For 40 years, I have been waiting for the medical industry to start actually pricing their services.
Why this has not been done until now is one of the greatest price fixing, mysteries of all time. I have contacted this Oklahoma clinic to have a meniscal tear fixed in my left knee. The price is about 4000.00 bucks. In Idaho- it would be triple that.
In fact, for procedures in this price range, you are better off to consider leaving the country and having it done somewhere in Europe.
American health care providers have finally priced themselves out of the market. Check this chart out! Maybe I will just go to Canada instead. http://www.zerohedge.com/news/2013-07-13/what-does-appendectomy-cost
Here then, are the surgery prices offered by the surgery center of Oklahoma and a direct link to their site. http://www.surgerycenterok.com/
This is not a bad time of the year to travel. Hell, I think I will drive and cheat the airlines and government out of their atrocious fees as well.
Anyone want to go? I'll buy the gas!
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Saturday, July 13, 2013
Friday, July 12, 2013
Showcasing "naked capitalism"
"naked capitalism" is one of my favorite sites.
Most of my on going banking intelligence comes from this place. To say that bankers are completely in control of our country is an understatement. In a minute I'll give you the latest link on that worthless Securities and Excgange Commission (SEC) and the equally corrupt Commodities and Futures Trading Commission or (CFTC)
Both of these agencies originated as regulatory bodies. They have become lap dogs for the elite.
The blog owner/writer is very intelligent. She writes under a pen name. While I don't pretend to understand everything she writes- I do understand a majority of it. Here then is a taste of the latest magic bestowed on us by the agencies we underwrite and pay to protect us. Heh.
http://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2013/07/banks-win-again-cftc-caves-sec-opens-door-wide-open-to-fraud.html
Most of my on going banking intelligence comes from this place. To say that bankers are completely in control of our country is an understatement. In a minute I'll give you the latest link on that worthless Securities and Excgange Commission (SEC) and the equally corrupt Commodities and Futures Trading Commission or (CFTC)
Both of these agencies originated as regulatory bodies. They have become lap dogs for the elite.
The blog owner/writer is very intelligent. She writes under a pen name. While I don't pretend to understand everything she writes- I do understand a majority of it. Here then is a taste of the latest magic bestowed on us by the agencies we underwrite and pay to protect us. Heh.
http://www.nakedcapitalism.com/2013/07/banks-win-again-cftc-caves-sec-opens-door-wide-open-to-fraud.html
A Mid-Summer Ride With Additional Funny Shit- Part Two
Stupidity does not guarantee success, but it most certainly helps.
-Me, commenting on a Huffpo piece.
Day 4 started out sunny. It was beautiful. So into town for breakfast and then we were off to see the Crazy Horse Memorial.
The Federal Government loves to take over tourist attractions and gouge people ridiculous prices for things that have already been paid for long ago by taxpayers. Of course government, tells the sheep that gouging the hell out of them is necessary to maintain these venues. It is complete bullshit. Tourist attractions are ridiculously profitable, require very little maintenance, and the Feds charge atrocious prices. There will always be those people who believe government is telling them the truth. Very often, I refer to those people as morons.
Truth is, I'd like to see individual states take back their parks and boot the crooked Feds out. Keep the money. Why haven't states done this already?
When we arrived at the unfinished Crazy Horse memorial, toll operators demanded five dollars a bike for parking. It's probably twice that for cars. When Troy started giving them shit- they let us know that Crazy Horse is funded strictly with private donations. They are using the money to complete the structure, add buildings and a university, without any federal aid. This makes sense to me. I almost gave them ten bucks.
If the Indians have learned anything over time- it's to not trust the Federal Government and cut them out of anything you are doing. Think "treaties." Everything will go much smoother and you can direct your money back to your project without kissing their collective asses and begging for your money back.
So we watched a video, snapped some pictures, and bugged out. Next stop Needles Highway.
The Feds have taken over Needles Highway. They charged us 10 bucks a motorcycle. We were thrilled with that. The highway was beautiful with lakes and tunnels carved out of rock. Next stop Mt. Rushmore. When the Feds tried to charge us 11 bucks a piece to park our motorcycles there, we said fuck it. Troy was the first to say it. I love it when one of the sheep breaks free and heads for the stronghold. We exited the parking area- went back to the highway and snapped photos. Another 33 bucks for 30 minutes worth of parking is insane. The Feds know the sheep will pay up- so gouging people becomes routine. Once you are there, they think they have a captive audience.
We had lunch in Keystone with the money we saved. Keystone is home to the Holy Terror gold mine- a property which I have personally lost some money on. So we took a few pictures of that and headed into the Rapid City Harley Davidson dealership.
We left there en-route to a Rapid City bowling alley and the second of three championships.
The new guy, Dave, can bowl. By the end of the first two games, I was behind like 40 pins. Things were looking grim for me. I was about to lose. Suddenly Dave, in some sort of spontaneous and sympathetic outburst which he clearly did not think through, suggested that maybe I should try a different ball. That was the turning point. I grabbed a new ball. I made three strikes in a row, a spare, and a couple more strikes while Dave started to leak oil all over the place. When the smoke had cleared, I had won the championship.
We then went into Deadwood and had another putt putt golf championship. Dave and I were tied on the last hole when the thinga ma jig sucked up our golf balls.
I complained to the kid working behind the desk and told him we had 1000 dollars bet and we needed our golf balls back for the playoff. When we returned from the playoff the kid looked at me and said, "Do you guys really play for a thousand dollars?" I said, "Yes, but nobody has ever paid."
The next morning, we packed up at 0600. We just beat the rain. We went through Lead, ate at Cheyenne Crossing, up through Spearfish Canyon (it is gorgeous) and north to Belle Fourche. As we prepared to go west on 212- a giant orange construction sign warned motorcyclists to seek alternative routes. I had seen a sign earlier that said Buffalo was only 75 miles away. Of course I assumed that meant Buffalo, Wy. That was the way that we had come.
I did not know there was such a place as Buffalo, S.D. They say for everything you know, there was a time when you didn't know it.
About 75 miles later, when the town of Buffalo came into view, I began to laugh uncontrollably. Not because this was clearly some place I didn't know even existed, and it sure as hell wasn't Buffalo, Wy., but because I was going to have to tell Dave and Troy what an idiot I was. I might even have to buy their gas.
I couldn't stop laughing. It was such an idiot thing to do. They took it pretty well. From there we went north into North Dakota before turning west.
Somewhere in the middle of nowhere, around Baker, Mt, a bee got sucked up and into my leather jacket sleeve. The little bastard was biting me and I put the bike on cruise control while I tried to punch it through my coat and squash it. As I was doing that, the little bastard stung me. I stopped the bike, shook the dead bastard out of my coat, and pulled the stinger out of my arm.
From there we went to Billings. We continued home the next day. At one point, just south of Island Park, while we were stopped in a construction zone- Troy announced that he had to piss like a racehorse. This statement was made immediately prior to one of the finest reckless driving episodes I have ever had the privilege of witnessing. I refuse to give the details here. Let's just say Troy was exiting the gas station bathroom as we pulled into the parking lot. I am afraid that the NSA might have a drone directly over Troy's house and we know they monitor our calls and texting.
It was about 350 miles for Dave and Troy. I did another 260 to get back to Boise. I parked that bug covered mess in the garage on Monday. It was Thursday before I unpacked and took Elvis to the car wash. It took three tokens to get rid of all of those bugs.
It's been 4 days now. The sunburn has gone away. My ass and my legs still ache. My arm looks better but I can still see a bruise and a red patch.
Some 2250 miles later, I had forgotten how nice cars can be. Stereo, satellite radio, and air conditioning. Bugs killed effortlessly on the grill and windshield. No cold ass rain and no sunburn. No howling wind. It's too easy. I can't stand it. In a couple of days- I will have had enough.
In fact on second thought, I'm not going to wait a couple days. I'm gonna take Elvis for a spin right now.
-Me, commenting on a Huffpo piece.
Day 4 started out sunny. It was beautiful. So into town for breakfast and then we were off to see the Crazy Horse Memorial.
The Federal Government loves to take over tourist attractions and gouge people ridiculous prices for things that have already been paid for long ago by taxpayers. Of course government, tells the sheep that gouging the hell out of them is necessary to maintain these venues. It is complete bullshit. Tourist attractions are ridiculously profitable, require very little maintenance, and the Feds charge atrocious prices. There will always be those people who believe government is telling them the truth. Very often, I refer to those people as morons.
Truth is, I'd like to see individual states take back their parks and boot the crooked Feds out. Keep the money. Why haven't states done this already?
When we arrived at the unfinished Crazy Horse memorial, toll operators demanded five dollars a bike for parking. It's probably twice that for cars. When Troy started giving them shit- they let us know that Crazy Horse is funded strictly with private donations. They are using the money to complete the structure, add buildings and a university, without any federal aid. This makes sense to me. I almost gave them ten bucks.
If the Indians have learned anything over time- it's to not trust the Federal Government and cut them out of anything you are doing. Think "treaties." Everything will go much smoother and you can direct your money back to your project without kissing their collective asses and begging for your money back.
So we watched a video, snapped some pictures, and bugged out. Next stop Needles Highway.
The Feds have taken over Needles Highway. They charged us 10 bucks a motorcycle. We were thrilled with that. The highway was beautiful with lakes and tunnels carved out of rock. Next stop Mt. Rushmore. When the Feds tried to charge us 11 bucks a piece to park our motorcycles there, we said fuck it. Troy was the first to say it. I love it when one of the sheep breaks free and heads for the stronghold. We exited the parking area- went back to the highway and snapped photos. Another 33 bucks for 30 minutes worth of parking is insane. The Feds know the sheep will pay up- so gouging people becomes routine. Once you are there, they think they have a captive audience.
We had lunch in Keystone with the money we saved. Keystone is home to the Holy Terror gold mine- a property which I have personally lost some money on. So we took a few pictures of that and headed into the Rapid City Harley Davidson dealership.
We left there en-route to a Rapid City bowling alley and the second of three championships.
The new guy, Dave, can bowl. By the end of the first two games, I was behind like 40 pins. Things were looking grim for me. I was about to lose. Suddenly Dave, in some sort of spontaneous and sympathetic outburst which he clearly did not think through, suggested that maybe I should try a different ball. That was the turning point. I grabbed a new ball. I made three strikes in a row, a spare, and a couple more strikes while Dave started to leak oil all over the place. When the smoke had cleared, I had won the championship.
Troy told Dave to stfu and let me lose next time.
We then went into Deadwood and had another putt putt golf championship. Dave and I were tied on the last hole when the thinga ma jig sucked up our golf balls.
I complained to the kid working behind the desk and told him we had 1000 dollars bet and we needed our golf balls back for the playoff. When we returned from the playoff the kid looked at me and said, "Do you guys really play for a thousand dollars?" I said, "Yes, but nobody has ever paid."
The next morning, we packed up at 0600. We just beat the rain. We went through Lead, ate at Cheyenne Crossing, up through Spearfish Canyon (it is gorgeous) and north to Belle Fourche. As we prepared to go west on 212- a giant orange construction sign warned motorcyclists to seek alternative routes. I had seen a sign earlier that said Buffalo was only 75 miles away. Of course I assumed that meant Buffalo, Wy. That was the way that we had come.
I did not know there was such a place as Buffalo, S.D. They say for everything you know, there was a time when you didn't know it.
About 75 miles later, when the town of Buffalo came into view, I began to laugh uncontrollably. Not because this was clearly some place I didn't know even existed, and it sure as hell wasn't Buffalo, Wy., but because I was going to have to tell Dave and Troy what an idiot I was. I might even have to buy their gas.
I couldn't stop laughing. It was such an idiot thing to do. They took it pretty well. From there we went north into North Dakota before turning west.
Somewhere in the middle of nowhere, around Baker, Mt, a bee got sucked up and into my leather jacket sleeve. The little bastard was biting me and I put the bike on cruise control while I tried to punch it through my coat and squash it. As I was doing that, the little bastard stung me. I stopped the bike, shook the dead bastard out of my coat, and pulled the stinger out of my arm.
From there we went to Billings. We continued home the next day. At one point, just south of Island Park, while we were stopped in a construction zone- Troy announced that he had to piss like a racehorse. This statement was made immediately prior to one of the finest reckless driving episodes I have ever had the privilege of witnessing. I refuse to give the details here. Let's just say Troy was exiting the gas station bathroom as we pulled into the parking lot. I am afraid that the NSA might have a drone directly over Troy's house and we know they monitor our calls and texting.
It was about 350 miles for Dave and Troy. I did another 260 to get back to Boise. I parked that bug covered mess in the garage on Monday. It was Thursday before I unpacked and took Elvis to the car wash. It took three tokens to get rid of all of those bugs.
It's been 4 days now. The sunburn has gone away. My ass and my legs still ache. My arm looks better but I can still see a bruise and a red patch.
Some 2250 miles later, I had forgotten how nice cars can be. Stereo, satellite radio, and air conditioning. Bugs killed effortlessly on the grill and windshield. No cold ass rain and no sunburn. No howling wind. It's too easy. I can't stand it. In a couple of days- I will have had enough.
In fact on second thought, I'm not going to wait a couple days. I'm gonna take Elvis for a spin right now.
Thursday, July 11, 2013
Supreme Court Inoculates Big Pharma, Protects and Exempts Them From Lawsuits*Update
You just can't make this up.
In another round of screw consumers (citizens) and protect the oligarchy, the Supreme Court has ruled that you cannot sue pharmaceutical manufacturers even when their drugs damage you.
http://www.whiteoutpress.com/articles/q32013/supreme-court-rules-drug-companies-exempt-from-lawsuits/
Here's how big pharma ripped of American consumers for an extra 100 billion.
Drug dealers, only they have a license to steal.
http://www.masspirg.org/sites/pirg/files/reports/MAP%20PayForDelay%20Jul13.pdf
In another round of screw consumers (citizens) and protect the oligarchy, the Supreme Court has ruled that you cannot sue pharmaceutical manufacturers even when their drugs damage you.
http://www.whiteoutpress.com/articles/q32013/supreme-court-rules-drug-companies-exempt-from-lawsuits/
Here's how big pharma ripped of American consumers for an extra 100 billion.
Drug dealers, only they have a license to steal.
http://www.masspirg.org/sites/pirg/files/reports/MAP%20PayForDelay%20Jul13.pdf
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Oklahoma Medical Clinic Posts Surgery Prices, Kicks Off Price War
Why hasn't this happened until now? This should make your eyes bulge.
An excellent piece via the Ron Paul feed.
http://www.dailypaul.com/292053/oklahoma-city-hospital-posts-surgery-prices-online-creates-bidding-war-prices-drop
An excellent piece via the Ron Paul feed.
http://www.dailypaul.com/292053/oklahoma-city-hospital-posts-surgery-prices-online-creates-bidding-war-prices-drop
Tuesday, July 9, 2013
A Mid-Summer Ride, With Some Funny Shit, Part One
"97% of the time I am right, so who cares about the other 4%?
- some fat kid coming out of a truck stop in Columbus, Mt.
Well it's finally over now. I am sitting here with a bruised and swollen left arm, the second and third toes on my right foot may need to be amputated, my legs cramp intermittently, I have sunburnt my balding scalp so badly that I woke up with a headache and immediately took three ibuprofen this morning. Oh, and we're out of coffee.
So I got all that going for me.
I wrapped up our ride to the Black Hills yesterday with a 600 and something mile, Billings to Boise, speedapalooza. The Road King has layers of bugs on it. I put it in the garage last night. I may never ride it again.
Our annual mid summer motorcycle odyssey began on Tuesday. Our target was the Black Hills.
Getting to Idaho Falls is pretty easy. I use SH 20, watch for deer and other suicidal creatures, and speed a little. When I get to the Moonbat Valley highway junction, I instinctively want to turn left and head home- something I did for 25 years. Nowadays, I just flip off Moonbat Valley and head east into Carey.
I spent the first night in "I.F." because that was our departure point. One of our riders, my cousin in law Jason, decided he could not go. That was a huge blow. This was the first time Jason would not be with us. So I'm not going to dwell on what a pussy thing it was to bail out on us at the last minute. Jason will just have to live with the shame and guilt for the rest of his life. Jason did offer to barbeque some carne asada which was excellent- plus as a bonus- I enjoyed watching everyone get their drink on. That was fun. In what would be a foreshadowing event, it rained during the barbeque. The Road King acquired a fine layer of maple syrup from one of Jason's trees. I was the only person at the car wash at 1130 pm that Tuesday night.
So there would only be three of us. Troy, Dave, and I. Jason was staying home with his husband.
On Wednesday morning, Dave was a no show for breakfast and over an hour late, so everything seemed to be operating normally for us.
It was sunny out and the trip into Jackson Hole, Wy. was beautiful. I spent a winter in Jackson once delivering food during the Carter depression. The little town of Victor had grown rather large since then and Jackson Hole was still busy as ever. We got some gas, Troy yelled at a woman who was patiently waiting for a car wash, and we loitered around a bit. By the time we got done screwing off at the gas station, the gal in the car had moved up two or three spots in her line. I remember thinking how lazy we have all gotten. Sitting around waiting for a car wash. She was still four cars back.
The ride out of Jackson and by the Tetons was majestic. I never get tired of that beauty. The Tetons might just be the most spectacular shards of rock in the lower 48.
A couple of funny things happened on the way to our first stop, Thermopolis, Wy. Dave took a bee strike directly under his right eye. His eye swelled up. We missed a "cut off" road and had to double back but it was only a few miles- and it began raining on us- hard enough that we parked the bikes for ten minutes or so.
We were supposed to stay at some campground but we didn't like it. So we found a little motel with a crazy woman running it. We knew she was crazy when one of the other guests said she was crazy and told us not to stay there. We did anyway. We like crazy. Troy and I slept in the same bed. Troy is kind of a homophobe so I knew he would reject any nocturnal advances. The only opinion Dave voiced the entire trip had to do with claiming the room's couch as his own.
After dinner, we found some place that serves ice cream and has a putt putt golf course. So we had the first of three road championships.
It was neck and neck up until the sixteenth hole, a hole called "volcano." That's when the wheels fell off of both Dave and Troys' game. They took sixes (the agreed upon maximum score) on volcano and I cruised to an easy victory. I might have rubbed it in just a bit.
The next day we stopped at my uncle's place in Buffalo, Wy. There is always some sort of shooting of the guns that takes place whenever we show up at his house. Uncle Lynn had just stolen an AR-15 for 750.00 bucks so we were shooting that off the back deck when Lynn hands me these explosive canisters filled with phosphorous and gun powder. We stuck them in a big pile of sand. I began shooting at the first one and actually managed to hit it but it didn't explode. We stuck the second one in the sand and I burned through a box of ammo- 20 rounds- trying to hit it but it remained unscathed.
Troy grabbed the gun and nailed it on the very first shot as Dave videoed the explosion. This was a horrible thing for me. Troy reminded me on numerous occasions over the next few days what a loser of a marksman I was. Retired cop loser. In fact, he told me that he would be reading this blog to make sure the truth was told.
From Buffalo, it is only about 150 miles to Deadwood, S.D.
I love Deadwood. It is historic and beautiful. I think I like Lead (sister city) even better. Lead has not been turned into a tourist area with all those bullshit store fronts and casinos. Lead has the same late 1800's architecture (and it is all still standing) that I grew up with in Butte. Including a giant gold mining pit in the center of town. I think I could live in Lead rather easily.
I am going to plug Hidden Valley campground here. It is 5 miles south of Deadwood and gorgeous. Rates were reasonable and the new owner, Jason, is a good guy. We pitched camp, went back to town and gambled, and came home. We skipped the fireworks in Lead when we noted that the streets were crammed with people hours before nightfall. The next day, I found out from some of the locals that a guy had shot and killed himself in front of everybody at the fireworks viewing area that night. I have seen enough of that shit for a lifetime- so I was pretty happy that we missed another episode of that. It rained on us throughout the night.
The next morning, I decided to play in a poker tournament at the "No. 10" casino. I'd like to deviate and tell you a couple of things here. Most of you know I have spent a lifetime playing poker. I'm pretty good at it. I have also played in hundreds of tournaments on line and live. I win at least one in 10- or 15 tournaments I play in. I usually place in the money about 20% of the time. The other 70% of the time- I lose. Even though I lose 70% of the time, my numbers in tournaments are actually pretty good. I use hitting a baseball as a metaphor. A great hitter only connects 3 out of 10 times.
I always try to win. I hate being the first loser, 2nd place.
There was only 11 people in this tournament. I think it was probably the smallest tournament I have ever been in. The casino added one hundred bucks. They played until there were only two players and then they split the prize pool 60/40. I liked that. I identified my only two "real" opponents in the game early on.
Eventually there was only the three of us. I had pocket sixes against pocket fives on my right. All three of us were in. When the flop came 9-9-5, I knew the chances of anyone having a nine was low. I could beat anyone with a five. I was first to act and I put a lot of chips in- and consequently I lost a lot of chips. I would play that hand exactly the same way every time. The interesting thing about my two opponents, and I had noted this earlier, was their willingness to sit on their chips and not play when they had big chip leads. They simply lacked that killer instinct which you must have in tournament play. So it was, that I just stole blinds and outplayed them. They could have called my garbage at any time with their garbage but they were afraid to. That predictable type of human behavior used to cost me a lot of money until I wised up. You want to win? Then you are going to have to take chances with shitty cards. That's just the way it is. Never, ever, let an opponent hang around if you can help it. Three handed, queen anything, and I am going to put a low chipper all in and try to oust him. I think my opponents just thought I was going to go away. They didn't know me.
I finished second by only a chip or two. I didn't win much. But it was 20 times what I bought in with.
Troy and Dave went to Sturgis and the Full Throttle Bar while I played on Friday. When they got back,
we gambled some more and then ate all you can eat crab and prime rib for 22 bucks. Everywhere we went that evening, Dave would pretend to walk into posts, walls, and doors. He would grab his head and stagger a little. As juvenile as all of that sounds- it was actually pretty funny to watch as people asked Dave if he was ok, and they seemed concerned. Of course they all thought he was drunk. The act was good enough to fool most of the people who witnessed it.
Do you remember in the beginning of this piece- the part where I said my toes were swollen and bruised?
On Friday night we stopped at a convenience store next to our camp. I was trying to decide whether or not to go grab a bottle of water to brush my teeth with or walk from our campsite (the farthest away) to the bathrooms. I was straddling my bike having decided to just walk to the bathrooms that night- so I put the kickstand up and prepared to leave. When it started to rain, I changed my mind and decided to go back in the store for some water. I had forgotten the kickstand was up. When I swung my right leg over and off the bike, the whole sumbitch tipped over. That's 1100 pounds of stuff going down. The good news is the rear crash bar rolled right over my right foot and prevented any damage to the bar or bike when it hit the ground. I have gladly exchanged a few days worth of pain- for a thousand dollars worth of repairs. Dave helped me lift the bike. In some blended state of shock and pain, I limped into the store and hobbled out with the goods.
Neither of them laughed at me. That is unbelievable. Dropping a Harley carries the same seriousness as a hunting fall. You save the gun at all costs and your body takes it's chances. This morning, my toes are still black and the right side of my foot remains swollen.
I thought about snapping a photo of my toes but then I thought, maybe one of the two people who actually read this blog are eating. So you have been spared. I will end part one here- mainly because I am tired of writing today and mostly because the real funny shit happened on days 4 and 5.
- some fat kid coming out of a truck stop in Columbus, Mt.
Well it's finally over now. I am sitting here with a bruised and swollen left arm, the second and third toes on my right foot may need to be amputated, my legs cramp intermittently, I have sunburnt my balding scalp so badly that I woke up with a headache and immediately took three ibuprofen this morning. Oh, and we're out of coffee.
So I got all that going for me.
I wrapped up our ride to the Black Hills yesterday with a 600 and something mile, Billings to Boise, speedapalooza. The Road King has layers of bugs on it. I put it in the garage last night. I may never ride it again.
Our annual mid summer motorcycle odyssey began on Tuesday. Our target was the Black Hills.
Getting to Idaho Falls is pretty easy. I use SH 20, watch for deer and other suicidal creatures, and speed a little. When I get to the Moonbat Valley highway junction, I instinctively want to turn left and head home- something I did for 25 years. Nowadays, I just flip off Moonbat Valley and head east into Carey.
I spent the first night in "I.F." because that was our departure point. One of our riders, my cousin in law Jason, decided he could not go. That was a huge blow. This was the first time Jason would not be with us. So I'm not going to dwell on what a pussy thing it was to bail out on us at the last minute. Jason will just have to live with the shame and guilt for the rest of his life. Jason did offer to barbeque some carne asada which was excellent- plus as a bonus- I enjoyed watching everyone get their drink on. That was fun. In what would be a foreshadowing event, it rained during the barbeque. The Road King acquired a fine layer of maple syrup from one of Jason's trees. I was the only person at the car wash at 1130 pm that Tuesday night.
So there would only be three of us. Troy, Dave, and I. Jason was staying home with his husband.
On Wednesday morning, Dave was a no show for breakfast and over an hour late, so everything seemed to be operating normally for us.
It was sunny out and the trip into Jackson Hole, Wy. was beautiful. I spent a winter in Jackson once delivering food during the Carter depression. The little town of Victor had grown rather large since then and Jackson Hole was still busy as ever. We got some gas, Troy yelled at a woman who was patiently waiting for a car wash, and we loitered around a bit. By the time we got done screwing off at the gas station, the gal in the car had moved up two or three spots in her line. I remember thinking how lazy we have all gotten. Sitting around waiting for a car wash. She was still four cars back.
The ride out of Jackson and by the Tetons was majestic. I never get tired of that beauty. The Tetons might just be the most spectacular shards of rock in the lower 48.
A couple of funny things happened on the way to our first stop, Thermopolis, Wy. Dave took a bee strike directly under his right eye. His eye swelled up. We missed a "cut off" road and had to double back but it was only a few miles- and it began raining on us- hard enough that we parked the bikes for ten minutes or so.
We were supposed to stay at some campground but we didn't like it. So we found a little motel with a crazy woman running it. We knew she was crazy when one of the other guests said she was crazy and told us not to stay there. We did anyway. We like crazy. Troy and I slept in the same bed. Troy is kind of a homophobe so I knew he would reject any nocturnal advances. The only opinion Dave voiced the entire trip had to do with claiming the room's couch as his own.
After dinner, we found some place that serves ice cream and has a putt putt golf course. So we had the first of three road championships.
It was neck and neck up until the sixteenth hole, a hole called "volcano." That's when the wheels fell off of both Dave and Troys' game. They took sixes (the agreed upon maximum score) on volcano and I cruised to an easy victory. I might have rubbed it in just a bit.
The next day we stopped at my uncle's place in Buffalo, Wy. There is always some sort of shooting of the guns that takes place whenever we show up at his house. Uncle Lynn had just stolen an AR-15 for 750.00 bucks so we were shooting that off the back deck when Lynn hands me these explosive canisters filled with phosphorous and gun powder. We stuck them in a big pile of sand. I began shooting at the first one and actually managed to hit it but it didn't explode. We stuck the second one in the sand and I burned through a box of ammo- 20 rounds- trying to hit it but it remained unscathed.
Troy grabbed the gun and nailed it on the very first shot as Dave videoed the explosion. This was a horrible thing for me. Troy reminded me on numerous occasions over the next few days what a loser of a marksman I was. Retired cop loser. In fact, he told me that he would be reading this blog to make sure the truth was told.
From Buffalo, it is only about 150 miles to Deadwood, S.D.
I love Deadwood. It is historic and beautiful. I think I like Lead (sister city) even better. Lead has not been turned into a tourist area with all those bullshit store fronts and casinos. Lead has the same late 1800's architecture (and it is all still standing) that I grew up with in Butte. Including a giant gold mining pit in the center of town. I think I could live in Lead rather easily.
I am going to plug Hidden Valley campground here. It is 5 miles south of Deadwood and gorgeous. Rates were reasonable and the new owner, Jason, is a good guy. We pitched camp, went back to town and gambled, and came home. We skipped the fireworks in Lead when we noted that the streets were crammed with people hours before nightfall. The next day, I found out from some of the locals that a guy had shot and killed himself in front of everybody at the fireworks viewing area that night. I have seen enough of that shit for a lifetime- so I was pretty happy that we missed another episode of that. It rained on us throughout the night.
The next morning, I decided to play in a poker tournament at the "No. 10" casino. I'd like to deviate and tell you a couple of things here. Most of you know I have spent a lifetime playing poker. I'm pretty good at it. I have also played in hundreds of tournaments on line and live. I win at least one in 10- or 15 tournaments I play in. I usually place in the money about 20% of the time. The other 70% of the time- I lose. Even though I lose 70% of the time, my numbers in tournaments are actually pretty good. I use hitting a baseball as a metaphor. A great hitter only connects 3 out of 10 times.
I always try to win. I hate being the first loser, 2nd place.
There was only 11 people in this tournament. I think it was probably the smallest tournament I have ever been in. The casino added one hundred bucks. They played until there were only two players and then they split the prize pool 60/40. I liked that. I identified my only two "real" opponents in the game early on.
Eventually there was only the three of us. I had pocket sixes against pocket fives on my right. All three of us were in. When the flop came 9-9-5, I knew the chances of anyone having a nine was low. I could beat anyone with a five. I was first to act and I put a lot of chips in- and consequently I lost a lot of chips. I would play that hand exactly the same way every time. The interesting thing about my two opponents, and I had noted this earlier, was their willingness to sit on their chips and not play when they had big chip leads. They simply lacked that killer instinct which you must have in tournament play. So it was, that I just stole blinds and outplayed them. They could have called my garbage at any time with their garbage but they were afraid to. That predictable type of human behavior used to cost me a lot of money until I wised up. You want to win? Then you are going to have to take chances with shitty cards. That's just the way it is. Never, ever, let an opponent hang around if you can help it. Three handed, queen anything, and I am going to put a low chipper all in and try to oust him. I think my opponents just thought I was going to go away. They didn't know me.
I finished second by only a chip or two. I didn't win much. But it was 20 times what I bought in with.
Troy and Dave went to Sturgis and the Full Throttle Bar while I played on Friday. When they got back,
we gambled some more and then ate all you can eat crab and prime rib for 22 bucks. Everywhere we went that evening, Dave would pretend to walk into posts, walls, and doors. He would grab his head and stagger a little. As juvenile as all of that sounds- it was actually pretty funny to watch as people asked Dave if he was ok, and they seemed concerned. Of course they all thought he was drunk. The act was good enough to fool most of the people who witnessed it.
Do you remember in the beginning of this piece- the part where I said my toes were swollen and bruised?
On Friday night we stopped at a convenience store next to our camp. I was trying to decide whether or not to go grab a bottle of water to brush my teeth with or walk from our campsite (the farthest away) to the bathrooms. I was straddling my bike having decided to just walk to the bathrooms that night- so I put the kickstand up and prepared to leave. When it started to rain, I changed my mind and decided to go back in the store for some water. I had forgotten the kickstand was up. When I swung my right leg over and off the bike, the whole sumbitch tipped over. That's 1100 pounds of stuff going down. The good news is the rear crash bar rolled right over my right foot and prevented any damage to the bar or bike when it hit the ground. I have gladly exchanged a few days worth of pain- for a thousand dollars worth of repairs. Dave helped me lift the bike. In some blended state of shock and pain, I limped into the store and hobbled out with the goods.
Neither of them laughed at me. That is unbelievable. Dropping a Harley carries the same seriousness as a hunting fall. You save the gun at all costs and your body takes it's chances. This morning, my toes are still black and the right side of my foot remains swollen.
I thought about snapping a photo of my toes but then I thought, maybe one of the two people who actually read this blog are eating. So you have been spared. I will end part one here- mainly because I am tired of writing today and mostly because the real funny shit happened on days 4 and 5.
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