With election day USA drawing closer, we feel it is about time to haul out our Non-Sense Party platform, maybe hammer on another plank or two, and see if it flies. Or swims. Or runs. Whatever the devil it is party platforms are supposed to do. Barring that, we have decided that we don't really want to run a country that is morally, spiritually, and especially economically bankrupt anyway. So we'll wait for 2012.

Granted, this a risky strategy based largely on the assumption that Obama won't win and that even if he does win, he won't be able to reinfuse the American people with hopes and dreams and aspirations no more than he will be able to figure out how to dig the country out of the hole Bush will be leaving behind, but we think it is a sound strategy. We figure four years of that will be enough to discourage even so strong and motivated an optimist as Obama and have him saying, "why the heck did I want this job anyway? Stuff it! I'm going back to being a community organizer."

If McCain wins, despite the Palinesque appeal of his running mate, we figure this strategy will pay off big time for the simple fact that a party offering three candidates for the price of two is going to look like a downright bargain. And by then the US is going to need every bargain it can lay its hands on.

By then too, our party figures the American voters will be saying, "hell! They can't be any worse than what we've had. Might as well give 'em a shot."

We just hope the shots are of Maker's Mark and not of Meet-Your-Maker lead.

Meanwhile, we will just have to cross our collective fingers and pray that people turn out in droves - or turn out however they can get to the polls - or send in their votes by mail -whatever it takes to insure that registered non-voters do not exceed the number of voting voters because remember, a non-vote for anyone else is a vote for Non-Sense.

(Folks with long memories may recall that Mister Ornery is a budding - some would say, blighted - gardener. His past foes have included Heidi the dreangea and some sort of inept assassin tree. With the changing of the season to spring here in New Zealand, his battles resume.)

(To the tune of "Oh My Darling, Clementine")

In a back yard inside fences
scarier than any mine,
is a garden needing weeding
and some sort of clinging vine.

It's clematis, it's clematis
it's clematis, rotten vine,
could be growing, could be dying
it just can't make up its mind.

(Truly, Mister Ornery is as accomplished a tunesmith as he is a gardener which makes any battle with things botanical one-sided.)

"You can trim back the clematis," says my better half, taking pains to point out my objective. She has learned that she must lead this man to plant life and order him to snip.

"How far?" I ask.

"Trim back the dead bits first as far as you can."

"But it all looks dead."

Indeed, the clematis is several shades of brown made the sorrier by the abundance of green weeds and plants that surround it this side of the fence. And here it is worth noting that the clematis does not originate in this yard, but rather has its roots on the other side. It makes me wonder if the neighbor there, by all accounts an avid gardener, gunned down the clematis and left it hanging over the fence as a warning to her other plants never to attempt escape.

"There's still life in it," says my better half, bringing me out of my nightmarish visions of evil gardener/prison warden. "Cut the dead bits as far back as you can and trim the rest about half way."

"Sure," I say, trying to sound more confident than I feel.

Up close I can see that the clematis is a mass of viny branches that not only extend in all directions but tangle and entwine about one another until it is impossible to see where they begin. A bomb technician could not have it much worse facing a device with about 4,000 wires except that he would be battling a time limit and mine will not explode. Well, I hope it won't at any rate but I do wonder if the whole thing will come tumbling down on me if I cut the main stem. I figure it could take me hours to snip my way clear.

"The main part is on the other side," says my better half when I voice my concern.

So I begin and I quickly learn that what appears to run this way actually goes that. I learn too that in a bundle of perhaps five stems, cutting those only reveals how many offshoots there are and how tenacious even the thinnest of them can be. And in the middle of the battle comes a voice from the other side of the fence.

"Mister gardener?"

Only when she repeats it twice more and only when my better half informs that she is speaking to me do I reply. No one has ever accused me of being a gardener before.

"Yes, Ma'am?" I reply, cringing as I await the hail of gunfire that must surely follow, mindful as I am of the poor clematis.

"Be careful of the rose," she commands.

"Rose?" I echo, glancing around me for evidence of thorny branches amid the carnage.

"It's on my side of the fence and when you pull the clematis it pulls on the rose."

Great! So Clem is a half-dead romantic with a beloved Rose in his embrace and I left my x-ray glasses at home.

"Yes, Ma' am," I mumble, taking a couple of steps to the side in case she is just trying to pinpoint my location before unleashing a hail of lead.

Only when I hear retreating footsteps followed by a closing door do I resume my snipfest. This time though I keep in mind that Clem loves Rose and would not do anything to harm her. And since I hear nothing further from the warden on the other side, I can only assume that my slower, more painstaking cutting is keeping Rose safe.

When I finish, I hope that Rose loves Clem for sterling reasons of character and not for his appearance because to me, the results are akin to those of an inattentive barber giving a haircut to a hyperactive child, sort of a free-form bowl cut without benefit of a bowl.

"Looks better," say my better half and the woman for whom we are working.

Than what? I nearly say.

I secretly hope Rose agrees.

Mister Ornery bought a new chainsaw. Free Trade and international relations may never be the same.

RING, RING. Some sort of answer phone menu. All I want is to speak to someone human - I think. I push buttons. There is a brief bit of music. Then: RING RING. At last there is an accented voice saying something.

I say, "Hello. Is this the _________ autnortsed service center?"

"Service center, yes. What means the other word?"

"I don't know. I was hoping you could tell me. Maybe I didn't pronounce it correctly. It's spelled: A-U-T-N-O-R-T-S-E-D."

"I do not know that word, Sir."

"Neither do I. But this is the ________ company, right?"

"Yes."

"So I guess you're one of the stulff?"

"Stulff?"

"S-T-U-L-F-F. That's about the only way I can pronounce it. Stulff."

"Are you drunk, Sir?"

"I wish I was. Maybe then this instruction manual would make sense."

"You have one of our products, Sir?"

"Yes. An electric chain saw."

"There is a problem with it?"

"I'll say! My sides are still hurting."

"Sir, there are instructions to avoid injuring yourself."

"Yeah, but what happens if you laugh so hard at the instructions your ribs hurt?"

"Sir, I am going to hang up - "

"No, wait! I really do have a problem! See, when we were putting the chainsaw together, maybe we didn't 'offer the bar/chain assemblly up to the locking pin and tensioning screw' correctly. Is that like a religious ritual? 'Offering up'? And what the devil is an A-S-S-E-M-B-L-L-Y? Some kind of belly?"

CLICK!

Rats! They won't take my follow up calls and I have more questions. For one, I want to know what a "dry pace" is. Funereal? How do I make sure the chainsaw is "discormected"? What is a "safe and comfortable p-e-s-i-t-i-o-n" and what does it mean to have both feet "firmly p-i-a-n-t-e-d? Painted on a piano, maybe?

What does it mean when they say: "The chainsaw is suitable for the only in the premises ..."? How about those "branches under left should be cut from the bottom up"? What is "wasled oil" and how might it damage the "pamp"? Do either of those have anything to do with the "lubricanon" or "slopping the chain"? How does "NOt cutting with the danger area at the Up of the saw" reduce kickback?

Cripes! I never even got to ask about "catting down trees" or what "slopjng ground" is, or "notch cutes" (although I figure those look better than "notch uglies"). I don't know why I would want to "make downward cut hallway ..." and I still don't know how to "sharpen the bledes". And why the devil would I have an infant around while I am using a chainsaw. I quote:

"Avoid baby contact with earthed or grounded surfaces ..." Having a baby around makes about as much sense as "wear(ing) jewelers".

So many mysteries remain unexplained. I may never know why I should "Never carry the tool by the work. It is safer than using your hand and it frees both bands to operate the tool."

At least the manual isn't a complete waste. I know to "... contain ling hair" while using the chainsaw, even if I have no idea what a "ling" is. And above all, I have learned: "Do not use the tool if the switch does not turn it on".

Good thing to know. I do a lousy chainsaw imitation.

Sigh. There is just no pleasing some people. Not only are a few averse to a bathroom in which the toilet resides upon an island accessible only by hopscotching from beam to beam, this despite the fact that there will be no one below looking up, but readers are clamoring to know when the room will again be fully functional. So Mister O'Fixit moves on to the actual work.

The first order of business then is to see what tools and materials will be needed. In Mister O'Fixit's experience, tools can be divided into two categories: Those He Has and Those Required For The Job. The two categories are mutually exclusive. And since he does not live in a building supply warehouse, he already knows there will be materials to purchase. So why not combine the two and purchase both tools AND materials?

Why not indeed. For one thing, the floor will be done correctly, which involves tearing up the old to see what is salvageable and what has to go (besides people waiting to use the bathroom, that is.) This involves tools of destruction, NOT to be confused with WMDs - just in case any national security folks are monitoring.

Needless to say, this ripping up of the old results in near-total destruction of formerly salvageable materials because the flooring was not so bad as originally thought. Indeed, the damaged section was confined to the area between shower and toilet. The rest, as it turns out, WAS in fact solid enough to withstand a production of River Dance or at least a performance by a roving band of ballerinas.

No longer. Prying and pulling and ripping up exposes the fact that the surface linoleum was glued to the main flooring that was, in turn solidly attached to sub-flooring. Unfortunately, the whole was never completely sealed meaning that, over time, everything had nearly rotted through, including a couple of support beams in the one small section.

Simple, eh? Simple, no. Oh, the old beams let go and the new fit into place readily enough, but here is a fact that material suppliers cannot help. Flooring comes in solid sections that do NOT allow for pipes such as the one down which the icky stuff from the toilet disappears. Further, the bathroom is not square but is more a short, fat T. This leads to considerable measuring and cutting away from the bathroom after which it is discovered that something must have moved, expanded, or shrunk. Not only does the new flooring barely reach the walls, but the hole cut for the exit-from-the-toilet pipe (forgive the technical jargon) would allow for an industrial-scale exit pipe or a hollowed out bull elephant leg which, of course, would clash with the overall decor.

Mister O'Fixit is here to tell one and all that there are some home improvement projects where duct tape simply will not do. Bathroom flooring is one. That is why there are smaller pieces cut from the main and fitted into spaces and that is why the bathroom floor resembles a mosaic or large jigsaw puzzle designed by a modern impressionist with a hangover. ("I don't get it. Is that supposed to be a floor?")

Mister O'Fixit is quite sure that his significant other is unimpressed with the result, especially with the half-moon shape pressed into place around the toilet pipe. In fact, she is waiting to use the computer (and you thought he was going to say: the bathroom). Seems she wants to check eBay for hollowed-out bull elephant legs after all.

Moving on from yesterday's post, we have now concluded that our questioner has no interest in multi-tasking, i.e. turning a session on the porcelain pony into a simultaneous trampoline exercise session. (Some people simply persist with a toilet half full attitude.) So, based upon his nearly two hours of bathroom repair experience, Mister O'Fixit will attempt to help.

Okay. Presumably, you have used the facilities to the extent necessary and have shipped any minors in the household to a relative or friend for the duration. This latter is especially important for two reasons. Firstly, minor children are leaky and are particularly vulnerable to "forbidden fruit syndrome". That is, even though the toilet has been removed from its customary place (what? You expected to leave it there while installing new flooring? Then you either have great artistic ability with power saws or you are a complete idiot,) children, most especially those recently housebroken, may feel an urge to use the fixture no matter where it sits.

The second reason has to do with tender ears. Before engaging in any home improvement or home repair project, Mister O'Fixit has always found it advisable to insure that the cuss box is fully stocked. Indeed, he has never run across a project that did not require frequent and judicious use of colorful (as in turn the air blue) vocabulary. And while children do seem to be using inappropriate language at ever earlier ages, why should one expect Great Aunt Tillie to endure a toddler informing her that he has to "go to the $#%^ing bathroom"? (Note: Because Mister O'Fixit's voice carries, Civil Defense authorities have been known to require installation of soundproof barriers and/or evacuation of the neighborhood before he engages in home repairs or improvements. This is one reason he has never really honed his home repair/improvement skills. Those soundproof barriers and/or neighborhood evacuations are costly.)

Still here? Okay. We now remove such obstacles as the toilet. But first, shut off the water.

You did remember to shut off the water, didn't you? If not, you could try persuading your significant other that a fountain adds a touch of class and elegance to a room generally devoid of either. Unfortunately, running water reminds Mister O'Fixit that he failed to heed his own advise. Just hope one of the neighbors is still at home and has a working toilet.

(Next up: Tools and Materials You Cannot Operate and Have Never Heard Of.)