Wow, how we are the same, but how we do differ. I guess not all all of us whackadoodle tinfoil hats think alike.
I grew up in suburbia. You are right that most people in suburbia don't even know the names of their neighbors, let alone talk to them. Later in life I morphed into a redneck. And by golly, I did not think that neighborhoods ak…
Wow, how we are the same, but how we do differ. I guess not all all of us whackadoodle tinfoil hats think alike.
I grew up in suburbia. You are right that most people in suburbia don't even know the names of their neighbors, let alone talk to them. Later in life I morphed into a redneck. And by golly, I did not think that neighborhoods akin to the one you describe existed anymore. That must be quite the time warp.
These days, I avoid suburban housing developments like the plague. They make for the worst sheeple. People there still think it is the late '70's and act as though Jimmy Carter was president. (At least he, allegedly, knew how to grow peanuts.)
Way out here in redneck land, nobody cares where your dog poops or pees. One or two lawns I pass by by are immaculate, and my dog knows they are no-poop zones. (I despise stupid laws, but I do have old fashioned common courtesy and horse sense. Normally my dog bombs lawns that have enough on them already that it is basically fertalizing.)
You do hear the roosters crowing though. Roosters are good. Yeah, they can be annoying, but it is a hearty sign that the chicken revolution is well underway in these parts. I can get brown eggs from my neighbors that are twice the size of the pathetic pale things sold at the grocery for about 2 bucks a dozen. They have been at the price for years. Once, they were twice as expensive as the grocery, now they are half the price.
Speaking of the grocery- it is a family run hole-in-the-all affair where I get my dry goods- flour, sugar, salt, some spices, and butter. I get my meat from a local butcher at the farmers' market. I get my milk-raw- from cows I can watch grazing in the pasture. I have a garden full of lettuce and soon pumpkins. The only hyper-processed food left on my menu is pasta. (I could make my own, but that is time consuming, and at just $.89 a box, it's actually cheaper than the flour I have to use.)
At any rate, I can be sure I'm eating wholesome, local food, and not only God knows what is in that box of Cheerios or Pop Tarts.
I used to drive a Ford Festiva but that got impounded by the Rice County Kansas Sheriff back in 2003. No insurance, no registration, and a drivers licence that expired in 1991. I never played by the rules, but I drove safely, and courteously, back in the day. Put 300,000 miles on that car, rebuilt the engine once, and replaced every bearing multiple times. I also discovered that by gutting the catalytic converter my mileage increased to almost 80 miles per gallon. (imagine filling up in Jacksonville Florida and your next pit stop is Houston, Texas, and the next one after that is Deming, New Mexico.) Turned out the law was doing me a favor. Twas right after that gas prices doubled, then tripled.
Sounds like you have a designer dog. I can hardly afford to feed my dog let alone give her half the crap suburbanites think their pets need. My dog's only toy is a pink puppy Kong that she has nearly chewed in half. But she loves it. She is a husky-border collie mix and I knew, from the time she was a puppy, that she was going to be an absolute train wreck but she was the cutest puppy... you know how that goes...
I do share your disdain of everything law enforcement. My last run-in with the law was when I was cutting up a neighbor's fallen tree (no good deed goes unpunished) and was burning a bunch of green pine branches that were giving off lots of smoke. So the cop claimed I was having an illegal fire. (All he was really trying to do was get my personal information.) It was actually hilarious. I ended up getting falsely arrested, then the cop was not wanting to take me down for "booking" (probably so he would not get laughed at). So he called his supervisor, who called his supervisor, who called the fire department, and, after the fire chief laughed, I got released. But these cops do take themselves seriously, and I suppose the next time I will get shot through the head when I don't pay them homage. But that's okay...
I don;t want to live in America 2.0 ten minutes longer than what God wills.
As far as eating out, forget it. If I have a good income week I can score a tuna hogie at a stand in the farmers' market, but the last time I was "rich" I got cheese and pepperoni pizza for 20 bucks. Definitely not worth it.
Suburbia is everything that is wrong with America. Infrastructure costs, local politicians that see every house as a cash cow, corrupt school boards, neighbors calling the cops if you look like a bum... No thanks.
Just hope yours is the last "development" to burn to the ground. Good riddance.
I appreciate your descriptive sharing of your own experiences, White Wolf. I recognize that your way has lots of advantages. My dog is a pure breed and a diva. But I love her. Thanks.
I love my dog too. The best dog I ever had was not a dog, but my wolf, Nanuk. (He looked a lot like a Siberian Husky. I always called him a Siberian, even though he was more than twice the size of the average Siberian.)
You would have loved Nanuk. He thought the whole world was one big friendly pack. He just could not imagine why any dog would want to growl at him, or anybody hit him.
Even the cops loved him.
I could have been walking during a BLM riot, and not get molested by anyone.
I do look forward to the day when we can view the world the way Nanuk did.
The little pooch that is my avatar was my dog Ping, who died in 2002. In July of 1997, I passed through Yellowstone National Park on my way home from a month long road trip to the East Coast. My leashed dog and I were sitting on the veranda of the lodge, when I noticed a huge canine (which could only be a wolf) on the other end of the veranda. He was eyeing my dog with extreme interest, and making a sound which I realized was some type of prey recognition vocalization. Knowing he could break free of his owner and have my dog by the throat in three seconds...I got out of there pretty quickly.
Wow, how we are the same, but how we do differ. I guess not all all of us whackadoodle tinfoil hats think alike.
I grew up in suburbia. You are right that most people in suburbia don't even know the names of their neighbors, let alone talk to them. Later in life I morphed into a redneck. And by golly, I did not think that neighborhoods akin to the one you describe existed anymore. That must be quite the time warp.
These days, I avoid suburban housing developments like the plague. They make for the worst sheeple. People there still think it is the late '70's and act as though Jimmy Carter was president. (At least he, allegedly, knew how to grow peanuts.)
Way out here in redneck land, nobody cares where your dog poops or pees. One or two lawns I pass by by are immaculate, and my dog knows they are no-poop zones. (I despise stupid laws, but I do have old fashioned common courtesy and horse sense. Normally my dog bombs lawns that have enough on them already that it is basically fertalizing.)
You do hear the roosters crowing though. Roosters are good. Yeah, they can be annoying, but it is a hearty sign that the chicken revolution is well underway in these parts. I can get brown eggs from my neighbors that are twice the size of the pathetic pale things sold at the grocery for about 2 bucks a dozen. They have been at the price for years. Once, they were twice as expensive as the grocery, now they are half the price.
Speaking of the grocery- it is a family run hole-in-the-all affair where I get my dry goods- flour, sugar, salt, some spices, and butter. I get my meat from a local butcher at the farmers' market. I get my milk-raw- from cows I can watch grazing in the pasture. I have a garden full of lettuce and soon pumpkins. The only hyper-processed food left on my menu is pasta. (I could make my own, but that is time consuming, and at just $.89 a box, it's actually cheaper than the flour I have to use.)
At any rate, I can be sure I'm eating wholesome, local food, and not only God knows what is in that box of Cheerios or Pop Tarts.
I used to drive a Ford Festiva but that got impounded by the Rice County Kansas Sheriff back in 2003. No insurance, no registration, and a drivers licence that expired in 1991. I never played by the rules, but I drove safely, and courteously, back in the day. Put 300,000 miles on that car, rebuilt the engine once, and replaced every bearing multiple times. I also discovered that by gutting the catalytic converter my mileage increased to almost 80 miles per gallon. (imagine filling up in Jacksonville Florida and your next pit stop is Houston, Texas, and the next one after that is Deming, New Mexico.) Turned out the law was doing me a favor. Twas right after that gas prices doubled, then tripled.
Sounds like you have a designer dog. I can hardly afford to feed my dog let alone give her half the crap suburbanites think their pets need. My dog's only toy is a pink puppy Kong that she has nearly chewed in half. But she loves it. She is a husky-border collie mix and I knew, from the time she was a puppy, that she was going to be an absolute train wreck but she was the cutest puppy... you know how that goes...
I do share your disdain of everything law enforcement. My last run-in with the law was when I was cutting up a neighbor's fallen tree (no good deed goes unpunished) and was burning a bunch of green pine branches that were giving off lots of smoke. So the cop claimed I was having an illegal fire. (All he was really trying to do was get my personal information.) It was actually hilarious. I ended up getting falsely arrested, then the cop was not wanting to take me down for "booking" (probably so he would not get laughed at). So he called his supervisor, who called his supervisor, who called the fire department, and, after the fire chief laughed, I got released. But these cops do take themselves seriously, and I suppose the next time I will get shot through the head when I don't pay them homage. But that's okay...
I don;t want to live in America 2.0 ten minutes longer than what God wills.
As far as eating out, forget it. If I have a good income week I can score a tuna hogie at a stand in the farmers' market, but the last time I was "rich" I got cheese and pepperoni pizza for 20 bucks. Definitely not worth it.
Suburbia is everything that is wrong with America. Infrastructure costs, local politicians that see every house as a cash cow, corrupt school boards, neighbors calling the cops if you look like a bum... No thanks.
Just hope yours is the last "development" to burn to the ground. Good riddance.
I appreciate your descriptive sharing of your own experiences, White Wolf. I recognize that your way has lots of advantages. My dog is a pure breed and a diva. But I love her. Thanks.
I love my dog too. The best dog I ever had was not a dog, but my wolf, Nanuk. (He looked a lot like a Siberian Husky. I always called him a Siberian, even though he was more than twice the size of the average Siberian.)
You would have loved Nanuk. He thought the whole world was one big friendly pack. He just could not imagine why any dog would want to growl at him, or anybody hit him.
Even the cops loved him.
I could have been walking during a BLM riot, and not get molested by anyone.
I do look forward to the day when we can view the world the way Nanuk did.
The little pooch that is my avatar was my dog Ping, who died in 2002. In July of 1997, I passed through Yellowstone National Park on my way home from a month long road trip to the East Coast. My leashed dog and I were sitting on the veranda of the lodge, when I noticed a huge canine (which could only be a wolf) on the other end of the veranda. He was eyeing my dog with extreme interest, and making a sound which I realized was some type of prey recognition vocalization. Knowing he could break free of his owner and have my dog by the throat in three seconds...I got out of there pretty quickly.
.