Never try to teach a pig to sing.

Today's number is 20250. When I reach 1250, the numbers change again, and will read 365251. Or, if you start from the beginning, it's 18241. I could also call it 3250, but I fear that's highly confusing to you folks. I don't care if you can figure it out or not. You've got a way to venture a guess, however. Let's see if anyone can figure it out.

Years ago, I made a T-shirt. I made several, but they've worn out over the years. I made one to counteract an old moron of a boss -- he always tried to beat me to "Good Morning," so I made a shirt that said "Good Morning." BOTH front and back. I even once had a bet with him, about the World Series. Florida vs NY. He was a great NY fan. Born in NY, ya know. Well, I won the bet, of course. He cannot defeat me when it comes to picking the right team in the series.

My favorite shirt, however, was a commentary-- it makes little sense until you analyze it closely. It seems like a joke.

The shirt had a picture of a pig which was wallowing in the mud. And the caption read as follows: "Never try to teach a pig to sing. It wastes your time, and annoys the pig."

Quite deep. It's right up there with "I've made up my mind: Don't try to confuse me with facts."

In the last couple of years, I've changed the slogan somewhat -- the meaning is the same: "you can't teach an old dog new tricks," or "A leopard cannot change its spots." Or maybe "You can't change your DNA: you are who you are."

Over the last few years, I've been harassed by cops. For no reason. Walking home after midnight, stopped for no reason. Tailed for no reason. detained for no reason. Thrown in cuffs while walking home during the day hours. Never an apology from these power-hungry God wanna-be people. Once I was walking on the sidewalk near my city home (I now live in the country) when I got stopped for "peeking in windows." I never left the walk, more than 50 feet from the nearest houses. I was looking at the Halloween decorations that adorned the street. Now the jackasses are telling me that I have no right to be on my own block, in front of my own house? Or on the sidewalk, 50 feet from the nearest house?

Big Brother (or is that Big Bother?) is watching. And this kind of treatment goes back more than 15 years. Power-hungry cops, a la the Rodney King beaters. And I am forced to prove that I belong where I am. What a crock of....

Today, I have a bumper sticker made that I have never used. If I did, I'd be stopped, sure thing. The sticker reads, "Never try to teach a cop to sing. It wastes your time, and annoys the PIG."

Yes, I'm bitter. I'm angry. And everything I do is classified a threat to somebody. You can't even utter certain words without being called a terrorist.

Many years ago, there was a song called "You rascal you." More accurately, "I'll be glad when you're dead, you rascal you."
Some of the words read "I'm gonna kill you just for fun. The bugs can have you when I'm done. I'll be glad when your dead, you rascal you."

These days, those lyrics would get you a psychriatic examination, and the govt. would throw you on the do not fly list.

In these times when terrorism is rampant overseas, our own freedom to speak, worship, talk, work, write -- it's all in jeapordy. It's time to call a spade a spade, and a pig a pig. It's time to say "It's S***, and it stinks!"

That's the facts...AS I SEE IT.

Do I ever use the "N" word? Hmmm. Does NINCOMPOOP count?