The Native Iowan

Been attempting to post herein but tech-issues have plagued.

I post this as a test…

Smiles

It’s a nice Wednesday morn here. Temps as high as 32c/ 90f. A nice breeze moves the air. The sun is bright, the pavement is quite hot, and its only about 10am.

I have successfully completed all house-keeping chores here at the Palmwoods Ranch. The full property has been mowed and tidied up. The big winds and storms from last week threw a large amount of branches and dead-fall about. All is clean and organised and shall be good for another week or two. Or until our next thunder storm.

I’ll hop in the Ural later in the day, run down to the farm for a couple weeks of solitude and bovine therapy. Joe has to drive south to NSW and visit his elderly mother. With almost 70 head of cattle, two dogs and two puppies, the farm requires daily attention.

It’s a type of attention that makes me feel good, it makes me hapi, it makes me feel useful… In the last 6 weeks we’ve had 7 calves born. In this calendar year we have seen 26 cows produce 30 calves. This means that 4 of our cows dropped newborns in January and then again in November. Tells me we have very good, productive cows and a very good and active bull.

I dig the shit outta the Animal-Husbandry side of farming. In our first 18 months of farming we’ve had a cow die during birth, and another 2 other calves die from complications. We’ve sold and bought cows aiming to get good stock. We’ve sold some that we bought and moved on some that were old or not prime.

Our herd now is very, very positive. Very productive.

So, as I sit, prepare to shift down to the farm for a week or so, I have the bluez on and am watching the impeachment hearings. I’m watching as Volker and Morrison get grilled. I watch as the DNC led hearing sets verbal traps for the witnesses. As they ask entangling and convoluted questions. Noting well that a misstep can lead to a life destroying perjury charge.

It’s a costly and time wasting farce.

How come the general electorate does not cry FOUL! Instead of playing these BS games why don’t we legislate, do some work, get something honest and productive accomplished.

And the beat goez on…

Some Picts from recent adventures…

Gotta love shiny old Trumpets…

1950

1959

Gracie out in the rain swinging her bush knife…

Took the boys out for supper in Toowoomba…

GG enjoying the pool…

More later

I speak to those of my faithful followers who recall the Sea King restaurant in Honiara. Of course the Sea King has a couple different incarnations over more than 3 decades. Down by the Yacht Club, briefly across Mendana Ave, The big garish place by the Mataniko Bridge.

But no matter which Sea King you remember, you will remember the hot n sour soup. Nothing compares to it. It never changed. I had an image of a steaming cauldron of H&S soup ever cooking in the back.

I have found a place that replicates my memory of the H&S soup very well…

http://creasian.com.au

Gracie and I found this place by accident earlier this year. Today I woke up and rode my BMW R1200RT over 500ks, for over 5 hours for this… and its worth it.

And the girls here as killer…

If you’re ever any where near Coffs Harbour, do your self a favour.

Smile

OK, been a while. A lot of note taking place. A lot to think about, ruminate upon, and even – yes, for you 60s n 70s folks- to Grok.

Impeachment with out due process.

The Deep State is now revealed as a “positive”… They are patriots. “They Know Best”.

The selling of political influence is commonly sanctioned. It’s just part of doing business. We’re too busy to worry about it.

Early summer in southern hemisphere = GLOBAL WARMING!!! Early winter in northern hemisphere = GLOBAL WARMING!!!

The glaciers are melting! The glaciers are melting…

Open boarders, Come one, come all… free stuff for new comers, medical, abortions, sex changes… we’re open for business.

I see at least three standards/ levels of compliance: 1) Elites, 2) Protected minorities, 3) the Average Joe.

You be Elite and you are all but exempt from the laws.

You be any way, bit, form, or part a Protected Minority and we’ll throw the rules and reg and laws out the window. Cross the boarder. Claim state-sponsored subsistence… VOTE FOR US.

I’m kinda disgusted. Kinda tired. And do not see the attraction is a nonfactual, politically motivated future. There is a lot of BULLSHIT floating about…

Are we so degraded mentally and spiritually to NOT wish to maintain some semblance of control on our own future? Our own destiny?

But what worry… we’ll all be dust in 12 years… or is it 10, now?

Only print or discuss the “NEWS” that suits THE agenda. Don’t talk about the positives. There are none. Dig up the dirt, then accuse them of being dirt-diggers…

Mike’s thoughts in as few words as possible: Wars are bad, but often necessary. Boarders are good and very necessary. Citizenship and Nationality is something to be valued. Not degraded. All people elected to any political office is unworthy of the office. All elected entities are only concerned with their next re-election to office. Without the masses there can be no leaders.

How well can you say “MOOOO”?

We have rain here in Queensland. Not everywhere and never enough, and often too much. I live in a land of contrasts. I live in a world of contrasts.

And the beat goez on…

Morel later

It’s a rainy Saturday here in Queensland.

The rain is very good, very needed. We’ve been in drought since July. Only had one decent rain in the over 3 months. And we’re the lucky ones. There are areas of Aus that live in perpetual drought. Australia is a desert.

So I am sitting in my comfy recliner, wrapped in a granny-blanket, watching the bluez, listening to the latest goings-on and misdirections and prestidigitation.

The apologetic, self proclaimed victims that make up the DNC candidates makes me wonder what has happened. Where did it all go sideways?

I was planning to deliver my last two “rebuilds” to my buddy, Genius Jim at Blacktop Moto works… http://www.blacktopmotorcycles.com.au

I am an non-repentant Brit-Bike ol fart. Over the past 10 years I have collected and rebuilt (or am rebuilding) eight machines. These are the last two to go into Jim…

But the weather has delayed me. I don’t want to risk these machines, A stunning 51 TR6/ 650 and a very rare XR75 Hurricane. Both not easy to replace so I’ll hold off.

Jim recently got my 57 Royal Indian running…

Here’s a very cool 62 Norton Dominator… a machine that made us all wet our pants when we were young… known as the Snortn Norton… it was a beast… still is a beast…

Where was I… on this rainy Saturday… Oh yea, watching the bluez… and being nostalgic…

I was a young liberal, a DNC door knocker, vehemently anti-republican. Pro- Civil rights, pro-abortion, pro-legalisation of pot, anti-the tax man, anti-conscription… probably anti about more things than I was pro.

When did this all change? For the DNC and for me.

For me I went from being vehemently anti-republican to being vehemently anti-political. I have interacted with and played in political sand-boxes. I have been altruistic. I have spent a lot of time and energy looking for the political Mr. Right (Ms Right?). All ways open and optimistic that such was a reality.

I have irrevocably changed.

The DNC may not have changed all that much. Perhaps I have learned to see through the slight of hand. Have learned to identify the BS within the rhetoric?

I do think that I agreed with the DNC for ages… I read the liberal publications, agreed with the liberal view points and watched and listened as the liberal leaders used and abused their privilege and position. Just like I had accused the conservatives.

Since WWII… Since the beginning of the current economic era, since the end of FDR and The New Deal, we have had 13 duly elected presidents. The Donald is lucky #13. Prior to The Donald we have had 6 DNC and 6 RNC leaders.

I am a child of the 60s and the 70s. I was “there” in the heady days of green-army coats festooned with peace patches and McGovern badges. We made posters that said “make love not war”. We sang “we shall come” and “blowing in the wind” as we stood and marched in front of heavily armed police and National Guard. I remember when Kent State became infamous.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kent_State_shootings

The song we marched to told us, “Tin soldiers and Nixon coming… four dead in Ohio”…

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TRE9vMBBe10

I knew many returned from Nam guys. Some are still alive. Many had returned broken and terminally sad and sickened by life. Many died by choice. Many were simply reckless with their life and died accordingly: Accidents, mishaps or tragedies. Tragedies they were all.

I had marched for, sang for, protested for change. For an end to wars and racism and political lying and… well, I guess we all were looking for something unattainable.

And the beat goez on…

Its a nice overcast Thursday here in Qland. Up and running early. A fair bit to get done. Weather is perfect for 2wheelz.

2wheelz is guuuud.

I am going to write about two dear friends, and my most recent ink-addition…

By ol amigo, Vas Eliopolous, now Dr. Eliopolous, used to make us laugh with stories of med-school, training and mishaps. One of the things I recall laughing about was his tales of erroneous bed-side-manner. He told tales of Practitioners misreading patients and saying things that either caused alarm or confusion. Vas was a good mimic and could do the voices and facials well. He was a one-man stand up routine.

A few days ago I showed up at my Ink-Masters’ house for my first session in ages. My last couple attempts at body-art saw me wimping out. Tapping out early due to the pain. This session was to be my recently into the realm of offering myself as a canvas for a master (or mistress) artisan.

Check out https://www.artselemental.com…

You’ll see Tu and Ify on the front page. And get to see some of their amazing art.

I carry a fair amount of their work. For ten years I’ve been getting whaled on. More by Tu than by Ify… both arms, chest and back, legs and right thigh… belong to Tu. My neck and left leg carries Ify’s work.

So I’m going in to reconnect. To get back into the ink-thing, and to commemorate my affliction with totality. My ol-fart need to chase The Eclipse. To bask in the murky dusk of an absent sun.

Once you catch an eclipse you’ll understand…

I planned my new ink with Ify… sun in left palm, moon in right palm… totality on the back of right hand. Made sense to me and was eager to DO IT.

So I rock up. It’s always great to visit Tu and Ify’s home/ studio. They have great kids, always extra family around, and a positive vibe they share with poise and grace.

So I rock up, give hugs, grab the 3yrold, start catching up, and Ify says, “You know what you’re in for today? It’s really going to hurt. You ready for this?”.

Damn! I said to Ify that I loved her bed side manner.

Sure, we know all ink is less than fun. I equate ink to beating your hand with a hammer… sure feels good when you stop.

And Ify goes on about how bad the hands are to ink. How much it all hurts. She states, “I cringe to think of it.”.

Well damn!

Did I say damn?

So we do the inking. It do hurt like hell. But we chat and gossip and a few hours later its done and I am happy.

Whaddya think…

Sun…

Moon…Totality…

I tip my hat to the Ink-Mistress. And thank both Tu and Ify for sharing their vibe.

Big smilez

More later

Golly,

Golly! Time sure flies… sitting in QLD, in the middle of a drought, with teens home for school for 2 weeks, as seasons change, and my shoulder heals.

As long as I cook heaps of meat daily, the teens are happy – and even useful. Both are big and strong and actually do a lot to contribute, all in all.

Been on the farm, then back at the ranch. Two teens and two toddlers. Both a challenge. Neither easier than the other. Both a pain in the arse. The teens useful, the toddlers cute.

Back to the farm tomorrow. Without the toddlers.

So I sit, I sit and listen:

I hear the breeze. It’s not enough to ring my Mr. Frog wind chime

Funny how old meaningless things can mean so much. A ten-dollar wind chime I have repairs many times. 10 years old, and a valuable possession. It’s quiet today/ right now.

But the wind, but the wind, I hear it distinctly. The palms rustling, the trees talking. Too early in the eve for birds to be active. A few solitary calls. No mating and ruckus stuff like the doves and kookaburras have been of late. They hang around and make one hell of a fuss. The males preen and sing as the female plays hard to get.

The sky is powder blue with non-promising clouds. Thick grey-ish clouds but I don’t feel moisture in the air.

We need rain.

And the beat goez on…

More later

This is going to be a tale of an old-fart. An old-fart’s tale…

I think back in time. when I was still a “working-stiff”. Up in the morn, to work by a set time, a morning of bizzyness, a lunch of some sort- often liquid, an afternoon of more dizziness, head home at a set time, call into the local watering-hole, homeward after a set amount of lubricative sedative, family, n home and supper and shower and bed… then up in the morn again.

I cranked and wanked for a solid 30 years. I wore a uniform. Had hours and responsibilities and, as a business owner, I had bills and loans and debt and commitments. Monday – Friday was standard, with at least a half day on Saturday, and usually a quiet Sunday afternoon in-office catching up and closing out.

My job description was never distinct. I never got paid by-the-hour.

In the 90s I was lean and hungry and never said, “…no, I cant”, ever. My commercial loan applications were wonderful works of fiction.

In the new-century… As I was pushing 50, my business had grown, my debts and commitments increased, my schedule cranked and wanked more, and more. Bank-managers/ Wank-managers called me up and invited me out and negotiated for my business. I had good suits, and a bizzy schedule, and flew dizziness class, and had a damn good time of it all. Ended up with over 250 employees.

I “retired” as 2011 rolled around. At that time my routine completely changed. As retired-ol-fart there is no frenetic, demanding routine. Of course there is a routine but its not set-in-stone, or demanding, or penalising like before. What ever routine you have as an ol-fart is of your own making.

I gave up going to the pub and starting drinking at home. I decided I preferred my own cooking so gave up going out at all. My suits go unworn.

I found I normally woke earlier and worked harder once retired. I cultivated hobbies and rekindled old joys such as family and cultivation and dogs and things that shine and go real fast.

One of the things I recall from about 2005, when I was still kicking-arse and taking-… business-names… going into the Point Cruz Yacht Club (PCYC) in Honiara after work…

I’d buy my first liquid-sedative and slide up to what was notoriously referred to as “Table Number One”.

It took me a couple decades to graduate to Table Number One. From the lowly Volunteer, to the young-bloke trying to make a go in business, to the heard-of but still enigmatic Yank-from-the-West, to the guy who owed heaps to all the banks and was known by all.

Table Number One was reserved for the Old-Boys. The Bankers and Wankers and Managers and Accountants and Lawyers… And those business-dudes who owed enough to be impotent.

I was a young-bloke in the old-bloke clique.

So, one day as I dump my first brew down my throat, as I listen-in to the conversation that’s already started, I have a very clear thought… I bang my bottled-brew on the table and say in aloud voice, “Stop It! You guys are talking about your last doctor’s visit, about your next appointment. Stop it. What about fast cars and loud engines and beautiful boats and daring exploits and good looking women and , well, what about talking about fun stuff? Interesting stuff?”.

The collective of ol-farts looked at me for moment, pensively puffed their fags, sipped their quickly warming brews, then returned to their previous conversations.

Today’s story is one of an ol-fart feeling pretty damn good…

I’m 5 weeks and 3 days out from shoulder replacement surgery. And I feel pretty damn good. I’m done with appointments and rehab and physio. I feel pretty damn good.

It’s a hapi-ol-fart tale.

Smiles

It’s about 330am on the 6th of August. I lie ‘in a hospital bed, watching ol-Skool music vidz. I type this one handed. My other hand is in a sling, still numb from the nerve block I was given about 12 hours ago.

I’m surprised how good I feel. Considering they took a saw to my bones, I’m feeling no real pain. I’m sure it’ll come but feeling and movement in my hand has returned. I’m impressed.

The worse discomfort comes from being in bed so long. My butt aches.

But the shoulder feels pretty good.

There is the required IV in my right arm. A tube blowing oxygen wrapped under my nose. My left arm is in a sling and as the numbness wears off my thumb is what hurts a bit. Both legs below the knees are wrapped in pneumatic leggings. A small compressor alternately compresses one leg then the other. The damn compressor is quite noisy. Have morphine on tap but don’t need it. I think I’ll try a zap an experiment… there, l just pushed the little button, lets see what the effect is…

I am not a fan of hospitals. Have not been hospitalised since I burst an ear drum at the age of 13/14. But I guess this is all is part of ageing?

I’d like to think I could get out of here tomorrow.

Time will tell.

No noticeable effect from the morphine…

More later

It’s Sunday eve here.

My normal Sunday post is about “Sunday coming down”.

Not today. I didn’t really do much of anything today. I sat in anticipation of tomorrow. Watched a bit of TV. Interacted with the kids and family. But nothing I did was of “the coming down” nature I often write about.

I’m Fixn’ at packing my bag to check into the hospital tomorrow. I’m going in to get my shoulder replaced.

My years of use and abuse have caught up with me. My active and oft times daring/foolish lifestyle has seen me beaten and battered and cut and abraded and injured, way too many times.

The left shoulder has suffered a lot. I kinda think its because my right side is my dominant/ strong side. Or maybe because of the big arsed steel davit that fell on me in about 1991 and landed square across that shoulder? Or that the seat belt in the car I totalled in 2001 ran left to right. Or…

I’ve had Doctors and Insurers ask me how I got injured. I answer “which time?”.

Wuz it when I jumped off a cliff in the 70s and attempted to stop my downward momentum by grabbing a root sticking out of the soil? I felt my shoulder go “snap”. Or when I fell under a telephone-pole sized mangrove post I was carrying with a bunch of students at Choiseul Bay? Muddy ground, big arsed pole, a bunch of kids smarter than me who tossed the pole away as we fell. I had to hang onto it and take the thumping. Or when I had a big steel davit collapse under my weight in the early 90s and land square across me? I was pinned under water for a while but managed to wriggle out from under the over 500kgs of weight. Or the totalling of my new Mustang in 2001? I viciously T’d a van and got even more viciously restrained by my seat belt. Or the near death experience on my Trusty Triumph riding from LA to SanFran in 2015? At 70+mph I hit a lump of timber and my bike flew into the air. I managed to keep it all together but the landing sent a shockwave up my arm and into my shoulder.

All these tales are kinda funny. Each left me sore and bruised. But it’s just in recent years that I’ve succumbed to the damage. I’m running bone-on-bone and it hurts all the time. ALL The TIME! Sleep isn’t assured, complete, nor painless. So I went to see the Saw-Bones.

My life has been a hoot, I don’t regret any of my bad choices or mishaps or accidents. I’ll be the first to admit its been one hell of a party and to have held together for over 60years without crippling myself more, is a miracle of sorts, but… BUT…

I’m pretty beat up, generally, my shoulder is shot. I need to go in for repairs.

This what the repair work looks like…

They reverse the ball and socket. A combination of titanium and metal. My first step into being bionic.

My first step into being an offical ol fart.

And the beat goes on…

More later

I am agitated. I am paying attention to US-Politics, listening to the DNC dog-n-pony show they call a debate. It is a variety show. A reality show. It is as important as “American Chopper”. And less entertaining.

There is so much to say about it all: How its nothing but the commercialising of the political “scene”. It’s more about “ratings” than any single thing of substance. That the “candidates” are all puppets. Marionettes. Unpolished actors. All wannabe, gonnabe gods. All are hypocrites.

Call me harsh.

One thing does make me happy: I see the Electorate becoming more astute. I believe that the current confusion in the Political Venue is a symptom of the Electorate becoming more aware. The Electorate has been in a decided malaise for some 50-odd years. Perhaps the world is too distracting or too much fun, for folks to be interested in the Political Venue.

I believe that the election of DJTrump to the Highest Office In The Land is a direct effect of the Electorate’s Awakening.

I hear you scoff. Make no doubt, I am no fan of DJTrump, or any other modern day politician. I believe all are cogs in the corrupt and biased system. Any individual who seeks Office has no hope of NOT being drafted into the corruption and misuse and abuse. Abuse of the System by the Elite.

The last election cycle was very much suppose to be a continuance of Control of the System by the anointed ELITE. Clinton represented the ELITE. The entrenched ELITE practices and prestidigitation that has kept the Masses entertained for decades.

But the Electorate saw through the Kings New Clothes. The entrenched ELITE was rejected. Both DNC and RNC.

And we got DJTrump.

I am so pleased that the ELECTORATE became aware. The great and powerful OZ, is not.

Campaign Promises are nothing more than bate to the schooling fish who are the Electorate. Chum the water in the right way and you attract the right fish, the targeted vote… Promises of citizenship for all illegal aliens is a powerful elixir. Free medical. Wow! Forgive student debt; if you never took a strident loan, this would not attract you. If you’ve (like me) paid your student debt, I doubt you’ll support. BUT! There are a whole bunch of people within a wide selection of ages whom is attracted. Reparations. I wonder if they do forgive student debt, can I claim reparations for the debt I paid off? Gun reform. Abortion. Education. Climate. Foreign Affairs. So much of import.

I listen to the rhetoric: Could be… If we… I think… Definitely maybe…

A Hundred Years Ago: The average person managed much less information. They were less informed/ exposed. But they were not less intelligent. Their understanding of their world was very astute. When I read a news paper from 1919, I note a vocabulary not seen in the modern press. I feel more intelligent when I read old papers.

I believe there has been a “dumbing-down” of the population. The dumbing-down of the Electorate.

And this is coming to an end, or so me thinks.

And this makes me happy.

Smiles

I am struggling with these sanctimonious arseholes who live in mansions with armed body guards and an elite lifestyle, preach about the inequality between wealthy and poor. They make me want to vomit! They all have sob-stories and act like they give a shit.

DO NOT BE FOOLED…

Just checking the net worth of the numerous 2020 candidates that have announced to-date. A quick check and I get this:

https://www.opensecrets.org/2020-presidential-race/financial-disclosures-and-net-worth

Lets see… We know Trump is worth a whole bunch. He likes to tell us such.

Biden is wealthy. He’s been in formal elected office since before Noah sailed the briney blue and has accumulated up to 25mil in personal wealth. He was first elected to office in 1973.

Corey Booker is only worth a measly mil. But he has been in the halls of elected elite only six years.

Bullock is worth 2mil. Has been in elected office for six years.

Butigeig is a pauper in comparison. Has held office for seven years.

Castro only worth half a mil. Has been in various political offices for ten years.

De Blassio we know is a mega-dude. Has been an inside player for ever. And probably the worse Mayor NYC has ever elected.

Delaney is at 200mil. Been in office for six years and a player for ever.

Gabbard only half a mil. Been in office six years.

Kampala Harris is worth up to 6 mil. Only been in office two years but has been a player for quite a while.

Hickenlooper is a known mega-dude. Has been a player forever and elected to office for over eight years.

Inslee is worth a solid mil. Been in a lot of elected positions for almost 30years.

Amy Klobochar up to 2mil. Been a player for ages and elected to office for over 20years.

Moulton claims to be. A pauper . Been elected to office for over 4 years.

O’Rourke up to 16mil. Been elected to office past 6years.

Bernie is a solid millionaire. Been in elected office and a player (of sorts) since 1991.

Warren is worth 11mil. Been elected to office past 6years.

Weld claims to be a pauper. Has been a player for ever and in elected office for over 20years.

Williamson’s is worth up to 2 mil. Not a political player. An author and activist.

Yang is worth put to 2 mil. Has been in elected office for 2years.

I met a most extraordinary human this past week. The sorta person that is a living role model to all, and a hero in the making.

But first, I need to decompress a bit. I’m just back from a few hours of driving. Went to watch Mendoza play rugby. It was an interesting trip…

On the road by 10am for a 12noon game. The location is “the-other-side-of-Brisbane”, so we need to either drive through or under the city. Under is my preference.

Brisbane has a very usable system of tunnels. A few weeks back the GPS took us around the tunnels (tolls- switch was on) and it was a major drama. So today I successfully evaded the GPS desires, made the tunnels without drama, then hit a very big delay. A truck had overturned at a major intersection. It cost us an extra half hour to navigate the matter. Lots of impatient drivers.

So we arrive at the venue, almost on Time. There are no less than six playing fields, all busy. Grace runs to the pit-stop and I survey the fields looking for M. It’s hard to determine where he is with teams playing and teams warming up and at rest. As I look he walks up behind me.

His game had started early and he’d been tacked and cracked a rib within the first few minutes. He has ice on his ribs and is moving slow. He was going to catch the next available bus back to school. We had brought a couple bigmacs and fries and drinks for him, he’s always hungry, which indeed makes the trip worthwhile. And such it ends, without seeing him play, we headed back home.

So Saturday’s traffic was OK, for a Saturday. We got home about 2pm. It’s sunny and warm but will chill-off quickly as the sun sets. Within an hour and a half it’ll be winter again.

I decided to get my buggered shoulder repaired. I am told (and shown) that the ball and socket joint of my shoulder is running bone on bone. Of course I know this. I can feel the grinding when I move my shoulder. It has been sore and getting worse for a few years. I’ve decided to get it sorted. I’m tired of being half-disabled. I miss being strong.

Australia has a very usable socialised medical system. Doctors are good, facilities are good, medical support and research is great. Wait times are minimal. Availability of specialty services is extreme. Any new radical process – or old well know process, is readily available.

The system is even easier for me because I pay-to-use. All medical service here falls under some form of a government sponsorship. Not for me. I dont get any benefits. I am not a citizen nor am I a permanent resident. I was allowed to retire here noting well I could expect zero benefits from the CommonWealth.

I have no problems with this. The services are great, and because I pay-to-use, I dont have to hassle with insurance or government entitlements.

It is in this search to have my buggered shoulder repaired that I found Dr. Bernard Tamba-Lebbie. http://www.tambamed.com/whoweare.html

Amazing tale. A very positive, pleasant person. He’d had Peace Corps Volunteers teachers when he was young. I assumed such and mentioned my PCV past. We are good buddies now.

It all happened so fast…

After deciding to seek treatment, going to a GP for directions, within two weeks I have a specialist I feel good about, and a date to be knocked out and cut open. A complete shoulder replacement.

I’m going to ask for the ball part of the bone they’ll need to cut off. I’ll use it as a shift-nob for the Shelby…

Smiles