Before I make with the meat-n-'taters of this special installment, please allow me to introduce the rather sexy model I conscripted for a bit of eye-candy:
This blog's "Page 3 Girl" is the old Rock Island Railroad's E8 passenger locomotive #652, done up in her American Bicentennial paint scheme from 1976. Although I'd personally prefer her blue to be Navy rather than Baby, she nonetheless cuts quite the striking and patriotic figure. She's my third-favorite Bicentennial locomotive, just behind my beloved Missouri Pacific's red-white-and-blue duo of # 1776 and 1976. What's more, this year is 100% perfect to feature and celebrate this particular locomotive, 'cause I'm also celebrating a bit of my own Independence for the very first time in almost four years. Yes Friends and Neighbors, I'm finally back on the road towards the total recovery I've been desperately scratching for since the onset of the Malaise in late 2008. I'm still taking baby-steps, but the balance is finally good, and the strides - though small - are nonetheless strong and confident once again.
Thanks to my perverse and warped black humor, I can only hope my Independence doesn't ultimately go the way of #652's Independence; the Rock Island went bankrupt and was totally dissolved in 1980, but the 652 was spared the dread trip to the scrapyard and manages to survive to this day, by the skin of her teeth! Been there, done that, ain't gonna do it no mo'. Ironic as hell that this July 4 finds our country as a whole on the verge of re-enacting the ignominious end of the mighty fine Rock Island Line. Oh I'll do my level best to help fire the boob that resides at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue come November, but I can't help but wonder if it'll be too little, too late. Barry Hussein isn't the only boob infesting DC these days; there seem to be roughly 543 more of them, virtually monopolizing our entire national governing body; "Czars," Cabinet, and myriad hangers-on notwithstanding. And doing a right piss-poor job across the board, IMHO. It reminds me of the ancient joke about the Rock Island, where a distraught passenger says to the station attendant "I have to get to Chicago in the worst way." Without hesitation, the station agent deadpans "SO very sorry, Ma'am. You just missed our last train of the day - and there ain't no worse way to get to Chicago!"
Hopefully for myself and the rest of the country, the message splashed on #652's lovely-but-worn flanks will enjoy a strong resurgence as we go forward into the latter half of 2012 and beyond. I'm not worrying about it or anything else at all, for that matter; I've finally learned the hard way to take everything one day or step at a time, and let the chips fall where they may. Which was precisely the mindset of our distant forefathers who originally mined, minted, and eventually put out on the open market the very word {or concept, to be both correct and specific} proudly emblazoned on #652's sexily-gleaming carbody. Coming full circle? You betcha!!! Y'all don't think I'd actually miss such a unique conundrum now, do ya??? I am an interested observer and commentator, after all. And the Independence I do so enjoy - along with the rest of my 365 million-plus Fellow Babies - er, Citizens - is precisely what gives me the absolute freedom to make my musings and observations, without fear of reprisal. A concept worth fighting and dying for, indeed. Not a totally perfect concept, mind you; we all still need to do our individual bits {and more} to get our homeland going in the right direction again.
Simple fact of life, albeit a rather hard one. For the moment I'm digging it, myself.
Safe and pleasureable Independence Day, One and All.
More shortly..............
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