Who the Hell are you and what have you done with The Fixer? You may well ask.
My name is Gordon, and I'm gonna help fill The Fixer's size tens for a while while he and Mrs. F. are on vacation. Fixer is a brave man, or maybe just desperate. We met on SouthKnoxBubba and traded barbs and he doesn't know my ass from a fence post, nor I his, but we get along just fine. He recruited me (That happened once before about 40 yrs. ago, and I done fell fer it agin), maybe because he liked my style, or maybe I was dead last on a long list and couldn't think up an excuse quick enough. No big deal. I count my lucky stars to be doing this and not rowing the QM2 across the Atlantic! The boy is smooth, just like them NooYawkers we hear about. I wish them a pleasant and adventurous holiday. I've promised to try not to burn his house down with an errant mouse click, but he said "Don't worry about it" so I won't.
Gordon is my real name. I don't use a nom de blog for one simple reason: During those senior moments when I forget my name, which are getting closer together, all I gotta do is check inside the neck of my T-shirt and I'm home free, or check the nice necklace that my wife gave me, which not only has my name on it, but my address, phone number, e-mail, not one but two maps showing how to a) find my house, and b) the location of the dog house and directions on how to slide me into it feet first, in case I get home late, and a bail-bond ad - "We'll Cut You Loose Before They Cook Your Goose". It's never failed. A gift of love.
Gordon is an old Gaelic name, meaning "He who will be carried home on his shield". Prophetic? Not yet.
About moi, not that you give a fat rat's ass: I'm 58 years old, married for 31 years to the Lovely Diane, no kids (If anyone's gonna play with a train set on Christmas, it's gonna be me, you betcha). We have two rescued Springer Spaniels. We don't have to buy them books or clothes, and they are fixed, so they can date. I was born and raised in Los Angeles , and for 24 years have lived in a small crossroads town in the beautiful Sierra Nevada, which is Spanish for: High Place With Snow Up To Your Culo. Since one of the roads is I-80, and Reno NV is only 35 miles away, I feel as cosmopolitan as any city slicker, as the high tone of my posts will no doubt convince you in short order.
You already knew I wasn't in NuYalk, dintcha? The lack of accent must've given me away.
I like: Motorcycles (English and red Italian jobs); Americana, Celtic, Old Time & other acoustic music, Mexican food, "Smoky ol' barrooms and clear mountain mornings", pick 'em-up trucks, guns (I'm not that liberal), nice people and the fewer of them, the better.
I don't like: Intolerant people, oysters, SUVs owned by folks who don't know how to put them in 4-wheel, and people who think they know what's best for me when it's really just best for them.
I despise: George W. Bush and his lyin', thievin', truly EVIL cabal. Which brings us to the point (neat segue, huh?): This is a political blog. I may stray from the main point from time to time, but I'll be baack. (Ah-nold's our Governator, remember?) I won't quote a lot of stuff; you can get that anywhere. My style is more one of philosophy, observation, opinion, attempted humor, and tirades against truly egregious right-wing miscarriages of the American Way, and there are many.
Three weeks ago, I couldn't spell "blog". Now I are one. We'll see how it goes.