It’s a Monday so I’m clearing some stuff that’s been cluttering up my brain.

It was a slow afternoon after the kids left and the wife was in her Mother’s Day happy place.

When the wife is happy – everything is good.

Because when the wife is unhappy she damn well makes sure I am too.

Being an old reporter I thought I’d drop by the 1-800 Flowers Facebook page to check see how everyone was doing with their mom.

Whoa.
It’s amazing how many people are pissed at that company.

They never delivered a Mother’s Day order for me years ago and I never used them again.

It seems that stuff is still going on with some folks.

I’m surprised it stays in business.

Some selected pictures from some upset people…

They ordered this.                 And say they got this.

Or this.                                    And got this…

My favorite is the flowers that were replaced with the 50 Shades of Grey special.

I wonder if it came with batteries.
Mom must have freaked.

Here’s hoping she had a sense of humor.

Anyone get the idea quality control has gone to hell in this country?

Speaking of countries…Vladimir Putin is the head of Russia.
He’s a trouble causer so I like to see things making fun of him.

Watch this edited video and have a giggle this morning.

Just so I don’t play favorites – here’s President Obama.

Hope you had a nice Mother’s Day.

Don’t be grumpy.
That’s my job.

When I was much younger I caught the attention of the British Government.
Not in a good way.

It decided I was a gangster.
Yes, I have a shady past.

Women love men with shady pasts.

My father was looking at buying an island in the Bahamas and invited me to tag along while he went to his meetings.

Sun, sea, beach, bikinis.

I really was missing Hawaii.

Of course, but I’ll skip the meetings.

So he did meetings and I rented a motorbike to putt around by day and hit the casino and/or bars by night.

I figured when I ran out of money I’d go back home.

So I lived the good life until I was down to my last $50.

Putt-putt over to the casino, plop it down on the Blackjack table and let her rip.

Lose – I go home.

Win – I stay until I’m down to $50 again and back to the casino.

A simple plan is always the best one.

It probably is important to note I never had gambled much and my total knowledge of Blackjack came from a five-minute chat with one of my father’s friends months earlier.

I figured I’d go broke – and out of there – quickly.

I cleaned up.

I walked out of there with a fist full of cash and I was good for another week of the high life.
Down to $50 again – back to the tables.

This went on for six weeks.
It was amazing and I was awesome.

They should make a movie about that.
I’d like Leonardo DiCaprio to play me please.

And the love interest – a short brunette would be nice.

It was like dropping by a bank with my hand out.

Then one night there was a knock at door.

The Bahamian police had arrived.
Three very big gentlemen.

“The government of the Bahamas sends its regards and it’s time for you to leave.”

Seems someone in the Ministry of Whatever decided I was a professional gambler.

This was back when the Bahamas were still under Great Britain and the Queen was the boss.

I can only assume she was not amused by my good fortune.

It was like a bad movie.

Get out of Dodge by noon the next day or I would be arrested and deported.

One officer said, “You can do it the easy way – or the hard way”.
I suppose he’d been watching the same bad movies

But it really sounded weird in a Bahamian accent.

Anyway, If I left they’d skip all that messy fingerprinting and jail stuff.
I’d seen enough bad movies myself to figure out what might be the best path.

10 o’clock the next morning I saved taxi fare by riding in the back of a police car to the airport and they walked me to the plane.

Nice guys.
We shook hands and laughed about how stupid the whole thing was.

I was then thrown out of the country.

Professional gambler.
I didn’t know whether to be proud or bummed.

Decided number one was best.

That ended my life of crime.

Is there a moral to all this?

Of course – women love men with shady pasts.
Except for the Queen.

If anyone still wonders why so many people are buying guns – let me to point to Baltimore as one reason.

If I was living there (which I wouldn’t. But anyway…) I’d be sitting in my living room with a 12-gauge shotgun on my lap protecting my home and family.

There’s too much of this stuff going on.

What the hell is happening?

Actually, let me answer that.

First of all, this is not about what happened to the man that died.
This is about the reaction to it.

A bunch of poorly raised thugs are having a field day breaking things.

I suspect a few of you just freaked out over that.

“Thug” is the new “N” word.

This whole “don’t use that word” thing is getting a bit out of hand.

It’s just a word – and it fits.
Get over it.

Actually, it’s a good word because that’s what they are.

The Rev. Jamal Bryant, and his very expensive suit, availed themselves of some air time Wednesday morning on CNN.

He puffed up his chest and said the President and the mayor are wrong, “These are not thugs, these are upset and frustrated children.”

I’d be proud if he adds me to that list with the President and Baltimore Mayor.

Millions of others too, I suspect.

That climbs to my Top Ten collection of the most ridiculous things I ever heard.

My kids never went out set fires and threw things at police when they were upset and felt like having a tantrum.
They went to their room and sat it out.

Maybe we have a parenting issue.
You think?

He goes on, ” ‘Thugs’ is the 21st century replacement for the n-word. And it is repulsive and it is offensive to every person who is a parent trying to raise children interpreting what’s taking place in this hour.”

What an asinine statement.
To be fair, maybe it was his suit talking and not his brain.

Sorry to pick on the dude – but it’s not repulsive to any parent I know so it certainly can’t be “every person”.

Is this guy the new Al Sharpton?
Or just stupid.

Is there a difference?

If there’s a riot going on and your kid isn’t home – that’s your fault.
If your kid is home but wants to be there instead – that’s your fault.

You need a kick in the butt.

You think any parents of those kids will see these pictures?

You think they’ll do anything?

I don’t have the answer either but I suspect not – otherwise they wouldn’t be out there throwing rocks in the first place.

When I was a kid my mother and hanai parents tried to get me to understand right and wrong.

I think they did a good job.
I least I never got arrested.

I certainly didn’t set fires and loot the nearby 7-Eleven.

Oh, wait a minute.
You say I wasn’t disadvantaged and dirt poor.

Except I was.

And I climbed out of that and so can they.
If they want to and with their parents guidance.

It’s time we stop the great American pastime of blaming everything and everyone else but ourselves for the crap that rains down.

I gotta get back to picking on the wife.
Damn this makes me too grumpy.