Saturday, September 15, 2018
Friday, September 14, 2018
Four for Fridays!
Good morning everyone I hope all of you enjoyed the week. I looks like next week we will be getting rain again. Here are your questions.
1) Did someone move out on you that you really cared about?
2) What was the reason for that person to move out?
3) Did you let them move back in?
4) What happened at the end of it all?
Have a great weekend!
1) Did someone move out on you that you really cared about?
2) What was the reason for that person to move out?
3) Did you let them move back in?
4) What happened at the end of it all?
Have a great weekend!
Thursday, September 13, 2018
Wednesday, September 12, 2018
Northern lights might - the operative word is might - be visible in Wisconsin skies tonight
From JSOnline:
The Northern Lights, or the Aurora Borealis. The Vikings thought it was a road to the Gods, but we now know exactly what those beautiful lights actually are. Buzz60
The Northern Lights, or the Aurora Borealis. The Vikings thought it was a road to the Gods, but we now know exactly what those beautiful lights actually are. Buzz60
 |
Not saying it will happen, but scientists are predicting this evening could be a good night in Wisconsin to see the pulsing, lava lamp-esque phenomena in the sky known as the northern lights.
The Space Weather Prediction Center issued a geomagnetic storm watch for Tuesday that shows Wisconsin smack dab in the center of the most likely area for the aurora borealis, the fancy name for northern lights.
If the lights deign to show up, the good news is that night skies throughout most of Wisconsin will be clear tonight, though some parts of northwestern Wisconsin could get high clouds, said Marcia Cronce, a National Weather Service meteorologist based in Sullivan.
What sometimes looks like a neon blanket thrown against the night sky is actually electrically charged particles from the sun colliding with gaseous particles entering the Earth's atmosphere. While green and pink are the most common colors, the northern lights can feature quite a few more hues including red, yellow, blue and violet.
The lights can also be seen in the southern hemisphere where they're called aurora australis.
Dear Madame Zoltar
Here are the Irregular Football League standings for this week:
My, o my, look who's in second place. Mr. hale-bopp is already in first place. Grr. Darm that scientific mind.
I can't wait to see the arches sandwiching downtown. I bet you that they make the area look cheap. If people have to be told that they are in downtown, maybe downtown is the problem. Whatever. I believe that far, far too much time and money is spent on this small area. Racine runs out to Highway 31 in some areas. How about arches for the other areas of Racine? You know, like "Welcome to Uptown!" and "Now you're in West Racine" and "Now you;re in trouble. Thus is a high crime area." Maaybe the arches should be high-tech, with an electronic read out that could be changed as necessary. From "Welcome to Downtown!" during the day to "Welcome to Sodom and Gomorrah" at night.
Want to bring more visitors downtown? Extend I-794 through Racine. There's a heck of a lot more drivers than boaters. And no, they're not going away as oil reserves dwindle. They'll just change propulsion systems to natural gas, hydrogen, electricity, etc. Thus predicts Madame Zoltar!
The weather's been nice, except when it's raining. The cool nights are good for sleeping and the warm days are good for fun. I hope that you're getting some joy out of this. Soon the weather will be good for sleeping 24 hours. I hate winter. Hate it, hate it, hate it!
I love you all and thank you for reading my blog this week. Tell your friends and neighbors about Madame Zoltar. I welcome everybody.
madamezoltar@jtirregulars.com
It's not winter yet. Get out and have some fun. Go to the zoo or take a tour of the J-wax tower. Check out the smaller towns in Racine County. They really need arches to identify thenmselves. Watch a sunset and sunrise. Just do it.
_________________________
Please donate: paypal.me/jgmazelis
If you don't like PayPal, send me a note at madamezoltar@jtirregulars.com and I'll send you my street address so you can send a check or money order. Thank you.
Tuesday, September 11, 2018
Wahoopatuli
From The Shepherd Express:
by Art Kumbalek
by Art Kumbalek
Next, how ’bout those heart-attack Packers? Next up, Vikings. And then it’s the team that shall not be named unless you say “Redskins.” There’s still a big heap of hoopla in regard to the offensiveness of that nickname and how it ought to be removed and changed. To this I say: No shit, Sherlock.
Lost and forgotten in all the hubbub is mine own groundbreaking work in this field from way-back in 1988 when I questioned the city of Cleveland’s baseball team’s use of the image of so-called Chief Wahoo—the wild-eyed, toothy, single-feather head-banded caricature of some kind of Native American. Offensive? No siree, some would say. It’s just our way of saying, “Thank you for the gift of your homeland, oh Great Red Man. In return, we shall show honor by making you a focking sports team mascot.”
Jeez louise, aren’t team mascots supposed to be testicle-chewing wild animals and stuff, and not Sapien beings? Hey, if you got a Cleveland Indians, how come no Chicago Polacks with a logo of a hammer smashing a thumb, or a couple, three guys with a light bulb and ladder? What the fock.
Yeah yeah, 1988 and newspapers are ancient history. The media-Internet biz these days is a young people’s game, what with their navel-gazing yet butt-boring blogs, their talismaniacal PodCast iPod YouTube Twit ju-ju voo-doo malarkey that’s deviously designed to disenfranchise the voice of the cranky old fart, an old fart who remembers well when the only cable a young person had came as a pair that you sometimes would attach to the battery terminals beneath the hood of your good-for-crap third-hand 1962 Rambler American ’cause you and the fellas had gone Downtown to sneak into the Princess Theater to catch the latest Russ Meyer motion picture and it was following the climax of Russ’s latest boobathon that it was discovered that the keys to the locked with windows butt-up-tight 2-door rustbucket decided to play hard-to-get, secure with their position in the ignition, that the motor was still running, sort of, that the switched-on headlights were a dim diminutive remembrance of their once-virile virility, and most importantly, the six-pack of Kingsbury that was to be quaffed over a cleavage-critique of Supervixens during the drive home was in the goddamn trunk, unretrievable and—seeing as all that (hold on, I lost my place—why don’t you go have a smoke while I insert a new paragraph).
Anyways like I said, the communication racket via this so-called “social media” seems today to be one for and by the young people and conservatives. And all I can say is “FU.” Maybe it’s time a guy my age ought to think about a second career, and I’m thinking about checking out the greeting industry. Cripes, how hard can that be, to stand at the front door of This-or-That Mart and eyeball the dregs of the hoi polloi as they meander by, so’s to alert security in the event that any one low-brow shopper should appear a little extra nutty.
And you know what? Given mine own legendary celebrity—I once shook the hand of funnyman Louis Nye; in 1969 Chicago, I was party to a nightclub performance provided by Led Zeppelin, Jethro Tull and Savoy Brown for five focking bucks, Jack; with my own eyes from up the block, I saw Bob focking Hope enter the Mason Street entrance to the Pfister Hotel—I may even attract extra customers à la shell-shocked former heavyweight champ Joe Louis when stuck at a casino gateway.
What savvy store manager wouldn’t want a guy like me cooling his heels by the store door, knowing it could mean an extra buck two-eighty in sales of batteries, diapers and cat food per shift-of-mine due to increased foot traffic? Hey, you tell me.
And then I’ll tell you that you don’t have to tell me that the craft of greetings-manship won’t always be one big piece of pie like a cakewalk on the picnic beach. My buddy Little Jimmy Iodine, who has dabbled in the greeting vocation, told me he once worked a joint down by there on South KK when this big-mouth, unattractive plus grouchy gal walked through the entrance dragging two kids and screaming obscenities at everyone within earshot. Jimmy says, “Good morning ma’am. Nice kids you’ve got there. Are they twins?” And this foul-mouth hag says to Jimmy, “Hell no. One’s nine and the younger one’s five. What the fock would make you think they’re twins. Are you blind or just goddamn stupid?” So to make the best of an awkward situation, Jimmy says, “Neither, ma’am. I just can’t believe you got laid twice.” Ba-ding!
Anyways, thanks to constant reader Ingrid/Mae as always, and now I got to go fill out some job applications, so see you around ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.
From: https://shepherdexpress.com/advice/art-kumbalek/wahoopatuli/
Lost and forgotten in all the hubbub is mine own groundbreaking work in this field from way-back in 1988 when I questioned the city of Cleveland’s baseball team’s use of the image of so-called Chief Wahoo—the wild-eyed, toothy, single-feather head-banded caricature of some kind of Native American. Offensive? No siree, some would say. It’s just our way of saying, “Thank you for the gift of your homeland, oh Great Red Man. In return, we shall show honor by making you a focking sports team mascot.”
Jeez louise, aren’t team mascots supposed to be testicle-chewing wild animals and stuff, and not Sapien beings? Hey, if you got a Cleveland Indians, how come no Chicago Polacks with a logo of a hammer smashing a thumb, or a couple, three guys with a light bulb and ladder? What the fock.
Yeah yeah, 1988 and newspapers are ancient history. The media-Internet biz these days is a young people’s game, what with their navel-gazing yet butt-boring blogs, their talismaniacal PodCast iPod YouTube Twit ju-ju voo-doo malarkey that’s deviously designed to disenfranchise the voice of the cranky old fart, an old fart who remembers well when the only cable a young person had came as a pair that you sometimes would attach to the battery terminals beneath the hood of your good-for-crap third-hand 1962 Rambler American ’cause you and the fellas had gone Downtown to sneak into the Princess Theater to catch the latest Russ Meyer motion picture and it was following the climax of Russ’s latest boobathon that it was discovered that the keys to the locked with windows butt-up-tight 2-door rustbucket decided to play hard-to-get, secure with their position in the ignition, that the motor was still running, sort of, that the switched-on headlights were a dim diminutive remembrance of their once-virile virility, and most importantly, the six-pack of Kingsbury that was to be quaffed over a cleavage-critique of Supervixens during the drive home was in the goddamn trunk, unretrievable and—seeing as all that (hold on, I lost my place—why don’t you go have a smoke while I insert a new paragraph).
Anyways like I said, the communication racket via this so-called “social media” seems today to be one for and by the young people and conservatives. And all I can say is “FU.” Maybe it’s time a guy my age ought to think about a second career, and I’m thinking about checking out the greeting industry. Cripes, how hard can that be, to stand at the front door of This-or-That Mart and eyeball the dregs of the hoi polloi as they meander by, so’s to alert security in the event that any one low-brow shopper should appear a little extra nutty.
And you know what? Given mine own legendary celebrity—I once shook the hand of funnyman Louis Nye; in 1969 Chicago, I was party to a nightclub performance provided by Led Zeppelin, Jethro Tull and Savoy Brown for five focking bucks, Jack; with my own eyes from up the block, I saw Bob focking Hope enter the Mason Street entrance to the Pfister Hotel—I may even attract extra customers à la shell-shocked former heavyweight champ Joe Louis when stuck at a casino gateway.
What savvy store manager wouldn’t want a guy like me cooling his heels by the store door, knowing it could mean an extra buck two-eighty in sales of batteries, diapers and cat food per shift-of-mine due to increased foot traffic? Hey, you tell me.
And then I’ll tell you that you don’t have to tell me that the craft of greetings-manship won’t always be one big piece of pie like a cakewalk on the picnic beach. My buddy Little Jimmy Iodine, who has dabbled in the greeting vocation, told me he once worked a joint down by there on South KK when this big-mouth, unattractive plus grouchy gal walked through the entrance dragging two kids and screaming obscenities at everyone within earshot. Jimmy says, “Good morning ma’am. Nice kids you’ve got there. Are they twins?” And this foul-mouth hag says to Jimmy, “Hell no. One’s nine and the younger one’s five. What the fock would make you think they’re twins. Are you blind or just goddamn stupid?” So to make the best of an awkward situation, Jimmy says, “Neither, ma’am. I just can’t believe you got laid twice.” Ba-ding!
Anyways, thanks to constant reader Ingrid/Mae as always, and now I got to go fill out some job applications, so see you around ’cause I’m Art Kumbalek and I told you so.
From: https://shepherdexpress.com/advice/art-kumbalek/wahoopatuli/
Monday, September 10, 2018
A Better Mount Pleasant Sends:
"Mount Pleasant’s millions in borrowing to support the construction of Foxconn Technology Group’s $10 billion factory there have led to a one-notch downgrade in the village’s credit rating over fears that the massive factory may not produce the economic benefits officials had promised."
When the bond rating goes down, the interest rate on the debt goes up and taxpayers pay the difference. The millions and millions of dollars borrowed for Foxconn (in addition the debt the village already has) just got more expensive.
https://urbanmilwaukee.com/pressrelease/the-foxconn-effect-mount-pleasant-bond-rating-downgraded/
When the bond rating goes down, the interest rate on the debt goes up and taxpayers pay the difference. The millions and millions of dollars borrowed for Foxconn (in addition the debt the village already has) just got more expensive.
https://urbanmilwaukee.com/pressrelease/the-foxconn-effect-mount-pleasant-bond-rating-downgraded/
Sunday, September 9, 2018
The Land Speculation Lottery
Dear Village Board,
It is mystifying to me why Mark & Joyce Sonday were paid $800,600 for two acres assessed at $156,000 of (mostly) not needed property in Sturtevant to widen 11 and H. Why was this not left up to WI DOT - who could have just taken what was needed and not cost Mount Pleasant Taxpayers? YOU - the entire group - that's right - YOU - need to stop and think about this - WHAT BUSINESS DOES MOUNT PLEASANT HAVE IN BUYING Properties IN STURTEVANT to WIDEN ROADS? OH! And now you're going to sell the portion you don't need? Perhaps the Sonday's will buy back that unneeded land - but for a discount - right? You are out of control, in overreach, and your actions are questionably legal.
To make matters more interesting is that Mark & Joyce Sonday have a past relationship with your Land Speculation Expert - Attorney Alan Marcuvitz- who acted as their Attorney when they sued Pleasant Prairie CDA and WI DOT. It took years, but the Sonday's eventually won!
"In 2006, an arbitrator awarded Mark Sonday a $3.9 million settlement, ending the condemnation process and giving the family enough cash to move the museum and pay $160,000 in legal fees".
As so succinctly noted by Joyce Sonday:
"Museum owner Mark Sonday has been building his collection over several decades, originally showcasing them at a previous location in Pleasant Prairie Wisconsin (which wife Joyce Sonday now refers to as “Unpleasant Prairie”.) Forced to move due to Pleasant Prairie using eminent domain to clear land for a retail development, the Sonday family became embroiled in a long legal fight to gain fair compensation for the theft of their land by the state".
So too, Mount Pleasant has morphed into “Mount Unpleasant“, and continues to beat and cheat Residents.
The cost for that bright shiny sewer only continues to increase with no relief in sight. Foxconn has changed it's plans - no Gen 10 LCD TV's - and admits it didn't figure in the costs of WI labor. By the end - you will have spent MTP dry - shackled future generations with an unfettered debt service, and be left with crumbling acres of concrete, asphalt, and steel.
Please join Cindy and I is JUST SAYING NO to allowing Governor Scott Walker, Representatives Robin Vos, Cory Mason & MTP President David DeGroot to violate the Wisconsin Constitution (and their Oath of Office) by granting special rights to Corporate interests, stealing people’s property, destroying multi-generational Farms alongside an entire long established Community, loosening environmental protections, permitting heavy metals water pollution, instituting slave labor wages, providing taxpayer subsidies to multi-billionaire Corporations, and politician overreach.
Sincerely,
Tim & Cindy
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