David Arment Photo Gallery is Open, 125 N Moton Street, Shipshewana, IN

This is our little shop. You can see Pam on her bike in the background. She rides her bike to help me during the day.

Come in and see us!

Right now we have 10% off on our "rustic framed" pictures. These are images that are made with frames from an Amish toymaker. Come and see.

Pam Goes to a Dog Show

We pulled into an RV park today. It is the most upscale RV park we’ve been in and our RV was diminutive by comparison to the houses on wheels parked here. This is obviously a park where folks come in October and stay until the thaw “up North” allows them to return.

At about the same time of our arrival they were getting ready for a dog show. All the people from the RV park were taking their dogs to the club house area to see whose was “the best” and everyone seems to have a dog.

As you may or may not know when you park an RV you have to connect and plug in water, electricity and sometimes sewer. Today we also had to replace a water filter in addition to the normal installations.

Pam decided to go to the dog show with my full support as the RV parking thing is pretty routine.

On her return Pam reported that a small dog named Jelly Bean was the winner of the show. Jelly Bean dressed for the event wearing a “tutu” and some kind of hat. Jelly Bean’s opponents were pedestrian in their appearance: some wore nothing at all!! In the talent portion of the contest she (Jelly Bean, not Pam) was able to stand on her back legs and go in one direction and then reverse and go in the opposite direction, which is apparently a great achievement in the RV dog park contest circuit.

As I fiddled with the RV I saw some of the contestants headed for the contest. One looked like it has run full speed into a brick wall at a young age. In its then immature state its nose was pushed into its skull and remained there. Some of the other mongrels looked as if their major life achievement was contorting into a position which allows licking remote parts of their anatomy.

One of the dog owners dressed her bulbous self in beads and cheap green veil as though she was the queen of the Mardi Gras, taking away from the appearance of her dog… because no one could see the dog for the owner. I’m sure the judges took this as a major faux pas.

The dog show judges rendered their opinion on each and every dog. Instead of simply giving “Gold, Silver and Bronze” they said, “This dog is last and this one is next to last” and worked their way up the ranks. So it was certain that feelings would be hurt as everyone loves their dog and no one wants their dog to be “last”. 

As we walked this evening we ran into the owner of the last place dog who recognized Pam and offered without prompting the fact that her dog could not be last. No way. 

I wonder if the dog will now need counseling.

The judges said that the economic times are tight in the RV dog contest world so there was only one prize which was a small bag of “goodies”.

Monday there is a cooking contest that revolves around soup. I hope the dogs stay home.

Pam's Nemesis

Pam's nemesis.

The squirrels have become immune to Pam's pellet gun (see the post about her gun earlier in this blog). She has her desk at the window where she can watch birds and see the lake, but the squirrels have been trying to get to the bird feeders and are chasing away the birds. The squirrels must be stopped!!!

They apparently have no short term memory. They forget they just tried "that". "That" may be jumping from the ground then trying to climb up the pole and around the squirrel guard, or jump from the tree, or jump from the house or jump from the bush. They jump and climb, over and over and over again and fail, fail, fail. They try for hours. And each attempt is with great animal enthusiasm.

Then one struck upon  the solution Instead of perching on the edge nearest the pole and jumping he backed down into the bush and make a running jump. Success bred success and he soon could make the jump "at will".

This is not good for "Annie Oakley" (Miss. Pam).

This was a "game changer". Pam had to go the Amish bird store in Topeka yesterday to buy a new feeder. The first thing the lady tried to sell her was that "slinky" thing. Pam has already tried that and the squirrels adapted to it. She bought a new feeder that has springs on it that make shuts the holes to the feeder when the weight of the squirrel is on the feeder. We have wily squirrels. I'll let you know if they figure out the new feeder and what Pam will do in response if they do.

This picture is one of the many failed attempts.

What I worked on today. Two tries.

The Progressive School of Cursing

We need your help. There are many foreigners entering our country and although some of them have attempted to learn the language they face the social stigma and embarrassment from not knowing how to curse properly. The need is great and the resources are few. Literally no one is helping these few who need so much. 

A few dollars - really any amount - might mean the difference for some poor graduate student who may unknowingly call another student “an opening in one’s posterior regions”. This faux pas would result in this person being an outcast simply because they do not know how to curse properly. 

Help us stop this needless suffering. Let some poor foreigner know you care. We are opening “The Progressive School of Cursing”.

Our goal is to alleviate the embarrassment felt by many people attempting to fit into American Culture. 

Many people who move to this country are taught English, but the English attribute of cursing has been left for them to learn “willie nillie”, perhaps just catching bits and pieces of cursing on the streets. How is that way to learn? 

We provide a safe, comfortable alternative to picking up this needed information to the back streets and alleys these foreigners may otherwise need to turn to. 

In a real world example that might have actually happened, a highly trained Pakistanis Engineer who may have been (or was) surrounded by a group of managers and/or other engineers watch an automated production line fall apart and burst into a verbal rant, “May a Deity condemn you to an unpleasant afterlife”. 

I may have observed this actual event when we were in a production facility. 

We (“we” meaning me) were forced to take this engineer aside. I asked him, “What was that?” 

“Oh, I am so very sorry. I should not say such stringent things, but when the production line went out of control I could not help myself”. 

“I understand”, I said, “but the term is NOT, ‘May a deity condemn you to an unpleasant afterlife’. Where did you hear that?” 

“Why, sir, I heard it from you. In fact you say this all of the time when you are upset.” 

“No I say a lot of things but that is not one of them,” I said. I may have then been forced to give a cursing lesson on the spot. 

And while the cursing idiom, “May the fleas of a thousand camels inhabit your nose”, may sound very unpleasant it is better left in the land where it was conceived. No one here will respect you if they hear you say something like this. You will however earn a great deal of respect, self-confidence, fit into the social structure and become upwardly mobile if you can curse correctly. 

 Please send us your contributions. We are not yet a tax exempt organization but that is virtually guaranteed because we intend to put “Progressive” in the name. Maybe even “Communist”, which will assure us tax exempt status. 

If you choose not to help us then you are a son of a female mongrel who has no father! May a squirrel make a nest in the hair of your nether regions!

The giving of gifts and the unwinding of civilization

I purchased tea for my wife for Christmas. It was not her entire Christmas, just a part of it (see notes below). She loves tea. She is a tea expert. When she makes tea it is with filtered water, at the correct temperature. When we go out to eat, she lets me order the tea, and then if it is okay she will order some also.

So tea for Christmas seemed to be a great gift.

When the tea came it was in three cases. The cases said “tea”. So there was no surprise about this one present.

Here’s “the rub”. One of the unwritten social conventions upon which the foundations of modern society rests was violated by the person (who is otherwise almost perfect) accepting this gift. She may have unwittingly unwound the spring that drives the clock of all mankind forward. Gift giving may never be the same.

One of the REAL reasons for giving someone a gift that is consumable (don’t deny this, you know it is true) is the anticipation of helping the person who received the gift consume said gift. For example, if you give your wife one of those hearts that is full of chocolates for Valentine’s Day you expect and you look forward to getting a piece of chocolate from that assortment? Often the person receiving this gift will offer you a chocolate upon opening the package. This is normal. This is how it is done.

That example is how it works. That is how it has always worked. And thus, and therefore, gift giving is alive and well.

...but...

After Christmas I was looking for the tea. I could not find it.

“Where is the tea” I asked her.

“I hid it”, she said.

“Hid it? Why?”

“Because I know you would drink it.”

If this were court then the lawyer would turn to the judge and say “prima facie” which means… SEEEE!!! And the judge would bang down his gavel and say the legal words meaning, “Holy Cow, Yeah I see!”

See. The social bond that binds us all together has been broken. It is one of those unwritten rules that society has governed itself by for generations and it is all in danger of coming apart at the proverbial seams.

“Will I get to drink some? Ever?”

“Yes, but it is special so I’m saving it.” It was not a strong “yes”. It was a “yes” that had that bit of hesitation, that hint of a question to it, which interpreted from “wife speak” means, maybe. And I don’t mean the normal “maybe”, but the kind of maybe where the head turns away and the pitch of the word goes up toward the end. So in the present case “yes” really means “no”.

So I will report back to you when and if I ever get to drink any of that tea.

P.S. I wrote the tea maker and complained that their tea was too good and they needed to make a “B Grade” version so we slumps could have some. (I don’t know if slump is a word or what it really means, but I like it so I’m leaving it.) They responded, but not in the manner that would suggest a new “B Grade” tea is forthcoming.

Notes: She also got that machine that scrapes (micro abrades) the callous off your feet. She will have to get some callous first, so maybe I will use it until she grows some? And she got a set or wrenches and a red vacuum sweeper. RED, is of course decedent.

for more information about what she got for christmas...  http://www.freaknoid.com/2013/11/christmas-for-female-unit.html

©David L Arment

My Funeral

Today I came to the horrible realization that no one is going to come to my funeral. Of course I am going to have to die first. Then after that, (the death thing) no one is going to come. If I were not me I would certainly not go to my funeral. Since I am me, I am probably stuck with HAVING to go, otherwise I would skip it.

This all got started when some of us were in a car and we passed a cemetery. There were lots of colorful flowers in the cemetery. This is not easy as there is still snow on the ground here. (Please get with Al Gore and hurry that global warming thing along if you could.) So we put tow and tow together which is better than putting two and two together and came to the conclusion that the flowers were plastic.

I asked those in the car to be sure when I die that I have fresh plastic flowers on my grave. I am sure that after a few months they get bleached out from the sun and so I want to be sure they are always fresh. There was complete silence in the car. It was clear no one was going to go out every few months and put fresh plastic flowers on my grave. I would do it myself, but with the being dead thing it will be a problem.

We then drove by a place where they sell grave stones. I am just guessing that having this business near the cemetery was not an accident. Inside you could see they were selling plastic flowers. I am sure they were lovely and fresh. Maybe they even smelled of new plastic.

I love that smell. 

I am going to write to the association of cemetery head markers and suggest that they provide a service where they go out every few months and put fresh, plastic flowers on your grave. It would be like a contracted, pre-payer plan. 

I also want that someone, while they are there with the new plastic flowers, to say a prayer and cry a little. This could be a new profession - professional griever. When the professional griever comes to my grave to cry, it needs to be a heartfelt cry. I would pay more for “heartfelt”. This would be very nice especially if there were people nearby who could look over and see someone crying by my grave. I would pay more for “heartfelt” and if people were looking on. I am not sure how to work that into the "Contact for Services" in the pre-payer plan. There are good lawyers who could figure that out. 

Or maybe I could just have someone come into the cemetery and take flowers off of other people’s graves and put them on mine. Who is going to know? And dead people don’t usually complain. This would likely get me a discount from the professional griever / plastic flower person.

For the funeral itself, I will likely have to pay a lot for a whole host (host is a good word in reference to death and dying), of professional grievers. 

No one is going to come except Keith who I told could play the clip of the monkeys telling the penguin joke at my funeral. Keith and the professional grievers - that will be it. You won't know cause you won't be there. 

©David L Arment, All rights reserved.

Revenge