Michael e. sedgwick works of michael sedgwick gas news australia

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The minutes in one’s life slip by so quickly and sometimes we foolishly urge them to fly by even faster. duke electric orlando When one calculates how many minutes have elapsed since events important to us occurred, one is forced to wonder if they have been spent wisely. When I think of the minutes I spent in bed as a teenager some weekends, I wish they were available again so I could use them in a better way.

I was born in Portsmouth, England forty-two million, forty-eight thousand minutes ago from the moment I started this memoir. When I was two and three years old, I spent many a night in an air raid shelter in our back garden in the company of my mother and our next-door neighbors, wondering from minute to minute if the bombs intended for the naval dockyard would hit us instead. For some families in our neighborhood, those were their final minutes.

I started school at age five and could already read well. My mother gave me my first book titled Christopher Robin Verses when I was four years or two million, one hundred and four thousand minutes old. I had spent those two million minutes learning to eat, speaking baby babble later followed by more advanced babble, walking, running, reading and writing.

A week after Victory in Europe Day, we had a wonderful party at the school. The tables were spread with all kinds of goodies, some of which we kids had never seen before. The boy sitting opposite me licked his index finger and stuck it in a cream cake to claim it for himself. I didn’t like the taste of the tea in my mug and commented on it to the girl sitting next to me. Many years later, I suspected that evaporated milk had probably been the cause of the unpleasant taste but, at the time, the girl next to me explained, very seriously, that the woman making the tea had added dragon’s blood to it and that’s what had given it the strange flavor. I accepted this explanation completely. In school next day, we were all asked to write an essay—or a composition as they called it then—describing the party. Apparently, I did a good job because my essay was read to the entire school. To my embarrassment, several teachers assured me I would be a great scholar. How I wish that had come to pass! That embarrassment occurred thirty-eight million, six hundred thousand minutes ago.

Upon graduating from college in London, I purchased my first car, a green Austin Healey Sprite coupe. That was thirty million minutes ago. Soon after, I started working for a multi-national manufacturing corporation in Wales, where I met by wife. We were married just over 29 million minutes ago and I must say that I cannot imagine how I could have spent those minutes with more care and attention lovingly bestowed on me. During those millions of minutes we raised a boy and a girl who have matured as two delightfully kind and loving specimens of humanity.

Eventually, I retired from my lifetime manufacturing employer, after a career of nineteen million, four hundred and forty-seven thousand minutes. electricity and circuits test That happened exactly ten and a half million minutes ago and I’ve spent those minutes enjoying the location, weather, amenities, and inhabitants of southern Arizona. The big question now remaining is, “Will I live for enough additional minutes to finish writing my autobiography, and to let everyone know how much I’ve appreciated their kindness, love, and friendship?”

Perhaps it’s been happening for generations and I’m only now aware of it, but I’m disgusted with the shenanigans that have occurred in this 2018 mid-term election, and it appears that the Republication state governments are primarily to blame. This bending of existing laws or creation of new laws/regulations have been aimed at preventing citizens from performing perfectly legal voting under scurrilous pretexts of illegal acts. These misdeeds are made worse in my view because state or federal judges have sat back and watched it happen. In Republican governed states, of course, the judges have no ethical interest in seeing that these misdemeanors are terminated as soon as they start.

The worst example was the situation in Georgia where the Secretary of State was controlling the election and also running for the position of Governor. He was holding back some 30,000 voting applications from mainly minority citizens under the pretext that the names on the applications did not match the names on other legal documents. No attempt was made to prove this allegation or to give the citizens involved the opportunity to prove their legal standing.

In Kansas, the only poling place made available for residents of Dodge City was 30 miles outside town with limited or no public transport available. gas 2015 Again the purpose was clear: to prevent minorities who had difficult or impossible tasks reaching the poling location from casting their vote. Those running the Dodge City election knew that the minorities concerned were mainly if not exclusively Democrat voters.

In my own state of Arizona, there is a close fight between Democrat Krysten Sinema and Republican Martha McSally for the US Senate seat. All was just fine when McSally was ahead, but at the time of writing this blog, Sinema has taken the lead. Wow! We cannot let that happen; it might weaken the GOP strength in the Senate. Accordingly, four county Republican parties are claiming that signatures on thousands of voting forms may not be legal. They filed suit Wednesday to prevent county recorders from trying to verify signatures after polls closed for mail-in ballots.

These are just a few examples of the dishonesty in our elections. We do not need Russian interference to skew election results when we have very successful home-grown efforts at work. We also have the nerve to visit other nations during their elections to act as moderators and assure fairness. This nation has a lot to do to overcome bitter hatred in its citizens and to get back on the road of honesty, fairness, and justice; also to stop poking its corrupt nose into other nations’ domestic affairs.

It really isn’t surprising that some psychotic freak or freaks should send bombs to prominent Democrats when our President deliberately arouses to anger, and potential violence, the mindless fist-shaking mob that gathers around him at his rallies. Today, President Trump used his all-too-usual hypocrisy to decry the bombing as unacceptable political violence when he is the most prominent person in the nation to frequently promote violence in an indirect way.

The latest example: at a campaign rally in Missoula, Montana, Trump told the wildly enthusiastic crowd that Democrats were financially supporting the 4,000 caravan of Central American refugees on its way to the U.S. “Go into the middle of the caravan, take your cameras and search. Okay? Search. . . . You’re going to find MS-13, you’re going to find Middle Eastern, you’re going to find everything. You have some very tough criminal elements within the caravan. But I will seal off the border before they come into this country, and I’ll bring out our military, not our reserves. I’ll bring out our military.” This speech, unsupported by fact and containing inflammatory code words, was pitched to increase voting support for Republicans by stirring mob anger and aiming it at Democrats.

Sometimes I think events in my short life, which began full of promise, have almost knocked the stuffing out of me. I say full of promise because Sally made me in her workshop from the very best materials, and since her business was making and selling furnishings for patios, pools, and gardens, I imagined the prospect of a life of ease: lying about in the fresh air and soaking up sunshine by the pool behind her workshop. wd gaster theme You’re probably thinking that sunshine is not good for a cushion on a permanent basis, but I was handmade from Sunbrella acrylic fabric, and guaranteed for ten years, so it was a good feeling. I was made as a chaise lounge cushion, and you may be unaware that we chaise cushions have a male gender. Sally was an attractive woman with a good figure, and when I saw her in a swimsuit one day, I decided that her nestling up against me was an additional benefit that I hadn’t foreseen.

Alas, how wrong can one be? Soon, she placed me on a lounger frame in her showroom. On Saturday morning, promptly at opening time, the showroom door was flung open and the noisy Glum family entered. The family included a ten-year-old boy, nicknamed Blubber, with dirty pants and boots, and his teenage sister, Frantic, who was wearing five-inch heels and drinking Coke from a plastic cup. I was right to expect trouble. Each member of the family wanted to try every piece of furniture, and sit on every cushion, in the showroom. The boy was one of those kids over whom the parents have no control. He jumped on me and wriggled around, wiping his dirty boots all over my pristine fabric. gas unlimited houston texas In a lifeless, bored voice with the authority of a neutered mouse, his father said several times, “Don’t do that Blubber” while continuing to test the destructive limits of a rocking chair. When the wretched Blubber got bored and went off to see how high he could raise all the patio umbrellas, his sister collapsed on me and dripped Coke in several spots on my pillow while digging her stiletto heels into my fabric.

On Sunday, in my new home, Mr. Glum invited his parents, Fred and Nellie, to join them for a barbecue supper. Fred and Nellie Glum spotted the new lounger as soon as they entered the back yard, and jostled each other in their eagerness to try it. Fred Glum won. He probably weighed in the neighborhood of 275 pounds, making breathing very hard for me, so I was relieved when he discovered a lounger is unsuitable when one needs an endless supply of Budweiser. It’s difficult to gulp greedily while lying down. His stick-thin wife, Nellie, with a fixed, vacant expression, replaced him as he staggered to his feet. I took a deep breath, but only just in time before discovering she had a gas problem, a very noxious gas problem.

As soon as they had moved, Tiddles the Glum’s cat, crept out of the house, surveyed the scene, and decided that a new, yellow sun lounger would be eminently suitable as his new home. Since then he stores the occasional dead mouse or bird on me. Except when Blubber wants to use me as a trampoline, or his sister to transfer sun-tan oil from her body to mine, Tiddles asserts his supremacy.

For the first summer, Mrs. Glum used to grumble about cat hair on me, and clean me with a stiff brush or hold me by one end and whack me hard with the back of it. After that first summer, however, I was forgotten and left outside in wind and rain, with dead leaves collecting on me — not the fun life I had imagined. Now, however, I’m on my way to the local thrift store where an exciting new life awaits me!