There's a website entitled wheresgeorge.com. At it, you can enter the serial number of a dollar bill or other U.S. paper currency, then follow their travels.
It helps if you write wheresgeorge.com on the bill and the person who gets it enters its latest location.
I entered about ten bills. Four have been tracked and noted. One of them had a very interesting travel history.
I entered it into the wheresgeorge.com's tracking system on June 5, 2008. The next entry was made Sept. 6, 2009 in Reno, Nev. It had traveled about 1,800 miles during that time.
I also checked for bills that had been entered in the city of G., a nearby community where many of my friends and relatives live. One bill was entered into the system on June 30 of this year after it also had traveled about 1,800 miles.
It was first entered on July 3, 2007, in Corpus Cristi, Texas. The next entry was on May 14, 2009 in Myrtle Beach, S.C. It had traveled about 1,170 miles in a year and 10 months.
The next listed entry was on May 12, 2010, in Bloomington, Ind. the bill had traveled about 560 miles in a year.
Then it traveled the 60 miles from Bloomington to Greenfield in about a month and a half.
Showing posts with label out my way. Show all posts
Showing posts with label out my way. Show all posts
Saturday, September 4, 2010
Friday, March 12, 2010
A Pyramid Of Fat
The last part of the week before and the first part of this week has seen wonderful weather in central Indiana. In fact, it got up to the low 70s Thursday.
Most importantly, no rain fell.
Rain has been forecast, however, today through Sunday, with highs averaging in the middle 50s and lows in the middle 30s.
But most importantly of all is this: No freezing weather is forecast for the next two weeks, and it probably won't return until November, at the earliest.
Since good weather has arrived, I've decided to start walking to lose weight. I'm about 50 pounds overweight for my age and height. My gut is starting to bother me and I need to improve my health
I walked for a while while during the summer of 2008, but didn't keep it up. Some things discouraged me, like the following scene that I will post now.
I walked in the morning when it was cool and I had the time. One morning while I was walking I saw, coming toward me, a guy who's driving one of those mobility chairs.
From the waist up, he was a pyramid of fat.
I guessed that he wasn't out for exercise. Is he out for fresh air? I thought. Hell, for that he could've just rolled out into his back yard and breathe.
Our paths crossed. We nodded, although I didn't know him. We passed each other.
Then I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, that he was giving me one of those goddamn think-you're-better-than-me? glares.
I lived and still live in a small town with a large contingency of Scotch-Irish people from Kentucky, Tennessee and West Virginia: In other words, rednecks. Most of them are either ectomorphs -- thin and wiry -- or endomorphs -- fat and stocky. I've seen a lot of couples who, as they walk side by side, look like the number 10.
They also carry their resentments with them. Some seem as if they have five chips on each shoulder.
Hey, you fat ass redneck bastard, I thought, I may not be better than you now, but I'm trying to be better than you. I'm doing NOW what you should've started doing about 20 years ago, you goddamn bucket of lard.
As I was walking back to my home, I saw that the guy must've went to the local grocery store, because he had a grocery sack full of potato chips and two-gallon bottles of pop, definitely NOT diet.
Most importantly, no rain fell.
Rain has been forecast, however, today through Sunday, with highs averaging in the middle 50s and lows in the middle 30s.
But most importantly of all is this: No freezing weather is forecast for the next two weeks, and it probably won't return until November, at the earliest.
Since good weather has arrived, I've decided to start walking to lose weight. I'm about 50 pounds overweight for my age and height. My gut is starting to bother me and I need to improve my health
I walked for a while while during the summer of 2008, but didn't keep it up. Some things discouraged me, like the following scene that I will post now.
I walked in the morning when it was cool and I had the time. One morning while I was walking I saw, coming toward me, a guy who's driving one of those mobility chairs.
From the waist up, he was a pyramid of fat.
I guessed that he wasn't out for exercise. Is he out for fresh air? I thought. Hell, for that he could've just rolled out into his back yard and breathe.
Our paths crossed. We nodded, although I didn't know him. We passed each other.
Then I noticed, out of the corner of my eye, that he was giving me one of those goddamn think-you're-better-than-me? glares.
I lived and still live in a small town with a large contingency of Scotch-Irish people from Kentucky, Tennessee and West Virginia: In other words, rednecks. Most of them are either ectomorphs -- thin and wiry -- or endomorphs -- fat and stocky. I've seen a lot of couples who, as they walk side by side, look like the number 10.
They also carry their resentments with them. Some seem as if they have five chips on each shoulder.
Hey, you fat ass redneck bastard, I thought, I may not be better than you now, but I'm trying to be better than you. I'm doing NOW what you should've started doing about 20 years ago, you goddamn bucket of lard.
As I was walking back to my home, I saw that the guy must've went to the local grocery store, because he had a grocery sack full of potato chips and two-gallon bottles of pop, definitely NOT diet.
Sunday, August 2, 2009
Evil Bub
It seems like every small town has some interesting, if not strange, characters.
In the small town where I grew up, it was Evil Bub Evans.
His real name was either Gilmore or Wilmore Evans, but he wanted everyone to call him Bub.
That was short for Beezelbub -- also known as the devil.
But when I look back, he wasn't that evil. It was more like he was a jerk -- and a bad one at that.
To many members of his family, he was the relative that no one wanted to talk about unless they had to -- and that was in court and under oath.
He was so bad that he flunked out of Sunday school -- at three different churches.
.
In his high school physics class, he told the teacher that he wanted to split the atom and make a nuclear bomb. "Anything else is a waste of my time," he explained.
Even if no churches wanted him, some let him play on their softball teams, for he was, at the least, decent at baseball.
But he got kicked off a lot of the teams, and even out of some of the leagues.
He used to steal bases. That was against the leagues' commandments.
He also bet on the games and one time, he was caught screwing the wife of the first baseman.
The pin on his ATM card was 666 -- 69.
You've probably seen those change holders at convenience stores, where is you need a penny for change you can take one, and you can leave a penny.
Bub always took the pennies in them.
To suppliment his income, he also sold porn out of his car.
One time, he was parked in his car. A kid walked by. Bub said:
"Hey, kid -- you wanna buy some pornography?"
The kid replied, "No thanks, mister. We don't have a pornograph at home."
He also declared bankrupcy. He told a cousin, with who I keep in touch, that he wanted to sell his soul to the devil, but that the devil couldn't collect on it.
His cousin said, "Bub, you can declare Chapter 7 or Chapter 11, but you don't have much choice when the devil comes. You've already declared Chapter 666."
Bub said, "Shit. I'm gonna try to refi."
His cousin said, "Bub, you ought to change your life when you're on a firstname basis with the folks at the 911 call center."
He also was thoughtless. He once told his cousin that he thought reality television shows were lame.
You'll never guess who came by right at that monent.
It was Stephen Hawking.
He said to Bub, "Hey -- look at me. There's no way I'm going to be running a fourminute mile anytime soon. And if I could get out of his wheelchair, I'd kick your ass."
Instead, Hawking ran over Bub.
In the small town where I grew up, it was Evil Bub Evans.
His real name was either Gilmore or Wilmore Evans, but he wanted everyone to call him Bub.
That was short for Beezelbub -- also known as the devil.
But when I look back, he wasn't that evil. It was more like he was a jerk -- and a bad one at that.
To many members of his family, he was the relative that no one wanted to talk about unless they had to -- and that was in court and under oath.
He was so bad that he flunked out of Sunday school -- at three different churches.
.
In his high school physics class, he told the teacher that he wanted to split the atom and make a nuclear bomb. "Anything else is a waste of my time," he explained.
Even if no churches wanted him, some let him play on their softball teams, for he was, at the least, decent at baseball.
But he got kicked off a lot of the teams, and even out of some of the leagues.
He used to steal bases. That was against the leagues' commandments.
He also bet on the games and one time, he was caught screwing the wife of the first baseman.
The pin on his ATM card was 666 -- 69.
You've probably seen those change holders at convenience stores, where is you need a penny for change you can take one, and you can leave a penny.
Bub always took the pennies in them.
To suppliment his income, he also sold porn out of his car.
One time, he was parked in his car. A kid walked by. Bub said:
"Hey, kid -- you wanna buy some pornography?"
The kid replied, "No thanks, mister. We don't have a pornograph at home."
He also declared bankrupcy. He told a cousin, with who I keep in touch, that he wanted to sell his soul to the devil, but that the devil couldn't collect on it.
His cousin said, "Bub, you can declare Chapter 7 or Chapter 11, but you don't have much choice when the devil comes. You've already declared Chapter 666."
Bub said, "Shit. I'm gonna try to refi."
His cousin said, "Bub, you ought to change your life when you're on a firstname basis with the folks at the 911 call center."
He also was thoughtless. He once told his cousin that he thought reality television shows were lame.
You'll never guess who came by right at that monent.
It was Stephen Hawking.
He said to Bub, "Hey -- look at me. There's no way I'm going to be running a fourminute mile anytime soon. And if I could get out of his wheelchair, I'd kick your ass."
Instead, Hawking ran over Bub.
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