this crud before   
   me.  I've heard some horror stories over my time of people in Commodore who   
   have received terrible treatment from Commodore at large.  To them I say,   
   "Thanks" for having the voracity and tenacity to stand and keep standing   
   against all those critics over all these years, and yet refusing to be   
   swayed by those who believe that tearing you down is the best way to build   
   themselves up.  I've been told by others that, "I don't stir the sewage   
   enough to cause a stink" and that's why I'm left mostly alone.  This could   
   be!  The Rabbi Paul once said, "As much as it is within you, be at peace   
   with all men." I seek to do that as much as possible, but I know that the   
   time is coming when I will step on the right Commodore toes and things will   
   start flying like it was the Gulf War all over again.  It's like my working   
   at all these convenience stores since 1990, I have yet to be held up on my   
   shift, and for this record I am thankful, but my day is coming.  I am also   
   thankful for the few toes I've stepped on in the Commodore universe, and   
   for those I have, I've been able to ignore.   
      
   With all this sentimental hoopla said and in print, I need to urge future   
   scribes and coders who so dare as to sit down in front of Dad's or   
   Grandpa's Commodore wondering how in blazes you boot this thing, or if you   
   are that Dad or Grandpa with something to say about this "not so archaic"   
   machine or even an idea for a great piece of software or invent a fantastic   
   piece of hardware, to no longer be shy or backwards and get started on your   
   project.  I used to think that I could write a book a year to keep up with   
   "the big dogs," but I found out that those "big dogs" have a stenography   
   staff several desks long and a publisher already in line waiting to use the   
   author's name on a product that would surely bring in a profit from just   
   for the name alone.  Some writers even get an advance royalty.  Me?  I just   
   sit quietly in my computer room typing and editing everything I do on one   
   lone sentinel of a Commodore 128 waiting patiently for the next idea to   
   come to mind so I can proceed forward with my silent career.  This may not   
   be you, but you will never know until you sit your backside down and join   
   the ranks of the Commodore herd, and be heard.   
      
   For those who have blazed my Commodore trail ahead of me I say, "Thanks for   
   the memory," no matter what size...   
      
      
      
   *************************************   
    A VIEW OF COMMODORE FROM FOUR LEGS   
          By Theodore J. Sheepdog   
   *************************************   
      
   I am a dog, which goes without saying, but I am the lucky dog that got to   
   go with a bunch of people from Kansas City to the 2015 Commodore Las Vegas   
   show held in, where else, Las Vegas.  I guess I should start at the   
   beginning ...   
      
   I was asked by Lenard Roach one Sunday to go with him and his friends to   
   the CommVEx.  As a dog, it's hard to get my big paws onto a Commodore   
   keyboard, but as a gamer dog I definitely enjoy using the Commodore,   
   especially the 64 version, as a gaming source right along with my Xbox 360   
   and PS3.  I enjoy all the classic games made for the Commodore 64 like   
   "Ghostbusters" and "The Three Stooges" (these are my favorite C64 games)   
   among others.  I also learned that this trip was more than just a fun time,   
   but Lenard wanted me to make a video of my visit; so it can be shown at   
   Glad Tidings church to the kids who enjoy my rantings and ravings every   
   week or two in Sunday School class.  I told Lenard that would be a great   
   idea (especially since he was going to pick up all my expenses).   
      
   We left in a rented black and silver (Jedi colors) 2015 Chrysler Town and   
   Country on Thursday July 16th at nine in the morning.  We were suppose to   
   leave a 6 am but the failure on not one, not two, but three alarm clocks to   
   ring made for a late start to the show.  Our first stop was to the small   
   town of Keytesville, Missouri where Lenard's long time friend, web   
   designer, photographer, and camera person Tim lived.  This was a 2 1/2 hour   
   drive directly into middle north Missouri down two lane highways that only   
   reached a maximum speed of 60 miles per hour.  At noon we had Tim and his   
   gear loaded into the van and booked our way back to Kansas City.  For some   
   insane reason the on board GPS told us the quickest was to our next stop   
   was back home.  We explored other options, like going through Sedalia, but   
   Gabe, our main driver and Lenard's son, were already frustrated with two   
   lane highways and wanted to hit some interstate and some 70 miles per hour   
   for a change.   
      
   So, to Kansas City we returned, grabbing Interstate 35 to Olathe, then   
   exiting onto US 169 south.  This is a weird way to go, I thought, since our   
   next stop, Tulsa, Oklahoma, was directly down Interstate 35, but Gabe set   
   the GPS to avoid toll roads so here we were going down US 169 towards   
   Tulsa, along with about a dozen or so semi tracker trailers who also wanted   
   to avoid toll roads because, from what was explained to me, it costs about   
   $100 per semi to travel the turnpike.  This way expenses could be saved on   
   the drivers.   
      
   At three o'clock in the afternoon we made it to stop number two where the   
   son of the late and great Commodore guru, Carl Zuel, lived with his mom and   
   sister.  His name?  Hunter Tiberius Zuel.  Yes, just like in Star Trek.   
   Lenard met with Hunter's mom and sister and made sure all goodbyes were   
   exchanged before departing, at last, for Las Vegas.  I thought we were   
   going to see some of those purple mountain majesties like the American   
   national anthem sings about when we passed through Colorado, but since we   
   were so far south in the country, the GPS decided to take us through   
   several US and state highways back to Interstate 35 just outside of   
   Oklahoma City to connect with Interstate 40.  Interstate 40 ran parallel to   
   Route 66 that was made so famous in song, story, television, and motion   
   pictures, but Interstate 40 went 70 miles per hour while Route 66 only went   
   60, and even that was sporadic.  Gabe decided to run the way across the   
   desert Southwest as the GPS directed.   
      
   After that things were a little hazy for the next eighteen to twenty hours   
   since we basically stayed on Interstate 40 through Texas, New Mexico, and   
   Arizona.  Gabe didn't do all the driving; everybody but Hunter and I took   
   turns at the wheel, stopping multiple times for food, fuel, bathroom,   
   drinks, and to let the Town and Country cool down.  Temperatures in the   
   desert reached as high as 105 to 110 degrees so when we did stop to fuel,   
   Gabe would open the hood and check the radiator and oil to make sure they   
   was plenty there.  There's not much to talk about during this straight shot   
   down Interstate 40.  The van did come across a storm while crossing the   
   Texas panhandle and for a while visibility was almost down to zero.  All I   
   did during most of that time was play on Gabe's Xbox 360 which he had   
   hooked up to the monitor provided in the van that came down out of the   
   ceiling.  To get sound for the game console the driver and navigator had to   
   surrender listening to the radio and allow the van stereo to be used for   
   video sound.  I also slept, ate, and went to the bathroom, but not all at   
   once and not in the van.  I have a little better training than that from   
   obedience school.   
      
   By Friday afternoon we came across Interstate 15 which runs most of the   
   length of Nevada and parts of Arizona.  This highway took us directly into   
   Las Vegas, where a slur of US, state, and interstate highways winded us   
   around and through town until we came to 3500 Paradise Road, where resides   
   the Mardi Gras Hotel and Casino.  It was 2:45 in the afternoon Las Vegas   
   time (we gained two hours from the trip by crossing into two time zones)   
   and we just wanted to check in and get some sleep.   
      
   Already things were starting to get hairy and I don't mean my doggie fur;   
   the hotel concierge informed us that each room required a $50 deposit   
   before we could enter them.  Lenard was furious.  He only budgeted the trip   
   for the monies intended for the journey there, food, and the way back   
      
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