tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-26486652511489442392024-03-13T21:44:57.701-07:00Looking at Life..........................................................Just a place for musing and picturesJack D'Mestierehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05378959608778838199noreply@blogger.comBlogger499125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2648665251148944239.post-72694400891517682872020-01-16T22:10:00.001-08:002020-01-16T22:30:26.897-08:00Retirement will slow a fella down, even Jack D'Mestiere who's slow as a slug anyway...<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K9OQ0reXH1U/XiFDt9o7g-I/AAAAAAAAQKw/BXglgRDxKmEZBstNl2j_-KVc92dOoELngCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/Eltrym.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em; text-align: center;"><img border="0" data-original-height="319" data-original-width="438" height="145" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-K9OQ0reXH1U/XiFDt9o7g-I/AAAAAAAAQKw/BXglgRDxKmEZBstNl2j_-KVc92dOoELngCLcBGAsYHQ/s200/Eltrym.jpg" width="200" /></a>Ever since I went to part-time private-eying, me and Dolly-girl have been doing the rounds of movie parlours taking advantage of the fact that not many people go to the movies in the middle of the day and plus the seats are a little less pricey. Well, we've only upped our game since Dixie Devereaux hung up her stethoscope and told the last guy on the treadmill to "Keep it up 'til I get back..."<br />
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I yawned and stretched at the crack of nine this morning and Dolly-girl, already into her second cup of joe--still blond with sand-- and maybe a pastry on the side and said, "Remember Jack, we're picking Dixie up at 11:30 sharp to catch <i>Just Mercy</i> at noon. I don't want to be late because that theater is likely to be full." "On it, DG. I'll just, oh never mind. I'll be ready to go.<br />
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<a href="https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/2393/8647/products/RVD_-_Satin_Nickel_c30e439a-4ce4-4476-920f-96a790e7bd45_1400x1400.jpg?v=1575360906" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="Satin Nickel" border="0" class="feature-row__image product-featured-img " data-aspectratio="1.0" data-sizes="auto" data-src="//cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/2393/8647/products/RVD_-_Satin_Nickel_c30e439a-4ce4-4476-920f-96a790e7bd45_{width}x.jpg?v=1575360906" data-widths="[180, 360, 540, 720, 900, 1080, 1296, 1512, 1728, 2048]" height="200" id="FeaturedImage-product-template-13483399839833" src="https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/2393/8647/products/RVD_-_Satin_Nickel_c30e439a-4ce4-4476-920f-96a790e7bd45_1400x1400.jpg?v=1575360906" width="200" /></a>Dixie was more than ready to go when we pulled the roadster up to where JB and her set the brake. She's got one of them fancy doorbells that's tryin' to do away with the likes of the former me--you know, the private eye. I've been reading about them but it seems like they're more of a <a href="https://www.kplctv.com/2019/12/12/is-your-doorbell-spying-you/" target="_blank">public eye</a>. Anyhoo, which happens to be a word in the NT Times Spellling Bea game that me and Dolly-girl have been playing (I specialize in the 4 letter words but a lot of 4 letter words I come up with aren't allowed...) Dixie hops aboard and we're off.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SgaIvPZm_-g/XiFUQYiObCI/AAAAAAAAQL8/G0JedFe-gxg6kSoLB3swlQHLEJPxdTYQQCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/IMG_3266.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1288" data-original-width="1600" height="160" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-SgaIvPZm_-g/XiFUQYiObCI/AAAAAAAAQL8/G0JedFe-gxg6kSoLB3swlQHLEJPxdTYQQCLcBGAsYHQ/s200/IMG_3266.jpg" width="200" /></a>We parked and took shank's mare further than any retired folks like to go--must have been a hundred yards. Dixie thought I had her on a treadmill--"You're like to killing' me Jack. Don't they have valet?" Well, being as how Dolly-girl, or Fiora as Dixie likes to call her 'cause she's all southern formal, got the time wrong for the moving picture show, we were seated an hour before the ads even started. But Dixie pointed out that it wasn't exactly like our calendars were full and besides, she and Fiora could use a good gab. I went out to see if Trouble was hanging around the lobby, but the only thing hanging around the lobby was an old guy with white hair looking--wait, looking in a mirror? How the ravages of time do strike.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WIA_LWjF8Z0/XiFI3DB6mII/AAAAAAAAQLE/eYrpxQcOS5wzP1A6g1hERU9O6EN17JSpwCLcBGAsYHQ/s1600/2016-12-01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="320" data-original-width="426" height="150" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WIA_LWjF8Z0/XiFI3DB6mII/AAAAAAAAQLE/eYrpxQcOS5wzP1A6g1hERU9O6EN17JSpwCLcBGAsYHQ/s200/2016-12-01.jpg" width="200" /></a>The movie was good. Wasn't a dry eye among the 6 of us in the house. I won't go into the merits of the film because they are many and deep. Suffice it to say, we needed a beer. Dixie suggested it and heads were moving up and down. "Maybe we can talk JB out of work and drag him along,' she suggested and the rest of us--that would be me and DG--were on board with that. Turns out it didn't take a tow truck to haul him out of gainful employment for the day and 10 minutes later he hopped in the roadster and we set sail for The Moon and Six Pence, a pub where I'm going to be setting the brake a lot more often now that I've been there. Good idea, Dixie!<br />
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Missy asked us in, settled us in a booth, and wasted no time getting beers down in front of four thirsty pilgrims. One of us--the working stiff--might have had a reason to be thirsty. The other three, me included, were dehydrated because of crying our eyes out in the film, the merits of which were many and deep. You know it was serious because Dolly-girl ordered a beer, and then another one. OK, they were half pints, but two half pints make a quart in Dolly-girl's book and that's more beer than she drinks in a month of Mondays, which is how we retired people like to think of how time goes by. You know, we don't mind Monday a bit...<br />
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Seeing how retirement is so exhausting, we needed food. JB, the working stiff, had had lunch, but the rest of us, 'cause of the whole time warp issue with DG and the hour at which some of us arise, had skipped a meal. I've logged that in my diary for Dr. Rachel S. Graves, MD who will say, "You know, Jack, you could never eat lunch again and you would have still have had too many lunches" except that she would have said it in a nice professional way. But lunch became dinner and dinner became, I guess, a snack as I had second something when I got home but doesn't writing this count for some sort of exercise? I didn't dictate it to Thelma!<br />
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What I'm supposed to be telling you is that Just Mercy is a film to see and The Moon and Six Pence is a good place to go anytime. Even if you aren't retired. Although being retired makes it better. Hell, it makes everything better. Well, maybe it doesn't make sending a working stiff off to work better. But MAYbe better times are ahead...<br />
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<br />Jack D'Mestierehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05378959608778838199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2648665251148944239.post-17943756915547334222019-07-01T15:38:00.001-07:002019-07-02T17:19:03.502-07:00CONFAB<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I was lookin' in the really cold section of our Coldspot when my blower started buzzing in a way I had never felt before. "Good God, Jack, what in the name of Aunt Tillie's telephone is going on with that thing you call a 'blower'?" "How do I know, Dolly-girl," I said, looking at the screen, "it says 'LARD ALERT! You are looking longingly at something that shouldn't even be in your freezer, Jackie-boy!'" I had a good idea who was behind this new phone alert--Professor Javier Boleyn.<br />
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A disembodied voice spoke from the phone. "Yes, it is I, Jackie-boy, Professor Javier Boleyn. I was automatically notified when the LARD ALERT was issued. It's like an Amber alert for misplaced children, or a Silver Alert for misplaced geezers, I mean seniors, except it alerts those who subscribe to Boleyn Enterprises suite of technology services that they are threatened with LARD." "Hmmm, I always feel threatened by you Professor and I didn't sign up for any 'suite of technology services'." "Check your automatic payments to Apple Pay (<span style="font-size: 12.479999542236328px; font-style: italic;">© St. Steven of Silicon</span>) Jackie-boy--you have been subscribed for some time."<br />
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Well, Professor, now that you've killed my appetite..." "Wait, Jackie-boy, while I have you here, it seems like a good time to confer with the three of you who have made application for a <i>2-Step CONFAB <span style="font-size: xx-small;">(</span></i><span style="font-size: 12.479999542236328px; font-style: italic;"> </span><span style="font-size: 12.479999542236328px; font-style: italic;">©</span><span style="font-size: 12.479999542236328px; font-style: italic;">Boleyn Enterpries)</span><i>. </i>Hold the line while I engage the others. Ms. D'Mestiere?" "Yes, I'm here," I heard Dolly-girl on the blower in the other room. "Ms. Devereaux? "Present." What the? Dixie was on the call too? "Very well."<br />
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I told him I didn't know anything about any confab other that the confabs I have with clients when I'm on a case and that ain't happened much recently. "A <i>2-Step CONFAB--</i>Collaborative Opportunities to Neutralize Flab and Booze, Jackie-boy. I describe it in my latest book, <i>2 Steps to Neutralizing Flab and Booze</i>, which will be billed to your account--expect it in the mail soon, or download the Kindle version at 2stepconfab.com."<br />
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"You see, Jackie-boy, Both Ms. D'Mestiere and Ms. Devereaux have expressed interest in trimming a few pounds off and Lord knows, you need to trim more than a few. They petitioned me to initiate a CONFAB shortly after the Nacho-Cam caught Ms. Devereaux eyeing a plate at a local brew-pub. I might add, Jackie-boy, that the Tap-Cam at the same establishment recorded your presence later in the day." "Wait, how come they are called Ms. and I'm Jackie-boy?" "Simple Jackie-boy, they are refined gentlewomen and you are refined sugar."<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p6LAGJqfdEs/XRqHLEQc4mI/AAAAAAAAP6o/-zDydZTcausArD9x40n-OaW4RLwn9JMagCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_2155.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-p6LAGJqfdEs/XRqHLEQc4mI/AAAAAAAAP6o/-zDydZTcausArD9x40n-OaW4RLwn9JMagCLcBGAs/s200/IMG_2155.JPG" width="150" /></a>"Although she was able to resist, it was dangerously close. And I know from the Appalachian Brewing Company's Gravy-Cam that you were unable to resist either the Poutine or the Mile-High Meatloaf. So, Ms. Devereaux, after a conversation with Ms. D'Mestiere, proposed a CONFAB--a <i>2-Step</i> mutual support group. The first step is to set up a meeting place and time." After a period of reflection of about one second, I suggested Radio Room--that Shamble sandwich and a couple beers, it don't get better than that--and the others gave that the Okie Dokie. Dolly-girl, in particular, because the fish tacos ring her dinner bell. Professor Boleyn intoned, "Radio Room is fine, however, remember that fish taco is singular." Dolly-girl said, "Only one a piece would work" and Dixie agreed.<br />
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"I'm afraid you misunderstand. One taco serves the three of you, split in inverse proportion to your weights. Jackie-boy, that means you get the aroma and that's it. And even looking at the Shamble on the menu will trigger a LARD Alert! You may each have a beverage--the ladies may have a taster glass of wine and Jack, you get a full pint glass...of air...or water, your choice. Enjoy your CONFAB!"<br />
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A chorus of Whoans was coincided with the click on the line of the <i>2-Step Taskmaster</i><br />
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<br />Jack D'Mestierehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05378959608778838199noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2648665251148944239.post-62842022642526518712019-06-02T11:04:00.003-07:002019-06-02T11:06:58.825-07:00Late Night Phone Call<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QdTg3MVlayY/XPQKW742pYI/AAAAAAAAP34/Luxzw8WkTLUCpYg_0_SKOxwQrZ3m5KlYQCLcBGAs/s1600/deadwood.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="675" data-original-width="1200" height="112" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-QdTg3MVlayY/XPQKW742pYI/AAAAAAAAP34/Luxzw8WkTLUCpYg_0_SKOxwQrZ3m5KlYQCLcBGAs/s200/deadwood.jpg" width="200" /></a> Me and Dolly-girl had settled in to watch a coupla episodes of Deadwood (<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size: 12.479999542236328px;">© HBO</span></span><span style="font-size: 16px;">)</span> 'cause we needed something light and fluffy to take the edge off the day, what with ships being covered up, Mexicans being tariffed, Great Britons preparing to be mangoed, and a member of the Royal Family being called nasty by none other than the nastiest human alive. My blower sparked. "It's probably a robo-call, Jack--they are coming in all times of the day now." "It's a crank call, alright, but one I have to answer..."<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Bppgd76sGOw/TWrWLnrigUI/AAAAAAAALj8/ce8oByftvG0G5Og1Xc4KiI5QBy7VOCnzQCPcBGAYYCw/s1600/tracking.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="400" data-original-width="342" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Bppgd76sGOw/TWrWLnrigUI/AAAAAAAALj8/ce8oByftvG0G5Og1Xc4KiI5QBy7VOCnzQCPcBGAYYCw/s200/tracking.jpg" width="170" /></a>"Hello, Professor." "Yes, Jackie-boy, it is I, Professor Javier Boleyn, creator of the <i>2-Step Duh! Diet</i>, author of 30 books and inventor of god-knows how many surveillance devices to assist those who are PAMs." "PAMs?" "<i>Persons of Mass Accumulation</i>, speaking of which, that's quite a mass of LARD! that you've accumulated recently!" "Well, Professor, you may know by reading my recent blog post that I have committed to resuming the War on LARD!" "Jackie-boy, here's what I know."<br />
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"Yesterday, you did go for a walk--not of the mileage that you've been known to put up in the past, but still, better than nothing. On that walk you came up with the brilliant idea of walking in a half squat to fool your cardiologist into thinking you had lost weight. That does not sound like commitment to me, Jack. Furthermore, I hope that your cardiologist has at least one functioning brain cell, which is what it would take to see through your pitiful scam."<br />
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Based on a back calculation of your trajectory, the Boleyn AI YIYI (<i>Artificial Intelligence Yardage Indicator of Yaw and Inclination </i><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size: 12.479999542236328px;">© Boleyn Enterpries</span></span>) suggests that you left home, stopped at your garden--good job there, by the way--and proceeded on to not one, but two grocery stores." "Yes, I needed a few items."<br />
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You were observed passing the Peninsula Park Rose Garden--the original Portland Rose Garden, if I'm not mistaken. From photographic evidence, it was a beautiful day.<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9w8lks3zGRE/XPQKXLNu_yI/AAAAAAAAP38/qQ901hV5kk0Z87qfOs4u_QJEx_Sv4lcKgCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_2001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9w8lks3zGRE/XPQKXLNu_yI/AAAAAAAAP38/qQ901hV5kk0Z87qfOs4u_QJEx_Sv4lcKgCLcBGAs/s200/IMG_2001.JPG" width="150" /></a>"It appears as though your were making something white in color for your evening repast." "That's correct. I made a <i>Fetticcini Alfredo</i> with a few improvements on the recipe--I added just a bit of meat to the sauce..." "Jackie-boy! Stop with the 'just a bit stuff'! The evidence points to a least one-third of a pound of bacon which is four-ninths of a pound more than your BSA!" "BSA, Boy Scouts?" "<i>Boleyn Suggested Allowance." "</i>Oh..."<br />
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"The <i>Garbage CanCam </i>(<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-size: 12.479999542236328px;">© Boleyn Enterpries</span></span><span style="font-size: 16px;">)</span> recorded the following image:"<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lMJWDKrXQSs/XPQKWwlBf9I/AAAAAAAAP30/uu563tAhYJACTJKiqKmXH2OEb5CEMdFygCLcBGAs/s1600/IMG_1999.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; display: inline !important; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1600" data-original-width="1200" height="200" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-lMJWDKrXQSs/XPQKWwlBf9I/AAAAAAAAP30/uu563tAhYJACTJKiqKmXH2OEb5CEMdFygCLcBGAs/s200/IMG_1999.JPG" width="150" /></a>"Jackie-boy, heavy cream, bacon, and butter have a place in your life, but it's not in the kitchen and certainly not in your mouth. I suggest you read my latest book, which I've written whilst taking with you, <i>Cream, Bacon, and Butter: A 3-Step Challenge for a 2-Step Dieter.</i> Let me give you the executive summary--take 3 giant steps and put the ingredients in the trash!<br />
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"Whoan..."<br />
<br />Jack D'Mestierehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05378959608778838199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2648665251148944239.post-28353785309621559652019-06-01T15:20:00.000-07:002019-06-01T15:34:17.693-07:00Getting Thinner By Getting Shorter<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jiTpJSZTapw/XPL6w6uQHkI/AAAAAAAAP3Q/EviSc9RRTnEv4IIJ23XNVUWXqg-mh7rfgCLcBGAs/s1600/Knees.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="98" data-original-width="150" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-jiTpJSZTapw/XPL6w6uQHkI/AAAAAAAAP3Q/EviSc9RRTnEv4IIJ23XNVUWXqg-mh7rfgCLcBGAs/s1600/Knees.png" /></a><a href="about:invalid#zClosurez" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="blob:https://www.blogger.com/e691e84a-3f08-43a9-a944-94d729e2ac9d" style="cursor: move;" /></a>"What in the name of Aunt Nicki's knee bends are you doin, Jack?" "I'm practicing walking in a half squat, Dolly-girl." "And I presume you are going to tell me why?" A shot though the wave accompanied that question/plea/afraid to ask. "Wednesday is my cardiology appointment." "Yes, and..." "And when I left her office last year I said, "You'll see less of me next year! You see, I was absolutely dedicated to getting back to the War on LARD!" "How'd that work out for you?" "That why I'm walking in a squat--the only way she is going to see less of me is if I pretend to be shorter. Clever, eh?" "What about the scale, Jack?" "Dang it, Dolly-girl, I forgot all about that. Maybe in my new crouched over position I can surreptitiously keep one foot on the floor..." "Oh, just blame it on something. I blame Trump. He causes Trubber--Trump Blubber!" "Professor Javier Boleyn won't buy that. I've been reading his latest books."<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uwEwJKw_86E/XPL6dMEaBHI/AAAAAAAAP3E/pmq9txNf7lwLtF5VME623A0aRme_QJuUACLcBGAs/s1600/PJB.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="188" data-original-width="109" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uwEwJKw_86E/XPL6dMEaBHI/AAAAAAAAP3E/pmq9txNf7lwLtF5VME623A0aRme_QJuUACLcBGAs/s1600/PJB.png" /></a><br />
<a href="about:invalid#zClosurez" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="blob:https://www.blogger.com/999d9428-5be1-42bc-8dd1-5bdefb828f18" /></a>It's true, Professor Javier Boleyn won't buy lame excuses although Trump Related Ultra-large Meal Portions (TRUMP) are real. But the good professor covers it all in his latest tomes <i>Failed and Flabby: 2 Steps to Accepting Blame </i>and <i>Not My Fault!: Retirement and Aging in the Twenty-teens.</i><br />
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"See, Dolly-girl, Professor Boleyn offers a concise 300 page diagnosis in <i>Failed and Flabby</i>. Step 1: It's all my fault and Step 2: Do something about it." "Jack, do you mean to tell me that it takes the great Professor Javier Boleyn, one of the most prolific authors in the world today, 300 pages to get to those two steps? That could be on an index card." "Well, it's true that the message is clear and concise, but he also supplies about 180 pages of humiliating name-calling to make me feel like that oak toad, one of the smallest in the world. And then there's 119 pages of reviewing his accomplishments."<br />
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<a href="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NV5IXBtMNKo/XPL6n9VWPaI/AAAAAAAAP3I/tHLaUg47i2YoQKizA7HhUF5NVKDL6r-0QCLcBGAs/s1600/Boomer.png" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="100" data-original-width="150" src="https://1.bp.blogspot.com/-NV5IXBtMNKo/XPL6n9VWPaI/AAAAAAAAP3I/tHLaUg47i2YoQKizA7HhUF5NVKDL6r-0QCLcBGAs/s1600/Boomer.png" /></a><a href="about:invalid#zClosurez" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="blob:https://www.blogger.com/d7fe24f2-bcd1-42b1-a691-6808599abd63" /></a>"What about that other book? I assumed that it was written by some white, male baby-boomer whining about how they aren't listened to. Did you ever meet one who would trade places with a young poor person?" "Well, no, but that's not what the book is about. It's about LARD! It has an equally concise message, and it's also in two steps. The author argues that my weight and aching bones aren't his fault--as in That isn't my fault, Jack-- and that I should just get over it and find a simple diet and exercise program like that described in <i>Leave the LARD! Behind: 2 Steps to A Happy and Healthy Retirement in the Twenty-teens, </i>coincidently, a book by Professor Boleyn<i>." "</i>Who wrote<i> Not My Fault, </i>Jack?" "Dr. J. Avi Erboleyn--I've never heard of him..." "Just keep reading, Jack..."Jack D'Mestierehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05378959608778838199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2648665251148944239.post-85873954889791978702017-11-10T04:05:00.001-08:002017-11-25T21:00:39.330-08:00Dispatch from London: What kinda circus is this?<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oTMAT4dGA7I/WgWWCb4oJ3I/AAAAAAAAPXA/4pi5m4vt-FMIGsNQPGTbXjIZEvvt9VCwwCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/image1-728240.jpeg"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-oTMAT4dGA7I/WgWWCb4oJ3I/AAAAAAAAPXA/4pi5m4vt-FMIGsNQPGTbXjIZEvvt9VCwwCK4BGAYYCw/s320/image1-728240.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6486755806886242162" /></a></p>Fiora D'Mestiere: Yawn. What's this? A note from Jack. "Headed out on a waddle to see the circus. I know you don't like that sorta thing, so I'll hoof it there myself. XO"
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<br>Fiora: Oh, Boy...
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<br>Jack (texting Fiora): What the heck is the Piccadilly Circus? There's no animals at all. No acrobats. No clowns. Look at this picture! It's just a big circle!
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<br>Fiora (through the wave): Well, there's ONE clown in that circus...Jack D'Mestierehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05378959608778838199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2648665251148944239.post-27459628794168421802017-11-05T11:20:00.000-08:002017-11-25T21:00:39.311-08:00Dispatch from Cymru: Help for a 2-Stepper<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-86UeQCrwpiE/Wf9kn6nyS_I/AAAAAAAAPWg/2XeIlXTGOaULSCcfM7A86CxfJgQ21HVPwCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/image1-762347.jpeg"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-86UeQCrwpiE/Wf9kn6nyS_I/AAAAAAAAPWg/2XeIlXTGOaULSCcfM7A86CxfJgQ21HVPwCK4BGAYYCw/s320/image1-762347.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6485012625350609906" /></a></p>Professor Javier Boleyn: Jackie-boy, I'm afraid you have passed 3 standard deviations from the mean of lapsed 2-Steppers.
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<br>Jack D'Mestiere: Impossible, Professor! 3 standard deviations is past 99.73%! No way!
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<br>Fiora D'Mestiere: I'm afraid I have to agree with the Professor, Jack. Even in the land of Bill Nighy, you have ignored "Lard is All Around You!"
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<br>Jack: Whoan!
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<br>Professor JB: I have enrolled you in a support group, Jack...Jack D'Mestierehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05378959608778838199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2648665251148944239.post-76823432177970732652017-10-31T10:21:00.001-07:002017-11-25T21:00:39.327-08:00Dispatch from Youghal: Floating down memory lane<div class="mobile-photo">
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<a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iy-KzGm7-P0/WfixM4WmKcI/AAAAAAAAPVo/GzjgyEyifs8sqmOFx6BXOvf4KW_sP4dagCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/image2-713664.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="200" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6483126498443536834" src="https://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iy-KzGm7-P0/WfixM4WmKcI/AAAAAAAAPVo/GzjgyEyifs8sqmOFx6BXOvf4KW_sP4dagCK4BGAYYCw/s200/image2-713664.jpeg" width="150" /></a><span style="font-family: "uictfonttextstylebody"; font-size: 17px;">“Dolly-girl, I’d like to head over to You-gal for a quick gape at something.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "uictfonttextstylebody"; font-size: 17px;">“It’s pronounced Y’all, Jack, like Dixie Devereaux says it. What’s up over there?”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "uictfonttextstylebody"; font-size: 17px;"><span style="font-family: "uictfonttextstylebody"; font-size: 17px;"><br /></span></span><span style="font-family: "uictfonttextstylebody"; font-size: 17px;">“Well, in the summer of 1956, Moby Dick, starring Gregory Peck and Richard Basehart, was released. I went to see it with Bill and Pete, my friends. We spent the rest of the summer either pretending we were Cleveland Indians on our way to the World Series or the crew of the Pequod. We weren’t either, of course, but it was fun. So I want to go to Youghal because that’s where the scenes on shore were filmed.” </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "uictfonttextstylebody"; font-size: 17px;">“Well, what lad wouldn’t, Jack? That’s sweet!” </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "uictfonttextstylebody"; font-size: 17px;">“And it inspired my art work in the fall of ‘56...”</span></div>
Jack D'Mestierehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05378959608778838199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2648665251148944239.post-9947783475640643462017-10-28T05:06:00.001-07:002017-11-25T21:00:39.336-08:00Dispatch from Killimer: Adaptive expression of genetic traits<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WQzs9h-ALXY/WfRy4gzkHxI/AAAAAAAAPVI/lIGM3Tozd-4EAwG7Qs4fL7xgWFTTF0rKACK4BGAYYCw/s1600/image2-717175.jpeg"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-WQzs9h-ALXY/WfRy4gzkHxI/AAAAAAAAPVI/lIGM3Tozd-4EAwG7Qs4fL7xgWFTTF0rKACK4BGAYYCw/s320/image2-717175.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6481932078897438482" /></a></p>"Jack, I'm old for me age, amn't I? I mean I got silver threads in me coppertop, and me clackers tain't what they used to was."
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<br>"Gee, Dolly-girl, I think yourself looks just fine! Just go back to thinking about that orange marmalade you don't like—you know, the one with the golf course we passed this morning."
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<br>"You got a couple gargles on Jack? No more Guinness for you. I'm not slagging over a few jars with yourself about that guy. If he had one more wit he'd be a half-wit. Save yer breath for cooling yer porridge!"
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<br>I was worried, so I gave Professor Javier Boleyn a call. "Yes, Jack, you did the right thing as I AM an expert on everything. I suggest you consult my book, "Two Steps to Understanding Genetic Expression: When your lass goes all Irishy on you."
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<br>"I skimmed it...".
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<br>"Well, read the whole thing. That latent DNA that Fiora carries is in full expression. You're in for a long row of potatoes to hoe..."
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<br>Whoan.Jack D'Mestierehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05378959608778838199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2648665251148944239.post-51017380195441663422017-10-22T08:57:00.001-07:002017-11-25T21:00:39.321-08:00Dispatch from Crossmolina: Cuairt chuig an tír dúchais <div class="mobile-photo">
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Fiora: Here we are, Jack. Crossmolina, County Mayo, where my great-great grandfather was born!</div>
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Jack: Hey, there's a brewery in town! It's called Reel Deel!
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Fiora: Crossmolina is on the Deel river, Jack. And Reel is spelled like a fishing...
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lVV_9R39iaI/Wey_7YyugDI/AAAAAAAAPUA/Lvm2GUdXj8crQ8mJnp4qmGhSBLg-fAEmwCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/image1-752527.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6479764990867701810" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lVV_9R39iaI/Wey_7YyugDI/AAAAAAAAPUA/Lvm2GUdXj8crQ8mJnp4qmGhSBLg-fAEmwCK4BGAYYCw/s320/image1-752527.jpeg" /></a>Jack: I get it Dolly-girl. Look what the name of the beer is!
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Fiora: Home Sweet Home, Jack!Jack D'Mestierehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05378959608778838199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2648665251148944239.post-41019855177436501342017-10-20T06:49:00.001-07:002017-11-25T21:00:39.318-08:00Dispatch from Bushmills, Northern Ireland: Where red sweaters come from <p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yIVoo52qvD0/Wen-2-LY_UI/AAAAAAAAPTk/d4q60ZKt2WM97woznadjyTe6DKPfaK-KQCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/image1-753931.jpeg"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-yIVoo52qvD0/Wen-2-LY_UI/AAAAAAAAPTk/d4q60ZKt2WM97woznadjyTe6DKPfaK-KQCK4BGAYYCw/s320/image1-753931.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6478989759306333506" /></a></p>Jack: Look Dolly-girl, sheep with red wool. I guess that's where red sweaters come from. Sure would take a lot of them critters to make a sweater!
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<br>Fiora: Not even you, Jack, not even you...Jack D'Mestierehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05378959608778838199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2648665251148944239.post-10450577918434711442017-10-19T05:57:00.000-07:002017-11-25T21:00:39.302-08:00Dispatch from Knowth<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TdPOvDhkGtY/Weihu7US5qI/AAAAAAAAPTM/AngCBB9Wa5wO5ikepn9rQ_LkGV6Q5nriQCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/image1-777925.jpeg"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-TdPOvDhkGtY/Weihu7US5qI/AAAAAAAAPTM/AngCBB9Wa5wO5ikepn9rQ_LkGV6Q5nriQCK4BGAYYCw/s320/image1-777925.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6478605891541329570" /></a></p><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wxlkln5wmKs/Weihvngb_VI/AAAAAAAAPTU/GwrBPAHPvR860DX9p4e6Q85rN2yVeMxrQCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/image2-781172.jpeg"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-wxlkln5wmKs/Weihvngb_VI/AAAAAAAAPTU/GwrBPAHPvR860DX9p4e6Q85rN2yVeMxrQCK4BGAYYCw/s320/image2-781172.jpeg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6478605903403416914" /></a></p>Jack: these mounds are pretty cool, Dolly-girl. It must have taken quite the earth moving equipment to make them.
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<br>Fiora: Jack, these are from the Stone Age. They didnt have " equipment" in those days. Honestly, didn't you read any of the information in the Visitor Centre? These are perhaps the best examples of Megalithic art in the world!
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<br>Ailbha (the archeological interpreter): Think of it this way, sir, they're big, they're old, and there are dead people inside...
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<br>Fiora: The perfect Jack D'Mestiere take-away! Thanks Ailbha!Jack D'Mestierehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05378959608778838199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2648665251148944239.post-18611402649015641182017-10-18T01:35:00.003-07:002017-11-25T21:00:39.305-08:00Dispatch from Liverpool: Don’t play favorites<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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”So this is where it all happened—Liverpool, eh, Dolly-girl?”<br />
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“John, who?” Wave-shot. A Waveshot is sort of Dolly-girl’s take on a mic drop...<br />
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“Who was your favorite, Dolly-girl?”<br />
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“My fav was John...”<br />
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“Why, Dolly-girl, you haven’t called me that in years...”<br />
Rimshot. Mic drop. Out.<br />
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<br />Jack D'Mestierehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05378959608778838199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2648665251148944239.post-31561933856972336382017-10-18T01:02:00.001-07:002017-11-25T21:00:39.315-08:00Dispatch from Notting Hill: Who doesn’t like a rubbish movie?<div class="mobile-photo">
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<span style="font-family: "uictfonttextstyletallbody"; font-size: 17px;">The house with the blue door, Dolly-girl! I told you!” “They all have blue doors, Jack. Look around, look around...oops, slipping into another production.” “I know Dolly-girl, it’s that play you like about the sawbuck guy...” Waveshot. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "uictfonttextstyletallbody"; font-size: 17px;">Ok, most of the doors were blue, but then I detected, ‘cause that’s what I do, this:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "uictfonttextstyletallbody"; font-size: 17px;">And this:</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "uictfonttextstyletallbody"; font-size: 17px;">“Ok, Jack, so a MOVIE was made here. That doesn’t make it a true story. </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "uictfonttextstyletallbody"; font-size: 17px;">"Look here, here’s a p</span><span style="font-family: "uictfonttextstyletallbody"; font-size: 17px;">lace called the Blue Door and it’s green!”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "uictfonttextstyletallbody"; font-size: 17px;">“Looks blue to me, Jack...” </span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "uictfonttextstyletallbody"; font-size: 17px;">“Well, it’s not.”</span><br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-crXA_NtaBAQ/WecKmtE-LfI/AAAAAAAAPSU/XHtan8GuT5wJwikOsZsMdqQeAsbKzyjRwCK4BGAYYCw/s1600/image7-753855.jpeg" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" border="0" height="200" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6478158249047502322" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-crXA_NtaBAQ/WecKmtE-LfI/AAAAAAAAPSU/XHtan8GuT5wJwikOsZsMdqQeAsbKzyjRwCK4BGAYYCw/s200/image7-753855.jpeg" width="150" /></a><span style="font-family: "uictfonttextstyletallbody"; font-size: 17px;">So we kept walking to get back to the TWOOBE—I notised that the coulourful Brits spell things wrong so I’d fit right in—and we came upon a shoppe that Dolly-girl needed to stop at.</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "uictfonttextstyletallbody"; font-size: 17px;">“I guess Londontown’s gone all Green Cross too.”</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "uictfonttextstyletallbody"; font-size: 17px;">“It’s a pharmacy and an apothecary , Jack. Jeesh.”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "uictfonttextstyletallbody"; font-size: 17px;">I followed her in. As usual, she’d struck up a conversation and was learning from the druggist that he met his wife in that shop. And proposed to her there. “Like the movie, only real,” he said. “Just a boy, standing in front of a girl...”</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "uictfonttextstyletallbody"; font-size: 17px;">“Shut it, Jack. We got a train to catch!” But I say a secret smile under the wave. “Ok, we want the train towards Bromley-by-Bow. Sure hope the professor wasn’t watchin’ my dinner tonight...”</span><span style="font-family: "uictfonttextstyletallbody"; font-size: 17px;"></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "uictfonttextstyletallbody"; font-size: 17px;">“Jackie-boy, about that Tagliolini con Gamberetti, Zucchine, Prosciutto Crudo e Pachino...</span><br />
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<span style="font-family: "uictfonttextstyletallbody"; font-size: 17px;">“Whoan...”</span><br />
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<br />Jack D'Mestierehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05378959608778838199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2648665251148944239.post-88091374635339421102017-10-12T09:23:00.001-07:002017-11-25T21:00:39.333-08:00Dispatch from Buckingham Palace: Forget tea, pass the Hendrick’s<div class="mobile-photo">
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Jack: These pictures were taken just before we went in to see the Queen at Buckingham Palace. They wouldn't let me use the Kodak inside the gate or in Her Majesty's presence, so you will just have to take my word for the fact that she's a pretty spry bird and someone in there knows how to make a gin & tonic...
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Fiora D'Mestiere: FAKE NEWS! SAD!Jack D'Mestierehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05378959608778838199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2648665251148944239.post-61497084918271183982017-10-11T12:45:00.001-07:002017-11-25T21:00:39.324-08:00Dispatch from American 136: Damn this is a long flight...<div class="mobile-photo">
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"Dolly-girl, lookee there! It's been 9 hours since we left Los Ang-a-lese and we're only over Pennsylvania! There’s Plymouth there on the sky map—that's where you used to set the brake on your bike 'cause you didn't drive! I don't know if I can make it all the way to England!"
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"First, you don't have a choice, Jack. They won't stop the plane and let you off. Second, that's Plymouth, England, not Pennsylvania! See, London is right there! My Plymouth is named after this one."
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"I think that's London, Ontario, Dolly-girl. It's in the right spot..."
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"Jack, this London—the English one— is northeast of Plymouth. London, Ontario is northwest of Plymouth, PA! You are a ..."
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"Whoan. Don't go all Rex Tillerson on me, Dolly-girl!"Jack D'Mestierehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05378959608778838199noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2648665251148944239.post-26601105281951263092017-10-10T17:10:00.000-07:002017-11-25T21:00:39.308-08:00Dispatch from LAX: Headed to Jolly Old England<div class="mobile-photo">
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A while ago Dolly-girl said to me, "Jack, let's head over to the Ould Sod for a break from Yam-Man and his daily day care antics." "I'm on board Dolly-girl..." "No you aren't, Jack. You aren't on board 'til you walk up the gang plank..." "Ah, it's called a jet bridge I think..." "You know what I mean!" "Yeah, I do."
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Let's go!Jack D'Mestierehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05378959608778838199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2648665251148944239.post-26488234503833665002016-09-30T10:51:00.001-07:002016-09-30T11:04:25.251-07:00Dispatch from the Hawai'i Hut: One Year of Retirement<div class="mobile-photo">
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Dolly-girl: Jack, isn't today the one-year anniversary of when you quit punchin' a time clock and when full time private-eying?
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Jack: Indeed it is Dolly-girl. And in honor of the day I decided to be hip and get ink!
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Dolly-girl: You didn't!
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Jack: I did! And I'm having a SPAM® and eggs for breakfast. And a beer!
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Dolly-girl: Whoan. Will he ever act his age?<br />
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Jack: Pass the bottle opener, please!<br />
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<a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_thtDZNWzz0/V-6mO0_STUI/AAAAAAAAO8M/nW01nOp2rUo6Qqae4Sax_YnA3tBpuko5gCK4B/s1600/image2-714909.JPG"><img alt="" border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6336184499429330242" src="https://2.bp.blogspot.com/-_thtDZNWzz0/V-6mO0_STUI/AAAAAAAAO8M/nW01nOp2rUo6Qqae4Sax_YnA3tBpuko5gCK4B/s320/image2-714909.JPG" /></a>Jack D'Mestierehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05378959608778838199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2648665251148944239.post-71618465356712782822016-09-26T01:17:00.001-07:002016-09-26T01:17:23.145-07:00Dispatch from Hawai'i Hut: Jack, you're no astronomer<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AwBbihcArbk/V-jZlLLjWVI/AAAAAAAAO7o/Uz04xe8VYDQl7VsdGyBep-R59dL1AvFpwCK4B/s1600/image1-743147.JPG"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-AwBbihcArbk/V-jZlLLjWVI/AAAAAAAAO7o/Uz04xe8VYDQl7VsdGyBep-R59dL1AvFpwCK4B/s320/image1-743147.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6334552108576233810" /></a></p>Dolly-girl: [yawn] Jack, what in the name of Tia Teresa's telescope are you doing out there? Aren't you tired after seeing 9 biomes today and seeing temperatures from 65 to 95? And driving to South Point, Volcanos Park, and in the rain?
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<br>Jack: I'm just looking at all the stars Dolly-girl...
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<br>Dolly-girl: I don't think you have an astronomer's camera, Jack. Or even an astronomer's creativity.
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<br>Jack: Well, you may be right Fiora. I look at the stars and see things like, well a thousand points of light...
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<br>Dolly-girl: Oh Emm Gee, Jack! That's a Bush 1 saying! Can't you at least quote Jeb! On the eve of whatever tomorrow will bring?
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<br>Jack: you mean when a racist takes the stage as perhaps the next president of the You Ess of Ai Yi Yi? I think I'll just keep taking pictures of the sky. Look, there's 769 points of light...
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<br>Dolly-girl: You do that, JackJack D'Mestierehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05378959608778838199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2648665251148944239.post-53445756302952571252016-09-24T19:50:00.001-07:002016-09-24T19:50:59.044-07:00Dispatch from Keoki's Roadside Cafe: I'm with you Professor<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BjAqlvP7e6M/V-c7lPDEjNI/AAAAAAAAO7Q/XP340MZygVgRbRLoq0cHjXbnfgA-ShZ-ACK4B/s1600/image1-759045.JPG"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-BjAqlvP7e6M/V-c7lPDEjNI/AAAAAAAAO7Q/XP340MZygVgRbRLoq0cHjXbnfgA-ShZ-ACK4B/s320/image1-759045.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6334096911800503506" /></a></p>Jack: I'm proud of myself Dolly-girl!
<br>Dolly-girl: Why's that, Jack?
<br>Dania: yeah, tell us Jack, is it because you didn't finish ALL the beer we had last night?
<br>Jack: No, first, Dania, you and Čučo were helping with the beer and second, I heard Professor Javier Boleyn in my ear saying, "Jack, don't eat Donkey Balls!" And I didn't!
<br>Dolly-girl: Well, there's something to be proud of Jack! Let's see if you hear the Professor when the chips and salsa come out!
<br>Jack: Say again, Dolly-girl...
<br>Dania: Exactly! Stay away from my cheese puffs!Jack D'Mestierehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05378959608778838199noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2648665251148944239.post-62766476548306978142016-09-23T20:52:00.001-07:002016-09-23T20:52:42.969-07:00Dispatch from 19.3131 N 155.8866 W<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mCVpnICAqdY/V-X4i616LVI/AAAAAAAAO7A/4eGJ1iEgwfUmW81cZMxTo_8WUht3wfMLgCK4B/s1600/image1-762969.JPG"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-mCVpnICAqdY/V-X4i616LVI/AAAAAAAAO7A/4eGJ1iEgwfUmW81cZMxTo_8WUht3wfMLgCK4B/s320/image1-762969.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6333741729761078610" /></a></p>Jack: By God, Dolly-girl, you are right--this is paradise!
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<br>Dolly-girl: Uncle Bill's briefcase, Jack. You and Čučo are already at it. Dania and I will be the class of this outfit!
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<br>Jack: Errrrp...Jack D'Mestierehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05378959608778838199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2648665251148944239.post-76501051343425040142016-09-23T15:12:00.001-07:002016-09-23T17:18:13.069-07:00Dispatch from Alaska 843: Are we there yet?<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EM4CkPKj0Ws/V-XGR7oIBNI/AAAAAAAAO6s/LnmluS66l_4TENvesyS1fHs3Wz_0CgipwCK4B/s1600/image1-793070.PNG"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-EM4CkPKj0Ws/V-XGR7oIBNI/AAAAAAAAO6s/LnmluS66l_4TENvesyS1fHs3Wz_0CgipwCK4B/s320/image1-793070.PNG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6333686462332536018" /></a></p>Jack D'Mestierehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05378959608778838199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2648665251148944239.post-45813060798693726292016-09-23T15:12:00.000-07:002016-09-23T17:17:24.318-07:00Dispatch from Alaska 843: Now we're gettin' somewhere<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K3tNJDSjs2g/V-XGFWcfx_I/AAAAAAAAO6c/ruAFXyt2ff06I_e6GOFxbRb-7atqykS1gCK4B/s1600/image1-744320.PNG"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-K3tNJDSjs2g/V-XGFWcfx_I/AAAAAAAAO6c/ruAFXyt2ff06I_e6GOFxbRb-7atqykS1gCK4B/s320/image1-744320.PNG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6333686246193219570" /></a></p><p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--dfg-AfVI3w/V-XGFjsuOUI/AAAAAAAAO6k/DbzXX6mxBlcAcrkAcjdPXmMj8vTGHZYsACK4B/s1600/image2-746134.JPG"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--dfg-AfVI3w/V-XGFjsuOUI/AAAAAAAAO6k/DbzXX6mxBlcAcrkAcjdPXmMj8vTGHZYsACK4B/s320/image2-746134.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6333686249750935874" /></a></p>Dolly-girl: What's your gadget say, Jack?
<br>Jack: Well, Dolly-girl, if the satellites are working and Phonetta is receiving, we've only got 1700 miles to go!
<br>Dolly-girl: Aunt Donna's doormat, Jack--WE'RE CRAWLING!
<br>Jack: Well, it would have to be the Australian Crawl cause we're over the water...
<br>Dolly-girl: Can it, Jack!
<br>Jack: If you insist!Jack D'Mestierehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05378959608778838199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2648665251148944239.post-61681179928162669192016-09-23T11:15:00.000-07:002016-09-23T22:17:31.029-07:00Dispatch from Alaska 843 : Take your seats...<div class="mobile-photo">
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"As a matter of fact, Jack, they don't need your help flying the plane." "But I'm sure the guy in the blue shirt is coming to..." "Jack D'Mestiere?" "Yes". "Instructions from Professor Javier Boleyn. Your special meal of a grape and 3 macadamia nuts is on board. Read this book, please." "Huluing to Hawai'i: 2 steps to a Tropical vacation without LARD! How did he find me?" "Alaska Airlines is a codeshare partner with Boleyn Enterprise's Torture Air..." "Whoan"Jack D'Mestierehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05378959608778838199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2648665251148944239.post-50402781586627441872016-09-23T10:10:00.001-07:002016-09-23T10:10:31.682-07:00Dispatch from SEATAC: So far so good<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eBJAQkxyxgU/V-ViCI2WAlI/AAAAAAAAO58/S2laQQemVREM4L_SOs_xAzvr8w4hyTehQCK4B/s1600/image1-731683.JPG"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-eBJAQkxyxgU/V-ViCI2WAlI/AAAAAAAAO58/S2laQQemVREM4L_SOs_xAzvr8w4hyTehQCK4B/s320/image1-731683.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6333576239841149522" /></a></p>"Aloha, Čučo and Dania, lets warm some stools before this Clipper"Jack D'Mestierehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05378959608778838199noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2648665251148944239.post-31405647946961319302016-09-23T08:18:00.001-07:002016-09-23T08:18:10.575-07:00Dispatch from PDX: SEA-TAC calling<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-i3gqry-5jqg/V-VHtAtGV8I/AAAAAAAAO5s/i_KpUedCRL8llua6s4s8Lbl86SsdOuAZQCK4B/s1600/image1-790577.JPG"><img src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-i3gqry-5jqg/V-VHtAtGV8I/AAAAAAAAO5s/i_KpUedCRL8llua6s4s8Lbl86SsdOuAZQCK4B/s320/image1-790577.JPG" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_6333547289575315394" /></a></p>About a few months ago, the blower jangled. I thought maybe it was a job calling--trouble that needed to be put on the run. "Yallow, D'Mestiere Investigations where your trouble is no trouble at all..." "Jacko, Čučo and me are thinking of hopping on the Clipper and heading to the largest of the chain of volcanic islands called Hawai'i. You and Dolly-girl interested in joining in? "Let me check, Dolly-girl..." "Yes, Jack?" "She says yes. I'll book us seats on the same Clipper flight..." "Good. Meet you in the libation section of the D Concourse in the Seattle-Tacoma International Aerodrome. 9/23. Don't be late..." Click.
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<br>"What did you want, Jack? I was upstairs." "Oh, nothin'. Just talkin' to Dania Inebriata-Beach. She said to say Aloha, and she didn't mean that one in Oregon..."Jack D'Mestierehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/05378959608778838199noreply@blogger.com0