Aces High

“If she had nothing more than her voice she could break your heart with it. But she has that beautiful body and the timeless loveliness of her face. It makes no difference how she breaks your heart if she is there to mend it.”

Ernest Hemingway

***

Times were once much simpler. He could still vividly recall days gone by, where the only cunning adversary was the elusive bear. It hadn't been a scant few years prior, but it now seemed like a distant dream. Would he ever be able to return to his carefree life of drunken and poorly executed hunting forays into his beloved Bavarian Alps?



Not long before, it was obvious who was the hunter and who was the hunted. Now those roles were no longer clearly defined nor firmly in place.

How did this happen? When did youthful innocence surrender to sinister ambiguity? Was it the night he met her?




And what of this war which seemed to defy all rational thought? Was it mere coincidence that both events rapidly descended on him almost simultaneously? It was madness.




Perhaps the conflict and his femme fatale were inextricably joined either at the hip, or at least in the near vicinity. One certainly fueled the need for the other, and vice versa. The two dovetailed seamlessly together. Usually on Friday nights.

He knew for instance that the synchronized gear in his machine gun allowed him to precisely aim at his chosen target between the blades of the propeller; and this concept served him equally well when the two lovers were alone in her boudware.

He also realized that the element of surprise and in safely drawing a bead from above likewise served to his advantage; as did quietly slipping back across enemy lines after the engagement.




Was it sheer destiny that she should be there that night at the end of the bar? Normally, respectable women avoided the place altogether. And was it in the cards for him to be wearing his "My plane may be "bi", but I'm a straight-shooter" t-shirt, which prompted the opening staccato burst of conversation?




Whatever the case, the game was on. And over the next few tumultuous years, there would be rapid advances and retreats, measures and counter-measures, with the eventual outcome always in doubt and yet also predetermined.



Why must it be this way, that this glorious and exciting new discovery of flight could not be repeatedly ravished and savored in its purest form, free from earthen shackles of indebtedness and duty? Is it not possible to take delight in the plumage of the bird and the freedom of choice it its flight, without succumbing to the urge to capture and place it in a gilded cage?




Inevitably there is always a cost to be extracted for any endeavor, and the aviator has paid dearly for this one. What had been a means to an end, now has become an end in itself. And though he is one of the fortunate few who have beaten the odds and emerged unscathed in the physical sense, he is but a shell of the hunter that he once was.

What little solace that remains, comes in the form of guns now silent, though the posturing and pontificating go on.




He is now much older and wiser. But alas, there is indeed a cliche-ridden sadness to his wisdom. He wants to believe that this truly was the "war to end all wars". And yet he has no way of knowing what looms ahead on the horizon.




***

"A man would prefer to come home to an unmade bed and a happy woman than to a neatly made bed and an angry woman."

Marlene Dietrich

***

"I'm a simple soul. If there's a bed AND a woman in the same room, that's good enough for me."

Pug Puerileuwaite

.

Lamb Tips: Don't Try Them at Home

Hi everybody,

I am currently working on and off on a new adventure. However, I was just over at my (very) dear Lamby's place catching up on her posts; and I was inspired to leave the following feedback to a recent one where she provided insightful helpful tips incorporating common household items. I thought I would share my own results after playing "Guinea Pug". Enjoy.

PEPPER

Everyone knows Clorox's catchy ditty about keeping clothes bright, but all you need is pepper. Add a teaspoon of pepper to the wash before you add in your clothes and it will keep the colors from fading.

The only problem is that I now sneeze constantly.

WHITE VINEGAR

Deodorant stains can ruin a perfectly good shirt. Save your whites by spraying white vinegar (no need to mix with water) onto the underarm areas. Then you can wash per usual.

I don't like to waste anything, so I poured the vinegar THROUGH the pit areas onto the big salad I had prepared for my guests. They didn't seem to enjoy the salad as much as usual. But I DID get positive comments on the shirt.

SHORTENING

For a natural solution to diaper rash, try coating the area with a thin layer of shortening. It will act as a moisturizer.

I tried this with my nephew, but his butt was a tough squeeze into the Crisco can. I barely got him out before having to use the Crisco to cook for some Blogger guests. There HAS GOT to be an easier way.

POTATOES

Too much to drink last night and now you have puffy eyes? Apply a thin slice of cold potato to your eyes and leave on for five minutes. Then splash with cool water, put on your makeup (or just some moisturizer -- this means you, too, guys!) and head to work!

Oops. So THAT explains the "shrinkage" when I placed a potato in my Speedo to impress the gals at the beach.

ORANGES

Don't you hate it when you have to start a fire and little bits of newspaper are flying everywhere? Next time, air-dry orange peels, which contain flammable oils that burn longer, and use those instead of the paper. The delicious smell is a bonus.

The only complication when I tried this, is that my house caught on fire. Unfortunately a nearby orange grove went ablaze at the same time, so the firemen couldn't follow the scent to my home.

OLIVE OIL

Does it seem like nothing is working for your bad skin? Use 4 tablespoons of salt and 3 tablespoons of olive oil to create a paste. Leave it on your face for 2 minutes and rinse with warm water. Then wash your face as normal. Use every day for a week and then cut back to 3 days a week and you should notice an improvement.

All this did was make my pizza face more "authentic". Thanks a lot.

MUSTARD

It may make you smell like a hot dog, but rubbing a thin layer of mustard over your chest and covering with a hot towel can relieve a stuffy head and chest.

They kicked me out of the ballpark when I tried this. Maybe I should've discretely used mustard PACKETS, instead of the huge pump-bottle at the hot dog stand.

MILK

Oh no! You forgot to put the cap on your pen and now there is ink seeping into your shirt. No worries -- just grab some milk and soak the area. Depending on the type of ink, this process can take anywhere from 30 minutes to 24 hours. Patience is a virtue.

This was a fun one, actually. The key is to find a lactating woman who is approximately the same shirt size, and have her wear the shirt bra-less for a day or so.

LEMONS

Dandruff can be an embarrassing health problem, but the special shampoo often smells yucky. Try massaging 2 tablespoons of lemon juice into your scalp and rinsing with warm water. Follow with a leave-in rinse of 1 teaspoon lemonjuice in 1 cup of warm water. Use this daily until your scalp is healed.

No thanks. Isn't it bad enough that I look like the dude on the "Lemonheads" box? I have to SMELL like him too?

FLOUR

You have an ant problem but are worried about the poisonous ant traps around your pets. Just sprinkle flour wherever you see ants entering the house and along the pantry shelves, since they are most likely after your food.

This is another bad idea. Don't you remember what happened to the bad guys in "Billy Jack" who poured flour onto the Native Americans in the Ice Cream Shoppe? They got their butts kicked by Billy Jack! What if there is a "Billy Jack" ant? No thanks.

EGGS

No time to hit the salon before your big event? Get your hair super shiny and conditioned with eggs! Take two beaten egg yolks and massage into hair. Start at the scalp and work in small sections. Then gather all of the hair in a shower cap, wrap in a warm towel and wait 30 minutes (you could cook the kids' dinner). Rinse with cool water and shampoo as usual.

I heard a rumor that this is how Benedict Arnold became forever associated with eggs.

CASTOR OIL

While most of us associate castor oil with constipation or childbirth, did you know it can also help get rid of pesky moles in your yard? Just mix a 1/2 cup of castor oil with two gallons of water and pour the mixture down the mole(s) hole(s). Don't worry, the solution is animal friendly and they will likely relocate.

Great. Now they're under my house, they're pissed, and I'm out of Castor Oil. What now?

BUTTER

A jewelry box can help you organize, but sometimes those thin-chained necklaces just want to get tangled and you can't stop them! Rub some butter into the knot and lay on a flat surface. Then take a sewing needle to untangle. When finished just run under hot water to rinse off the butter.

I also use these same techniques to untangle human knots. In fact, I wouldn't even attempt to use the Kama Sutra without a stick of butter close by.

BANANAS

Before you throw your banana peel in the compost pile, remove any stringy pulp and use the peel as a buffer. This works with silverware as well as leather shoes and leather furniture. Just rub the peel over the object and buff with a soft cloth. Be sure to test a small section of your furniture first!

I tried banana peels on my shoes, and the last time I went to the zoo, every monkey in the place tried to hump them.


Thank you for trying, Lamby. That is one reason among many why I think you are wonderful! And yes, I mean it.

.

Lady

Lady, when you're with me, I'm smiling
Give me all your love


Your hands build me up when I'm sinking
Touch me, and my troubles abate


Lady, from the moment I saw you
Standing all alone


You gave all the love that I needed
So shy, like a child who has grown


You're my lady of the morning
Love shines in your eyes


Sparkling, clear, and lovely
You're my lady


Lady, turn me on when I'm lonely
Show me all of your charms


Evenings, when you lay down beside me
Take me gently into your arms


You're my ...
Lady of the morning
Love shines in your eyes


Sparkling, clear, and lovely
You're my lady


Lady of the morning
Love shines in your eyes


Sparkling, clear, and lovely
You're my ... lady



Happy Valentine's Day. Be mine.

.

Where Have I Been? Off Feeling Super!

Hi everybody,

It's been awhile, hasn't it? Jeez, where HAS the time gone? I suspect some of you have even given me up for dead, or perhaps it was just wishful thinking. Tell you what. Rather than try to come up with some lame-ass excuse for why my posting has decreased to a painful, diseased trickle, why not instead come up with an equally lame-ass post to make up for it?

I suppose I owe you an explanation for where I've been all this time since my last post. Okay, here goes: I caught Super Bowl Fever! And the only cure? (Besides MORE cowbell?) A trip to THE Super Bowl!


{{{{{{Pug Flashback}}}}}} It all started immediately after my last post. I started feeling melancholy, with a sense of loss that this most excellent of posts was no longer just in my head. It was now separate from me. Call it "Post-Part 'Em Depression" if you will. It's the same feeling I get after a date with (let's see ... who's turn is it for me to pick on ... ?) RevRee.


Anyhoo, I sensed that a change of scenery would be welcome, and though I hear London is both vibrant and tropical during this time of year, I was worried that the current exchange rate for this colonial roll of dimes in my front pocket might not adequately convert into royal "wanderlust". And so rebelliously, I decided to "live free" to pursue other "liberties".

I contemplated a trip to sunny Florida, where perhaps I could while away the hours on an adventurous picnic past the point of no return with my dear Lamby.


However, I realized that Lamby is slightly too chaste and wholesome for the likes of this Pug. And who am I to suffocate in all of that fluffy woolen virtue? No, perhaps it was time to embrace the animal within, and pay a visit to the local "cathouse".


Was I even half-way there, roll of impetuous dimes given way to nickels of passion, when I realized that this was a futile scramble from leash of reality? After all, had I not been banned from that place less than 6-months prior, for behavior so disgusting that decorum prevents me from disclosing it here?

Maybe, just maybe the answer - not unlike in a Menage a Trois - was somewhere in the middle. Perhaps exposure to professionals of a similar yet different pastime were what was called for. The Super Bowl was beckoning.


I don't know how old I was when I first developed a passion for the game. Ten? Eleven? I can't remember exactly, except that it was a lonely time, when all I had for companionship in that desolate attic were the countless stacks of National Geographics along with the occasional "Land O' Lakes" butter carton.

One crisp fall day, that Spartan existence changed. It was my very first football game. I didn't have a ticket, so I had to sneak in and find a vantage point under the bleachers from where I could voyeuristically participate in the action. It was magical. Tight end passes, getting the pigskin to receivers on a fly pattern, the occasional end-around play: it had it all! The proverbial icing on the cake was that the Cheerleaders' Section was directly above, which did anything but make yours truly want to split.


Needless to say, from that point on I was hooked on football. And hookers. Okay, just kidding about the hookers.

And so I was off. To Arizona. Never actually made it though, since as it turns out, at night it is "Bat Country".


In the end, I ended up watching the Giants upset the Patriots at home, in the sans-clothing comfort of my den. And now football season is over, and again I am feeling a sense of loss. Maybe I should get into volleyball.



.

My Lamb, My Muse

Hi everybody,

For the "multitudes" who have been "clamoring" for a new post: hark and behold! And complain no further!

However I must be honest (for once): this is not one of the entries that have been slowly writing themselves in my noggin. Rather, it's the result of inspiration striking (or technically, being "on strike") in the form of Lamby's latest post, entitled "Politics". Enjoy, please.

***


Lamby: I'm glad to see Hilary Clinton is not winning the democratic nomination. The thing that really bugs me about politicians is that they tell you how bad their competition is. It's like they're saying I am not the right choice for what you are to decide BUT my competition is worse than I am. In other words, I'm not the right choice, but my competition is not any better. Is it any wonder why people don't vote?

Pug: You have a point, my dear Lamby. Sure, perhaps many, many other make a better point than you do. Perhaps some of them have much more luxurious wool to fleece, but maybe just for once this isn't about finding the best choice. Maybe just this once, it's about looking no further.

***


Lamby: I am a Republican by choice. I am against abortion, especially when its used for birth control. I don't want my tax dollars to go to killing unborn babies. Life starts at conception. Abortion is murder.

Pug: I agree with you on your position against abortion. In fact, I am favor of many, many positions that may possibly (if we're not careful) result in the birth of a child. Not only for the reasons that you stated, but also because OUR offspring would be terminally adorable! This is why I believe tax dollars should go toward the creation of OUR unborn babies, because let's face it: not only does life begin at conception: MY love life typically begins immediately before (and sadly, usually wanes right after).

***


Lamby: I'm also against gay rights. The Bible calls them sodomites. If you want to live that way, go ahead, but don't flaunt it in front of me. Marriage is between a man and a woman.

Pug: I also - to a lesser extent - agree with your anti-sodomite stance. Sodomite is a reprehensible pairing of calcium and magnesium, and I for one am OUTRAGED that those two minerals choose to crystalize their relationship. Probably in caves, and other areas which should not contain that sort of activity. However, I am not entirely sure that marriage between a man and a woman should be flaunted either, since impressionable youngsters may seek to emulate that behavior as well.

***


Lamby: Illegal Aliens GO HOME!!!! If you want to stay here, go through the process we have set up. You can stay here legally then. But if you decide to stay here, at least learn English.

Pug: I agree, which is why I have set up my own process for obtaining citizenship. The first step is securing their loyalty via a straightforward system of rewards and punishments. Then I start them on the road to learning a trade. Some show a natural propensity for gardening, while others are more suited to construction and remodeling. For the ladies, we have home economics and culinary internships. I also help a lucky few hone their skills in attracting and retaining a beau. As time permits, I tutor them in English, starting out with basic phrases such as: "No Police", "Have a Nice Day", and "Obey the Pug".

***


Lamby: There is at least one Republican that will or says he will secure our borders. So far, he has my vote. Let's see if he gets on the ballot for 2008.

Pug: I agree. What have immigrants ever done for this country? Not as much as Republicans. That's for darn sure.

***


Lamby: I just thought I'd share that with you so you know where I stand. I also get into these moods where I have to speak up and let the chips fall where they may.

Pug: As I drive erratically down that proverbial road of life, I can't help but think that you are somewhere up ahead. So it's important that I know where you stand. Perhaps that is you holding a bag of Lay's, carelessly allowing actual chips to fall where they may. Or maybe it IS just a metaphor. Either way, it's an image that puts ME in the mood, and you in my cross-hairs, if you catch my drift. And I think you just might.

***


Lamby: I'm not looking forward to this election in November. I dread the ads. What I also hate is when they say "This ad was paid for by... Now c'mon, we already know who paid for it by what you say. Stop treating us like morons! The idiots we put into office must think we're the idiots if we can't tell who paid for the ad. That has always bothered me.

Pug: What if YOURS TRULY has been secretly paying for those ads all this time, but remained anonymous because he didn't want to "cheapen" the gift by taking credit for it?

***


Anyway Lamby, I really liked your post; you continue to provoke me in many different ways. This time, you provoked me to think. Don't let it happen again!

.

Black Bart

Howdy folks!

Pull up and rest a spell, as I introduce you to the baddest gunslinger these parts have seen in quite some time. Ladies and gents, meet Black Bart.

Chapter I: The Early Days


They say the storm came out of nowhere that January morning when Black Bart made his first appearance. Most folks had never before seen both snow and lightning all at the same time, except perhaps during one of Lamby's Wicca Rituals. There wasn't the instantaneous bonding between a mother and her child that you so often learn about from the Hallmark Channel, but Rosemary had remarkably flexible standards and did eventually adapt to her son after little time had passed. And he in turn took to her breasts as if he had already known of their usefulness from past lives, or perhaps from an innate awareness of the postings on Limpy's blog.


He brought into this world a head of hair as black as Sassy Blondie's heart, and it wasn't long before his body was covered as well (perhaps this was how he differed from Sassy, perhaps not). It was around this time that he acquired his nickname, though it had yet to strike fear in the hearts of both the evil and innocent the way it does today.

If judging by appearance alone, Black Bart was a handsome and appealing young lad, pure as an Altar Boy, and unfortunately for his innocence, just as deferential to authority figures. But there was always an uncertain uneasiness about him. You see, he had a knack for taking an innocent rite of rural adolescence, and twisting it into something perverse or sadistic.


He would earn pennies by shoveling the neighbors' steps and walkways, just for them to subsequently discover - at the most inopportune moments - that their outhouses had completely been filled in with the removed snow.

Oh sure, lots of youngsters would steal the occasional apple pie from the window ledge where it had been left to cool. But only Black Bart would leave the pie in place, carefully extracting only the filling and placing a rat trap under the undisturbed top crust.


Other times he would wear a cap that he turned slightly sideways, and head down to the train depot with his shoeshine kit. Looking like a hapless orphan, he would dupe travelers into 5-cent shines. Often they would tip him a few pennies more for the mirror-like gloss he would coax out of their footwear, only to realize that he had used a razor knife to score the leather so that it would separate from the soles after a half-dozen steps.

And did anyone ever again trust the rope swing by the watering hole after Black Bart was through stringing grids of barbed wire (stolen, of course) beneath the water just far enough to not be seen from above?

The Annual Barn Dance was always THE social event of the season to look forward to, that is, UNTIL Black Bart. What compelled him to lace the punch with laxatives and nail the restroom doors shut? And wasn't that enough to satisfy him? Was it really necessary to pile manure in front of every exit and stampede the horses through as well?


What inspired him to convince the chubby kid down the road that he should carve his own baseball bat out of that lightning-damaged hickory tree? Was it a rare case of encouragement and friendship? Perhaps we will never know, as the same bat - soon after its creation - was later found at the scene of a grisly crime, covered in blood. The chubby kid was quickly convicted and sent away to do hard time at Pelican Island, and hasn't been able to speak since.

Maybe this final "attempt gone awry" to "reach out" to the community and make a positive difference is what finally turned Black Bart onto the dark path of outlaw and gunslinger. Your guess is as good as mine. This will give you something to chew on until our next chapter. Until then, keep your weapons holstered, but keep on the lookout for that desperado known as Black Bart.

.

Presidential Trivia - XVI thru XX

Hi everybody,

"At Last" is not just an Etta James tune, it's probably what some, okay ... none, of you are thinking upon spotting something new here on "Why oh why".

So what WOULD you say to a brand new, brilliantly crafted post? Who wouldn't say yes? Well, would you be willing to settle for the latest installment of Presidential Trivia? Good, I thought so. Okay, here goes.


16) Abraham Lincoln - Little is known of this President, as there are few - if any - books on the man. So all that remains are hearsay and barroom talk, passed down through the generations. In fact, learning about Mr. Lincoln from those wise old sages in taverns and watering holes is the main reason so many underage youths are infatuated with gaining entry to those establishments. To them, I say, wait your turn, Sunny Jim, the time will come when you can legally learn about our 16th* (* so my "fact-checkers" tell me) President.

Here's what I've been able to piece together. He was informally known as "Honest Abe", but apparently not so much for his honesty, than as a sarcastic moniker noting the lack of it. Turns out that some of you are probably more honest than this shyster. Except maybe for Corn Dog. The origin of this nickname appears to stem from Abe's days as a Horse and Buggy Trader, where he gained a reputation for emancipating folks from their cash, employing many of the shady practices that we still see today. Using a fishing pole with a dollar bill to lure dopes onto the lot? Abe was the first. Injecting sawdust to hide equine lower intestinal problems? You guessed it: he also pioneered that nefarious trick.

But strangely, both law practice and politics have a cleansing effect, along with a way of sweeping past bad deeds under the carpetbag, and as such, this is the path that Abe chose. Yet, the shenanigans did not stop altogether, as he continued to scam and ridicule. At the end of a Pro Bono case, he would get his client drunk, and attempt to collect; claiming that Pro Bono was Latin for "in favor of penises, not stiffing the attorney". If the client was an attractive woman, he was notorious for whipping out the "Lincoln Log" a la Clinton, thus inspiring the children's toy set. Also of note, the word "plaintiff" was allegedly coined by Abe as a derisive slap at the typical accuser, who was usually plain-looking at best, and seemingly always in a "tiff" with somebody.

In particular, his foray into law produced - as is always the case - a resulting over-amplification of his narcissistic personality, and he was known to bop down the street flashing in sign language both an "A" and an "L" to passersby. His famous statue in the Lincoln Memorial beautifully captures his hands "signing" in this manner. Unfortunately, variants of this gesture were adopted by carriage riders and street punks alike, a tradition that carries on to this very day (Lamby's middle-finger wave when changing lanes, to cite one example).

Lincoln's term as President was - per my sources - uneventful. He wasn't the worst President we've had, so I suppose by that low standard he did a good job keeping things together. Probably the only remarkable event was the manner of his death at the hand of a disgruntled former customer from the carriage dealership days, who shouted, "Sick Sonofabichin Tradein!" during the dirty deed, which apparently is Latin for "tired of being Bono'd".


17) Andrew Johnson - Was the first President to be impeached, probably because of a Time Traveller who reported to Congress that Johnsons make shitty Presidents. He was an ineffective leader, and the Southern Reconstruction debacle started under his watch. But how effective would you be, if all the time you were Lincoln's Vice-President, he introduced you to those present by loudly proclaiming, "Allow me to whip out my Johnson"? It got old real fast for everyone, but by that time the die had been cast; and everywhere he went, people would throw condoms at him.


18) Ulysses S. Grant - Was yet another military hero who became a mediocre President (and thank you SO much for paving that particular route, George Washington ... did anyone note the sarcasm? Well, aren't you all so damned observant). Unfortunately, my friends, Julian Lennon was no John Lennon; and Grant was no Washington. His administration was both negligent and corrupt. And there's a reason his name is so similar to "useless".

However, in his favor, the Secret Service WAS instituted during his Presidency, and as a fan of "The Wild Wild West" (the TV show, not the movie), this was a major coup. James West and his sidekick Artemus Gordon worked for the United States Secret Service, and it was their duty to keep the country safe from a large assortment of evil geniuses and their wicked schemes. Blending elements from The Man from U.N.C.L.E., James Bond, and the ever popular western, our two heroes rode the rails in a private train fighting many a bad guy.


19) Rutherford B. Hayes - Be honest (not in the opposite fashion, like "Honest" Abe, but in the literal sense). How many of you, when reading the name "Rutherford B. Hayes", thought he was a pimp? I know I did. But as it turns out, there WAS also a President by that name. Here ... let me go look some crap up on him and report back .... .... .... okay, I'm back. Here's what I stole and bastardized, er, here's what I learned.

Mark Twain (author of "Huck Finn" and other fine works of American literature) stumped for Hayes. His detractors of course played on that fact and twisted it by producing "Hayes for President? Fhuck Himm!" buttons.

Now get this: Hayes expected the Democrats to win. When the first returns seemed to confirm this, Hayes went to bed, believing he had lost. The popular vote apparently was 4,300,000 for Tilden to 4,036,000 for Hayes. Hayes's election depended upon contested electoral votes in Louisiana, South Carolina, and *groan* FLORIDA. If all the disputed electoral votes went to Hayes, he would win; a single one would elect Tilden. With apologies to my Florida friends, The "Lamebrain State" indeed served as the "Nation's Dick" more than just in the 2000 election! At least back in those days, the only "Hanging Chad" would be the poor bastard election official that was rightfully lynched for handing the Presidency to a Republican.

Months of uncertainty followed. In January 1877 Congress established an Electoral Commission to decide the dispute. The commission, made up of eight Republicans and seven Democrats, determined all the contests in favor of Hayes by eight to seven. What a surprise. The final electoral vote: 185 to 184. Son of a bitch! History IS one painful "Mobius Strip" of repeated bullshit.

Hayes had announced in advance that he would serve only one term, and retired to Spiegel Grove, his home in Fremont, Ohio, in 1881, where he launched the Spiegel Catalog business (subsequently bought out by Eddie Bauer ... or was it the other way around?). Anyway, I digress. He died in 1893, thus making future rigged elections in his favor "difficult" at best.


20) James Garfield - I know what you're thinking: the Pug's going to make some lame-ass reference to Garfield the Cat. Damned straight, I am. It's my blog for Chrissakes, and I've been saving this joke since I started this insipid "Presidential Trivia" series. In fact, it IS the reason I started it. Tell you what: if you don't like it so much, then why don't YOU run for President and try to stop me. No, wait, don't. Knowing THESE voters, they probably would elect you. Hell, maybe I should run (*wink* *wink*).

Anyway, James Garfield did enjoy lasagna and crapping in sandy material. However, in a departure from the preferences of the cartoon cat, President Garfield also was infatuated with trains, and would spend endless hours ignoring the responsibilites of running the nation to hang out at the station. This would prove to have tragic consequences, as Garfield one day got into a heated argument and subsequent altercation with another train buff over the merits of "HO" versus "N" scale. An embittered attorney (one of many, I'm afraid) by name of Charles Julius Guiteau, was the other party in this fateful dispute, and he happened to already be agitated by the theft of his "Orange Julius" concession idea. So this was simply the wrong time and place for Garfield to be a "Subject Matter Expert Bully", as it cost him both his life and any possible "Model Railroading Hall of Fame" recognition. Live and learn.

***

Well that does it for this installment of "Presidential Trivia". I can only hope this continues to inspire your interest in the Oval Office, instead of just the oval tracks of NASCAR.

.