George Rucker's Newsletter for August 30, 2016

Well Met, this last Tuesday of August,

I warned everyone, so here come the chicken jokes . . .

I hope one day chickens will be able to cross the road without being judged on their motives. A chicken crossing the road is poultry in motion.

Girl, if you were a chicken you'd be impeccable.

Psychiatrist: What seems to be the problem?
Patient: I think I'm a chicken.
Psychiatrist: How long as this been going on?
Patient: Ever since I came out of my shell.

This is the sort of jokes you will get unless you send me some DUCK jokes!

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Many of you know, especially from my last letter, I was stationed for a few years at North Truro Air Force Station.  I was assigned to a GATR Site just south of the base and above the beach below.  Some might want to know what GATR stands for it is Ground to Air Transmitter and Receiver Site.  Our 90 foot antenna, which I climbed as I drew the short straw, was about 50 feet from the cliff down to the beach.  It was not unusual for us to climb down the cliff to surf fish after work and sometimes during our lunch hours.  We actually had our land line phone run down to the ocean.  From the cliff it was not unusual to see a pod of whales swim by.  The site had the mission which was to control airborne missiles when shot into the air by the 26th Air Defense Missile Squadron located by the Sandwich Gate.  Needless to say none ever were as the military probing by the Russians were always turned away by our own intercepting aircraft.

While stationed there, I became familiar with just about everyone of the year round residents of Wellfleet.  During the early 60s the population was about 800 people, but during the summer it was about 30,000.  Every fourth of July and many times for dinner we would go to the pier in Wellfleet.  The 1887 building at that location was a Laundromat during the early 60s with a large parking lot we would travel there to view the fireworks and bring picnic lunches.

That building and a few others have morphed into a small chain of three seafood restaurants which I think I have overlooked during my stay-cations here on the Cape.  I found a recipe for six that looks outstanding.   I will start with the menus of the three locations, one of which is on the beach so you and your family can grab your food and carry it to the beach.  This beach should be west facing so you can eat and enjoy the sunsets from the Cape.

They claim their lobster is local, fresh and never frozen.  First would be Mac’s Seafood on the Pier, http://places.singleplatform.com/macs-seafood-6/menu?ref=integration.  The second would be Mac’ Shack at the same location with a slightly different menu, http://places.singleplatform.com/macs-shack/menu?ref=integration. And last would be located in Provincetown, Mac's Fish House Provincetown, http://places.singleplatform.com/macs-provincetown/menu?ref=integration


For 6 people:

2 1/4 lbs. monkfish filets (sometimes called the poor man’s lobster)
18 littleneck clams
18 mussels
1/4 cup olive oil
1 sweet onion (one cup chopped fine)
1 small shallot (2 tablespoons, minced)
6 cloves garlic, minced
2 teaspoons smoked pimentón (the sweet, dulce, paprika from Spain)
1 teaspoon red pepper flakes
a few sprigs of fresh thyme or a tsp. dried thyme
1 cup white wine
2 26oz. boxes chopped tomatoes (2 28 oz. cans of whole tomatoes in their juices are fine too)
kosher or seasalt & freshly ground black pepper
a handful of fresh parsley, minced
crusty country bread, toasted
½  cup muhammara (roasted red pepper dip), optional

Warm the olive oil in a large dutch oven or stew pot. Add the minced onion, shallot, and garlic and saute gently for a minute or two until aromatic (don’t let those aromatics brown or they’ll taste bitter). Stir in the red pepper flakes, the pimentón, and the thyme. Add the wine and simmer for just a minute, then add the tomatoes, juices and all. Bust up the tomatoes if you’re using the whole variety.

Let the sauce simmer for a few minutes while you scrub the clams and mussels in cold water. If the mussels have “beards,” just firmly pull them against the shell to cut them off. Trim the membrane off the monkfish, cut it in big, thick medallions or chunks and salt and pepper them very generously.

Drop the clams into the pot first. Next in is the monkfish. If you want to use a restaurant trick for building flavor, whip out a skillet, heat it well, drizzle in a little olive oil, and sear the monkfish to get it nice and caramelized on one side before you add it to the pot. But it works just fine if you skip that step. Either way, once the clams just begin to open, lay in the monkfish pieces and poke them down gently into the bubbling stew. Simmer for just a few minutes, then add the mussels and keep things simmering until the shellfish is open and monkfish is cooked up white and firm.

Serve the stew in big, wide bowls with minced parsley and toasty bread on top.

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17 Signs That You'd Qualify as a Witch in 1692

I found the article not so funny.  If you are interested this is the web site.

Read more at http://www.liveleak.com/view?i=56e_1393772164#uM8mvzVPlWpWTxab.99

Ok, why did I even go to this web site?  Well there was a time in my life, late 20s to early 30s that I read many books on spells and witches.  When bowling, I wore under my bowling shirt, a pentagram on which I had painted onto a T-shirt to ward off evil spirts or threats.  If you know anything about me I am always looking for an edge when bowling or playing darts.  The team was named  “De Luzon Lofters,” also embroidered onto the shirt back was a map of the Phillippines.  Luzon being the main island of the Pacific island group.

Why did I stop reading about witches?  My young daughter became interested in starting her own coven.  The children in my house seemed to like reading from my personal set of books.  She never got the required count of 13 people but was up to eight.  My first wife did not like seeing eight little children wearing white hooded capes, carrying lit candles into the small tree house in the back yard.  She said it creeped her out, but for me it was just humorous.  What would I know as I was already a warlock as I followed the path mentioned in one of the books I had read.  I think I trained them right as they were all white witches, or good ones, at least they were not dark witches, as they utilized different colored candles for the white spells and kept everything in a special chest.  I did have to buy my daughter a small white handled knife.  It looked like a small dagger which she used for their spells.

My son while in the fifth grade was called Doctor Rucker by his teachers as he was found reading one of my college books “I’m OK You’re OK..”  This shows that both children were interested in my collection of books.

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An illegal immigrant who was released by U.S. authorities with a Notice to Appear has been arrested for the alleged murder of a woman and kidnaping of children on U.S. soil. The alleged crimes occurred after the man was released.

The man, Pedro Alberto Monterroso-Navas, entered the U.S. illegally with children and turned himself in to U.S. Border Patrol agents. He was processed and released, as are all illegal immigrants who come as unaccompanied minors or incomplete family units from Central America. The alien is from Honduras.

The arrest was first reported by the Associated Press (AP), but Breitbart Texas has exclusively confirmed that the man was part of the Obama Administration’s catch and release policy for family groups from Central America.

A U.S. Border Patrol source who spoke with Breitbart Texas on the condition of anonymity provided Breitbart Texas with the alien registration number for the man, and the event number for the man’s apprehension. He was processed in the McAllen station of the U.S. Border Patrol. The alien’s registration number is 202027386. The event number for his apprehension is MCS14061487. The “MCS” designates the McAllen station, the “1406” designates that the man was apprehended in June of 2014. A separate Border Patrol source confirmed that the man was apprehended on June 26, 2014 with two children he claimed were his own. He told U.S. authorities he had family in Metairie, Louisiana.

Source: Breitbart Texas read more at http://americanactionnews.com/articles/breaking-illegal-invader-released-from-prison-commits-horrific-crime#3aLLbwZULPf7hpwP.99

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A few examples of why we miss Rodney Dangerfield

My wife only has sex with me for a purpose. Last night she used me to time an egg.

It's tough to stay married. My wife kisses the dog on the lips, yet she won't drink from my glass!

Last night my wife met me at the front door. She was wearing a sexy negligee. The only trouble was, she was coming home.

A girl phoned me and said, 'Come on over. There's nobody home.' I went over. Nobody was home!

A hooker once told me she had a headache.

I went to a massage parlor.. It was self-service. .

If it weren't for pickpockets, I'd have no sex life at all.

I was making love to this girl and she started crying I said, 'Are you going to hate yourself in the morning?' She said, 'No, I hate myself now.'

I knew a girl so ugly... they use her in prisons to cure sex offenders.

My wife is such a bad cook, if we leave dental floss in the kitchen the roaches hang themselves.

I'm so ugly I stuck my head out the window and got arrested for mooning.

The other day I came home and a guy was jogging, naked. I asked him, 'Why?' He said, 'Because you came home early.'

My wife's such a bad cook, the dog begs for Alka-Seltzer.

I know I'm not sexy. When I put my underwear on I can hear the Fruit-of-the- Loom guys giggling.

My wife is such a bad cook, in my house we pray after the meal.

My wife likes to talk to me during sex; last night she called me from a hotel.

My family was so poor that if I hadn't been born a boy, I wouldn't have had anything to play with.

It's been a rough day. I got up this morning ... put a shirt on and a button fell off. I picked up my briefcase, and the handle came off. I'm afraid to go to the bathroom.

I was such an ugly kid! ...When I played in the sandbox, the cat kept covering me up.

I could tell my parents hated me. My bath toys were a toaster and radio.

I was such an ugly baby that my mother never breast fed me. She told me that she only liked me as a friend.

I'm so ugly my father carried around a picture of the kid who came with his wallet.

When I was born, the doctor came into the waiting room and said to my father, "I'm sorry. We did everything we could, but he pulled through anyway."

I'm so ugly my mother had morning sickness...AFTER I was born.

I remember the time that I was kidnaped and they sent a piece of my finger to my father. He said he wanted more proof.

Once when I was lost, I saw a policeman, and asked him to help me find my parents. I said to him, "Do you think we'll ever find them?" He said, "I don't know kid. There's so many places they can hide."

My wife made me join a bridge club. I jump off next Tuesday.

I'm so ugly, I once worked in a pet shop, and people kept asking how big I'd get.

I went to see my doctor. "Doctor, every morning when I get up and I look in the mirror I feel like throwing up. What's wrong with me?" He said..."Nothing, your eyesight is perfect."

I went to the doctor because I'd swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills. My doctor told me to have a few drinks and get some rest.

With my old man I got no respect. I asked him, "How can I get my kite in the air?" He told me to run off a cliff.

Some dog I got. We call him Egypt because in every room he leaves a pyramid. His favorite bone is in my arm. Last night he went on the paper four times - three of those times I was reading it.

One year they wanted to make me a poster boy - for birth control.

My uncle's dying wish was to have me sitting in his lap; he was in the electric chair.

One of my personal favorites, that is not here was, “I didn’t get my Christmas Cards this year until June!  Everyone wrote my zip code in Roman Numerals.

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Just to be sure you are not holding out on DUCK jokes here is another chicken joke . . .

Moral Of The Story

A horse and a chicken are playing in a meadow. The horse falls into a mud hole and is sinking. He calls to the chicken to go and get the farmer to help pull him out to safety. The chicken runs to the farm but the farmer can't be found. So he drives the farmer's BMW back to the mud hole and ties some rope around the bumper. He then throws the other end of the rope to his friend, the horse, and drives the car forward saving him from sinking!

A few days later, the chicken and horse were playing in the meadow again and the chicken fell into the mud hole. The chicken yelled to the horse to go and get some help from the farmer.

The horse said, "I think I can stand over the hole!" So he stretched over the width of the hole and said, "Grab for my penis and pull yourself up." And the chicken did and pulled himself to safety.

Moral of the Story: If you're hung like a horse, you don't need a BMW to pick up chicks.

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Before I run out of space, I better put in this week’s invention that changed the world for mankind.  Rock and roll music’s impact on culture the last half of the 20th century was undeniable, and no instrument was more pivotal to the music genre’s success than the electric guitar.  The instrument works by converting vibrations into electrical sound signals.  The vibrations, or notes, are sent to an amplifier, allowing more people to hear the melody across greater distances.

As music increased in popularity in the 19th century, the size of concert halls also increased to accommodate the masses.  The larger spaces demanded more volume, and the needs of musicians began to change.  The Smithsonian credits the rise of big band music, phonographic recordings and radio with the desire for a louder guitar, At first artists tried megaphones and steel strings to amplify the sound of the acoustic guitar.

The first big breakthrough came in 1931, when George Beauchamp developed a device which a current passing through a coil of wire wrapped around a magnet, succeeded in amplifying a string’s vibrations.  Beauchamp and his partner, Adolph Rickenbacker, created a lap-steel electric guitar called the Frying Pan.  The guitar would rest on a player’s lap as he moved a metal slide along the steel strings.  The musician plucked the strings with his other hand, manipulating the pitch.

The Frying Pan, however, was not an overnight success.  At first shunned by traditionalists, the electric guitar faced criticism that the sound was not authentic.  The mixed reviews coincided with the Great Depression, when few could even afford the new instruments.  Eventually, however, country and jazz musicians jumped to the electric guitar’s defense, praising the louder sound, which was now about to compete with other instruments in an ensemble.

In 1947, designer Paul Bigsby and country singer Merle Travis teamed u on an updated design for an electric guitar, one more similar to today’s version.  In the 1950s, Leo Fender had the first major commercial success, and the Fender guitar influenced a new wave of guitar manufacturing, popularizing the novel design.  The Gibson guitar assisted by guitarist Les Paul as a consultant, emerged as Fender’s biggest competitor in 1952, and as rock and roll took off, teenagers and aspiring musicians used the technology to usher in a new era of music.

Beyond the bedrooms of 16-year-old strummers and the expanded concert hall, the electric guitar also made large-scale open-air performances possible.  Some of our greatest rock stars – Elvis Presley, the Beatles, the Rolling Stones and Jimi Hendrix, to name a few – might never have earned their fame without the electric guitar.  For that achievement, this invention deserves applause.

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Top Ten List of Americas Stupidity. Of course we look like idiots - we are!

#10 Only in America... could politicians talk about the greed of the rich at a $35,000.00 per plate Obama campaign fund-raising event.

#09 Only in America... could people claim that the government still discriminates against black Americans when they have a black President, a black Attorney General and roughly 20% of the federal workforce is black while only 14% of the population is black, 40+% of all federal entitlements goes to black Americans - 3X the rate that go to whites, 5X the rate that go to Hispanics!

#08 Only in America... could they have had the two people most responsible for our tax code, Timothy Geithner (the head of the Treasury Department) and Charles Rangel (who once ran the Ways and Means Committee), BOTH turn out to be tax cheats who are in favor of higher taxes.

#07 Only in America... can they have terrorists kill people in the name of Allah and have the media primarily react by fretting that Muslims might be harmed by the backlash.

#06 Only in America... could you collect more tax dollars from the people than any nation in recorded history, still spend a Trillion dollars more than it has per year - for total spending of $7 Million PER MINUTE, and complain that it doesn’t have nearly enough money.

#05 Only in America... could the people who believe in balancing the budget and sticking by the countrys Constitution be called EXTREMISTS.

#04 Only in America... could you need to present a drivers license to cash a check or buy alcohol, but not to vote.

#03 Only in America... could people demand the government investigate whether oil companies are gouging the public because the price of gas went up when the return on equity invested in a major U.S. Oil company (Marathon Oil) is less than half of a company making tennis shoes (Nike).

#02 Only in America... would they make people who want to legally become American citizens wait for years in their home countries and pay tens of thousands of dollars for the privilege, while they discuss letting anyone who sneaks into the country illegally just magically become American citizens. (probably should be number one)

#01 Only in America.... could the rich people - who pay 86% of all income taxes - be accused of not paying their "fair share" by people who don’t pay any income taxes at all.

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  thought you might enjoy ...

There is a medical distinction between "Guts" and "Balls".   We've heard colleagues referring to people with "Guts", or with "Balls".

Do they, however, know the difference between them?   Here's the official distinction; straight from the British Medical Journal: Volume 323; page 295.

GUTS - Is arriving home late, after a night out with the lads, being met by your wife with a broom, and having the "Guts" to ask:  "Are you still cleaning, or are you flying somewhere?"

BALLS - Is coming home late after a night out with the lads, smelling of perfume and beer, lipstick on your collar, slapping your wife on the bum and having the "Balls" to say: 'You're next, Chubby.'

I trust this clears up any confusion. Medically speaking, there is no difference in outcome; both are fatal.

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I used to think I was just a regular guy, but…

I was born white, which now, whether I like it or not, makes me a  racist.
I am a fiscal  and moral conservative, which by today’s standards, makes me a fascist.
I am heterosexual, which according to gay folks, now makes me a homophobe.
I am non-union, which makes me a traitor to the working class and an ally of big business.
I am a Christian, which now labels me as an infidel.
I believe in the 2nd Amendment, which now makes me a member of the vast gun lobby.
I am older than 70 and retired, which makes me a useless old man.
I think and I reason,  therefore I doubt much that the main stream media tells me,  which must make me a reactionary.
I am proud of my heritage and our inclusive American culture, which makes me a xenophobe.
I value my safety and that of my family and I appreciate the police and the legal system, which makes me a right-wing extremist.
I believe in hard work, fair play, and fair compensation according to each individual's merits, which today makes me an anti-socialist.
I (and most of the folks I know), acquired a fair education without student loans (it’s called work) and no debt at graduation, which makes me some kind of an odd underachiever.
I believe in the defense and protection of the homeland for and by all citizens,  which now makes me a militant.
Please help me come to terms with the new me… because I‘m just not sure who I am anymore!
I would like to thank all my friends for sticking with me through these abrupt, new found changes in my life and my thinking!
I just can’t imagine or understand what’s happen to me so quickly!  Funny…it’s all just taken place over the last 7 or 8 years!
As if all this wasn’t enough to deal with…I’m now afraid to go into either restroom!

See you next week . . .  Remember to Smile,       George

You can see some of my older letters at www.capecod-beaches.com or you can get on my email address by e-mailing me with “letter” in the subject line to grucker@capecod.net