I have installed some plugins on the blog to help prevent spamming in the comments field.

The spamming is not ridiculous yet, or has not been, but it is building. I really do get sick and tired of this activity, and luckily real visitors to the site don’t have to see it, but I do get hit with it from behind the scenes.

To keep the spamming from affecting the performance of the site (and this hosting needs all the performance boost it can get) the plugins will disable commenting if it appears to be spamming behavior (based on the content of the comment and the time in which it takes to post it).

Being that these are spambots, not actual people, posting the spam, it should have no affect on any actual visitors commenting. If, however, you have any difficulty posting a comment, please contact me via the contact page.

Popularity: 1% [?]

Huh?

Well…it may sound redundant to convert a conversion van, and it is to a degree, but in this case it is just to modify it for a more specific purpose.

I have two conversion vans; my 1992 Ford Econoline 150 and a 1991 Dodge Ram B250. The Dodge is a bit beat up, though solid. I do suspect, though, that the Dodge may have an oil pump going out on it.

I was going to put off working on the Dodge until probably Spring, or sell it to my neighbor who has expressed interest in it. Of course, if my neighbor still wants it, I’ll let him buy it from me.

What I am considering for the Dodge van is to use it for setting up at the local flea market. This was my original intent when I first bought the van, but I had not starting setting up at the flea market until just the past few weeks.

Need more space…throw out the passengers

The Dodge is a short wheel base conversion van with a V6 engine; compared to the Ford which is a standard Econoline wheel base van and has a V8 engine.

The Dodge has an advantage on economics and maneuverability; being a shorter, and thus lighter, van and having a smaller engine. Being a shorter van though does mean less space for the interior.

Last night I went out and looked into the van, looking at the seats and how they are connected to the floor. Ideally I want to remove both of the second row, passenger, captain’s chairs and move the bench seat from the third row into the second row. This should provide a decent cargo area and keep the bench seat which I can also fold down into a bed.

Looking at the bolts which hold the seats to the floor, they appear to be about the same width between the outer bolts for the captain’s chairs and the bolts for the bench seat.

Appear to be is the operative phrase as I will find out once I move them and if I am going to need some kind of offset to get them lined up.

Considering other vehicles for flea market use

Another flea market dealer and I were discussing different vehicles for use at flea markets. The primary functionality of such a vehicle is storage, access to that storage, and a sleeping compartment.

Vehicles we considered as possibilities included conversion vans, extended vans, motorized toy haulers, step vans (bread van), converted school buses, a box truck with cab entry, and even a van pulling a trailer.

Depending on the vehicle one uses, maneuvering around flea markets can become a hassle, or not. Naturally the smaller vehicle is going to be most flexible, but it sacrifices the amount of merchandise one can carry, and comfort when one needs to stay in their vehicle.

Hauling a trailer opens up other issues. Of course, one needs to take extra precautions when hauling a trailer or box; not only in maneuverability, but also in always having the mindset that one is hauling a load. A trailer does also present a problem of finding parking in some places; any longer vehicle is going to have this problem.

Trailers do have advantages in that they can be unloaded and loaded easily. They especially have an advantage for the vendor who can sell out of the trailer; pull the trailer into a spot and open for business.

What I have been considering is increased cargo space and ample comfort space. I think many of us have had the thought of if the vehicle were just a bit longer or taller. Perhaps something along the lines of an extended van would work for me.

An extended van would provide as much cargo space, perhaps, as the Dodge short van with all passenger seats removed, plus have additional space to put a bench seat in it just behind the driver cab. Of course, it won’t be as maneuverable as a smaller van, but it is still not a full size RV or other longer vehicle requiring two standard spaces to park.

Those are just considerations for now. Using the Dodge van for now will be convenient as I have it and where I am setting up at the flea market is less than a mile from where I live. I’ll look into other vehicles if I consider expanding upon the area I am working, or have a need to haul more.

Popularity: 1% [?]

I do apologize for the excessive lags, and outright downtimes, when trying to access this blog.

I have attempted to get my webhost to do something about it, but they just don’t care. Multiple customer service requests have only resulted in one worthless reply.

This is a supposedly premium webhost, and I have hosting I pay a dollar a month for which is leaps and bounds ahead of them. My present webhost is hands down the absolute worst webhost I have ever had.

I do have other hosting and will be trying to transfer the files and domain over to them, hopefully sometime next week.

This blog is my top money earner out of my websites, and my webhost has killed off traffic and any earnings from this blog; and they still have absolutely zero concern about it.

I do apologize for the difficulty in accessing this site.

Popularity: -2% [?]

Every few weeks I drive down to Bowling Green, Kentucky, partly to get a glimpse of almost modern civilization, and to do some shopping due to the lack of choices in an area monopolized by a regional chain fiefdom.

Pardon me.

Each time I drive to and from Bowling Green, I see this electric sign along the interstate with a tally of the number of highway deaths in the state of Kentucky for the year.

Presently, as of yesterday, that number was at 492.

Depending on how someone looks at that number, it either represents an improvement over the years, or a number which could stand improvement.

The population for the state of Kentucky as of the 2009 census is 4,270,000. With 492 highway deaths, that would put the percentage at just over 1/100th of a percent; that would be just over 1 out of every 10,000 of the population.

Now that’s a pretty good number, considering.

The holidays are here!

This number at present does not include the Thanksgiving and Christmas holidays; they are now going to begin to be included.

Despite the known increase in traffic over the holidays, and thusly the increase in inattention, tempers, and accidents, families will be getting out on the roads in increased numbers; not just for travel, but for shopping as well.

What is amazing is that the times of the year which are filled with those sentimental family moments are also filled with the most tragedy for families.

Perhaps I may well harp on the point too much, but I simply continue to harp on it with the idea that one or more families might pay attention to it, and perhaps that may be one less life affected by tragedy, and that point is to stay off the highways over the holidays.

Numbers are not always what they seem.

1 out of 10,000 seems like a pretty good number, and compared to what it could be, that is.

Improvements have been made over the years. Car manufacturers are under even more government regulations, airbags and seatbelts are standard, as well the police do their job, especially during the holidays, reminding us all to drive safely by pulling over those who are not (the police aren’t our enemies on the road…perhaps we should say ‘thank you’ more often).

With improvements in cars ad safety precautions enforced by hard working police officers, highway safety has been improved, and highways deaths reduced, but there are still improvements which can be made.

Look to the roads…in two ways.

Two of the contributing factors in accidents are poor roads and inattention on the part of drivers.

Poor roads have been with us for a long time, and though improvement has been in the works continually, one major area where improvement can be done is in the highways.

Many of us, including me, have used the excuse of road construction for running behind; as one manager once put it to me, “there is always construction”.

Consider the miles of road that could use improvement, the maintenance roads always need, and the funds available to accomplish that. Even with the daunting task of keeping roads maintain, and making improvements, there are still too many roads which are being put on the back burner, so to speak, a good bit due to special interests or other squabbling.

Interstate 65 from just South of Elizabethtown, Kentucky to just North of Smiths Grove, Kentucky is in desperate need of being widened. This is what I call ‘The Concrete L&N’; there is a stretch of interstate running between Louisville and Nashville, part of which is only 4 lanes, 2 to each side, and is not big enough to handle the traffic it presently gets both commercially and running right through one of the biggest tourist regions in the state.

This section of interstate 65 is past due needing to be widened, and they might as well go for 8 lanes rather than 6, which will prevent them from having to widen it again and be a lot less expensive in the long run.

It happened twice on a Sunday.

Regardless of any road conditions or any other factors, the simple fact is that the number one cause of accidents is inattention.

Before I left from Winchester, Kentucky to move to Cave City; two Sundays in a row I witnessed someone blatantly not paying any attention while driving on the road, in a vehicle which is essentially a deadly weapon if left unattended in such a fashion.

On one Sunday, I had been sitting at the light coming out of the Shopper’s Village shopping center. The light turned green and I inched forward as I was preparing to go, when I suddenly had to hit the brakes, just as a minivan went blowing through the light just inches from hitting me. If I had pulled out, it would have been a high speed collision on my driver’s side; I had come to a stop as I did not like the speed at which he was approaching the stoplight, and I was correct to be cautious.

It was truly sad that the diver of the minivan never even took any notice of what happened; apparently they were not even looking at the traffic light, or it just did not register.

The following Sunday, I had pulled out from the Walmart store and had been behind someone with whom I was not comfortable with the way they were driving. I decided to stay behind them, rather than getting ahead of them and making myself a potential target.

They had been driving, well, just oddly; acting like they did not know where they were going (slowing down, then increasing speed). They stopped short of lights, or pulled several feet past where they should have stopped. Then, amazingly at the same Shopper’s Village light from the Sunday before, the light had turned red, probably a good 200 feet ahead of them, and they went blowing through the redlight, talking on the cellphone, without any realization.

Don’t drive defensively, drive with respect.

A common, too common, recommendation for safe driving is to drive defensively. Naturally the recommendation is to say Watch Out!

Well, the idea of watching out is not a bad one, but the rationale behind it is self-absorbed, and takes into consideration that the only way to get someone to drive safely is to make it a ‘what’s in it for me’ type of reward.

Yes, we all have our selfish behavior, but we are not the people Jerry Springer and others make us out to be. The majority of people in this country do have a great deal of compassion and empathy for others.

How should we drive?

Respectfully.

In the other vehicles are mothers, fathers, daughters, sons, people going to earn a living, see friends, be with a loved one. In other words: they are us and we are them.

Sometimes we get caught up in things; in our thoughts, trying to do something while we are driving which we should not, or being more interested in a conversation than we are in the road ahead. There are times for all of us in which we are inattentive; the idea is to make it a practice to examine our moments of driving and reflect on any moments in which we may have been inattentive, to ideally recognize it and improve upon it.

Drive safely…there are people out there.

Someone once said that to me as I was leaving. It may not seem like any great realization, but, you know, it is a good reminder.

Reminders are something we do for ourselves and others, as well they do for us. Whether it is picking up a loaf of bread, or picking up the kids, sometimes we all need a little kickstart.

It may seem like a trivial things, but sometimes those little things can add up. Saying to someone ‘drive safely’ may seem like nothing, but every little mention, every little wish for someone’s safety is planting a small seed; perhaps at the end of the day, someone being reminded to drive safely may save a life, and it does not hurt for us to say it to ourselves before we get behind the wheel of a vehicle.

Hey…

Drive Safely

Have a Happy Thanksgiving

Popularity: -2% [?]

What follows is the results of a forum game where each participant adds to a continuing story, not knowing where the other one is likely to go with it.

I had started the thread, and though only one other member participated, the end result was quite hilarious.

I am posting the dialogue here due to the forum where it was originally posted having gone down before and not having heard from the admin in forever. I did not want to lose this and being that I am afraid that the forum may eventually go down, I wanted to archive it here for posterity.

Such is usually the case of conversation and the results of two people acting like children, some may potentially find something offensive in the dialogue. I would like to claim inebriation as an excuse, but being that I don’t drink (anymore), I cannot.

I realize this has nothing to do with campers, RVs, camping, and the such, but I thought someone might also find it entertaining.

My forum name in the conversation is Menard.

Menard (post #1):

We’ll try an experiment. I’ll begin a story with the first paragraph and each of you add onto it, either with a paragraph or a sentence at a time. We’ll just see how silly this all gets.

It had been some time since I had laid my eyes upon professor Brown’s weary countenance. The years have faded away the memories enough for me that I was quite surprised when he contacted me, as though it were yesterday, requesting my assistance in something he could not fully divulge. What has brought me here, down an old, near abandoned lane to peer upon the facade of an old manor with its crumbling rock shored exterior is something I cannot fully answer for myself. The curiosity of events has brought me this far, now I must continue.

Your turn.

—–

Cedik (post #2):

I arrived there in a rush only to find the professor Brown in a puddle of blood, with several knives stuck into his body. He even had a fork in his left eye.
I looked at him horrified and I run away screaming like a little girl.
After I was finally back home, I had the strangest feeling that I was being watched or something like that.
I went in my room to get some sleep, when I heard the front door opening….

—–

Menard (post #3):

I could hear the distinct sound of someone carefully walking about the house; looking for something. As the footsteps now appeared to be more cautious and sounding as though they were coming my way, I remembered my trusty handgun I kept under the covers as I fumbled for something hard and pulled on it. “ouch…that hurt!” I thought to myself as I again reached for the handgun and successfully brandished it from under the covers just as the door to my room opened.

—–

Cedik (post #4):

I could not believe my eyes!
In front of me was standing…Michael Jackson itself???
But…what was he doing there?
-Freeze! I have a handgun and I know how to use it! What are you doing here?
-I kindly beg you pardon, mister! I was simply looking for my nose!
-Your nose?
-Yes, my nose! I believe it was stolen by professor Brown!
I was startled. Nothing made sense anymore so I got up from my bed and told Michael Jackson the followings:

—–

Menard (post #5):

“Damn!”, I thought to myself as in this moment of tension I tried to alleviate the stress by allowing my mind to wander and create some silly scenario about Michael Jackson looking for his nose; must be the inner woman in me, the bad part, trying to come out.

Squelching my inner woman and facing the present situation like a man, I looked upon the bedroom door as the footsteps stopped. Suddenly, unlike a webmaster searching for an idea, the door swung open. I leveled my my gun and fired.

“Damn!”, I thought to myself again, “Looks like I’ll need a new roommate…and she was good in bed too.”

My momentary, if ever so slight, grief, was thoroughly distracted by a sudden sound coming from the window.

—–

Cedik (post #6):

It was Iven!!!
I was so happy to see him that my eyes burst into tears instantly! He told me not to cry as he had good news for me.
-Do not cry, I have good news for you!
I wiped my tears with a dirty tissue (laundry day ) and I looked at him with hope in my eyes… eyes once filled with tears of sorrow.
-What’s the good news, Iven?

—–

Menard (post #7):

As Iven began to speak and I began to yawn, the thought dawned on me, “What the hell is he doing in my bedroom at night, and why am I crying like a woman?”. Obviously I needed to man it up; once again.

It then struck me that, being I had never met Iven, how was I to know that this was him? Perhaps some kind of doppelganger or perhaps even a spy in a clever disguise…er…or just telling me that he was Iven.

Suspicious of the circumstances, I leveled my gun once again and shot him in the head.

My suspicions were confirmed when he stood back up and said “Nyah…nyah…missed any vital organs.”

—–

Cedik (post #8):

And then I realized!!!
It wasn’t Iven! It was… Shadav, disguised as Lord Daksh!
I pulled my self up and pulled the gun, but right when I was about to shot him again, or her, this time aiming for the head, someone came and jumped in my back.
Normally, this would have scared me but not anymore. I was just curious… who was it this time?
Scorpion, Godkillah, Josechukkiri or even Menard? Who could it be out there in my back?
Was it by any chance Bill Gates in person?

—–

Menard (post #9):

Although the realization that shadav was in drag struck me as no great surprise, I was determined to get this annoyance off my back. I was fairly assured it was not Scorpion as little girls can’t jump that high.

I reached behind my head and got a grip on my assailant and slung him to the floor. Seeing that he was fully dressed in black with a face scarf, I knew intently that he was a ninja; plus his two associates jumped out at that moment proclaiming “we are ninja” which rather clued me in as well.

Preparing to take on three ninjas, I heard them in chorus scream “oy” as they went into attack stance; I am obviously facing off against the dreaded Jewish ninja. One came at me from the left as I promply applied a fist to his forehead, knocking him back into the bookcase and causing a collapse of books onto him. However, before I could recover, another grappled my right arm rendering it immobile while the remaining ninja went into a flying kick mode. I called upon my inner woman, which has been coming out at inappropriate moments all night long anyway, and gave the flying ninja a swift kick in the nuts; that really gave him something to scream about. I was able to throw the other ninja off balance and use my weight to slam him into the wall.

I then lunged toward the bed reaching for my gun which I had previously dropped in all the excitement. Unfortunately, it seemed as though somebody else, perhaps shadav, had put a hotdog on the bed and I came up pointing a wiener at them. This did, however, seem to affect them as one of them screamed “He’s got a wiener…run!!!”.

They took out of the room in a huff so fast that their screams had to catch up with them. I began pursuit, only to be knocked to the floor by something…or someone.

—–

Cedik (post #10):

I looked up to see who or what tripped then I realized it was my left foot who did it! He knocked out my right foot on purpose. I knew he was jealous of him, but I had no idea he would go this far. After I made him some fake promises, I went back on my feet and went back to pursuit those ninja!
They were fearsome ninja with fearsome ninjitsu abilities but I too knew martial arts. Tae Kwon Do, Kung Fu, Jet Li, Chow Yun Fat and even John Chow were mastered by me, at least that’s what that 300 bucks black belt told. I was to be feared too!
Then, with my awesome superpowers, no, my awesome martial arts power I started running towards the attackers. I tried to come up with a fearsome battle cry, as fearsome as my manly martial arts powers but my inner women stepped in again and I started screaming like a little girl.
The ninjas were so scared by the fearsome high pitched voice of mine so they told me:

—–

Menard (post #11):

Damn! There I go again, going off on another tangent and imagining a fight between my own feet, somehow thinking that I have mastered several disciplines in the martial arts, and screaming like a little girl again. Should I survive this, I seriously need to consider therapy to resolve a previously unknown case of schizophrenia; or I just unknowing ingested some acid.

I had previously, apparently, been running around screaming that one foot of mine was attacking the other foot and that I am a fearsome master of martial arts, all the while screaming like a little girl. The ninjas had responded with telling me they were so scared, just before they broke out into uncontrollable laughter (and I frankly don’t blame them).

Standing before them a little red-faced, it dawned on me that something in my pants was hard, and was beginning to have me wondering what else I didn’t know about myself before I realized it was my gun which I had apparently dropped into my pants pocket instead of on the bed. I whipped the stiff object from my pants (the gun!!!), pointed it at the leader ninja and shot him in the head.

The two remaining ninjas were so taken aback by my action that they fled, on to each side of the room, and jumped out opposite windows. Of course, being that I knew the rear window was bricked up, I really felt for that poor guy as he lay there twitching from a broken neck. I heard the other one scream as he apparently impaled himself upon the wrought iron gate below.

I had thought my problems were over till it hit me; yeah, I stepped on a golf club and it came up and smacked me in the nads. As I lay there writhing in pain, I then remembered what I was going to think before being hit in the nads: there was still someone in the room with me.

I, with great discomfort, peered up from the floor. A lump held in my throat as I screamed out, in my best soprano effort, a sound of pure horror…

…shadaaaaav!!!!

—–

Cedik (post #12):

Hearing that powerful roar, Shadav came to me in an instant.
First, I wanted to run away from her, since she was the one that attacked me so I told her:
-What do you want from me?
-I want to help you! After all, I am the super moderator of WMF. I have awesome super moderating powers and I’m like a superman here and I can beat … something out of those ninjas.
-But I thought you were the one leading the ninjas? Didn’t you attack me?
-No, actually, that was Godkillah disguised as me disguised in Lord Daksh.
-Damn it! I heard a voice from behind. It was the attacker, Godkillah as I just found out.
-You discovered my secret! he (or she? ) continued! I would have gotten away with it if it weren’t for you meddling kids and your stupid dog!
-What dog? me and Shadav asked in the same time?
-That dog, Scooby Dick, said Godkillah and pointed to a certain point out of our reach of view.
We turned around too look at the dog and we were amazed by what we saw.

—–

Menard (post #13):

It was obvious that Scooby Dick was a male dog; perhaps a little too obvious, hence his name. Aside from the sudden appearance of this…um…overly endowed dog, which had not previously been here before (as though this is unique for this evening), and the apparent and immediate recognition of people I had never met before, I would say things were going pretty smoothly…ahem.

As Scooby Dick limped toward me, it became just as obvious that he had a missing leg; I will not go into any detail as to what he used for a crutch. I asked him what happened to his leg. I don’t know which struck me as more odd: that I asked a dog what happened to his leg, or that he actually replied.

“I belonged to a Korean family.”, he replied, which certainly answered my question.

It then struck me; so I asked Scooby Dick to kindly watch where he puts his…uh…crutch. I looked up at Godkillah and asked “What secret?” and “Who the hell are you calling a kid?”

Godkillah then struck a pose as he began “It started many years ago when I was but a wee child. It was then that I saw my true meaning in life…”

I got bored quickly, so I shot him. Perhaps I should have just tortured him slowly to find the answers to some of my questions first. In this evening I have faced off against three ninjas, shot Iven in the head who apparently turned out to be shadav dressed as Lord Daksh (which I will never understand why anyone would want to be confused for him), but then it turns out that it was Godkillah disguised as Lord Daksh; in the meantime, I’m wondering what it is that Scooby Dick is doing to the body of my roommate I shot….oh, that’s just wrong.

The continuity to this evening has run like a bad porn movie and I wish somebody would jump out from somewhere (careful where you jump around here) and explain it to me.

—–

Cedik (post #14):

And… for the first time this day, no one jump. Nothing happened.
I was surrounded by dead bodies of weird people whom I never met before, I was stuck with a handicapped dog named Scooby Dick and I was clueless. And no one came to tell me what the… heaven had happened there.
Was I high? Nope, I checked. I was barely one feet over the ground. This wasn’t it.
Was this a dream? Hmm… I pinched myself and I felt it. I pinched Scooby and I felt his teeth too.
Was this just a pigment of my imagination? No way, my imagination belonged to my inner woman and she wasn’t near this creative.
Was I just a character in a silly story written by some guys on a webmasters forums? Yeah, right, like this was ever going to happen.
I simply stood there searching for an answer and for the first time I wanted for someone to surprise me.
Iven appeared, Shadav too… and also other know characters from WMF. The only major character that wasn’t there was… Menard!!!
He must be behind this! He must be the evil genius behind this. So I took a hunting knife, the stiff thingy from my pants that wasn’t anything unusual but a gun and I went hunting for Menard!
-Schhhhhhhhhh! I wispered… I’m hunting wabits! I mean.. Menard! Hahahahahahahahahaha!

—–

Menard (post #15, and final entry):

Meanwhile…at Doctor Menard’s Secret Lab (so identified by a public sign hanging outside the door which reads ‘Doctor Menard’s Secret Lab’).

Doctor Menard is pacing the floor, briskly rubbing his hands together in an excited manner over his latest creation.

“At last,” exclaims Doctor Menard, “the first step to my ultra secret plan, known only to me, is almost complete.”

A passing mailman comments “Is that the one where you infiltrate world governments with mindless zombies that do their master’s bidding?”

“Uh…yeah…that’s the one.” replies Doctor Menard.

“Too late.” says the postman.

Aggravated, paranoid, and at least a little embarrassed, Doctor Menard continues his rant.

“Bwahahahaha; my creation is near complete; all I have to do is throw this switch and…”

Suddenly the lights go out and the postman…carrying a flashlight (torch for you dark ages Brits), hands Doctor Menard a letter as he says “Seems the electric company wants to be paid.”

“You read my mail too?!?” screams Doctor Menard in protest.

“My plans must be completed!” rants Doctor Menard (yet again, ho-hum) as he exits his secret lab, “I shall conquer this latest setback.”

[And so the trials of Doctor Menard continues...]

“I shall overcome the bureaucrats at their own game!!”

[ahem...as I was saying...]

“Nobody will get in the way of Doctor Menard!!!”

[shut up, Menard]

“Bwahahahaha, I shall have my REVENGE!!!!!”

[You lop-headed twit, SHUT UP!!!!!]

“I shall have….son of a….”

[Screams Menard as he did not see that open manhole suddenly appear]

Meanwhile…

That was as far as it went.

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