and shoes off all day going in and out of the house. Men beware, when your wife retires it means you will be going back to work.

Red Slippers found near Stanton

I always thought there was something peculiar about the Strawberry Hill farmstead near Stanton, where the Kerns reside. After Ray sent this picture of a tornado over his house yesterday, my mind began to click and I put it all together. Dothy and Toto; Ray and Janey ( the little dog he keeps under his leather jacket). The Wizard behind the curtian; The Wizard in the back of the barn. Now I seem to remember that when we were cutting logs with Ray, he was wearing ruby colored lumber jack boots. It is all making sense now. Ray insisted we come home on the Enchanted Highway. Does the term Yellow Brick Road mean anything? When I asked Ray what he thought about George Bush, he simply replied, "Now thats a horse of a different color".

Where does the money come from?

For about two weeks we have had little, if any, newspapers delivered to our house. The Commander is not happy. Today, she is going to buy a Sunday paper. A typical day starts by calling the Bismarck Tribune and asking "What day are we going to get the Sunday paper?". The problem seems to be that no one is willing to deliver the paper. In the past, we had good delivery service, until the people doing it figured out they were spending more in gas than they were taking in. This took about five years.

Now, to the crux of the problem. Young people refuse to work. I offered the neighbor boy twenty dollars to cut my grass. He just said no. I said would you do it for a hundred dollars, he still was not interested. When I was handing out campaign material in Stanton, I offered kids fifteen dollars an hour to pass out pamphlets. NO, No, no.

When I was a kid, we were always doing something to scrape up a little cash. In the winter, I shoveled sidewalks for old ladies. We also picked up pop bottles and cashed them in. We pulled weeds for my grandfather; we cut grass; we painted house numbers on the curb, and if someone offered us five dollars, we thought we were millionaires. Now, you frequently see kids driving fairly new cars, most of the time better than the one I have, up and down main street. Who buys the cars and the gas for them? I think the day will soon be here when kids come up to me and say "Hey, old man will you polish my car?". The answer may be yes.

Yesterday, a news report said the economy in a wealthy town was under siege because they could not get a supply of immigrant workers. In some Arab oil kingdoms, the only workers are immigrants. Apparently, we are headed that direction. Life is good. When I become a grandfather, I know someday my grandchildren will ask me "Hey gramps what was work like?". Anybody who knows me may be skeptical that I will be able to give an honest answer.

Tree Lady Headed for Bismarck to adopt more children

In Hazen the Commander is known as the tree lady. For ten years the Commander was the Hazen City forester. The Commander thinks most of the trees in town are her children. Today Lord Kadizzle has been roped into planting trees in Bismarck. Two generations of Butchers need to get a fresh crop going in their yards. Last week we were cutting up logs and this week we are at the other end of the crop putting seedlings in the ground. Lord Kadizzle grew up in West Virginia. At one time His Lordship with the help of his brothers and sisters planted five thousand trees, which are now over eighty feet tall. Who was it that wrote "From tiny acorns might oaks grow"? In the Kingdom of Kadizzle nuts and trees certainly go together.

Beth is taking off for a long walk

Beth Axtmann is taking off for a long walk from the Mexican Border to Canada. She already did it once through the mountains of California, now she is going to do it on the continental divide. Beth went to school with Erin, and ran on the championship track team with Erin in High School. The Commander and Lord Kadizzle have hiked in some of the southern parts of this trail. It is wonderful country, but quite an undertaking.

Good Morning

The morning after