Another Write-wing Conspirator

Commentary, observations, musing, and ranting from the middle of the road (or just to the right of center. Usually.) featuring The Curmudgeon

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  • Welcome to The Curmudgeon’s lair

    Welcome to my curmudgeondom. As you’ll soon learn, your reactions to my missives here are likely to range from fear to loathing to tears to outright rage—and I just might even evoke from you an occasional sober nod or two.

    If you see a posting you like and wish to share it with others, by all means feel free to do so. I'd prefer that you send the link to your friends, but you're also welcome to reproduce anything here—as long as you retain my identity on the document. If you have a web site of your own and wish to post a link to this blog (or to a specific post), again, feel free to do so.

    The purpose of this blog is simple: to provide me a vehicle for sounding-off on whatever topic suits me at the moment. While there’s sure to be no shortage of politically-oriented palaver here, it is by no means all (nor necessarily even most) of what will be proffered to your discerning mind. You’ll also find that my personal politics, ethics, morals, and standards are pretty much “all over the map” (according to my mother-in-law)—so, don’t be surprised to see rants regarding, say, the interference of churches in politics, politically-correct anything, “nanny” laws, taxes, the United Nations, Congress, the Commissioner of Baseball, the State of Ohio’s speed limits, steroids, Jesse Jackson, the “mainstream” media, ultra-liberals, ultra-conservatives, the price of cigarettes, Obamarxism, regulating sales of alcohol, gasoline price manipulation, Muslim foot baths, illegal immigration, laws banning the sale of adult sex toys, cell phones, heavy-handed cops, meddlesome politicians, Hillary, Billary, our all-but-self-proclaimed uncrowned Queen Nancy, “W”, eminent domain, freedom of speech, and the designated hitter all in succession. It is, as I said, my curmudgeondom — and I have the credentials and bona fides to lay claim to the title of The Curmudgeon. So, there.

    Some of the postings you'll encounter may seem familiar—especially to those who know me personally. By way of explanation… I once had an ongoing relationship with a local newspaper, and had a number of published opinion pieces—some of which may be posted here. My arrangement was for a feature entitled An Opposing View; given that the editorial staff had a generally liberal, left-of-center view, it stands to reason that my "opposing" view would generally be perceived as coming from the right (in more ways than one, in my own humble opinion). These posts will be annotated as having been previously published.

    Comments, of course, are always welcome. You may agree or disagree with me. Doesn’t matter. Of course, I reserve the right to completely ignore you — but, feel free to let your feelings be known, anyway. And if you don't want to comment directly here, my e-mail address is: .

    Oh, and…yes, I can spell. That "Write-wing" is only a play on words. So, there. Again.

    Welcome, once again. Strap in and hang on.

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  • About this “curmudgeon” guy…

    Armchair philosopher, politically-incorrect political commentator, raconteur, retired air traffic controller, dilettante truck driver, US Army veteran, recluse, sometime-writer, redneck convert neè Buckeye, ne'er-do-well, bon vivant, unrepentant libertine, unapologetic libertarian, and (of course) curmudgeon…

    Anything else you wanna know—just ask.

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About the Man Behind the Curtain…

Posted by The Curmudgeon on November 13, 2009

As some of you may already know, I’m a truck driver. Sometimes. I used to have a career that was (arguably) a bit more prestigious and respectable, did reasonably well for myself, and retired a few years ago.

Until my wife told me to get out.

Actually, as I recall her exact words, she said: “Get the hell out of here. Go fishing. Get a job. Go play golf. I don’t care. But, get the hell out of here. You’re driving me nuts.”

And so, my seven-month retirement came to a halt. (Truth be known, I was getting bored, anyway; though the life of a couch potato has its allure, it can wear thin. And then there’s that premature heart failure thing to consider.)

In reality, I’d already considered the wisdom of having a fall-back occupation. You see, I’d only held basically two jobs in my entire adult life: the Army, and my recently-ended tenure with the Federal government as an air traffic controller. While I retired fairly comfortably, I’d also considered the possibility that I might someday need to acquire extra income—and would need some sort of marketable skill that would enable me to do so. Inasmuch as the sum total of my occupational skills consisted pretty much of shooting people and shoving airplanes around (neither of which I can do, anymore—at least, not legally), it was clear that I needed to expand my horizons. So, I decided to take the plunge into the world of trucking.

The most common reaction to my new career aspiration was: “You’re gonna do what ?!?!”

And then there was the doctor’s reaction when I showed up for the required physical exam: “Are you out of your mind? Do you know how dangerous that is?” This he asked a split second after he thumped me solidly on my forehead to get my attention (literally).

Actually, I never thought of driving an 80,000-pound missile as particularly dangerous (though truck-driving is consistently listed among the ten most hazardous occupations). And driving met my three primary requirements: (1) I refuse to be chained to a desk, (2) I refuse to punch a clock, and (3) I absolutely refuse to ever wear a necktie again as long as I live (a policy particularly worrisome to my potentially marriage-minded daughter, who no doubt cringes at the very real prospect of being given away at the altar by the only guy present without neckwear).

Anyway…for better or worse, I took the plunge, got my commercial driver’s license (hereinafter referred to as a CDL), and hit the road. Until a dispatcher aggravated me—and I quit. Then, I got tired of being retired (again), and started driving for another company—until yet another dispatcher didn’t take seriously my warning that my bullshit-tolerance capacity had long since been exhausted by the Federal government and I didn’t really need the job, anyway (is a pattern beginning to emerge?). So, I drive for awhile–until someone gets under my skin–then I retire for awhile. And so on.

I tell you all this only because some of what will appear on this site comes from my newfound occupational perspective.


2 Responses to “About the Man Behind the Curtain…”

  1. iGrannyLin said

    After the retirement of Woody Hayes (long ago head coach of Ohio State football team), a reporter asked Mrs Hayes how Woody's retirement was going. She said, "I married him for better or for worse, but not for lunch". I think she was saying the same thing as your wife said.

  2. The Wife said

    Actually, as I recall her exact words, she said: “Get the hell out of here. Go fishing. Get a job. Go play golf. I don’t care. But, get the hell out of here. You’re driving me nuts.” Must I repeat myself?

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