Grumpy Gramps

I feel that

LOL Idaho is voting on a state gun. This is the most Idaho thing I’ve seen

Ground beef is $6.30 a gallon? I’ve been buying it by the pound like an idiot. 🤣🤣

A dump truck from the local quarry backed into my Indiana driveway on Saturday morning and dropped a mountain of crushed limestone right in front of my garage. I stood at the bottom of the gray pile holding a single garden shovel and one metal wheelbarrow. In my mind, moving rocks by hand was a quiet test of endurance, like a monk sweeping temple stones at dawn. I had scooped exactly four shovels of gravel when the distinctive diesel rattle of an old tractor echoed from two houses down. My neighbor Walt, whom the street calls Lawnmower Walt, came chugging across my side yard riding a green John Deere compact tractor with a steel front loader bucket. "Put the spoon down, chief," Lawnmower Walt shouted over the engine. Thirty seconds later, my other neighbor, a retired pipefitter named Culvert Carl, walked up the driveway carrying two wide aluminum landscape rakes and a four-foot spirit level. "Who ordered number fifty-three stone without calling the street?" Culvert Carl asked, shaking his head at me. "I did not wish to trouble anyone on a Saturday," I said. "Watching a man shovel eight tons of limestone by hand is what troubles us, partner," Culvert Carl said, handing me one of the aluminum rakes. From across the cul-de-sac, a third neighbor named Stump-Grinder Steve jogged over wearing work gloves and carrying a heavy steel tamper. "Walt, feather the bucket on the high side by the drain," Culvert Carl called out, pointing with his level. "I know how to grade a driveway, Carl, I did yours in oh-nine," Lawnmower Walt yelled back. "Yeah, and it still puddles by the mailbox," Culvert Carl said. "That's because you park your boat on the crown," Lawnmower Walt shot back, dropping the steel bucket and skimming a six-inch layer of stone across the dirt in one smooth pass. "Steve, hit that corner by the concrete lip," Culvert Carl ordered. "On it," Stump-Grinder Steve said. For forty-five minutes, I was demoted from homeowner to apprentice raker on my own property. Lawnmower Walt scooped and spread, Culvert Carl checked the slope, and Stump-Grinder Steve packed the edges until the driveway looked like a state highway. When the last stone was flat, Lawnmower Walt shut off the tractor. "Please let me pay for your diesel fuel and your morning," I said. "You got cold beer in that garage fridge?" Stump-Grinder Steve asked. "Yes," I said. "Then the invoice is paid," Culvert Carl said. We sat in lawn chairs at the edge of the garage for three hours drinking cold cans and staring at the flat gray gravel, because in America, the work takes forty-five minutes, and admiring the work takes the rest of the afternoon.

Marco Rubio learns he has to captain the Starship Enterprise. RIP Patrick Stewart.

Yeah the kids table is real, I only left the kids table after my last grandparent died 🥲

It snowed on that field for one night last winter, and in the morning the snow had written down everything that happened in it, and the farmer stood at the gate and read it. Fresh snow on a field is a record nobody meant to keep. Every animal that moved in the dark left where it went, in order, and the farmer, who had spent the night in bed assuming nothing, walked out at seven into four inches of a document. Nelson's tracks were one line. Shelter to the trough and back, done once, at the pace of an animal that had considered the trough from the doorway for some time before committing to it. A donkey hates snow nearly as much as rain, and the line said so. It went straight out, straight back, and did not wander an inch. Hector's tracks were everywhere. He had been round the whole field. A horse does not stand still in snow, he walks it, because standing lets the cold into the feet, and the farmer could see a big loping circuit of the fence line, and a second one inside it, and a third, the prints already softening where he had been round again. A horse pacing out a cold night in a field alone. Except he had not been alone, and the snow said so. Every circuit of the field came back to the shelter. Not past it. To it. The big prints came in along the fence, turned at the corner, and then cut across the open field in a straight line to the shelter doorway, and stopped, and there was a trampled patch in front of the doorway where a horse had stood for a while, and then the prints went out again on the next lap. Four times. Each lap ended at the door. Each time, he had come back to see that the donkey was still in it. And there was one more set. In the trampled patch at the doorway, in among the big prints, were small ones. One line, out of the shelter and into the trampled snow and back again, made some time after the horse had stood there, because they were on top of his. The donkey had come to the door. He had stepped out into the snow he hates, into the place where the horse had stood, and stood there himself for a moment, and gone back in. The farmer could not tell you what for. He has an idea. He has kept it to himself. The thaw came by noon and the whole account went into the ground. Both of them were in the shelter by then, the big one dozing on three legs in the doorway, the small one in his dry corner behind him. Nobody had told the farmer what went on in that field after dark. The snow told him, once, and then took it back.

A man spent decades warning us. Almost nobody listened. Douglas Vogt claimed the Sun runs on a 12,068-year clock. At the end of each cycle it blasts off its outer shell, the poles flip, the oceans leave their basins… and afterward the Sun rises in the West. People laughed. Then in 2023, scientists found the largest solar storm ever detected, locked in ancient tree rings in the French Alps and confirmed in Greenland ice. 14,300 years ago. Up to 10x stronger than the 1859 Carrington Event that set telegraph lines on fire. And it wasn't a one-off. The trees kept receipts: 12,350 BC 7176 BC 5259 BC 660 BC 774 AD 993 AD The last one hit over 1,000 years ago. The ancients kept receipts too: ☀️ Around 450 BC, Egyptian priests told Herodotus that the Sun had twice risen where it now sets. 🌊 Plato said Atlantis vanished in a single day and night, around 9600 BC. 🧊 Around the same time, the last Ice Age cold snap ended abruptly, within decades. Now count 12,068 years back from Vogt's date. You land around 10,000 BC. Same window. His date? He said he decoded it from Genesis. 2046. He's gone now. The clock isn't. ⏳ That's 20 years. What would you do with them?

So I guess the clocks are going back I thought they were going to stop it.🙄