The sky is falling

Ol' Dutch has been around long enough to endure about 50 “End of The World” rumors that surface anytime there is a need to enslave more sheeple.

Wild-eyed preachers often have used this ploy to collect more money from gullible parishioners and it works every time with amazing results. Politicians also use this tactic to bleed more money from the peons who truthfully just wish there were no government.

Now Ol Dutch loves to hear what the end timers have to say and poor Trixie just rolls her eyes in disbelief that I would waste my time listening to them. But what does she know anyway? She is too young to remember Sputnik, hiding under our desks from Atom bombs and really has no idea about real fear.

One time I was going through some old books that my grandmother had in storage up in her attic. I found a classic book printed in 1899 with a picture of a Knights Templar-type character on the front. I decided that alone made it mystical and probably held some magical knowledge about the end times.

The author believed that the “End of The World” was just around the corner in 1900. He described how there were cannons of indescribable power and how if all the warships of the day were lined up end to end, they would reach from Nantucket to London. All of these proofs that the end was near because “it couldn't get any worse.”

Since I am somewhat of a connoisseur of end of time theories, I can tell you that some of these people say the dumbest things.

One fellow who sells survival food to all the church folks says in the end times you can trade it for gold, at which juncture he rolls his eyes and slobbers at the mouth.

I am not sure what you are gonna do with gold when there is no food like he predicts but it sells more tubs of dehydrated food to old ladies preparing to live in an apocalyptic world with masses of jewelry adorning sagging necks.

He has sold water filters, water bottles, food, generators, bibles, medical kits, colloidal silver, vitamins, survival homes, backpacks, shovels, rubber boots, enemas, greenhouses, seeds and fertilizer. Most of what he says is probably pretty good fertilizer in and of itself and the rubber boots might just come in handy to be around that preacher.

Another site I was reading about this coming soon event listed new Toyota Trucks for sale as a sponsor. Now I don't know about you but I don't think I will need a truck should the Russians drop the big one on my head.

When I was 5 years old some family friends moved to Phoenix as they were sure that “The Lord” was coming back there. They bought new campers, houses and cars for the occasion and sure they would never have to pay for them when Jesus returned.

So far as I know they all died in the wilderness awaiting His return plus had to pay for their booty as well. God sure messed up on that one I would say.

Speaking of dumb things Ol' Dutch (that sentence structure just didn't come out quite right) heard a guy on the talk radio say “Christians, above anyone else, have a right to enjoy the simple things in life.”

Now I am not sure why Buddhists and Hindis and even Atheists don't have the same rights so can only chalk it up to “dumb” once again.

In September, Ol' Dutch awaited the Blood Moon just “knowing” that it signaled the end of the world. After all, people had said that over and over so I sat anxiously anticipating the end.

I had decided to go out with a bang and on that particular evening, I climbed high up on a mountain to bow hunt so the moon would come up as I walked out. As the large saucer crept up in the sky, I began to think that maybe I had been left behind for the end-times tribulation and might be stuck in a world of blue haired old ladies stocked up with dried cabbage soup and enemas.

Ol' Dutch can almost guarantee if you eat the first you most certainly won’t need the latter. God save us from ourselves.

Being sick can make you sick

Unlike most people nowadays, I don’t watch much television as we don't have cable to peruse the standard 415 channels. Earlier in my life, I was one of the swells and I can still recall how my entire evening was taken up with changing channels to try and find something to watch – all to no avail.

At many of the places Trixie and I travel, though, a few channels come in over the antenna. She gets her football, awards show and American Idol type stuff and Ol’ Dutch gets an evening of Internet surfing. Since I can’t hear a thing off the TV, I am perfectly content looking for sausage stuffers, new boots, decoys and fishing boats on eBay while she hollywoods herself into oblivion.

Back in the day, watching television was safe from being presented with people’s personal problems as all we saw on there were ads for Milk of Magnesia and Doan’s Backache Pills. Now, as far as I can tell, the only ads that run on her shows are for everything from male impotence to diabetes to feminine products which most of us really don't need to see, especially during dinner.

How you ever noticed the length of the disclaimers that come along with all these ads? A typical one for a new drug will read something like this:

“Ask your doctor if Smiley Pills are right for you. Side effects of Hexaprotzylanpricknaprine are uncommon but may include vomiting, heart attacks, explosive diarrhea, vaginal discharge, varicose veins, heart murmurs, gender reassignment, hemorrhoids, sugar highs and lows, vomiting, life threatening rash, depression, allergies, high instep, back pain, front pain, headaches, ED, loss of appetite, increased appetite, liver failure, pancreatic cancer, lung collapse, foaming at the mouth, divorce, bankruptcy, bad decision making, hair growth on your palms, poor hunting success and death.”

Heck, I don't know why people even delay in going right to the doctor and signing up? But we see it every day with more and more drugs on the market and more and more people willing to shell out their hard earned money to “try” them.

And that’s exactly what Big Pharma wants you to do. They spend $4.5 Billion dollars in advertising each year so that you will ask your doctor to prescribe this miracle drug or that one regardless of the consequences.

One time I asked my doctor friend why so many people don't get well and he had to admit it was a “medical practice” and not to be confused with “medical perfection.”

If a drug company tells you that their product does this or that, then you should at least have the expectation that it might work almost like they said it would, right? And, if not, we should return it and get our money back. Too bad Sam Walton didn’t establish a pharmaceutical company, he’d made sure that we customers were satisfied or our money back.

One thing they never seem to advertise is drugs that have a side effect of weight loss. Now there is a side effect I could sign up for and most of America would be at your doorstep even if they didn't have any symptoms except of being fat.

My mother always said, “You can never be too skinny or too rich.” Never having been either one of these I have to agree but not sure I want to endure being sick to find out.

Thanksgiving comes gobbling

Ol’ Dutch was sitting up in a tree the other day when 50 wild turkeys walked by. Now, before you think I have finally flipped my rocker let me explain a tad further.

For the uninformed and even those slightly aware of men's idiosyncrasies, normally sane, grown men will climb into a tree and sit there in biting wind, rain and cold in order to tag a deer.

These men would quit a job that asked them to endure such hardships, but when it comes to hunting, those same men will sit there quiet as a church mouse for hours on end just for a chance to shoot a deer or another game animal.

Ah, but this column isn’t about hunting, but the turkeys made me think of Turkey Day which came around the bend like Mario Andretti in the final of the Indy 500.

Ol' Dutch is lucky enough this year to be at #1 son's house in Kansas for the event and his in-laws have invited Trixie and me for eats and drinks on the big day.  

Living in an RV has many advantages including going where we want when we want, visiting my kids on a regular basis, seeing the USA, fishing and hunting across the nation, with no possibility of overnight guests.

The biggest advantage, however, is not having room to host ANYTHING. Events such as birthdays with the cake all over the floor; Super Bowl parties where guests drink too much and toilets overflow; cookouts and other casual gathering are always held at “someone else's house” which is also called, “nirvana.” 

All Ol' Dutch has to do nowadays is show up, eat, drink and leave in exactly that order for all to be well with the world. Now it's not that I don't like hosting. When I was in the “cohabiting in peace stage” with the ex-wife we had a nice house with a huge open floor plan and always hosted every holiday.

I soon found out why everyone was happy to come to our place. After they left, there was a mess to clean up, outside planters had been backed over by cars, and Uncle Bill had missed the toilet bowl – several times. Now it has finally dawned on me that all of them were older than me at the time and they had learned the secret to holidays: never host.

This isn't to say I am not thankful for all that I have. My usual input now to the family gatherings is saying the blessing over the meal and I can usually put together a nice little ditty with the proper references for the occasion at hand. 

Thanksgiving is no different from other celebratory events except now instead of having to say something nice about Bob on his birthday, I can choose from a litany of things around me to be thankful for.

For those of you who will also be tasked with saying the blessing, let me give you a few pointers. 

You can never go wrong being thankful for grandchildren, children and even for old Aunt Edna who made it one more year -- her wool skirt smelling like cedar from the hope chest and her Estee Lauder perfume stinking up the room.

There are certain things you may want to shy away from such as politics. Don't thank the Lord for the President or even ask for guidance for the man as you will be speaking to a mixed demographic group, half of which hate his guts and will feel compelled to let you know that soon after the prayer ends. This usually then leads to what is known as “strife” and someone leaving early which in reality is a good thing as it means an extra piece of pie for me.

If you need inspiration for your prayer, look around the room. They are not only your audience, but also your potential subject matter.  

If you cannot be thankful for one single one of them -- which can happen in certain families – then, at least be thankful for the turkey who gave his life for you this day.

And, if that doesn’t work, skip the meal, go sit in your tree stand and be thankful you are not at home.

A failure to communicate

Most of us recall Paul Newman’s iconic movie “Cool Hand Luke.” In that film the warden played by Strother Martin first utters the phrase: “What we've got here is a failure to communicate."

No matter where you have been, lived, worked, slept, eaten, sat, stood or walked, someone somewhere has spoken these words to you when your attention maybe lapsed for a brief instance. These lapses are known in relationships as “being a man” but can also occur in the female of the species on rare occasions.

I was listening to Trixie talk to her dear friend Annie Oakley the other day about Annie's boyfriend. Now neither Annie nor her boyfriend are spring chickens by any stretch of the imagination, both being over 60 --- which is either ancient or young to my readers depending on which side of that mark you find yourself.

Ol' Dutch could follow along with the conversation pretty good until it came to the part about their relationship and how it was doing.

A man faced with asking his buddy about his girlfriend would simply say something along the lines of “How is Mary Beth doing?” To which his buddy would say “Pretty good” or “she ran off with the butcher” and that would end the discussion and they could get back to discussing golf, fishing, hunting or the latest Gold Rush television episode.

But with Trixie and other women I have been around, life is not that simple. You would think a simple “and how are you and Billy Bob getting along?” would suffice but no, that is just not possible with this crowd.

"How is Billy Bob’s spiritual, psychological and physiological health nowadays?” Trixie asked Annie Oakley.

And, with this one question, I began to suddenly understand more about women than I have in my 59 long years. What in the wide wide world of sports did that mean anyway?

I sat there aghast and even though I am not sure what that word means, my mouth was open and I had that far away, can’t believe what I just heard look in my eyes.

And that, my friends, is the problem we have in relationships. Not only is there a failure to communicate, the female of the species has decided to make it almost impossible to do so for us heathen men because they use words not found in common life outside of Graduate School Psych classes.

Plus add that to the fact that even when you agree with a woman you usually end up in trouble. Lord help the man who says “what do you want me to say?” when faced with an unwinnable situation. That question, for the uninitiated, is seen as a smart ass remark.

Recently I was heading out the door for a day away from “the boss,” I mean sweet Trixie, and caught her up in my arms to kiss her in the most romantic fashion. Or something like that.

Trixie pulled away and said “I haven't brushed my teeth yet.” This caught me off guard as a man, I had gone quite a bit out of my way and lowered my manly shields to try and be more than a standard clod in coming back to kiss her face before leaving. Not knowing what else to say I fell back on 31 years of marriage encounters and agreed with her saying, “I know.”

That must have been the wrong choice gentlemen as the kiss disappeared into the sea of forgetfulness and Ol' Dutch had to head out the door dejected.

So if you are in a relationship -- married or not -- realize that you are never going to be talking on the same wavelength as your beloved no matter how many books you buy from Dr. Phil.

Someone gave me a coffee cup the other day that said, “Mr. Right” and I was feeling pretty good about that until Trixie opened hers and it said, “Mrs. Always Right.” And therein is the wisdom of the ages in three simple words.