A Load of Bull

I purchased 120 pounds of manure today. It was my first time. I walked past the manure display several times before adding the bags to my cart. To the bottom of my cart. I had to make sure no one was watching me buy the waste product of a lesser mammal. If I ran into anyone I knew I would have claimed that the manure was not mine, but happened to be on the cart when I picked it up. The manure was surprisingly less expensive than I had imagined. If I collected the stuff and put it in bags I would charge an arm and a leg for it, but the stuff is cheap. I guess it has to do with supply and demand. Lots of supply. Less than an overwhelming amount of demand.
I quickly returned home with my waste product and buried it in the ground before the neighbors saw. What would people think if they saw Big Morty carrying in manure for his own personal use? Especially if they knew that I had paid for the stuff.
I can only dream of the day when an honorable man can walk through a store with his head held high and his cart full of manure. No more sideways glances from the guys in the dirty magazine aisle. No more shaking heads from the obese folks in the candy section. No more muffled giggles from the old ladies trying on spandex. No more. That will be the day... the day before... I buy manure openly again. Till then, I'll go on buying it secretly, and denying it to any one who asks.

Scheduled Maintenance

Let me start by saying the whole car industry is evil. Well, maybe not entirely evil, but at least corrupt, greedy, dishonest, disgustingly obese, and possessed of poor personal hygiene. There's the whole issue of being in bed with the oil industry, destroying the environment, and keeping prices artificially high while suppressing emergent technology, but no one cares about that. I'm talking about the lies they tell you regarding scheduled maintenance.
The biggest money getter is the oil change. Apparently oil is some magical fluid that makes your car run, and here I thought gas made it run. Whole countries have gone to war, reportedly over that very substance, oil. It seems that it has to be imported from some crazy desert place in order to pour it into my car. The high cost of oil seems to be ruining the whole economy, even the price of gas is affected by oil costs. I don't see how one is related to the other, one being clear and the other being brownish black. But why do I have to change the oil. I don't change the gas when it gets used up. I just add more whenever the light comes on. I save money and stick it to the oil companies and the car dealerships by adding my own oil. It's the same as the gas, just add more when the light comes on. You know it's full when you see excess oil coming out around the edges of the dipstick thing.
The next big kicker is rotating tires. Supposedly tires need to be rotated every 5,000 miles to make sure they wear evenly. I'm no dummy, but I think I know what my tires need. Rotation is what they do every time I drive. You see, tires are circles, and as they spin they rotate themselves, and the wear is distributed evenly around the circumference of the tire. Right now the tires on my car are getting good and worn down, just like the tires the Nascar guys use. For a while the right side of the tires was wearing a little faster, but I fixed that problem by taking more left turns, and by driving backwards on alternating days of the week. Now they are getting extra traction from the steel belts that really grip well on muddy roads and in ice. That's one of the benefits you won't get if you keep shelling out money to the man and pay to have your tires rotated for you.
The worst thing that I do have to pay for, however, is the battery. You'd think that with all the new technology in electronics that they would figure out how to make a rechargeable battery. I hate having to change the battery every time my car dies. It's a good thing I have a lot of trunk space, I like to keep five or six batteries on hand so I only have to buy new ones once a week.

Rewards

It's been said that you shouldn't bribe children with candy, ice cream, or treats. However, the use of rewards for good behavior is perfectly acceptable. The same is true in many other aspects of life as well. Often times I "reward" police officers for doing such a fine job of pulling me over. Later, I'll often have the opportunity to "reward" a judge for running such an efficient court room. Your guard and cell mates will also enjoy "rewards" for their behavior. The trickiest part is convincing the warden to let you bring a freezer full of ice cream cones into jail with you.

Weekend Haikus

Unseasonalby
Summer like weather today
So I washed my car

Fire up the bar-b
Something about a burn ban
Watch my house burn down

Cheap burgers from Sam
Grilled to a hockey puck state
Ummm, extra greasy

Soggy hot dog buns
Condiments splash on the wall
To the tub with you

Who Wants to be a Billionaire?

So I saw that the Forbes list of billionaires came out recently. It's pleasing that so many hard working people are able to work and make something for themselves in our capitalistic world economy. It's been commented that these folks should be giving more to the poor to close the gap between the haves and the have nots. What I see with most of them is their large business empires that employ millions, and turn them into haves. Granted, some of them made their money by less than ethical means (internet gambling) but they all get their just rewards (not being able to return to the United States.)
My personal favorite new billionaire is Mr Dyson, the vacuum guy. If you invent a vacuum that sucks no matter what, you deserve to be a billionaire. Talking with people who claim to know a thing or two about physics, it appears that Mr Dyson has managed to enclose a black hole into every one of his vacuum cleaner machines. Now, instead of being sucked into little bags full of lint and pet hair, our household floor waste will be transported to another galaxy, possibly forming the super dense core of matter needed for another big boom creation event. An entire galaxy created from lint and pet hair, that's a billion dollar idea.

Fancy Restaurants

The fancier the restaurant you go to, the longer the wait will be. They may have plenty of open tables available, but you can't use them until you've waited long enough to appreciate how nice the restaurant is. Even dressing nice like the rest of the patrons will not accelerate your time to the seat.
Just the other day I went to a nice restaurant for lunch with some friends. You could tell it was nice because the sign in the front said "Shoes and Shirts required" and the smoking section was screened off from the civil folk by some chicken wire and wagon wheels. The decorations in the place were just another of the niceties that added to the ambiance.
I was sure we were in for some good fixin's based on the chalkboard sign listing the specials o' the day. Blackened fish and mystery meat. I asked if it was blackened catfish, but couldn't get a straight answer, just like in any swanky French place.
When our waitress came around she introduced herself using her real name. We could tell because her overalls had the same name stitched across the pocket. She brought us out some salads and cold drinks while they fixed our lunches.
We never made it to the main course. You come to expect a certain level of quality in a fine eating establishment, but when they brought out my salad I bit into, and the bread was all stale and hard.

Spring is in the Air

As I was working in my yard the other day (removing dog poo from it) something caught my eye. In the sea of brown was splash of color. It wasn't the yellow-brown of my grass, the red-brown of the dirt on my car, or any other type of brown the dog may have deposited. It was green. The green of the first buds of the cherry tree, and the first brave shoots of the tulips exploding forth in all their majesty. As I sat pondering the beauty of spring I contemplated the renewal of life, the precarious balance of nature, and the passing of the seasons.
I was beginning to contemplate world peace and was a few seconds from realizing a truly simple yet flawless plan for implementing it, when I was assaulted with another of the sounds of spring. The tornado siren. Thoughts of the Wizard of Oz pushed out all the constructive ideas that had been building, and I was forced to begin assessing my chances of survival and looking for cover. When I was safely tucked away inside the hall closet with a box of cereal and can of warm sprite my mind began working again. It was a bright and clear spring day. Tornado season hasn't started yet. It was exactly 12:00 on a Saturday. Standard time for the tornado siren tests. What a relief.
Now I knew all along that there really wasn't a tornado, ha ha. I just like to test myself to check my response time. Once again, I performed superbly, not being burdened by having to shove the children inside the closet because they were safely vacationing in a tornado free part of the country. But for now, I can only have my stop watch at the ready for the next time the siren sounds, and I get to cram the kids into the smallest room in the house for an undetermined amount of time. At least until I realize that it was only a test.

Leave of Absence

You may have noticed a gap in postings on Big Morty Say. You, my loyal readers, have a right to ask the cause of my negligence. Go ahead and ask...
Alright, don't twist my arm.
I have been lazy this week. I've mostly sat around watching movies and playing video games. My diet has consisted of ready to heat meat products and cold cereal. I've barely seen the sun and have been verbally abusive to my dog.
There you go.
What? You don't buy that? You thinking I'm making something up to cover some sort of top secret mission that I've been sent on?
Givin Big Morty's reputation as a world wide adventurer and action hero I'd have to agree with you. However, I can neither confirm nor deny my whereabouts during the last week. All I can say is that the world is still safe, thanks to... somebody... whose name... I can't tell you.
The End.