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Sunday, May 15, 2011

Waiting for the end of the world-I get long winded and ramble and am probably full of crap...

I know my faithful readers are waiting with baited breath to hear if I finished planting corn and really want a discussion of seeds per acre, planting depth, fertilizer, clever innovations I made to the White planter and such.
But... After watching the glow of an over-fueled exhaust system with six inches of flame coming out of the exhaust on the 1967 M670 Super late last night I want to forget about it for a while. It didn't get the point where you get off the tractor and snuggle up to the engine for some heat but almost. I really shouldn't have been running so close to six mph but I really wanted to get the field done. I just opened it wide open and went, the fertilizer, seed, and lorsban did not come out right but I did 60 acres for my neighbors.
I like to listen to fiddle music on KBOO on Saturday mornings and sometimes keep listening through the Greatful Dead hour just cause FM radio is pretty much a wasteland. My wife and daughter bought me a Sandisk Sansa mp3 player (see my Amazon wish list) which has FM radio and sometimes I put the little ear buds under my ear protection when running an open tractor.
Anyway, they played the Greatful Dead version of  "Tangled up in Blue," and it got me thinking about Bob Dylan.
The first real concert I ever attended was Bob Dylan at the Salem Armory. I was too young to drive. It was pretty empty. Just a few again hippies smoking dope. Everyone was disappointed he played his Christian songs. It was pretty quite after that song about God giving names to all the animals.
The first record album I bought was Blood on the Tracks. It is actually my favorite Dylan album. The second was "Blond on Blond."
So I'm sitting in my old rocking chair listening to Dylan and wondering about two things. 1. The end of the world next week, 2. Should I plug in my Scott 299 Amplifier even though my house has 120 volts at the socket and my ebay special Variac fried in a cloud of acrid smoke.
I suppose if the world is going to end Thursday it really doesn't matter if the Scott fries. If I had the money I'd get it re-capped. I wonder if I could do it myself? I should just sell it on ebay, I could use $150...
But, I digress...
The end of the world is upon us. Muddyvalley just sent me another reminder.
What I find amusing is their willingness to search the scriptures for some hidden code when so much of the Bible is about how to deal with random bad stuff and make sense of it (see the whole book of Job). There are other important themes such as spreading the word of God through love and the example of Christ's death on the cross as a payment for sin-which is important even if you regard the Christianity as a mythology. Ever notice there is no whole sale forgiveness of "sin" in our culture anymore. No redemption.
The idea of individual communication directly with God, individual responsibility for your actions and your salvation should still be empowering in today's society. It essentially gave women the right to vote and this idea of individual self worth which we all value is not so much of a value in other cultures that don't trace their cultural heritage through Christianity and the Greeks and all that dull old stuff that happened years ago. (Although history is being written to blame Christianity for oppression rather than understanding that Christianity was co-opted by the establishment who suppressed the true meaning and forbade individuals from reading the Bible.)
Then there is not killing people, stealing, screwing the neighbor's wife (not a temptation in my neighborhood) and all sorts of other things that make for a stable and cohesive society.
I think there is even something about not being a self-centered arrogant theocratic moron, perhaps like thousands of other people over the past 6,000 years I choose not to read those sections.
Anyway, "Blood on the Tracks, ended and I put on the Bob Dylan and The Band, Before the Flood" tour album. The Band just finished up with "I shall be released" and launched into "That Endless Highway," I'm looking forward to "The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down."
Perhaps I should avoid apocalyptic music this week. I'll end up full of Southern Pride, (even though I've only spent parts of three summers in Florida so I don't have much of a heritage.) Perhaps I'll move on to Tom Petty and "Southern Accents."
But I digress, dadgummit ADDHDTT or perhaps it is the MoCapp/Lorsban I've been inhaling. Wonder if there is black market for the organophosphate buzz. (Dizziness accompanied by queasiness followed by sore throat for two weeks...) At least I don't have a sore throat this morning. What is a respirator?
Dadburnit-the music ended and I forgot what I was talking about...
Oh yeah the end of the world (side two)
I looked up more about the end of the world and there is an idiot in what used to be Britain before it became Landing Strip 1, who is trying to build an ark. They can't even get their theology right. The first time was water, the great flood, and then there was the rainbow which symbolized the promise that there would never be another great flood. No, the next time is FIRE... So, he should be building his ark out of asbestos.
I have more to say but I've got to get rid of this Bob Dylan. Wish I had another album by "The Band."
I leave you with...


  1. Quit breathing, Budd; it's messing up your mind!

  2. Use a respirator! If not for your health, consider that every breath you take out there is allowing a bug to go free. That stuff's expensive.

  3. Mr Camping's argument has convinced Adam Larsen, 32, from Kansas. "My favourite pastime is raccoon hunting," Mr Larsen told CNN. "I've had to give that up. But this task is far more important."

    Oh Lordy, To give up coon hunting. Ya know it has to be true.

    Budde, You need to listen to some Black Sabbath. Really Loud. Smoke some of that dope. And be saved.

    By the way, the Flying Spaghetti Monkey isn't gonna let the world end.

    Our prayers are with you.

  4. Gorges, when I hold my breath I turn blue and I don't want to be mistaken for an illegal alien.

    Muddy, or I could just not use the stuff... I worry more about getting it on my hands or clothes. I wear rubber gloves. I've become really sensitive to it so just the faint scent of it bothers me.

    Bobby, I like to hunt nutria. I used to have a German Shepherd that would retrieve the nutria after I shot it, but would not actually give it to me. That was fine by me. However, if I were convinced that the end was near I probably wouldn't go around telling anyone. I'd just keep it to myself, like anyone would believe me anyhow. Spend a little more time with my family. Get a few things done that have been bugging me for a while. Sit in the rocking chair and have a nice hot cup of coffee. Probably leave the nutria alone. What difference does it make at this point anyhow...


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