Kicking the bucket

Okay, Uncle Ken; I concede defeat but what exactly is that subject line "wearing our trousers rolled" supposed to mean?  I know you guys are a few years older than me so I was thinking that maybe I'll know when I grow up a bit more.

-----

I've whacked my noggin real good a few times over the years, probably a couple of concussions in there, too.  Looking back, I had obvious symptoms: headache, blurred vision, nausea, and dizziness but as was the practice in those days of stupidity you shook it off, thinking maybe that you'll feel better in a little while.  And you did, but God always seemed to favor a certain type of fool.

Remember those cartoons when a guy would get hit in the head and he would see stars and hear the little birdies?  I was sparring with a guy at this martial arts place I used to train at and I got popped real good.  We had all the proper safety gear and the rules were that there to be no head blows, and there weren't.  Or there weren't supposed to be but in my fancy bobbing and weaving technique I ducked into a strong left hand that left me stunned and I did, indeed, hear the birdies.  Cheep! Cheep! Cheep!  My training buddy felt terrible but it wasn't his fault.  I was an early practitioner of the Dunning-Kruger Effect before it was such a thing and that was the last time I stepped into the ring and did any sparring.  I liked hitting the bags though, both speed and heavy.  There's nothing like hitting something to work off any frustration, I think, and you can work up a good sweat if you're into that sort of thing and find an intensive cardio workout useful.

-----

There's been a recent minor crisis in Mangoville.  One of the plants never took off very well, remaining spindly with browning leaves and rather risking possible infection to the other plants I decided to put it out of it's misery and send it to glory.  Here's a pic of the mango's root structure, something you may not have seen before.  The thing that looks like a pennant on a stick is a little piece of flypaper to snag the ever-present fungus gnats.  The hundreds of little black specks are dead gnats, and I have five more sticks just like it, a cheap and effective solution that works.

-----

I think I mentioned the French Press coffee maker that my niece gave me but there has been some talk lately that the Old Dog has gone completely off the rails and has become an irrational caffeine fiend.  Nothing could be further from the truth and these lies and insinuendos (Thanks, Richard J.!) will not be tolerated!  I don't know what nefarious agency is responsible for these despicable comments but I will say this: Bengazi! Bengazi! Hunter Biden's laptop!

-----

Perhaps you thought that this post's subject line was just more click-bait, but not so.  The Old Dog doesn't play that game and here is the bucket, having been kicked.