Gut Rumbles
 

March 31, 2005

A living will

This woman explained exactly what I believe. You can like it or not, but I still go back to saying there is a big difference between living and being alive.

I have a living will. I believe that you should, too.

three days in a row

I've called Quinton every night this week, and all I ever got was the answering machine. (why is there no one home at 8:30 on a school night?) I asked him to call me back, but he hasn't done so yet. I don't expect him to, either.

The last time I was at Wal-Mart, I bought 24 "I Love You" and "I Miss You" greeting cards, and I've been sending one a day to Quinton, with a hand-written note inside. I haven't received a response and I don't expect one.

He'll NEVER look at me that way I looked at MY father. A DIVA took care of that. I'm going to keep calling and I'll keep sending the cards. But it won't matter.

Nothing does anymore.

i'm in deep shit

I had the nerve to suggest that many wimmen use sex as a weapon in life, and I am being richly excoriated for saying it. (Some of those cunts wimmen even criticized the language I used in my post and my comments.)

I ask you to do one simple thing. Go visit the pages of these DIVAS who didn't like what I had to say. EVERY GODDAM ONE OF THEM has a sexy cartoon woman as a "skin" on their home page. Oh, yeah, big eyes, wasp-waist, boiling-over tits, long legs and a "come-hither" look. But they don't trade in sex at all.

Bullshit.

I'm at least honest enough to post a picture of my own ugly self on my blog.

i like her

I think Laura Bush is a fine woman and an excellent First Lady. George landed a keeper when he married her. But her trip to afghanistan demonstrates something about the Democrat party that I find very disturbing.

When I played football, I played on a good team and we seldom lost a game. But I ran into guys on the field that played hard, hit hard, damn near tore my head off a few times and were tough as nails. Play four quarters against people like that and you work up a grudging admiration for them.

I wanted to BEAT them and give getter than I got from them, but when the final whistle blew, I wanted to walk over and shake a couple of hands. The game was finished and we weren't enemies anymore. I wanted to meet #80 or #32 with his helmet off. I wanted to see those guys who cracked my ass during the game--- the ones who played hard, but fair. I admired them as worthy opponents and I wanted to express that attitude. I never had one who didn't shake my hand, too. "Good game."

The Democrat party does not do that. They would rather see the United States lose the game than to be gracious in their own political defeat. If we have our asses whipped in Iraq and Afghanistan, they don't care about what it does to the country or to the world. They simply see a leg up on regaining power and control in this country. In fact, I believe that some of them actually HOPE that we fail. (Does the name Ted Kennedy ring a bell?)

I played against some other guys who bit, kicked, crotch-grabbed and played evil football. I remembered their numbers, too. At the end of a game. THEY wanted to walk over and shake my hand. I told them to go fuck themselves.

I wasn't going to shake that bastard's hand. He played dirty, not tough. And there is a big difference between the two.

I don't think the Democrat party understands that fact today.

the end?

Terri Chavio finally died today. Maybe that will put an end to some of the virtiol, lunacy and pure spite that Ive seen on the internet for the past week or so.

I never understood why some people were so worked up into a frenzy about this case. Most of the same ones so upset about her case support abortion. Riddle me the logic in that philosophy. You can't, because there IS no fucking logic there.

I believe that Terri is better off now, and her death is something that should have happened long ago.

animal lovers

I despise people who call themselves "animal lovers" and I believe that PETA is full of complete moonbat idiots. Hell, we've even got some lawyers today who want to give animals the right to sue in tort court. (they don't really give a shit about animals--- they just see another way to milk the system for lots of dollars.)

I like dogs. I've become fond of goats and chickens. I'll even tolerate an occasional cat, even though I don't like cats. But I damn sure don't "love" all animals. I kill every snake I see and I don't care what kind it is. If I catch a raccoon raiding my garbage can, I'm going to shoot it. I caught a possum eating from the dog food bowl on my back porch one night, and when I yelled "Get outta here!" it bowed up and hissed at me. I shot it dead.

I cannot remember the number of squirrels I have killed with nothing more than a pellet rifle. (Did a few more with a .22, but that was squirrel HUNTING, not varmit control.) I've killed rats, mice, moles, roaches, grackles and waged a constant war against fire ants ever since I owned my own property. If I include the ants, I have taken more life than Hitler ever did and I don't regret one bit of it.

That's why I read this shit and laugh. Somebody from Canada mentioned in a recent comment that the damn harp seals are overpopulated and eating all the cod that fishermen depend on for their livelihood. So, people are going to thin them out a bit, and "animal lovers" immediately went into cardiac arrest at the very idea.

Thousands of seal hunters armed with clubs, rifles and spears are taking part in one of Canada's biggest ever culls.

The hunt is expected to bring poor coastal communities millions of dollars but has been condemned by animal rights activists as barbaric.

Of course "animal rights activists" feel that way. It is much better for people to starve to death than it is to kill a baby seal. That's the way these twisted fuckers THINK.

But the Canadian government said the hunt brought badly needed income to its coastal communities, which earned about £7.2 million last year, primarily from pelt sales to Norway, Denmark and China.

Canada's Department of Fisheries and Oceans said the country's seal population was "healthy and abundant," and noted there were an estimated 5 million harp seals, nearly the highest level ever recorded and almost triple what it was in the 1970s.

"LEAVE THEM ALONE!!! FORGET ABOUT THE MONEY!!! THE BABY SEALS ARE CUTE!!!"

Bullshit.

Call me callous all you want to, but when you have five million seals eating up your food fish supply and the seals are worth serious MONEY for their pelts, I say go kill off a few hundred thousand. Maybe a million. Club them, shoot them, stab them or whatever. Skin their asses right there in the snow.

Is seal meat any good to eat? I've never tried it, but I would if the menu mentioned that it was a genuine piece of hand-clubbed, baseball-bat tenderized Canadian seal, killed brutally and shipped fresh to the restaurant I was sitting in. Yeah, gimme a prime cut.

I've seen hogs and cows killed and butchered. I ate the meat, too, and I never had a single nightmare about it. What I DON'T understand is people who seem to think dumb animals are more important than human children. I see a really fucked-up priority system there. Allow the seal to live, but let little Johnny starve.

Yeah. That's being a real "animal lover."

i just liked it

I picked out another gun that I'm not going to buy. It's a double-barrel .410 pistol. Now that sumbitch is a pocket rocket. I think the barrel is 3" long and it holds two shells-- either scattershot or slugs. I think it would be a great snake-killer if loaded with scattershot. I think it would be a mighty lethal up-close weapon if loaded with slugs. I'll bet it's loud as hell, too.

My Uncle Virgil wants one and I'm going to arrange that sale.

March 30, 2005

wimmen are crazy

Go read this post and follow ALL the links on both sides of the argument. Not a single woman admitted that sex is a WEAPON that she uses to get her way. NOT ONE was honest enough to admit that simple fact.

I don't care whether you fuck on the first date or never fuck at all, but DO NOT tell me that you don't understand the power of pussy and you don't use it to your advantage. That's a goddam lie and you know it. All this "coy" shit is enough to make me want to puke.

It's like Paul Rodrigez said in a joke a long time ago--- "All wimmen are psychic. When you go out on a date with them. THEY KNOW whether you're going to get laid or not."

Men often are accused of lettling the little head do the thinking for the big head and we are ALL guilty of that crime. Men like sex. It's a primordeal drive that we have to hunt and conquer and scatter our seed. We're hard-wired that way.

But wimmen like to fuck just as much as men do, only THEY won't admit it. No, with them, it not as simple as "lets get nekkid and tear up the bed." THEY want emotional camouflage and they wrestle with concepts of "love" and "respect" as long as they're just talking about the concept. That's the stuff of soap operas and romance novels, both of which wimmen love.

But if you cut to the chase, a woman will fuck at the drop of a hat just because she found you attractive and wanted sex. Hell... she might not have found you really attractive... you were available and she was horny as a hoot-owl at the time. She fucks at the drop of a hat.

All you sanctimonious divas can kiss my Cracker ass. You all believe that you have the only pussy in the world and your mission in life is to convince some poor fool that you are correct. HE must also believe that you have the only pussy in the world, and it 's not important if any others exist--- you have the only one that matters.

I fell for that shit once in my life and I found out what that pussy was worth. I had a price tag laid on my ass by a fucking JUDGE, while that "special" pussy was spreading her legs for anybody who would hold still long enough for her to climb. That delicate pussy has cost me my son and about $50,000 so far, and I'll still be paying for years to come.

Don't spout that emotional shit at me. Every one of you "Divas" sit on a god-dam gold mine and you know that fact quite well. That's why a lot of you make a damn fine living selling it, or at least renting it out by the hour. Don't tell me wimmen don't do it, because they do. It's not called the "World's Oldest Profession" for nothing.

If every woman was as emotionally attached to their pussies as you claim to be, we wouldn't have prostitution or adultery in this world. But we damn sure do.

I call bullshit on every one of you.

unintended consequences

Al's Gore's book was a raving piece of environmental lunacy, but he had the right title--- Earth In The Balance. Mother Nature has figured out how to handle herself pretty well through 4 billion years of practice, and about the only times things get really fucked-up is when puny-assed MAN, in his infinite wisdon, tries to "Help," or "Save the Planet." I liked this comment:

Right now, in Canukistan, they're killin' several thousand harp seals. Why? 'Cause the fuckers are eatin' all the cod fish. Why? 'Cause there so many goddamn many of them, that's why. The locals have been killin' them for years-keepin' the local economy goin'.

Then back in the 70's, that asshole ( but big-titted) Brigitte Bardot got in on the act and got everybody to not wear fur, 'cause of this. The result? Too fuckin many harp seals screwing up the envionment!!! I tell ya' sometimes I want to just go live in the forest somewhere and just forget about this bullshit. Of couse I'm Canukistanian so I won't. I'll just keep reading about this bullshit and keep on livin' . That's what a Canukistanian does, just complains and then goes to sleep. What a pity!

Posted by Rattfuc at March 30, 2005 06:51 PM

The same thing happened in southeast Georgia with alligators. Some bleeding-heart asshole put gators on the Endangered Species list back in the 1970s and stopped all alligator hunting in the swamps and creeks around here. In less than five years, the fucking gators took over everything.

They have no other predator than man that can kill them, and they eat rare birds, exotic fish, raccoons, dogs, cats, and the occasional small child with no fear. They routinely crawl into people's swimming pools during a summertime drought anymore.

Ask catfish if I'm lying about this. We had to call Animal Control more than once to come rope a rogue gator who crawled out of one of the setting ponds at the plant where we worked and just decided to find what he could to eat. I passed one on the Company Road at 6:00 one morning that was humping it alongside the edge of the road as if he were afraid of being late for work and trying to beat the clock. He was longer than my truck.

That one was 13 feet long. I forget what he weighed, but he was a monster. One animal control guy showed up to catch it, saw the gator and immediately called for reinforcement. I think it took four people to lasso and wrestle that big bastard into a truck.

Cat has a big mama and daddy living in the creek behind his new house, They have spawned, too, so he now has a bunch of little gator-lettes swimming around back there. An alligator will usually leave a full grown man alone, unless you fuck with some gator-babies while mama is around. If you're crazy enough to do that, the baby gators let out a peeping cry of panic and mama comes on the warpath.

I've recommended to Cat that we get together and kill them all, because they'll take over that creek and eat everything in it if left alone. Big Daddy is a fat rascal. I've never seen him out of the water, but I've seen his eyes, and they must be close to 12" apart. He's got to be at least 10' long. I've told Joe that if his cats like to go down to the water, they won't be around long. The gators will eat them.

There really IS a "balance of nature" and every time Man puts his thumb on that scale, he screws things up. The problems we have with the deer population in southeast Georgia is the same thing. They've learned to move into gated communities and eat everything they can lay their teeth on without fear of being shot. And they breed like rats, destroy forests and pose a real menace on the highways. Environmentalists think they are "cute" and oppose any attempt to thin out the population.

Here is food for thought.

In 2001, hunters killed 7.4 million deer, and drivers killed another 1.8 million, but the population of white tail deer still exploded from 29.8 million in 1994 to 32.7 million in 2001. In contrast, when Henry Ford was first turning out the Model T, only about 500,000 white tails were found in the entire U.S. according to the U.S. Biological Survey. A Utah State University study found that deer vehicle collisions injured about 29,000 drivers and passengers annually. In 2003 there were 201 fatal crashes, a 27 percent increase compared with 2002. DVCs kill more people in the U.S. than do all commercial airlines, train and bus accidents combined in a typical year.

I've got a nice "deer dent" in the left rear quarterpanel of my truck from where a doe ran into me one day at 5:00 in the afternoon when she came flying out of the woods as if her ass were on fire. If had been going just a little slower, that bitch may have ended up in the front seat with me.

Deer are NOT "cute." They are wild animals who are overpopulating THEIR environment. Man took away the natural predators that once thinned that population, and now the green-weenies don't want man himself thinning them. We have too many now, and they are killing people, destroying their own habitat and eating themselves out of house and home.

We fuck up this planet a lot more by trying to "save" it than we do trying to "destroy" it. What mankind does is already figured into earth's big equation. When we try to change the factors, we upset the balance and usually end up with something we didn't want. And that's our own damn fault for not understanding one simple fact.

Earth abides.


I think I've been there

I saw the title and I remembered: hog pen road. I'm pretty sure I went down there a few times to fish and to shoot .22 rifles. The place was working alive with water moccasins and copperhead snakes, but you could catch bream the size of a dinner plate there with a can full of crickets for bait.

I may be wrong, but I swear I've gone fishing down Hog Pen Road. I parked at the edge and walked down to the ponds. I was probably 21 years old the last time I went there.

Just damn! I wonder what it looks like now?

what's your answer?

I have a pretty casual attitude about sex--- hell, I grew up during some tumultuous times--- but I have a serious attitude about commitment. I am a serial flirt and I believe that I can be a charming man when I'm not shit-faced drunk. But I would NEVER "cheat" on someone I was committed to. I just don't do that. I am a man of my word. (most of the time)

I don't give my commitment lightly. I enjoyed a lot of casual sex, one-night-stands and "if it feels good, do it" days in my youth, and I don't regret a bit of it. In fact, I wish I could go back and do it all over again. Those were fun times.

I've never told a woman, "I love you," just to get in her pants. In fact, there are exactly FOUR wimmen in the history of this planet who heard me say those words to them. Those are my grandmother, my mama, my daughter and Jennifer. Nobody else.

I'll always flirt and I'll always have lust in my heart no matter who I'm coupled with at the time. But I would never cheat on someone I loved, and I know what that means in MY mind. I've seen just the opposite happen to me, and it hurts really bad.

What do you think about this matter?

more gloom and doom

Yeah, we're all gonna die! Again. I wonder if these "scientists" cited in this report are the same ones who signed onto the Kyoto Treaty. You know, "scientists" such as sociologists, psychologists, dermatoligists, archeologists, and professors of Gender Study and Black History, all experts on the envoronment and climate change.

I am tired of this shit. I believe that we ARE in danger of over-fishing the oceans, just because we've gotten so efficient at doing it. But we've gotten so much better at growing crops, especially with genetically-engineered seed, that I DO NOT see global starvation being a problem, as long as the goddam environmentalists stop calling that stuff "Frankenfood" and allow farmers to grow it.

Show me starvation in the world, at ANY TIME in history, and I will show you a government responsible for it. That includes the Great Depression in the United States. AND the famous Irish "Potato Famine."

What we have here is a bunch of people who want to CURB CIVILIZATION. These same assholes were predicting the exhaustion of the earth's oil supply in the 1970s and listening to Paul Erlich, who has been totally WRONG and full of shit all of his life. {Dr. Paul Ehrlich is a Stanford University biologist and author of the best-selling book The Population Bomb. Since the release of this book in 1968, Ehrlich has been one of the most frequently cited "experts" on environmental issues by the media, despite the fact that his predictions on the fate of the planet, more often than not, have been wrong.}

There's your fucking "expert."

We found more oil. We did not experience mass starvation. Massive disease epidemics did not bring back the days of the Black Plague and wipe out one-half of the world's population.

Remember when Carl Sagan warned, in a fearful voice, that the oil fires set by Saddam Hussein in the first Gulf War would lead to a "nuclear winter" and the earth might take five to ten years to recover? Of course you don't because it didn't happen.

Bejus!

All these "scientific" reports ignore two basic facts that are not wild-eyed theory, but cold truth in my mind. This planet is a big place and we don't know what all it might provide for our comfort and luxury. (and unlike a lot of environmentalists, I don't see a damn thing wrong with comfort and luxury.) New technology finds more resources every day.

Plus, man is the most adaptable creature ever to walk this earth and he finds amazing ways to not only survive, but live well under almost any conditions. THIS planet may be a box that we'll eventually empty, a FINITE though huge box of resources, but who says we're doomed to stay here? Mine the moon. Explore Mars. Go to the stars.

We'll never get there doing what these "scientists" recommend, which is stick your head up you ass, worship Gaia and prepare to freeze to death in the dark. The only thing I see as really FINITE here is the imagination of the people involved in the report.

And I don't buy that bullshit.

i won't miss him

Barrister Johnnie Cochran went to that great courthouse in the sky. I thought the man was a huckster, a hustler and a self-aggrandizing swine--- all traits that make for a successful lawyer.

I actually watched a lot of the O.J. Simpson trial (who didn't?) and I was impressed with Cochran's ability to distort the truth, play the race card and stomp all over judge Lance Ito, who has to be one of the weakest judges I ever saw in a black robe. I blame the prosecution for fucking up their end of the business more than I give Cochran credit for acquitting an obviously guilty killer, but Cochran did what he was hired to do.

He became rich and famous for doing things that are beyond my conscience. Of course, I find it difficult to use the words "conscience" and "lawyer" in the same sentence.

Goodbye, Johnnie.

it's because we're crazy

Via catfish:

Arthur Davidson, of the Harley Davidson Motorcycle Corporation, died and went to heaven. At the gates, St. Peter told Arthur, "Since you've been such a good man and your motorcycles have changed the world, your reward is, you can hangout with anyone you want in Heaven."

Arthur thought about it for a minute and then said, "I want to hangout with God."

St. Peter took Arthur to the Throne Room, and introduced him to God. Arthur then asked God, "Hey, aren't you the inventor of woman?"

God said, "Ah, yes."

"Well," said Arthur, "professional to professional, you have some major design flaws in your invention.

There's too much inconsistency in the front-end protrusion.

It chatters constantly at high speeds.

Most of the rear ends are too soft and wobble too much.

The intake is placed way to close to the exhaust. And finally,

The maintenance costs are outrageous.

"Hmmmm, you may have some good points there," replied God, "hold on." God went to his Celestial super computer, typed in a few words and waited for the results. The computer printed out a slip of paper and God read it.

"Well, it may be true that my invention is flawed," God said to Arthur, "but according to these numbers, more men are riding my invention than yours."

Mail order companion

I've decided that I DO need a woman in my life after all. I am 53 years old, broken-down and a lousy housekeeper, although I am an excellent cook. I own my own home and I ain't hurting for money, even though I don't work anymore.

I like to play guitar and sing. I'm pretty good at it, too, and I love to serenade a lady in my home. I'm not nearly as good-looking as I once was, but I'm not hideous. Thanks to prostate surgery and a penile implant, I have about half the dick I once did, but it's reliable, 24-7. I don't even have to be conscious for it to work.

I believe that I am a kind and thoughtful lover and I like to sleep warm and cozy with my woman at night. I don't snore as long as you keep me off my back. I give a great massage and I'll perform a pedicure and paint your toenails red if you have pretty feet.

I am 5' 7" tall and I don't know what I weigh right now, but it's less than I should. I believe I've gained about 10 pounds in the past couple of weeks and I'm starting to appear less skeletal now. I need to add about 20 more pounds to look right again.

I smoke a lot of cigarettes and I drink alcohol. I also like guns, and I want any woman of mine to know how to handle one. Trust me... if you can handle a steam-iron, you can handle a gun. Teaching you to do so would be a lot of fun for both of us.

I have no kids in the house and I don't like cats. I would prefer to have no pets at all, so that if we decided to go to Costa Rica for a week, we could just pick up and go. I need my quiet time every day to blog and write--- you will be my partner but NOT the center of my universe-- so you need to have some interests of your own. If you blogged, too, that would be nice.

I would like a woman somewhere between the age of 38 and 52, with no children attached. I like kids, but I'm not going to get tied down by that stuff again. I'm too old for that shit now. If you've got a job, that's fine and I don't care what it is. You can keep it if you want to, but you don't have to. Work is good for you, but if you're MY woman, you can tell the boss to kiss your ass and walk out anytime you want to.

I would prefer someone shorter than I am, but that's not a big issue with me. I do not want a "LARGE" woman, who weighs twice what I do. Plump or Rubenesque is okay, but I just don't find really fat wimmen sexy. I'm sorry for any insults I just hurled, but I speak the truth. I don't really like super-big tits, either.

I want someone who can read and write. No illiterates need apply, even if you WERE a finalist for the Sports Illustrated swimsuit edition. I want someone I can talk to, because I really like to talk. If you have a good singing voice, that's a major plus.

I'm taking applications via email beginning tonight. I'm not going to MARRY you (I've learned my lesson about that), but you'll be a well-kept woman for as long as you're willing to put up with me. I was thinking about auctioning myself on E-Bay, but I worried that the bids would be too low.

So, I'm asking for volunteers. How about some internet romance?

March 29, 2005

he shoulda been a better driver

I knew that this was a southern boy as soon as I saw the headline. We let boys drive trucks at an early age down South.

I believe that Quinton started driving my truck the length of Twin Oak Drive when he was five years old. (Of course he sat in my lap and steered. I handled all the pedals.) That's typical where I live, and I'll bet that being the smart young man he is, Quinton could have stolen my keys and driven off in my truck all by himself.

But this boy was piloting a dualie. No wonder he put it in a ditch. That's just too much truck for a seven year-old.

utter trivia

It's all useless information, but i love this stuff.

I'm still wrestling with the 293 ways to make change for a dollar.

i had to laugh

It's a tragic story, but this is what I call getting really shit-faced.

i am not right in the head

If you've read this blog for any length of time, you probably already know that fact. I am NOT right in the head anymore.

I believe that I once was, because I could not have accomplished the things I did if I were absolutely crazy. But I wonder about myself a lot today.

I read this post and compared some of my own notes. You name the bi-polar symptoms and I've got 'em. I think I've always been a manic-depressive (trust me---I've been to enough 'shrinks to know the lingo now) but I've gotten a lot worse lately.

I can't seem to find a middle ground anymore. I am either really enthuiastic and thrilled about something, or I am in the depths of total depression. My moods swing like the windshield wipers on a car in a heavy rain. Sometimes I can't sleep at all, and other times, I sleep 16 hours a day. I either have no appetite, or I want to eat everything in the house.

I go into that 1000-yard stare for no reason. My body may be sitting on the couch or behind the wheel of my truck, but my mind is far, far away. All sorts of things go running through my head and I have no idea where that crap comes from. I suffer indescribable nightmares. I drink too much, I smoke too much and I don't exercise enough.

More than once lately, I've thought that I might be dying. And the REALLY scary part is that I didn't care. In fact, if death came for me right now, I believe that I would embrace her like a warm mistress. Sometimes I simply long to curl up, go to sleep and never wake up again. It ain't easy being me today.

I can't see my son anymore, but Jennifer farms him out every weekend while she goes off on a fuckathon with whatever new lover she's picked to feast on. I pay through the ass for being the ex-husband of a pure bloodless cunt. That still hurts like hell. I sometimes cannot muster the energy to do the simplest of things. I've been staring at everything I need to do my income taxes for more than a month now, but I just keep putting it off. I wait until my bills pile up before I pay them. I don't even like to put gas in my truck anymore. That means actually DOING something.

That's not the way I once was. I've gone from a go-getter to a give-a-fuck in a disturbingly short period of time.

I break out with rashes on my face and I don't know why. I actually bought make-up to cover that shit up. My left foot never healed correctly from when I broke it and the ankle flops around when I walk. Now my right foot is swollen to the size of a fat grapefruit and I look like a decrepit old fart when I try to hobble around. I can barely fit my feet into a pair of sandals. Every time I turn around, something else is going wrong with me.

I cannot stand up and play guitar anymore. My legs get wobbly after about two songs and I need to sit down. I once could not only STAND, but PRANCE the stage for six hours at a time. Those days are ancient history.

I'm not right in the head, but I ain't right in the body, either. If I were me, I'd be worried about myself.

guest blogging

I think I've done all the damage I can do here. I'm keeping Fiona's panties and leaving the toasted cat behind. I was just trying to keep the blog-fires warm.

I didn't mean to set the house on fire and toast the cat. Honest. I didn't mean to do that.

And if you accuse me, Eric, I'm going to deny everything.

There and back

I made my trip to Randall's today and bought Maker's Mark, Jim Beam and Booker's best. I threw in a six pack of Bass ale for good measure. What a mistake that was.

My neighbor, Henry, showed up, cut my grass (which didn't need cutting) and asked if he could come inside to take a piss. He also asked if I had anything to drink. Half a quart of Maker's Mark later, I threw the freeloading bastard out of my house. That man can surely drink as long as he ain't paying for it.

I would NOT come to a neighbor's house and drink that much liquor even if I were invited. To do it UNINVITED is just plain scuzzy to me. I should have thrown him out sooner.

At least I got my grass cut.

I'll post it anyway

I wanted to respond to a comment from Steve at hog on ice, but for some reason the email was rejected. He said that Cubans where he lives hunt wild hogs with .22 rifles. The hogs must resemble Key West deer is all I have to say.

Here was my response:

They've got more balls than brains to hunt wild hogs with a .22, unless they're looking for piglets. Where I live, some of those tuskers can weigh close to 200 pounds and they are meaner than a liberal on crack.

A friend of mine hauled one out of the woods recently that resembled a goddam monster from outer space. The tusks were so long and curved that I don't think the critter had been able to close its mouth in years. (I am NOT shitting you--- those tusks were 2" in diameter at the bottom.)

He shot it with a .30-06 and dropped it dead in mid-charge. It was angry at the time.

He's going to try to marinate the meat and eat that rascal, but it's been my experience that an old wild boar like that one tastes gamey no matter what you do with it. Too many acorns in its diet for too many years. I'll let you know when I taste some of the ribs.

Acidman

A lot of people hunt wild hogs with dogs in Georgia, and it's nothing unusual for a wild boar to kill a dog or two before somebody shoots it. Those are mean-assed bastards and I think I would throw down a .22 and try to climb a tree if I ran into one in the woods. Most people use shotguns or high-powered rifles for boar hunting.

Of course, I also know a couple of crazy bastards who hunt with a bow. They've hauled in some big hogs that way, too. Good for them. They believe that it's a more "fair" way to hunt.

Personally, I think they are out of their minds. I don't WANT a "fair" fight between me and a wild boar.

shooting bears

I've never shot a bear and I never intend to. A recent post stirred up a lot of comments from people recommending what kind of gun is best for a bear-kill.

I agree with one thing they all had to say--- bigger is better. I remember reading a story in the news a few years ago about some servicemen stationed in Alaska who had a polar bear decide to invade their barracks one night. The HUGE-ASSED thing decided to come crawling right in through a window, tearing down a lot of wall as it went. One of the troops shot it 15 times in the head with a 1911 .45 and HAD TO RELOAD to finish the bear off.

A .45 will go clean through a 4" thick pine tree and blow toothpicks out the exit side. But that damn sure wouldn't be my weapon of choice to stop a 1,000-pound bear. A .30-06 is the biggest gun I DON'T OWN, but it has more stopping power than anything else in my non-existant arsenal. (Well... maybe the .12-gauge loaded with slugs might make an impression up close, but I don't care to get that close to one of those fuckers.)

If I were HUNTING bear on purpose, I'd get something bigger. But where I live, the bears are the brown and black variety and they seldom grow to more than 500 pounds. They are dwarfs compared to grizzly or polar bears. A .30-06 is plenty of gun for one of them.

But when you're talking about a critter that stands over 10' tall and can weigh almost a TON, you need a goddam elephant gun to be on the safe side. Yeah, I'm talking about a really big stick, one that damn near takes your shoulder off when you fire it.

I once saw a picture in National Geographic of a guy who was salmon fishing in Alaska. He hooked a good one and was reeling it in when a grizzly came charging out of the bushes and grabbed the fish right on his line. The bear looked as big as a house. The guy threw rod, reel and fish into the stream and hauled ass while the bear enjoyed his stolen lunch.

I would have done the same thing.

I just want to say one thing about guns and bears to keep the argument short and sweet. There is no such thing as "too much gun" when shooting at one of those things.

a brand new blog

I'm going to give this guy a plug because he just started blogging and he is a Kentucky Wildcat basketball fan. (Fuck Michigan State, by the way.) I just want to offer once piece of advice--- drop that blogger comment system that requires someone to log in and register. I simply WILL NOT DO THAT and a lot of other people feel the same way I do.

Make comments easy. You can always delete the ones you don't like.

rough edges?

Hell, I thought this guy was pissed at me. Maybe he still is, but he didn't call me any foul names. He just said I have some "rough edges."

Heh. I can live with that.

we're all gonna die!!!

This is a long article but worth taking the time to read if you enjoy tales of eco-gloom and doom. I think it's all complete bullshit, but that's just MY humble opinion.

It has been very hard for Americans -- lost in dark raptures of nonstop infotainment, recreational shopping and compulsive motoring -- to make sense of the gathering forces that will fundamentally alter the terms of everyday life in our technological society. Even after the terrorist attacks of 9/11, America is still sleepwalking into the future. I call this coming time the Long Emergency.

Doesn't the writer remind you of an Old Testement prophet? "Lost in dark raptures" ... "gathering forces"... "sleepwalking into the future." That rhetoric surely scares the shit out of me. REPENT, ye sinners, lest you be cast into a pit of fire for all eternity!

Some other things about the global energy predicament are poorly understood by the public and even our leaders. This is going to be a permanent energy crisis, and these energy problems will synergize with the disruptions of climate change, epidemic disease and population overshoot to produce higher orders of trouble.

Weren't people saying the same thing back in the 1970s? It was bullshit then and it's bullshit now. And the writer lost all credibility with me when he threw the word "synergize" into his babbling. That's one of the words I hate.

Most of all, the Long Emergency will require us to make other arrangements for the way we live in the United States. America is in a special predicament due to a set of unfortunate choices we made as a society in the twentieth century. Perhaps the worst was to let our towns and cities rot away and to replace them with suburbia, which had the additional side effect of trashing a lot of the best farmland in America. Suburbia will come to be regarded as the greatest misallocation of resources in the history of the world. It has a tragic destiny. The psychology of previous investment suggests that we will defend our drive-in utopia long after it has become a terrible liability.

I have one thing to say about that statement: HUH?

I'm not optimistic about the Southeast, either, for different reasons. I think it will be subject to substantial levels of violence as the grievances of the formerly middle class boil over and collide with the delusions of Pentecostal Christian extremism. The latent encoded behavior of Southern culture includes an outsized notion of individualism and the belief that firearms ought to be used in the defense of it. This is a poor recipe for civic cohesion.

BWHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!! Excuse me. I have to go blow my nose after that one. What does this dickhead know about the "latent encoded behavior of Southern culture?" I'll guarantee you that we have more "civic cohesion" in Effingham County, Georgia than you can find in Washington, DC. Blithering idiot.

Read the whole thing if you have the patience and you don't develop headaches easily.

where's the beef?

Good question. I might be asking the same thing if I ordered a bowl of chili and found a severed finger in it.

That story makes me wonder... what kind of things have I eaten in the past that I simply didn't notice in the food? I've eaten Krystal chili at 3:00 in the morning when I was drunk enough to miss a set of dog testicles in there. Maybe I've eaten finger before, or something much worse, and just didn't know it.

I'm not a real "picky" eater.

March 28, 2005

I'm going to Randall's

Tomorrow, I'm going down to Randall's Liquor Store and buy some really good bourbon. I don't know why, but I would really enjoy a tall glass on the rocks right now. I have a craving for that smokey-sweet taste.

I'm not going tonight, because I don't like to drive after dark anymore and I suppose that yesterday's rain made a complete washout/mudhole/death-trap out of the dirt road leading there, so I'll wait until tomorrow. As a Kentucky boy, I need to be dragged off and shot for NOT just keeping some bourbon around. I have a duty to do that.

I think I'll stock up tomorrow. A bottle of Jim Beam. A bottle of Maker's Mark. Those, I'll keep in the liquor cabinet and serve to friends when they come over and want a drink of brown likker. Good stuff, worthy of sharing.

And a bottle of Booker's Best, just for ME. I'll hide that fucker from my friends. That whiskey will pass no other lips than MINE!

I'm going to do that tomorrow.

no more rain

After the Easter Deluge, Mother Nature put on a different dress today and now is trying to huff and puff and blow my house down. Bejus! I just retrieved my lawn furniture from my neighbor's yard a few days ago and now it's all back over there again. In fact, I think this time it blew past his yard into the yard two doors down from me.

It's been like a mini tropical storm all day, only without the rain. March came into Georgia like a lion, and I thought it was supposed to go out like a lamb. Nobody told Mother Nature about that rule.

Or else she has one bad-ass lamb she's turned loose around here.

words I hate

I suppose that I developed my aversion to these words by working too many years in a corporate environment. I prefer plain talking to camouflage words that say one thing but mean another. Here are my top ten:

#1-- Synergy. That's supposed to mean something like two heads are better than one or that teamwork accomplishes things that individuals can't do alone. It's really just a way to paralyze everybody through endless meetings.

#2-- Diversity. That means QUOTAS, whether anybody has the balls to admit it or not. All hail DIVERSITY!!!

#3-- Change Agent. I am here to eliminate your job.

#4-- Capture. I once thought that "capturing" was something you did with a net or a trap to catch a wild animal. Not so. In corporate speak, you capture IDEAS. "We need to capture what we've learned from this monumental fuck-up." People take reams of notes, write a six-page procedure and have many meeting to discuss just what they captured. Meanwhile, the beast still runs loose.

#5--Risk. I LOVE that one. You are ENCOURAGED to take risks, to "think outside the box" and to be a bold leader. Just don't fuck up. NOBODY except a crazy bastard such as myself is willing to take a risk in the corporate world. If you do, watch out for a "change agent" coming after you.

#6--Teamwork. That's a nice way of saying, "Let's set up a system where nobody is responsible for anything and no blame can fall upon a single head." Hold a lot of meetings, "capture" ideas and accomplish nothing.

#7-- Empowerment. Yeah. You go out there like the Lone Ranger, take risks, make decisions and empower yourself. You'll get "captured" by a "change agent" pretty quickly. Corporate America lives and breathes on the principle of Cover Your Ass. Anything else they tell you is a goddam lie.

#8--Human Resource. When you hear that term, think "clock number," because that's exactly what you are. Personally, I think that politically-correct, sweet-sounding term is completely dishonest and is an insult to "employees." I was never a Human Resource. I was a worker. A "human resource" sounds to me like something you buy at Wal-Mart, add water and stir.

#9-- Leadership. I've been to so many "leadership" training classes that I can't recall them all. I don't think I ever learned a goddam thing from a single one of them. I believe that you are either a leader, or you ain't, and no amount of training will change that fact. People follow leaders that they trust and respect. You don't learn that shit in any class. Either you've got it or you don't and I believe that most good leaders are BORN to be that way.

#10--Root-Cause Analysis. I never saw a damn one of these accident investigations or "What the fuck happened?" charades that didn't boil down to finding a goat to scape. Stick the blame on someone and the problem is solved. Usually, they stuck the blame on the WRONG person and never did a damn thing about the root cause.

I did that shit for 24 years and I saw all the "new" ideas come and go. Nothing ever changed in my mind. Train your crew, enforce the rules and make them confident in following YOU. Don't promise anything you can't deliver, but deliver what you promise. Realize that you aren't working with no goddam "human resources." You're working with people and treat them that way.

Of course, I could be wrong. I was fired for doing that stuff.

(UPDATE: Some of my commenters have been there, too. I forgot "paradigm," which is a fancy corporate word for "model." But PARADIGM just sounds so much more intellectual. It ranks right up there with "value-added" or "multi-tasking" in Dilbert-speak.)

A guest blog

I just posted one. Everything in it is true, too.

I wouldn't lie about something like that.

it's greek to me

I still have my 401-k money and all the stock and stock options I piled up when I worked for Kerr-McGee. I received TWO letters in the mail today giving me a bunch of financial jibberish that I don't understand. I think they want to roll my 401-k into an IRA, which is fine with me, but I'm not CERTAIN that's what they mean. I damn sure don't want to cash it out before I'm 59 and 1/2 years old because the government will eat me alive.

I'm an English major. I don't do math.

As far as the stocks go, my options are good for 10 years from the time I got them and the incentive stock I received for outstanding performance isn't ripe to sell for another year, if I read the fine print correctly. But I don't know if I'm reading the fine print correctly. It's all Greek to me.

I'm going to have to get on the phone and receive some clarification from these people. That's a sizeable sum of money we're talking about, and I don't want to fuck it up through sheer ignorance. And I am ignorant when it comes to complicated money transactions.

If I had my college days to live over again, I would take a few courses in finance and accounting. Knowing a little bit about that aspect of life would do me a lot more good now than being able to quote Shakespere's sonnets.

I feel like an unarmed man in a gunfight.

i have the keys

I'll be doing some guest blogging for the next couple of days for a red-headed friend of mine. I'm not gonna say where just yet, but he's on my blogroll. You can find him if you look.

I am going to trash his house.

a random interview

#1-- You've been blogging for more than three years now. What got you started and why do you keep doing it?

I started blogging because I was one small step away from suicide and I needed an outlet for a lot of emotions. That was a very dark time in my life. I found that outlet in blogging and it probably saved my life. I met a few people early on who encouraged me and helped keep me alive. I adore those people to this day.

I blog today because I now have a LOT more people who encourage me and keep me alive. I also blog because I love doing it.

#2-- How would you decsribe your blog? Is it a web diary, a political forum, a humor site or something else?

I don't really know. I love to write and I write about whatever crosses my mind. I try to inject a lot of humor into my posts, but I'll get all spittleflecked and angry, too. It just depends on the topic I chose to write about. I DO have a muse, and she dictates a lot of what I do.

#3-- In your archives, you wrote a lot about your "bloodless cunt" of an ex-wife. You obviously suffered a great deal. Are you over that pain now?

No, I am not and I don't believe that I ever will be. I've gotten better at DEALING with the pain, but I don't think it ever will go away. I loved that woman with all my heart and soul. I never expected the kind of betrayal I got from her. It turned my world upside-down and I doubt that it ever will be right again. Some things get broken so badly that they can't be fixed. My heart was one of those.

#4-- You were a supervisor in a chemical plant for more than 20 years. How did that experience influence your life?

Tremendously. It taught me to make decisions, handle difficult people and apply the rules whether I agreed with the rules or not. It taught me to give orders and expect them to be obeyed. It taught me to walk tall because I knew my shit better than anyone else did. It taught me to believe in myself and trust my instincts and my training when the shit hit the fan. That job made me a man.

#5-- Where do you see yourself ten years from now?

Probably dead, from alcohol abuse and a poor lifestyle. If that doesn't happen, I'll be relaxing on a beach in Costa Rica. I have enough money to last me the rest of my life if I don't fuck-up and get married again. I don't ever need to go back to work and I don't worry about my bills being paid. I have everything about the American Dream except a woman to share it with, and I've decided that I can do without one of those.

Retired and independently wealthy at the age of 53. Not bad for a coal miner's boy, even if he does sleep alone at night.

March 27, 2005

interesting

I read this post and had about a 50-50 agree/disagree with it. She makes many excellent points, but I disagree with some of what she says (I may email her about that).

But she made the think about the music I listened to in my yoot. My favorite albums were Steppenwolf, Cream, Jimi Hendrix, Simon & Garfunkle, Bob Dylan, and (what was the name of that band?) "In-a-Godda-da-Vida" or whatever. My parents hated that shit, except for Simon and Garfunkle.

Later, when I tuned in to Crosby, Stills and Nash and James Taylor, my folks relaxed a little. Maybe I wasn't going to end up in a Satanic cult after all. They had more reason to fear than the knew. I became an English major.

I don't like a lot of popular music today. I absolutely DETEST "rap" or hip-hop or whatever you want to call that shit. It ain't music, it ain't poetry and it ain't good for the brain. If I were going to give an enema to the ENTIRE WORLD OF MUSIC, from the first drum-beats of primitive man until now, I'd stick the nozzle in rap music. Bejus! I hate that crap.

Too many bands and performers are manufactured now. I miss the days when bands and singers kicked around the honkey-tonks for a while and learned to keep their shit in one sock on stage in front of a live audience before they became "stars." You know--- pay some dues.

Now the music industry just pops stars out of a box. Good looks and a lot of electronics is all it takes. I see those "Jim Walter Home" stars every day (especially in country music anymore) and I am disgusted.

I also find that fact amusing. I cuss about modern music the way my daddy cussed about acid rock. The wheel does go 'round, doesn't it? That's one thing my mama told me shortly before she died.

"You've grown up to be your father."

Australian Rules football

Back when I was doing my stint as a relief supervisor and eating a steady diet of 3-to-11 shifts, I developed the habit of watching ESPN when I got home at night. I found two things that I really liked watching. One was "full-contact karate," which proved to me something I've known all my life--- a good boxer will kick the shit out of one of those whirling, fly-kick-throwing Bruce Lee wannabees every time.

That shit may look pretty in the movies, but I have a reality alert for you here. You DO NOT want to tangle with anybody who has boxed professionally or even at the Golden Gloves level. That guy will beat the living shit out of you. They know how to throw a punch that comes from the toenails up, and you ain't gonna like it when it hits you. You probably won't even remember it after the lights go out.

That karate shit is way over-blown today. A good boxer will dismantle a karate expert in an all-out fight, every time. If you REALLY want to meet a bad-ass, watch a good wrestler. HE will take apart both the karate dude AND the boxer. A grappler who knows what he's doing is a dangerous man. If he gets his hands on you, you're fucked.

But, I digress... I was going to talk about Australian Football. Now THAT is a GAME! It's a strange combination of rugby and American football, and it's played full-tilt with no pads. Those sumbitches are ALL crazy to be doing that. They beat the shit out of each other and I like watching that kind of sport. Plus, I liked the referees with their colored flags.

I watched that stuff long enough to pick my favorite team and learn who the the equivilent of the "bad-boy" Oakland Raiders were. I booed the bad guys and cheered for my team every time I watched them play. I woke my first ex-wife up at 4:00 in the morning a few times while I was jumping up and down in front of the TV and yelling "KILL HIM!!! KILL HIM!!!" while watching one of those games.

Stick soccer up your ass. Australian football is a REAL game.

happy easter

If Jesus was buried in Rincon, Georgia, his body would have washed out of his tomb today. The rain started yesterday evening and it hasn't stopped yet. I've lived up her for more than three years and this is the first time I've seen Chimney Road flooded. I drove through that gully-wash to get to the store today and I had to maintain wake speed to keep from kicking waves up into people's houses.

I saw families stacking sandbags around their front doors as the water was trying to make its way inside.

I live on top of a sandhill. "High Point Drive." All the water that falls here runs down to where those people live, and there has been a LOT of it over the past 24 hours. There's another example of "fragile, pristine nature" for you. Bejus! People worry about harming nature when they SHOULD be worrying about nature harming them.

Drive around Rincon, Georgia today. Take a good look at what's there. Then spew some more bullshit about "fragile ecosystems" at me. Asswipe. If you want to Save The Planet, go help some of those people stack sandbags around their front doors.

Otherwise, shut the fuck up.

i know what he means

In Kentucky, when I was a child, it was called a "personifinity bag" and you wore it around you neck on a leather thong. That's where you kept all your good luck charms and valuables, so you wouldn't lose them.

I know what eric means. I long ago lost my personifinity bag, but I still hold on to a lot of good luck charms and treasures that are special to me. Those things don't mean shit to anybody else, but they are special to ME, and I wouldn't sell them for all the money in the world.

My marble collection. My football cards. A hammer my dad gave me with his initials carved in the handle. A hatchet my grandfather made by hand. I look at that stuff and I feel memories wash over me like ocean waves. Those are precious things to me.

They always will be, too.

tell me this one is fake

bearfoot.jpg

That looks like a genuine BIG bear-claw to me. Run that one through Snopes.

an easter post

I am not a religious man. But I do not criticize other people's beliefs. My mama was VERY religious and her church stood by her to the end of her life. I see nothing but good and comfort in that kind of behavior. I'll jump all over you about your political beliefs and I'll attack you mercilessly if I think you're full of shit about anything else.

But I will NEVER question your religious beliefs. I figure that you found yours pretty much the same way I found mine, and no amount of debate is going to change anybody's mind. That topic is off-limits to me, although I may blog about what I believe from time to time. But that's just MY BUSINESS, and I'm not going to try to change your mind about what you believe.

That's why I don't like this kind of crap. Any time somebody resorts to a Biblical argument to attack what you believe as a rational person, you're dealing with a zealot who who already has a mind set in concrete. Nothing you say will break that concrete and arguing with that kind of person is futile.

I've known Baldi as a blog-friend for a long time. I admire her independence, her outspoken manner and the way she writes. (She looks pretty hot, too. I'd love to jump her bones if I weren't so afraid that her mama would shoot me!) She and I disagree on religion, but that has NEVER been a point of contention between us.

I really don't understand why the Terri Shavio case has generated so much bile and virtiol in blogdom. I don't care if her husband is a complete scumbag. I would not want to "live" the way she has been doing for the past 11 years. And I don't know why the Federal Government feels compelled to get involved in what really is a very minor matter.

It doesn't take much to inspire people to heights of stupidity today. I just wish we paid more attention to really important things instead of this bullshit.

a retread

I've ranted about this kind of stuff before. What the hell are some parents thinking when they name their children? I once amused myself by reading the "New Arrivals" in the Savannah Morning News every Sunday morning. Boy, I saw some real fandangos in there.

"Ashwaan Shithead Lamar Jones," born to Pricilla Jones, father unknown.

"Sha'wan Kineeka D'anita Jackson," born to Shikeela Jackson, father unknown.

"D'Wantaine Toyota Celica Johnson," born to Clitoris Johnson. father unknown.

"Abdul Abu Mohammed," born to Grace Rice and Apu Jamal Jazzbar.

Yeah, I'm being racist again, but GOT-DAM! It's like Dax said in his post. When you look at a name on an employment application, you form immediate impressions in your mind about what that person may be like. Personally, I don't want to hire anybody named "Shithead," even if he does prounounce it "Shith-EED." What a curse that boy's parents put on him.

I went to school with a girl named "Twyla Delight." What in the hell were HER parents thinking when they named her? Our little girl will grow up to be a stripper or a porn star and she won't even have to change her name? That was cruel and unusual punishment to place upon a child.

Names are important.

I never liked mine: Robert Smith. That's the most common name in the entire United States and I've spent a lot of my life getting mail from people who wanted somebody else and receiving phone calls from people who were looking for a DIFFERENT Robert Smith. My name is as common as red clay in Georgia. You can't shake a bush without having a DOZEN Robert Smiths fall out of it.

I wish I had a different name, one that stood out more in a crowd. That's why I named my children the way I did. Samantha and Quinton. They're still stuck with the Smith surname, but at least they have a better first name than I do. I think I did them both a favor.

I just don't understand people who lay TERRIBLE names on their children. I don't care how pretty that shit may sound to you at the time, but you have to realize that your child will carry that weight for his or her entire life. DO NOT give tham a name that is impossible to spell or pronounce. Forget that "Shawaneekia-D'wonton Gazebo."

As much as I've never liked my name, I know good and well that nobody ever looked at an employment application of mine and just busted out laughing when they saw the name. That HAPPENS with some of the outrageous names people give kids today. That's not a leg up on life.

A dumbass name is a handicap.

more good stuff

I want to thank Richard Basile for this link. I still have a domestic violence order hanging over my head, even though I never committed any domestic violence. I never hit, pushed, threatened or did ANYTHING physically intimidating against my ex-wife, but she's a sharp cookie and knew what she could do to me with one simple phone call.

She didn't have to prove anything. Once I was accused, I was guilty. I haven't had visitation with my son for more than a year now because of that. In Georgia, that shit is pretty well cut and dried, even though I had been divorced from the woman for almost two years at the time and had NO CONTACT with her whatsoever. I'm still a criminal.

I like what this judge said. I wish judges thought the same way in Georgia.

Domestic violence charges cannot be filed against unmarried people because of Ohio's recently enacted definition of marriage, a judge ruled Wednesday.

May Bejus bless him for having a lick of sense.

Frederick's public defender, David Magee, had asked the judge to throw out the domestic violence charge because of the new wording in Ohio's constitution that prohibits any state or local law that would "create or recognize a legal status for relationships of unmarried individuals."

Before the amendment, courts applied the domestic violence law by defining a family as including an unmarried couple living together as would a husband and wife, the judge said.

Now courts can't do that because of the gay marriage amendment, Friedman wrote.

This whole gay marriage thing just keeps sounding better and better to me. I haven't lived with my ex-wife since July 13, 2001. We were divorced in October, 2001. She STILL controls as much of my life as I do, and sometimes even MORE than I do. That is just plain WRONG. I don't know why this kind of shit has been allowed to go on for as long as it has, but maybe enough people are becoming aware of the injustice here to start making some noise.

I hope so. I'm tired of being fucked by the system.

i love my readers

griz.jpg

Here is a nice picture provided by Ron Fowler, showing just how gentle, beautiful and "pristine" nature really is. That's what's left of one "environmentailst" who tangled with a grizzly bear in the wild. He had a buddy with him at the time, but that buddy resided in the bear's stomach at the time, just before the bear was pitilessly shot by a hunter after the bear attacked HIM.

He was out deer hunting last week when a large grizzly bear charged him from about 50 yards away. The guy unloaded his 7mm Mag Semi-automatic rifle into the bear and it dropped a few feet from him. The big bear was still alive so he reloaded and shot it several times in the head. The bear was just over one thousand six hundred pounds.

Oh... the HUMANITY! How dare that vicious, gun-toting, Gaia-hating intruder mess with the pristine ways of sweet mother nature? He disturbed the "delicate" balance and trammelled on the fragile ecosystem. Of course, if he didn't have the gun he did, he'd be part of the fragile ecosystem now as a part of a bear-turd.

The US Forest Service, backtracking from where the bear had originated, found the hiker's 38-caliber pistol emptied. Not far from the pistol was the remains of the hiker. The other body has not been found. Although the hiker fired six shots and managed to hit the grizzly with four shots they ultimately found four 38 calibre slugs along with twelve 7mm slugs inside the bear's dead body) it only wounded the bear and probably angered it. The bear killed the hiker an estimated two days prior to the bear's own death by the gun of the Forest Service worker. Think about this - If you are an average size man; You would be level with the bear's belly button when he stood upright, the bear would look you in the eye when it walked on all fours. To give additional perspective, consider that this particular bear, standing on its hind legs, could walk up to an average single story house and look over the roof, or walk up to a two story house and look in the bedroom window.

There's Mother Nature for you, assholes.


March 26, 2005

don't spew that shit at me

If you want to really piss me off, barf up some of that enviro-weenie shit such as "pristine wilderness," "delicate wetlands" and "fragile ecosystems." If I hit you square between the eyes with a home-grown, genuine pine 2 X 4, as "natural" as wood can be, you fucking asked for it. Bejus! There is not a goddam thing "pristine," "delicate" or "fragile" about nature. If you believe that shit, you haven't spent much time around REAL nature.

When I backpacked, I believed in hauling it out if I hauled it in. I didn't want somebody hiking the same trail two days later and finding an empty can of pork and beans that I left behind. To me, that's just common courtesy.

But I didn't do that to "protect" the wilderness. People who want to Save the Planet are out of their goddam minds. Who the hell are YOU to "save the planet?" You are an insignificant flea on a dog's ass, is what you are. Earth abides. It has for 4 billion years and it will continue to do so until the sun blows up.

I'll dare you. Till a half-acre of land and plant whatever kind of crop you want to grow there. Then, just stand back and let Gaia take over. See what you get.

Not many "environmentalists" get out of their air-conditioned offices and really explore nature. I've done that. Nature is neither cruel nor kind, and neither just or unjust. Nature simply IS, and once you realize that simple fact, you stop worshipping Gaia and stop spewing bullshit.

If you're really interested in making something "pristine," come clean my kitchen. I'll appreciate it. But trust me on one thing.

Mother Nature doesn't give a damn.

Mrs. Meham

I mentioned that sweet old lady in a post below. I once cut her grass every summer and did odd jobs when she needed a working hand. She was an old widow-woman and not very attractive--- she had more facial hair than I do today--- but I liked her and I gave her free flounder every chance I got.

Her yard was a bitch to mow. She didn't have any real grass--- she had bahia-weed growing everywhere and in the southeast Georgia summer, that shit will grow knee-high in two weeks. Plus, living alone, she had a HUGE German shepherd watch-dog that was mean as a snake. That dog not only could bark like thunder, but it could shit like a well-fed goose.

I don't remember how many times I was plowing through knee-high bahia-weed in her back yard with the lawn mower and suddenly encountered a HUGE dog-turd buried in the weeds that atomized and flew back right in my face. She paid me $2.00 for doing that job and many was the time that I hosed off in my back yard, shit-covered clothes and all, before I dared enter my house after cutting her "grass."

I hope that fucking dog is dead now.

done that

I once drove a truck exactly like this one when I made deliveries for the byrd cookie company back when I was a senior in high school. It was an old Ford that I believe was built some time during the Roosevelt administration--- and I mean Teddy, not Franklin.

That old bitch was possessed. Stephen King must have seen that thing to get the idea for the book Christine. Yes, it would take off on its own, in low-crawl gear, when you started the engine. The clutch felt like sticking your foot into a vat of jello and the gears seemed to make up their own minds about whether they wanted to mesh or not. I learned to by-pass second gear altogether after a few rides in that suicide machine. It just wasn't worth the effort.

I put that critter into a ditch one day when I was unloading a riding lawn mower from the back. (Long story how I got that job.) I backed up to the ditch, put the truck in first gear, set the parking brake and opened up the back doors. It had a ramp that telescoped out of the back for hauling big loads of cookies, so I extended that. I thought I had figured out a clever way to get that lawn mower off the truck all by myself.

As soon as I rolled the lawn mower onto the ramp, the fucking truck just started BACKING UP, all by ITSELF! I remember jumping out and trying to stop that behemoth with my 145-pound sinew, but it was no use. The truck rolled into the ditch and bogged up to the rear axle in the mud.

I unloaded the lawn mower and tried to get the truck out of the ditch, but it wasn't going anywhere except deeper in the hole it had found to burrow in. I was 18 years old and scared to death because I was gonna have to call my BOSS and tell him how I put his company truck in a ditch. It really wasn't my fault--- that truck was a rolling piece of shit and the parking brake didn't work---but I was really worried at the time.

Luckily for me, an elderly black man happened along about that time. He must have had a landscape and yard-care business, because his old truck was loaded with all kinds of shovels, rakes and trimmers. He saw my dilemma and stopped on the road. "Gotta problem, son?" he asked.

I explained what happened and he said, "Gimme a hand and I'll pull you outta there." He had a tow-strap and I crawled under the truck and hooked it up. He hauled my ass out of that ditch. l will never forget how grateful I was for what he did.

I drove the truck back to the Cookie Factory that night and washed all the mud off of it (that was one of my MANY jobs there--- I had to wash every truck every day), but this time I was getting rid of incriminating evidence. I never told Mr. Byrd about that incident.

But I started hauling two cinder blocks in the back after that, and whenever I parked that truck, I chocked the wheels, front and back. That bitch bit me once, but I wasn't going to give it a second chance. I never put it in a ditch again.

By the way, I was delivering the lawn mower to Mr. Byrd's house and I had to go over there the next day and cut his grass. When I was finished with THAT job, I had to get the lawn mower back on the truck and haul it back to the Cookie Factory. I managed.

And I kept the truck out of the ditch, too.

a pussy game

I still say soccer (or futbol as they say in Costa Rica) is a pussy game. No hands, no hitting and not a lot happening on the field except a bunch of running around for an hour or so. But it's dangerous to be a spectator.

This kind of crap happens all the time at soccer games, all over the world. I don't understand it. I think soccer SUCKS and the only reason I would ever watch a game is because my son is playing in it or I am in Costa Rica. The idea of pitching a riot over that pussy game just doesn't enter into my head.

I can understand wanting to kick somebody's ass at a University of Georgia football game, especially if they're playing Auburn or Georgia Tech. But SOCCER?

Gimme a break.

damn fine rant

I've met this guy and I couldn't agree with him more. I voted for Bush because I couldn't ever look in the mirror again if I voted for Kerry. I chose the lesser of two evils.

But BEJUS!!! Bush has got to do better than this, or I'm going to move to Costa Rica. Am I the kind of person he wants to run out of this country? Get rid of ME and welcome illegal immigrants?

If that's what he wants, that's what he'll get from the Crackerbox.

i see the resemblance

This is downright creepy.

why did I think of this?

I don't know why this memory suddenly exploded in my head, but it did, just now. Have you ever "gigged" for flounder? I did that a lot when I was young.

We made the tools ourselves. Steal a 10' piece of 1" X 1" wood from where somebody was building a house and drive a ten-penny nail into one end. Bend the nail into a hook shape with a hammer and then file off the head by hand and file a good, sharp point on the bend of the nail. Presto! You had a good, sharp gigging tool. Then, learn to walk the salt water creek at low tide, just after sunset, with a flashlight in one hand and your gig in the other.

BIG flounder will scuttle along the bottom of the creek and you can see them with the flashlight as they kick up a mud-trail behind them. Stab those rascals with the gig and drag the wiggling thing out of the water, pry it off the hook and throw it into a 5-gallon bucket. We used to catch them 20 or 30 at a time that way.

We would haul the catch home and divide it up. My parents didn't eat fish, but I still wanted my share to give to Mrs. Meham down the street. She paid me $2.00 every two weeks in the summer to cut her grass and she liked fish. Plus, she was an old widow-woman and I liked being nice to her.

I wonder if boys still gig flounder today?

wow!

I can't decide whether this guy is crazy or profound. Maybe he's a little bit of both.

Don't matter to me. I like his blog.

DUI, part two

I deserved the DUI that I received and I'm not going to make any excuses about it. I did not have any business driving my truck that night and the cops did both me and the world a favor when they threw me in the hoosegow and towed my truck. I was the fucking Poster Boy for what DUI laws are for.

But that's not what usually happens anymore. Thanks to MADD, GLADD, SADD and whatever other organization you can name, plus some corrupt politicians and police who recognized a gold mine when they saw it, a lot of DUI arrests are nothing more than revenue enhancement devices today.

I'm not going to mention any names, but I have THREE friends who were arrested and carted off to jail for having a bottle of wine or a couple of beers with a nice dinner. They were about as drunk as the Pope at the time. They were snagged either by a random road-block or one of those "scratch and sniff" searches cops do today if they see you driving after midnight.

All three pulled LESS than a .08 on a breathalyzer, but were arrested ANYWAY because the cop testified that they were "weaving" down the road. It was all pure bullshit, but that's what DUI laws have become today. Revenue enhancement. A good way to fuck with otherwise law-abiding citizens.

When I went to the MADD "Scare you to death" class, I spent four hours listening to people talk about drunk drivers going the wrong way down the interstate at 100 MPH, with a BAC of .4+, or some blasted asshole doing 70 MPH down a residential street with a BAC of .4+ when he ran over a child.

What I DID NOT hear were stories about how people took their wives or girlfriends out for dinner, had a bottle of wine with some steak and seafood, then ended up in jail that night WITHOUT having a wreck or killing anybody. I talked to a lot of people in that class and many of them had that story to tell. They weren't drunk. They were in the wrong place at the wrong time. They still had the full force of the law applied to them.

Shit. When I was arrested, I was pulled over for driving TOO SLOWLY! I think I was doing about 25 MPH in a 60 MPH zone. I couldn't see the fucking road. I couldn't find my ass with both hands. THAT'S the kind of person DUI laws should get off the road. I deserved what I got.

But I still remember the days when a cop would ask you, "Have you been drinking?" and if you replied, "Yes, but I'm not drunk," he would follow you home to make sure you got there safely. That happened to me several times back in my guitar-playing days.

But the Federal Government got involved, MADD got involved and what really is a secret temperance movement in this country got involved and changed all of that. The cops and the politicians discovered that thar was GOLD in them thar DUIs, and they jumped straight through their asses to show who was "tougher" on drunk drivers than anyone else.

In some states now, they'll confiscate your CAR if you pull a .08 on a breathalyzer. I have a dirty little secret I want to share with you--- .08 IS NOT DRUNK!!! At my weight, two beers in one hour, plus my peptic ulcer will make me blow that, and two beers in one hour DO NOT make me drunk. In fact, at a .08 BAC I probably drive better than most of the "sober" assholes I see on the road every day. At least I still remember how to use a turn signal and I'm not yakking on a cell phone.

None of that matters anymore. DUI is big business today.

I'm going to give you two pieces of free advice here that may come in handy some day, given the current political climate reguarding DUI-- #1: NEVER SUBMIT TO A "FIELD SOBRIETY TEST." Don't do it. Most people can't pass one when perfectly sober and you don't have a damn thing to gain from it. You cannot be compelled to take it, so don't. Blow the breathalyzer and if you don't like the results, ask for a blood test. In Georgia, the police MUST take you to a place of your choosing for the test. I recommend the Savannah Memorial Hospital Emergency Room, because you'll sit in there long enough before they get to you to sober up no matter how drunk you are.

#2-- Don't just take it lying down if you think you weren't drunk. Don't plead anything. Ask for a jury trial. That's your right. Two of my three friends got off scot-free by doing that. You might be surprised by the number of people who recognize bullshit when they see it. If more people did that, the cops might not be so trigger-happy with DUI arrests anymore.

As I said, I deserved mine. But a lot of people don't, and it's about time we stopped this bullshit.

thief!

He probably stole this post from an email, but I still like it. I like the title of his blog, too.

I am either cursed or blessed by one thing: I remember what it was like to be a barefoot, bare-backed young boy running through the woods every day, all summer long. I am not lying when I say that I lived a Huck Finn boyhood. I skinny-dipped, I climbed trees and I had dirt-clod fights. We shot BB guns and made spears to throw at each other. We chased snakes in the ditches and gigged bullfrogs with home-made gaffs.

Somehow, we all lived through it, although looking back now, I realize some of the dangerous shit we did. Hell, we were all bullet-proof at the time. Immortal. It's a good thing that NOBODY'S mama knew what we did all day, because the poor woman would have died young. But we didn't.

I wouldn't trade those memories for anything.

March 25, 2005

one more time

I thought I engaged in civil discourse over the Terri Schavio case. Obviously feelings run feverish on this issue, but I didn't call anybody an asshole or say that they were full of shit for disagreeing with me, which I have been known to do in the past. I simply stated my opinion. Some people got all bent out of shape about that.

I feel better after reading this, which pretty much affirms what I've said all along. We simply cannot change the law of the land every time we find a case that we disagree with. Law doesn't work that way.

I believe that we have a LOT of fucked-up laws in this country. I believe that we should work to change them. Divorce law is fucked-up. Anti-smoking ordinances are fucked-up. Gun-control laws are fucked-up. Red-light cameras are fucked-up. A LOT of judges are fucked-up. But we don't change those laws by asking the federal government to step in and make new regulations on a case-by-case basis.

That idea is REALLY fucked-up.

a DUI

My buddy catfish has a son who is a problem drinker. By that, I mean that he gets drunk and runs into trouble with the law. If you do that on a lot of occasions, they eventually throw the book at you. That boy is in deep shit now, but he dug his own hole.

I got a DUI on July 13th, 2001. That was the day Jennifer threw me out of my house with no money (well... I had $60) and nowhere to go. I checked into a cheap motel called "The Cedars" with some clothes, a handfull of sleeping pills and a fifth of vodka. The air conditioner didn't work in the room. The TV didn't work.

I drank most of the vodka and took most of the sleeping pills. I still couldn't go to sleep. I wanted to fucking DIE. For some reason, at about 3:00 in the morning, I got the wild-haired idea to drive to the beach and sit on the sand while the sun came up. I put on a bathing suit, a Confederate flag tee-shirt and a pair of sandals, and off I went. I made it as far as Thunderbolt, where the cops pulled me over.

I damn sure deserved it. I had no business trying to drive that night. I pulled a .14 on the breathalyzer, but I was a lot more fucked-up than that from the sleeping pills. They hauled my Cracker ass to jail and towed away my truck, too.

I spent the next 16 hours or so in jail, surrounded by mother-rapers and father-stabbers. It was NOT a nice place to be, especially when you're the only snowball in the coal bin and dressed in a Confederate flag tee-shirt. But I must have appeared crazy enough at that time that even the thugs left me alone.

At around 9:00 the next morning, I was allowed to make a phone call, so I wailed at my friend Cop 3 to come get me out of the pokey. He came, posted my bond and got me out sometime late that afternoon. Then he took me to bail my truck out of jail, too.

I actually got off lightly when I went to court. I was given the minimum fine, sentenced to 40 hours community service and forced to attend two weeks of Drunk School (Driving Awareness? I forget what they called it.), one night of MADD goes MAD classes and a year's probation. My driver's license was suspended except for going back and forth to work for a year.

All in all, that episode probably cost me about $4,000 and a tremendous amount of inconvenience. Plus, it really looked good on my record when I went to divorce court for the first time. Yeah, you can bet your sweet ass that Jennifer waved that like a red flag.

But I deserved what I got. I fucked up, badly, and I got caught. I'm just grateful that I didn't kill somebody innocent that night. I brought all of that shit onto my own head and I have nobody else but ME to blame. I paid my fines, I did my penance and I don't intend to go back there again.

I can't understand going through that crap 14 times. I learn my lessons faster than that. If you wanna drink, STAY HOME when you do it. DO NOT drive. I don't care if you don't give a shit about killing yourself--- just think of the other people on the road. Going to jail is one thing, but being responsible for killing someone's son or daughter is something else. Don't do it.

If I wanna get shit-faced, I have a perfectly good floor to pass out on right here in the Crackerbox. That's where I do my drinking today. If I go down to El Ranchero or the Sea Grill to eat, I stick to a two-beer maximum intake if I'm driving. If I want more than that, I can buy a six-pack and haul it home.

Everybody is safer that way.

i think i knew her

When I read this post a dim recollection raised its ugly head in my memory banks and cackled obscenely. I think I dated the same woman for a while.

She was beautiful, sexy, fun in bed and a damn fine piece of arm candy to escort around until she got some liquor in her; then, she turned into the she-demon from hell. Bejus! She'd pick a fight with anybody and break anything she could lay her hands on.

If I weren't so charming and on good terms with the local police back in those days, she would have had me thrown in jail TWICE with her crazy antics. I tried to break off that insane relationship and she STALKED ME for a couple of months afterward. It was downright frightening.

I don't know what ever happened to her, and I don't want to know either. I heard that she attempted suicide and ended up at Clarke's Pavillion nut-house for a while. I hope she finally got some help, because she damn sure needed it.

It's just a crying shame when a woman that pretty has a head full of snakes.

trivia-head

I missed one question. (That's a 90% score) I'm not going to say which one, but I should have gotten it right, too, if I spent a little time thinking about it. (Hint: I've never had a cup of Starbuck's coffee in my life and I pay absolutely no attention to news about that company.) But I know what "Hogzilla" is.

I stole the link from here, where I always go for intellectual stimulation.

i toldja so!

Here is how it works.

She gets $43 million. No mention of who keeps the cats.

disgusting!

What can I say? The man is sick, sick, sick.

But damn if there ain't some truth in there.

Albert Salmi

I saw him on an episode of "Gunsmoke" today. albert Salmi is one of my all-time favorite character actors. He ranks right up there with Bruce Dern, Dub Taylor, L.Q. Jones and Strother Martin in my book. Albert was GREAT in the movie Something Big.

He committed suicide. I was saddened to read the story.

thrown out of a bar

Have you ever been "thrown out" of a bar? I don't mean "asked to leave." I'm talking about having a couple of husky bastards grab you and give you the Bum's Rush right out the door, and when they tossed you onto the sidewalk, they didn't care whether you landed on your feet or on your face. Has that ever happened to YOU?

No? Good. Me, neither.

a stacked deck

I was inspired when I read this post. I'm a three-year veteran of divorce court now, and every time I walk into those hallowed halls, I get fucked worse than I was before. I don't expect anything else anymore (I've been the cat on the hot stove too many times. I KNOW now that it's going to burn me.) so I listen to the idiotic verdicts and I write more checks.

I am playing against a stacked deck.

I am a man. I am doomed in divorce court. I made the mistake of marring the wrong woman, having a child with her and working my ass off for ten years to give my family a nice, happy home. When Jennifer threw me out and moved an unemployed dope-smoker into my bed before the door closed, that didn't matter. The fact that she pulled this shit while I was diagnosed with prostate cancer didn't matter.

The fact the she stole ALL of my money, cost me my home and took my son away from me meant nothing. The fact that SHE made more money that I DID meant nothing. She yelled "I WANT A DIVORCE!" and she got one, by gawd, and she left me rolling around like a piece of litter on a wind-blown street. I can sing a "rap" song about that experience. The RAP is the sound of the judge's gavel when he triggers that legal net above your head that dumps two tons of horse-shit on you.

And every time you think that you might be digging yourself out, it's BOHICA time (Bend Over---Here It Comes Again!). I've never endured ANYTHING even remotely as humiliating, frustrating, disgusting, demeaning, painful and pitiless as divorce court. If a woman wants to kill you, that's a handy route to do it. She'll want to make sure that you die BROKE first, and the court will support her in that plot.

Walk in there, guys, and you're up Shit's Creek without a paddle. But our esteemed lawmakers don't want to change this butt-fuck machine. They'd rather send out their impressive brain-farts waves on anti-smoking ordinances. Buncha cowards.

I'm going to convince myself that the pummelling I've received so far is justified. Really--- I'm going to do that. I'm also going to convince myself that all the money I've paid so far was money I DESERVED TO PAY. Really--- I'm going to do that. After all, it's the LAW. I am going to convince myself that it is wise.

And pigs will fly right outta my ass tomorrow.

somewhere between light and dark

Do you want to see exactly how ridiculous blogging is? Just check this post. There is no THERE there, and he still got 18 comments.

Fuck me dead.

the truth

Dax Montana is one of the first bloggers I started to read waaaay back when I started, and I met him most unexpectedly at Blood Mountain in 2002. He damn near scared the shit out of me, because he's a BIG guy and fairly imposing when you first meet him.

That was okay. I invited him into my cabin and pacified his ass with Wild Turkey in copious quantities and he ended up spending the night with me and Recondo 32. I think Dax got seriously in the doghouse over that episode with his better half. But I had fun meeting the guy behind the blog. Hell, I even cooked him breakfast and served him spiked coffee the next morning.

Wanna know more about him? Just read this post. That's Dax, unplugged. He ain't at the top of my blogroll for nothing.

Crazy bastard.

at least she didn't have a gun

Here's a story that illustrates stupidity over nothing. A kid catches a school principal smoking on school grounds, takes her picture and posts it on his web site. For that terroristic act, he is suspended.

Whatta bunch of bullshit.

When I was in high school, every time the door to the Teacher's Lounge opened, thick coils of cigarette smoke came boiling out into the hallway. I didn't see anybody dropping dead there. Students were allowed to smoke during lunch, as long as they went to "the smoking tree" on the far side of the football practice field.

If you received detention for showing your ass in school, the typical punishment was to be handed an empty King Edward cigar box and sent to the "smoking tree." You picked up cigarette butts until the box was full. It was mind-numbing, disgusting punishment and it discouraged ME from showing my ass again.

But now tobacco is radioactive, smoking is akin to child molestation and a web site can get you into a whole lot of trouble. Shit. I was graduated from high school in 1970 and the only thing students worried about then were getting laid and staying your ass out of Vietnam if you could. Yeah, and some of the "cigarette butts" you found under the smoking tree weren't rolled out of tobacco. The music was pretty radical, too.

But I'll be damned if those weren't saner times than we live in now.

Political Correctness wasn't around yet. Tobacco wasn't radioactive. People weren't nearly as stupid back then. 35 years later, we have REGRESSED to the point where teachers don't smoke (but they don't TEACH, either), students don't smoke (but they don't LEARN, either) and The Powers That Be use Zero Tolerance instead of common sense when faced with a discipline problem. What amazing progress we have made.

If we keep going in this direction, we'll have no spirit left in this country. We'll all be just like THX 1138--- broken on the wheel of government and political correctness, incapable of having an independent thought. WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG with a teacher having a cigarette? It ain't like the woman was smoking crack, and it ain't as if she were waving a loaded gun around (guns are radioactive today, too.).

We are slowly but surely being absorbed by the brain-suckers of the Borg collective. Resistance is futile. You WILL be assimilated.

Well, maybe YOU will... but I WON'T.

the pain!

I've been ceremoniously de-linked again. Well, that's a person's right, and I'll try not to lose a whole lot of sleep over it. I've been de-linked by better blogs than that one before.

I still find it interesting the way some people react when they read MY humble opinions and don't like them. They get all pouty and angry. They'll show ME! They'll take their ball and stomp home to mama, who will hug them, dry their tears, kiss their bo-bos and make them feel better.

I know this much: You're not someone worthy of my blogroll.

Well... EXCUSE ME! And FUCK YOU!

Pussy.

March 24, 2005

yellow snow

I was going to write a post about Bobby Fischer, but somebody beat me to it and did the job quite nicely.

I would state that I have nothing more to say, but that would be a goddam lie because I ALWAYS have something more to say. Bobby Fischer is a chess genius. He also is a fucked-up individual. But he's not a criminal. Hauling him back to the USA to lock him up for violations of trade sanctions is a ridiculous idea.

Leave the crazy bastard alone. He's no threat to me, mine, nor yours. Let him eat yellow snow in Iceland. Let him sit on a beach in Tahiti. I don't care, one way or the other. Why are we going after this guy anyway?

I call checkmate.

bitch!

She banned me again. If you have a Yahoo email account, you are now doomed to the "REJECT!!! Questionable Content" File in her comments, where you have to go sit on the "Group W" bench and have a mug shot taken with the rest of the thugs. Then some burly cops come in with a fire-hose and wash you out into the street, where they leave you to the sand gnats.

I guess she just doesn't want to talk to me anymore.

*I have a Comcast email address, but I don't use it. I use Yahoo because it does a better job than my firewalls of stopping viruses. The Comcast email runs through Outlook Express, which is dangerous. It'll open shit you don't want opened.

A lot of people automatically reject any Yahoo emails. Assholes can invent an ID and write a piece of hate-mail, then go hide as soon as they send the message. I get that crap all the time. But I'm going to stick with Yahoo for now.

If you want to ban Yahoo, it's your computer and this is a free country.

violence

I am a non-violent man. Over the years I have learned to control my temper and not just fly off the handle every time I get pissed off. Long ago, I'd fight you just as soon as look at you, but I'm older and wiser now. I don't do that crap anymore.

But if I had the chance, I'd sucker-punch the living daylights out of two people, and I hope I break my hand when I do it, because I don't want to hold anything back. I want to knock them out so that they land flat on their asses and don't remember their names afterward. I want them to need jaw reconstruction and dental surgery when I'm finished with them.


Those two people are Bill Mahr and Jesse Jackson. I cannot name two bigger pricks in the universe.

here's another one

tiny.JPG

Some people seem to have doubts that anybody MAKES a 5-shot .22 derringer. Well, according to my Uncle Virgil, North Americam Firearms does, and it looks just like this.

for kim du toit

MVC-005F.JPG

Here's a picture of the 5-shot .22 derringer that I don't own. It belongs to my Uncle Virgil and he really loves it.

I want one just like it some day.

guns

I don't own any guns--- lets's get that straight right off the bat. But if I DID own any guns, they wouldn't be elephant-killers or some semi-assault rifles that seem to make little men think they have big dicks.

Naw... if I were going to own any guns, I'd have a few .22s, maybe two rifles, one target pistol and a very small 5-shot derringer. If I wanted a revolver, I'd have a Ruger .357 magnum with a gunslinger holster to ride on my hip. I might also have a Colt .38 with a shoulder holster and a S&W Ladysmith, just to keep me in touch with my feminine side.

For long guns, I might have a single-shot .410 shotgun and a Winchester .12 gauge pump and a Remington .30-06 with a really nice scope on it. I might also have .380 and 9mm semi-auto pistols. I might also own a Crossman .177 pellet rifle, which is the most death-dealing gun that I DON'T own. Ask squirrel ghosts about that one.

I think guns are eeeeevil. That's why I don't own any.

the beat goes on

My darlin' blog-niece stirred up a storm with the post she wrote about Terri Shavio. Some of the comments on her blog and on the post where I linked to her are very interesting. In fact, some of those comments reflect some really sharp minds wrestling with a difficult ethical question.

I believe that kind of thinking is healthy for a good society. We SHOULD wrestle with this kind of ethical dilemma. We SHOULD question the law when we believe that it is wrong. But you can't just jump up and yell "CHANGE IT!" over one case that I find very murky the more I explore it.

From personal experience: when I was called to the hospital on October 12, 1992, my father was dying. My mama was a wreck. Dad was improving for the past couple of days and he was looking forward to being Best Man at my wedding when I married Jennifer. Then, he relapsed badly, all of a sudden.

I talked to a doctor who appeared to be half my age and he gave me a couple of options for treatment. I rejected those. I asked if he could make my father comfortable and out of pain while nature took its course. He assured me that he could. I chose door #3 and called my brother to get to the hospital as quickly as he could. (He was on vacation in Nashville at the time) We were all there when dad died.

I made the right decision.

When mama went into Hospice, I sat on the back porch and cried while I talked to the nurse. I insisted on two things-- you will keep her comfortable and out of pain, and you will DO NOTHING extraordinary to keep her alive. I was assured that they gave pallitive care only and they would not prolong my mama's suffering. They kept their word. Mama died peacefully, in her sleep.

I've MADE those choices--- TWICE in my life. And I am convinced that I made the right choice both times. A lot of you commenters get really off-base when you ask "What if Jennifer had the power to pull the plug on YOU?" Well, I hope she would if I were in that situation. As I've said before, there's a big difference between being alive and living.

I don't believe that the woman should starve to death. One shot with a good drug will bring everything to an end quickly and mercifully. THAT'S what I would want.

We do it to our pets. Why not for her?

this is wrong

Call me a racist (again) but I can't read this shit without wondering--- why do the test scores turn out this way, and if you're going to ignore the scores, why give the tests anyway? Just ADMIT that you're gonna hire black people whether they are qualified or not.

Stop beating around the bush. Call it "diversity" or "affirmative action" or whatever else you want to call it. Just do it and quit with the bullshit. You want a nice mix of jelly beans and you don't care whether they can do the job or not. As long as you have a handful of different colors, everything is fine.

Drafted by an African American with an eye toward diversifying a fire department with a documented history of discrimination, the 1995 exam drew more than 26,000 applicants. When results for minorities were disappointing, the city established a cutoff score of 89 and began hiring randomly from the top 1,800 "well-qualified" candidates.

The plaintiffs contended -- and Gotschall agreed -- that the city's action had the effect of perpetuating the predominantly white status quo because 78 percent of those "well-qualified" candidates were white. Not until fall 2002 did the city start hiring randomly from among the 20,200 candidates deemed "qualified" with scores of 65 and above.

Just read that blockquote carefully and think about what it means. If you give a test and most of the "highly qualified" applicants happen to be white, then you must scrap the test results and fish pickles from the bottom of the barrel to achieve the "diversity" you were looking for. Why give the test in the first place? Just hire a bunch of black people because they are black. That's what you INTENDED to do all along.

Then have them pose for a group picture and put a pie graph at the bottom showing that you have achieved diversity in the fire department. It doesn't matter that some people may die for the sake of that beautiful pie graph. You have DIVERSITY and that's more important than having crews capable of saving a person from a burning building. Just count the jelly beans.

This country is fucking crazy today.

(By the way... posts such as this one are what got me fired from my job. You just don't SAY certain things anymore.)

somebody fucked up

I'll bet you money that this accident is the result of someone violating safey precedures in that plant. I've seen it too many times to believe otherwise. Such accidents almost ALWAYS happen when some guy who knows better decides to take a short-cut, because he's done it before and gotten away with it. And I'll bet that it was something routine that he does every day.

People seldom get hurt in industry when they KNOW that they are doing something dangerous. They take all the proper precautions, wear the right PPE and pay really close attention to their work. What will bite you is the routine stuff, where an operator decides that he knows a better and faster way to get the job done and he starts to think that all the safety rules are bullshit. As long as no boss is watching, he's gonna do it HIS way.

That stuff gets people killed. And I'll bet you that the same thing happened here.

March 23, 2005

one flesh

I blogged a few days ago about what I think of the Terri Schiavo case. I don't see anything but bad precident coming out of this mess, especially since the federal government decided that it had some asshole reason to become involved. Cut through all the bullshit and the decision is simple to me: The husband has the choice. That is the LAW.

I don't want to hear about what a money-grubbing, cold-hearted bastard Mike Schiavo is. His moral bankruptcy (or not) has no bearing whatsoever on this case. He is the next of kin, under the LAW. The choice is HIS--- not the in-laws, not the court's and not the federal government's.

If the law is wrong, then change it. But DO NOT jump into the middle of this shit-storm and say that laws mean one thing when we like they way they go, but they mean NOTHING when political baksheesh can be made. I heard President Bush say today that if mistakes were being made, he chose to "err on the side of life."

That may sound like a noble sentiment until you stop to realize that THE PRESIDENT just said that laws of this country don't mean shit to him. By implication, he would wipe his ass on the US Constitution if he "erred on the side of life." That's fucking crazy.

Here is really good post on this matter from someone who usually doesn't blog about such serious subjects. I agree with her 100%.

We already have rules that apply to this situation. To change them NOW, over one case, is to make every rule on the books subject to the same "situational ethics" and I think that is the road to NO LAW AT ALL. And we seem to be willing to do this for a woman who has the brain of a zuchinni.

I've said it before. Sometimes, we demonstrate vividly that we are too stupid to live free.

into the midst

Here is a good post about an anti-war demonstration from someone who was there. He is not flattering in his description of the protesters.

But he didn't call them blithering, fucked-up idiots, which is what I would have done.

small southern towns

I've done a lot of driving all over this beautiful state and I tend to keep to the back roads. I like the scenery out there. It beats the hell out of driving the interstate highways.

Drive through some small Southern towns in backwater, Georgia, and you'll almost always see the same thing. They have a very nice, old courthouse. And they'll have a monument to fallen Confederate soldiers somewhere nearby.

Some of the houses (the ones Sherman didn't burn) still have all the Greco-Roman architecture, with the big pillars and the wrap-around porches. You can see wooden outbuildings out beyond the manor that probably were slave quarters once upon a time. Those places are barns now, or just rotting to pieces. I would really like to take some pictures of some of those ante-bellum relics.

Stop and eat in one of those little towns. Pick a local diner and stop where you see the most pickup trucks in the parking lot. The waitress will call you "honey," and the food will be good, served with genuine Southern iced tea, which is sweet enough to make a bee drunk. Eat country-fried steak with mashed potatoes and gravy with fried okra, green beans, collards and biscuits also piling the plate.

You can enjoy that meal and still smoke a cigarette afterward, when you're full to bustin' from all that good food. Have another glass of iced tea and shoot the shit with the locals while you smoke. They don't mind. They smoke, too, and they enjoy talking. I like those places.

That's one of the reaons I like travelling wih Recondo or Catfish on these adventures. We like Cracker food, and we like meeting new people. Those diners are perfect, because they have good food and have the atmosphere that is perfect for the food. Ain't nothing fancy. Just a typical Southern diner, with good food and friendly company.

You should try it. You just might like it.

i did it

After much hectoring, lecturing, bitching, well-meant advice, naggering pestiferousness and a constant onslaught of people telling me what was good for me, I finally threw in the towel and went to the doctor today. What a waste of money and time.

They couldn't find a damn thing seriously wrong with me.

I was poked, probed, X-rayed and examined under a microscope... and the end result was: I have an ulcer. My red-cell blood-count is low, probably from a combination of not eating right (hell--- I haven't eaten right for almost a year now--- big surprise there!) and suffering internal bleeding. (Yeah, I was shitting black turds for a while there.) The ulcer appears to have healed itself. All my liver enzymes are okay, I don't have lung cancer and I just need some more potassium and protein in my diet to make me fit as a fiddle. I also need to drink a lot of water every day, because I am dehydrated.

The quack doctor asked me a ridiculous question. "Have you been under a lot of STRESS lately?" That was his diagnosis. I don't know where he got THAT idea.

Fuck. STRESS? Naw, not me.

He gave me a precription for an industrial-strength antacid, some vitamins and a 180-day supply of Wellbutrin to mellow me out. I'm supposed to take the antacid pills when I have a belly ache (which I haven't had for a week or so now) and I'm supposed to start out the Wellbutrin with one pill in the morning and another one at night. I should double the dose if I don't feel less stress in a week.

My aching ass.

I've tried Wellbutrin before and it never did shit for me. I asked for valuim or Xanax or something that would fuck me up as well as mellow me out. He wouldn't give me any of that GOOD STUFF, the bastard. He gave me vitamins instead.

STRESS. What the hell have I had to be STRESSED about over the past three years?

March 22, 2005

burp!

I had fried chicken and cole slaw for supper this evening. It tasted pretty good. In fact, I was feeling like a million bucks before taxes when i saw this. Now, I feel an urgent need to upchuck.

By the way, I knew the guy and his name is Phelton Farnsworth Dunwood. People called him PFD for short.

welcome to my world

Lo and behold! I see that someone is enjoying the pleasure of sand gnats in Georgia at this time of year. The Indians didn't call the little bastards "no see-ums" for no reason, and Crackers don't call them "flying teeth" for nothing.

Those fuckers will eat you alive from now until early June. "Skin So Soft" from Avon is the only thing I've ever found that will keep them offa you. Apply "Deep Woods Off" with maximum Deet content, and the gnats behave as if you just marinated yourself. They'll eat you using the insect repellent as a sauce.

Welcome to Georgia, Moogie!

answer it

Today's Quiz: Who is the most annoying ?

A) Hillary Clinton-- okay, she's pretty damned annoying and I hate her guts. I believe that she is the Antichrist, but she doesn't get my vote. We need her to sink the Democrat party forever in 2008.

B) Kirstie Alley-- C'mon. She's a fat bitch who once was a beautiful woman. (Bejus! How could she let herself go to seed like that?) She doesn't annoy me. I feel sorry for her.

C) Barbara Boxer. Yep, there's my vote. She is a nitwit, a buffoon and she lives in California. She is a complete flying moonbat, but I already mentioned that she lives in California. She annoys the shit out of me.

D) Lucille Ball I LOVE Lucy.

E) Yoko Ono Does anybody give a shit about her anymore? I don't.

F) The Fat Dixie Chick Not worthy of my contempt, although she has it. Natalie Raines isn't worth a fart in her general direction. Of course, I don't want to be downwind of HER if that wide-load ass ever opens up. Why couldn't she just shut up and sing? Dumbass twat.

G) Sharon Stone A giant lizard should have bitten her head off a long time ago. She's an example of how some wimmen, with no talent, no skill and not even really good looks, ride their pussy to the top. She is nothing more than a life-support system for her cunt. Annoying? No. Worthy of contempt? Yes.

But BB-head from California gets my vote in this poll.


pouring down rain

I'm thinking about turning off the computer and doing a hunker-down in the Crackerbox. One hell of a thunderstorm is raging outside right now. We have a tornado Warning (not a watch) in effect until midnight tonight, with predictions of 70 MPH winds and 2" hail from the storm that is rolling though now.

But from what I see on the Weather Channel, the I-95 effect is going to keep the worst of this one to the south and the east of me. Anybody who lives in southeast Georgia knows about the "I-95 Effect." It is real, too. Mother Nature seems to pick which side of that road she wants to shit on, and she does all of her business on one side and not the other. Ask anybody who lives around here.

That interstate may be a blue line on a highway map, but I swear to Bejus that it's a border on nature's map, too.

sick

Don't let her looks fool you. This is a sick woman. "Ball cocks" WOULD fascinate you, you pervert. If you want to see something REALLY interesting, check out MY hydrolic system. My bionics are better than any kind of toilet hardware.

It's got ME on one end of it.

some wimmen are cool

A lot of lesbians worked for the Savannah Morning News when I was playing guitar on River Street. They got off at 11:00 at night and came down to the bar to drink heavily and listen to me play before they went home. I used to flirt with them and tell them that I could change their persuasion if they would only give me a chance. A couple of those wimmen were damned good looking.

Never happened. They were set in their ways, but they liked my music and they liked the way I flirted with them. We became friends.

One night, a bunch of them stayed until closing time and at about 2:30 in the morning, I told them that I would walk them back to the parking lot, just to be chivalrous and all. I don't know what good I would have done them with a guitar case in either hand, but I had a derringer in my pocket, and I enjoyed their company. So, five of them and one of me took a hike to the parking lot.

We didn't make it before a FLASHER jumped out of an alley and bared himself. I AM NOT MAKING THIS SHIT UP!!! The guy popped out of nowhere and spread his trench coat like a set of bat wings, and he was wearing nothing but the coat and a pair of running shoes.

One of the girls said, "Oh, my God. That looks just like a dick, only a lot smaller." The guy turned and ran away.

I had to sit down on the street and laugh for a minute. That was the perfect cut at the perfect time. I WISHED that I had come up with that one, right out of the dark sky the way she did. All the girls were laughing and giving high-fives to each other, too. I finally recovered enough breath to say, "Why don't y'all walk me to MY car? I believe that you can take care of yourselves." They did exactly that.

Don't try to intimidate a bunch of lesbians. That plan won't work. They'll make fun of your dick.

gunsmoke

I've kept my television tuned to "The Western Channel" for the past day and a half. They show a lot of "Gunsmoke" reruns on there, the old black-and-white episodes that I watched as a boy. Matt Dillon was my hero back when those stories first aired, but I look at his character today with different eyes.

Between yesterday and today, I counted 16 people that Matt Dillon killed. Festus threw two more into the body count. Stop and think about that for a moment.

James Arness was EXCELLENT as Matt Dillon, except for one thing. He never had the eyes of a killer. Anybody who shot as many people as he did could not sleep well at night unless he was a complete robo-cowboy, with no sense of conscience or regret. But Matt obviously was an intelligent man. How do you reconcile what he did with how he looks?

I can't. I know that it was just a TV show and I'm silly for waxing all existential about it, but a man who killed that many people, even if they DID need killing, had to think about it sometimes. I could do it, but I would have bad dreams about it afterward. Matt has the face of someone who sleeps like a baby.

That's my only complaint about Gunsmoke, which was the best western ever to appear on television. Matt Dillon just doesn't appear tortured enough to suit me. He didn't have haunted eyes.

Plus, he should have been banging the shit out of Miss Kitty every night.

on a dare

Here is a genuine pussy-blog, just for a few perverted people who dared me to do it.

All right, assholes--- you think I WON'T???

I have always been fascinated by a woman's pudenta. I've seen pussy in all shapes and sizes and they all ARE different--- some for the better and some for the worse. I never saw a damn one that I couldn't tolerate, but some are more beautiful than others.

Pop open a raw oyster and look at it sideways. Tell me that it don't look just like a pussy. Liar! IT DOES, with the same kind of lips on it as a labia. I eat raw oysters and I eat pussy, too. I am very good at both jobs because I enjoy my work.

I don't like a hairy thatch on a woman. Back in the days when I first started casting my net far and wide, very few wimmen shaved their privates. I've seen some bushes where a goddam lion could hide. I've seen wimmen with more body hair than I had. I didn't really like that crap.

But then they went in the opposite direction, and started shaving their pussies bald. I don't like that, either. When I am confronted with a bald-headed pussy, I feel like a goddam child-molester mounting that woman. Oh, I'll DO IT, of course, but that's not really sexy to me. I much prefer the Mohawk or the well-trimmed Van Dyke around the honey-hole.

I think a woman should smell like a woman. I like the rich, fecund and NATURAL smell of a woman's well-maintained snatch. I don't want it to smell like flowers of The Great Outdoors. Of course, I don't want it to smell like three-day-old tuna either. You can hit a happy medium there.

As far as appearances go, a nice pink set of lips is a real turn-on to me. One that doesn't lay there gapped open when you look at it. One that looks PRETTY and feminine, not like some ragged retread tire that an 18-wheeler threw off on the Interstate. One that doesn't look like a team of pile-drivers have been augering the BIG STUFF in there. One that doesn't resemble a vertical taco with the meat and cheese missing out of it.

I don't like the big, flexible hangy-down lips, either. I've seen a few of those and I always think that it is the result of trying to insert a box of rubber bands up there, and a few didn't stay in. Combine a hairy thatch with the hangy-down lips and an empty vertical taco and you've got an ugly pussy.

That's MY humble opinion on this matter.

knocked unconscious

Have you ever been "knocked out?"

I'm not talking about being dazed, stunned, loopy or disoriented. I mean being KNOCKED OUT, where you received a blow to head hard enough to put you sound asleep. Have you ever had that unique experience? I have, three times.

The first time was a baseball that I caught square between my eyes when I was 12 years old. It was a hard line drive and I thought I had a bead on that rascal, but I missed with the glove and it got me. I remember a bright flash of light, then I woke up several minutes later with my Dad, my coach and a lot of other concerned people gathered around me. I didn't realize that any time had passed.

Hell, I felt fine. I was ready to play ball again, but they made me sit out the rest of practice. I knew who I was, what day it was and what had happened to me. I was okay. I just developed a bad headache that evening, so I took a couple of aspirin and slept well. I was cured and back at practice the next day.

The second time was on the football field, and the lick I put on somebody helmet-to-helmet was hard enough to rattle the last of the dying leaves out of the nearby trees. We BOTH ended up on the ground, sound asleep. I think I was out for only about 30 seconds that time, before a trainer had an ammonia capsule under my nose and I sat up snorting and coughing. Again, I knew who I was, what day it was and what happened to me.

The other guy laid there for at LEAST five minutes with his eyes open as he snored. He was so far out that he was impervious to the effects of ammonia capsules. He was a GONER.

When he finally woke up, he didn't know where he was, he didn't remember coming to school that day and he damn sure didn't remember the lick that laid him out. He was wobbly for a couple of days after that.

The third time was that car wreck I had in South Carolina when my friend Leo and I performed a perfect T-bone collision at about 65 MPH with an old black woman on Highway 278 on our way to play golf. We totalled both cars and I woke up in the back seat of Leo's Chrysler Le Baron, wondering how I got THERE, when I was riding in the front passenger seat.

Leo told me later that he thought I was dead, because my head went through the windshield before I bounced off into the back seat. (That's why I ALWAYS wear a seat belt today, and if you ride with me, you're gonna wear one, too.) I still remembered who I was and what had happened. I just went unexpectedly to sleep for a few minutes there. I was okay. Just a few cuts and bruises, but I didn't feel like playing golf anymore. I was wobbly for a couple of days after that one.

Have YOU ever been knocked unconscious? If so, what do YOU remember about it?

bad things

I've had a lot of really evil shit happen to me in my life. I have broken my bones, had some teeth knocked out and experienced the joy of having a skilled surgeon rip out vital parts of my anatomy. I survived two very bad car wrecks. I've had as many stitches put in me as the Frankenstein monster did. I have walked on crutches and found myself totally bedridden, unable to go to the bathroom by myself.

But NONE OF THAT was as bad as a fucking root canal. That procedure just pure-ass sucks.

When I had my front teeth knocked out playing football, I also chipped two others that were capped at the time. I was fitted with a bridge. That was fine for a couple of years, until I developed this terrible toothache one weekend in one of the capped teeth. MUTHAFUCKA! That sumbitch hurt like hell for two days and almost drove me crazy. It was a weekend. All the dentist's offices were closed. I could find no relief.

I've read stories about people who take a pistol and try to shoot out a bad tooth. I know why they do that stupid stuff after that experience. You reach the point where you would do ANYTHING to make that bitch stop hurting. NOTHING seems outrageous to you anymore.

Sunday night, my tooth stopped hurting. All the pain just suddenly went away. I was a happy Cracker boy--- until I developed a swelling along my gum-line that rapidly spread up the side of my face. It wasn't sore to the touch, but I was becoming disfigured from the swelling. I knew that something was wrong, so I made an appointment to see my dentist.

He took one X-ray and sent me off to see an oral surgeon. My capped tooth had given up the ghost and was starting to abcess. (Did you know that you can DIE from that shit?) I had a root canal that morning while some construction crew was working with jackhammers breaking up the sidewalk outside the dentist's office. Those were perfect sound effects for the operation.

Because he was dealing with a capped tooth holding together a bridge, the doctor had to be very careful not to break anything essential while he drilled and probed. He locked my head in a fucking vise, cranked my mouth open with some kind of stainless steel torture device and proceded to use the kind of instruments the priests used on William Wallace when they eviscerated him at the end of Braveheart.

I was party to this special treatment while listening to jackhammers break up a sidewalk outside the office. At the time, I was thoroughly convinced that I had died and gone to hell.

And that first visit didn't finish the job. All he did that day was drain the abcess and prep me for a RETURN VISIT a week later, when he completed his work. After that second visit, I staggered out of that office resembling a zombie from Night of the Living Dead. I took my prescription for codiene to the nearest pharmacy, bought my pills, and went home to stay doped on the couch for a day and have horrible nightmares about people in white coats chasing me around with red-hot hammers and tongs.

I NEVER want to go through that again. Sam, you have my heartfelt sympathy.

crime does pay

Yep. Criminals can become rich if they manage to do something really stupid, then hire a good lawyer. See... if you break into a warehouse, trespass on private property and suffer a 40-foot fall while comitting a crime, it's not YOUR FAULT. The damn property owner should have built a better fence to keep you out.

The guy receiving the money (£567,000 ---about $1 million US, I think) is a real choir boy, too.

In his first public interview since receiving the award, Murphy - who has convictions for robbery, burglary and assault - said that he did not care about the response.

"I deserve this money and I don't care what anybody says about me," he said. "I'm going to buy a big house so I have a place to live with me mum when she gets out of jail. I might buy a few houses - I'll buy whatever I want." He added: "The papers just call me a yob and a thug because I've been done for robbery and assault but those were just silly stupid little things, like.

A Clockwork Orange lives in England today.

i think it's funny

In fact, I believe that every "member" of Congress should have to wear wear one of these whenever appearing on televison. Call it Truth in Advertising.

They really are a bunch of dickheads.

March 21, 2005

i like this

From the email file of "I Hate YOU!"

Your picture shows an old, gray man. If you don't like women your age aging as all people do, then go for a young woman. But what young woman would want a baggy, washed out, immature old man? Apparently you haven't learned to love someone long enough to watch them age, because if you did, you'd grow to love them over time and wouldn't even see the aging. You'd still see them as beautiful. Many, many men love older women, "imperfect" bodies and all. A man once told me he found a big of sag in a breast attractive. He wasn't a lover of mine nor was he looking to be. I agree that many men and women get too fat and should try not to let that happen. But the sexiest man I ever knew was a short, paunchy, ugly fella whom I grew to adore. He had confidence, wit, intelligence and kindness. Good luck, old man.

Oh, the pain of those slings and arrows!!!

Whatcha wanna bet that she's a big, fat bitch with tits to her knees, triple waddles on her belly, a pussy the size of a mayonaisse jar, a set of legs that belong on an elephant, hair on her upper lip, a wart on her nose, bad complexion and nether regions that smell like last week's garbage? Huh? Wanna bet?

She hasn't been laid in a long, long time, either. The last she could get was the paunchy old guy (who had bad teeth) and she probably needs to thank Jack Daniels for that. Once he sobered up, I'll bet that he ran for the hills.

Take THAT from this old man, you fucking cunt. I may be old, but I don't take shit from people such as you. I AM gray, but I'm not ugly.

You are.

new title

I am the "Godfather of Shit-Blogging," according to a few people on the web. I wear the title with pride.

Now, if I can become known as the Godfather of pussy-blogging, I shall have arrived, and fulfilled myself as a writer.

gee-gaws and knick knacks

Do you know what Lois wanted from my mama's estate? A few pictures and some old 45 RPM records that they danced to at high school sock hops when they were young. And the old RCA Victrola Hi-Fi to play those things on.

They listened to that music during my mama's last days. Mama would have danced if she could have. She never got over her crush on Elvis Presley.

Lois came from Tennessee and stayed with my mama for the last three months of mama's life. Mama's best friend never forgot her. Lois told me that she moved around a lot as a child and always felt like somebody on the outside looking in, until she met my mama. "She made me feel like I BELONGED. Nobody ever did that for me before."

Yeah, that was my mama.

And Lois can have anything in that house that she desires. But all she wants are some gee-gaws and knick knacks. Souviners of a long-lasting friendship, one that lasted more than 50 years. There's not enough money in this world to pay that woman for what she was worth to my mama.

But she doesn't want any money. Hillbillies are strange that way. You can't put a price on friendship. We OFFER that to you, but it ain't for sale. That's the way we think.

If you don't have a hillbilly friend, try to get one. They'll be there through thick and thin. And they won't charge you a fee, either.

We don't do that.

is he guilty?

I do not know if Michael Jackson is just a celebrety freak, or a celebrety freak who molests children. That question is for a jury to decide, but he ain't helping his case much with this shit.

Personally, I think he's the kind of bent bastard who WOULD molest children, but the family going after him isn't exactly corn-fed and wholesome. I smell a rat in the mash. I'm glad that I am NOT serving on that jury.

Is Michael guilty, or not? What do YOU think, if you bother to think about it at all?

i take umbrage!

This guy may know how to cook, but he doesn't know shit about booze. Sour mash whiskey and bourbon are NOT the same thing, and as a Kentucky boy, you should know that, Steve. My off-the-shelf beverage of choice is Jim Beam. If I want to spend serious money on some serious sippin' BOURBON, I buy Booker's Best.

I would rather drink cat-piss than ANY kind of Scotch. That shit tastes like a weak bourbon and water with a couple of cigarette butts floating around in it. It pure-ass sucks to my palate. I might paint my face blue and attack the English gits along with you, but I ain't gonna drink that swamp-water to celebrate our victory. Give me bourbon.

Our even better, a nice, robust beer. An ale, dark and only slightly frothy. One that appears almost angry when you look through the glass, because it's not double-filtered and made to taste like bottled water. Something with about 5-7% alcohol in it. A REAL beer.

I still remember Recondo 32 giving me a lecture about beer while I was drinking a Bass ale and he was sucking on a Michelob Lite. "Smith, you just gotta be the yuppie, don't you? Why don't you drink a REAL BEER for a change? HUH-HUH-HUH-HUH?" I could not take that conversation seriously. Michelob Lite is to beer the way dogshit is to gravy. Anybody who drinks that shit has no business lecturing ANYBODY about beer, because if they'll drink that possum-piss, they'll drink anything liquid. Pompous ass.

And I ain't no fucking yuppie. I simply have lived long enough to appreciate the finer things in life, such as really GOOD small-batch bourbon. And good beer.

you've done it!

Show me people who swear that they never shit their pants and I'll show you a bunch of liars. I have shit my pants, and I probably will again. I ADMIT IT!!! I've pissed all over myself, too. The experience is not pleasant, but it's no reason to generate a lie.

If you've never shit your pants, you have not lived a complete life.

guitar practice

My brother and I are going to get together, probably next Sunday, over at mama's house and entertain the relatives. We haven't played together in a long time, and even though the cobwebs usually fall away quickly when we play, we just want to make sure. He's coming to the Georgia Writer's Workshop at Jekyll Island next month, and we want the Fabulous Smith Brothers to sound good.

Dave and I started singing harmony together when we were little boys. We've been doing it for almost 40 years now. He has the better voice, with a much larger range than I have, so I give him the hard vocal parts and I take the easy ones. I'm a better guitar player than he is, so I give him the easy parts and I take the hard ones. That partnership works out well. We're really pretty good together. We intend to blow your doors off on Jekyll.

We're even going to practice first.

pot, meet kettle

Howard Dean is the perfect man to lead the Democrat party today. He is wild-eyed, lunatic, full of shit, demented and downright rabid sometimes. If that's not the modern profile of a typical leftist, I don't know what is. Now, he says Republicans are "brain dead."

One major reason his party lost the 2004 race to the "brain-dead" Republicans is that it has a "tendency to explain every issue in half an hour of detail," Dean told the semi-annual meeting of Democrats Abroad, which brought about 150 members from Canada and 30 other countries to the Toronto for two days.

"I'm going to be very disciplined about how we deliver messages. We can have policy deliberations in rooms like this. On TV, we have to be very focused."

So... the way to defeat "brain dead" Republicans is to... TRY TO ACT LIKE REPUBLICANS! Brilliant!

I may live long enough to see the Democrat party implode. It's well on its way now, and the great minds behind it don't have far to go to move from the fringe to a fall off the cliff. They seem bound and determined to do it, too.

A little less spittle and a few more ideas might help their cause. But they have spittle to spare and a dearth of ideas. I don't believe that they will EVER recover from drinking the Clinton kool-ade. They poisoned themselves for that man, and their solution to the bellyache they have now is to run Hillary for President in 2008. Brilliant!

I'll bet you that watching the Titanic sink was an impressive sight. I'm seeing a political party do the same thing today, except the Dems steered DELIBERATELY into the iceberg.

March 20, 2005

immigrants

The Mexican Latino population in Effingham County is growing by leaps and bounds. I think a lot of those people came here to pick fruit and onions, but they stayed because they found construction jobs that paid a lot better than stoop-labor. Once they made a little money, they started opening restaurants, grocery stores and small businesses. They put down roots, the hard-working little turds.

"Se Habla Espanol." You need that sign if you run a business in Effingham County anymore.

I LIKE the fact that El Ranchero is open in downtown Rincon. I go in there to drink Dos Exes beer, practice my Spanish and eat the best damned stuffed avacodo I ever tasted, con pollo y quesa, with refried beans, rice, sour cream and guacomole to spread over everything. I walk in there and waddle out. (Did I mention that my appetite has been VERY GOOD for the past week?)

I don't know how many of those brown-skinned people are here legally. I don't WANT to know, either. They work hard, they take care of their young'uns and most of them speak TWO languages, even though most Americans can't speak ONE. But yesterday, as I was stuffing my face with a stuffed avacado and taking Spanish lessons, I thought... "If these people were Muslims, would I think the same way?"

WOW!!! I HATE it when my brain does that to me!

NO! I would NOT feel the same way, at all. If we had Afghanistan on our southern border instead of Mexico, and turbaned, red-eyed, bearded FREAKS sneaking across the border by the thousands, with a Koran in one hand and a bomb-belt in the other, I would be TERRIBLY upset. I'd petition the government to STOP THAT SHIT!!!

Well, government should stop that shit. The latin people I see here are no threat to me or the good old USA. I like hearing the sound of Spanish spoken. I like the food and the cerbeses frias at El Ranchero. But that's beside the point.

If we can't protect our borders, then we have no borders, and without borders, we have no country. This is no minor problem, which is why politicians don't want to address it. But somebody better--- soon.

It's just too easy to get into this country.

one week later

I had supper this evening with my brother, his wife, my Uncle Virgil and my Aunt Peggy. Them was good fixins, too--- roast beef, green beans, mashed potatoes and gravy, cole slaw, biscuits and more gravy. Peggy also had some kind of pastry for dessert, but my brother and I don't eat desserts, so we passed on that and retired to the back porch... mama's back porch.

My brother and I talked, not seriously, just kinda flirting around the edge of the subject.

We buried mama a week ago. We're gonna have to settle the estate. He asked my permission to give a bunch of stuff to my mama's best friend, Lois, who stayed with mama during her last days. "C'mon, Dave," I said. "Lois can have anything in this house she wants. In fact, I'll haul it to Tennessee for her. That woman is a saint. I damn sure ain't gonna bitch about it, not after everything she did for mama."

My brother knew that before he asked, but he's a lawyer, so he went through the necessary motions. "I just wanted to make sure," he replied. By damn, but I love him.

My brother and I don't spend a lot of time together and we don't run in the same circle of friends. But I KNOW him, and he KNOWS me. I couldn't possibly find a better brother if I tried to order one from a catalogue. It's just the two of us now--- mama and dad are gone--- and we are bound by hillbilly blood and a trust forged over many a year.

I've seen what some families do in this situation, and I found it ugly to behold. We WILL NOT do that. Not me and not Dave. We were raised better than that. And I would take a bullet for him to this day.

Hell, I stand to inherit some money. I should be celebrating. But I'm not, because I never wanted the money. I'd spend it all RIGHT NOW to have mama back.

Sorry, but I sometimes get maudlin when my belly is full and I've got a lot on my mind.

what happens if you're hacked?

I don't think I want any part of this technology. I'm a big enough fucktard on a PC--- I damn sure don't need my entire body networked.

Using RedTacton-enabled devices, music from an MP3 player in your pocket would pass through your clothing and shoot over your body to headphones in your ears. Instead of fiddling around with a cable to connect your digital camera to your computer, you could transfer pictures just by touching the PC while the camera is around your neck. And since data can pass from one body to another, you could also exchange electronic business cards by shaking hands, trade music files by dancing cheek to cheek, or swap phone numbers just by kissing.

That idea scares the shit out of me. Why can't we be satisfied with old-fashioned fucking? I've GOT the hang of that, and I think it's pretty good just the way it is. Don't make me learn anything new. I'm an old dog. I don't like new things.

The only chip I want is the one I carry on my shoulder.

i wood---er...I mean I would

I remember when she died, because I heard the news on my father's radio in the car coming back from a vacation in Florida. We were on Highway 1, somewhere around St. Augustine, long before the days of the interstate highway. I was 10 years old at the time, but I still remember that day vividly, August 5, 1962. Mama said, "That's a shame." I agreed.

I look at these pictures and I know why I remember that day. Even at the age of ten, I was a horny little shit.

Yeah, I'd do her.

your tax dollars at work

Give a government agency a shit-pot full of money and tell it to go forth and do good. The agency will grow into a giant bureaucracry, the money will disappear and the problems they were supposed to solve will be worse than when they started. It never fails.

Just read this. The Civil Rights Commission has been a joke for years, with that flying dingbat Mary Frances Berry, self-appointed Queen of Sheeba, running the show. The woman is a racist and a certifiable lunatic, but she's also black, which makes her perfectly qualified for some kind of high-octane government job.

Deeply in the red, the U.S. Commission on Civil Rights voted yesterday to conduct an audit of how it has spent its $9 million annual budget over the past several years.

The meeting came a day after commission Staff Director Kenneth L. Marcus told a congressional subcommittee that the agency had failed to pay $75,000 in rent last year and that employees who won an equal opportunity complaint against the agency had not received the $188,000 partial payment owed them.

Don't laugh at the corruption in the United Nations. We have plenty of our own right here. Do you find it ironic than an agency charged with the task of stomping on business and industry over any HINT of sexual harassment or racial discrimination won't pay the fine when its own dick gets caught in the wringer? I do.

That's why I like government so much. It's just so efficient. And so fair.

good for them

The UAW changed its mind about banning Marines who drive foreign cars or sport pro-Bush bumper stickers from parking in its lot. Tons of negative publicity may have had something to do with the bastard union thugs the UAW changing its mind, but I like the Marine response better.

To sum it up in two words, it was "Fuck You!"

I talked to Ron; I let him know that I understand he has rescinded his decision," said Lt. Col. Joe Rutledge, a top-ranking officer at the reserve infantry rifle battalion. "However, I've made my decision -- either you support the Marines or you don't."

The Marines found another place to park. Good for them.

And I think this entire affair is VERY bad for the UAW. I know those antiquated, useless union dinosaurs still believe that belligerance, assholery, intimidation and thuggery are the keys to bettering the life of the working man, and I could understand it if they merely bashed a few scab-heads, burned down a few houses and randomly killed a few people. That's what they do best.

But to diss The United States Marines during a time of war? That's a gigantic brain-fart even for the UAW. Just whose fucking side are you on, anyway? Assholes. No wonder your power and influence shrinks more and more every day. It ain't the 1930s any more, boys, and you can't bring that time back no matter how much you fantasize about it.

We build a car as good as anything the Japanese make today and the UAW deserves no credit whatsoever for that fact. We build a good car IN SPITE of the union, not because of it. Those bastards almost destroyed US auto manufacturing back in the 70s. We need them today like I need a boil on my Cracker ass.

Did I mention before that I am not very fond of unions?

I stole the link from here.


idiot jurors

I would have hung this jury until hell froze over before I would have rendered such a dumbass verdict. A drunken driver plows at 60 MPH into the back of another vehicle stopped at an intersection and the driver of the stopped car dies. Whose fault is that? Why, Ford Motor Company, of course.

A defective seat cost a suburban man his life. Now a Chicago jury is making Ford pay his family $27 million.

A drunk driver actually caused the crash, but a jury found it was the driver's seat in a Ford Escort that led to the death.

I am certain that this jury also could "find" that the earth is flat and Elvis is alive. Buncha maroons. We have a vehicle with all of these "design flaws" engineered out of it. It's a called A FUCKING TANK and even those get blown up sometimes.

There IS no such thing as a perfectly safe vehicle. There never will be. And for a jury to award $27 million because Ford didn't design a driver's seat to withstand a 60-MPH rear-end collision is ludicrous. That's not a jury verdict. It's the conclusion of a goddam lotto game. "AND OUR GRAND PRIZE WINNER IS..."

This stuff makes me want to barf.


March 19, 2005

where would we be without researchers?

It's happened to me, many times. Now I know why, thanks to research.

Just reading the damned article stuck a worm in my brain. Now I've got B.J. Thomas singing "Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head" over and over again. I want to kill either myself or B.J. Thomas.

Thanks a lot, Dartmouth.

driving fast

I believe that the speedometer on my 1968 Javelin went to 140 MPH. I pegged it out twice.

My first NEW car, a 1982 Camaro, went only to 80 MPH on the speedometer. I could peg that with the gas pedal halfway to the floor. I floored it for miles a few times.

When I first met Jennifer, she had a 1990 Eagle Talon. The speedometer went to 140 on that one, too, and I pegged it more than once. (Record road trips--- from the Atlanta Airport to Savannah in 2.5 hours. From Augusta to Savannah in one hour and 15 minutes. I really liked that car.)

I don't usually drive like that, but I have in the past. I've pegged that 350 V-8 in my truck several times, with the pedal mashed to the floor. The speedometer runs out at 110 MPH, but I was going a lot faster than that, on I-16 all by myself. I was only 3/4 of the way to the floor when I pegged out the speedometer.

YOU don't drive that way, do you?

panic attack

I went to bed around midnight last night. I wasn't in bed long when the phone rang. Since I now sleep in Quinton's old room, and I don't have a phone in there, I decided to let the answering machine get it. I figured that it was some drunken blogger wanting to babble at me anyway because those are the calls I usually receive after midnight.

But when it machine kicked in, it wasn't a drunken blogger on the line. It was Samantha, screaming and crying hysterically, "DADDY! DADDY! Pick up the phone! Pick up the phone! I'm going to keep calling until you answer. This is an EMERGENCY!!!"

My blood ran cold. All I could see in my imagination was the truck in a ditch, Stacey dead and Sam, broken and bleeding, stranded in the middle of nowhere. I jumped out of bed and stumbled through the dark to the phone, almost breaking my neck in the process. "What is it, Sam?" I gasped as I finally found the receiver.

"STACEY LOST HER WALLET!!! WAAAAAAAAAAAH!!! WAAAAAAAH!!! It had all of her stuff in there!!! WAAAAAAH! Her driver's license, her Social Security card, the credit cards... EVERYTHING!!! We're in Mississippi and her wallet could be anywhere from here to Georgia!! WAAAAAAH!!!"

I went from being scared half to death to being angry. I told her to calm down and stop hyperventilating. A lost wallet isn't the end of the fucking world. Did they still have money? Yes. Did Sam have HER credit card? Yes. So you can still get back home without running out of gas? Yes.

Then, WHAT THE HELL AM I SUPPOSED TO DO ABOUT IT? As calmly as I could, I told her to either back-track to the last place they stopped and hope some Good Samaritan found the wallet and turned it in, or go on to Texas and cancel the credit cards when they got there. Then apply for a new driver's license and Social Security card. It's a pain in the butt, but it ain't the end of the world.

I couldn't go back to sleep for three hours after that.

I talked to Sam this morning. They back-tracked about 50 miles to a rest stop where they had taken a bathroom break and sure enough... someone found the wallet in the lady's room and turned it in at the security desk. Everything was intact, INCLUDING the $400 in cash that was in the wallet.

The girls were lucky that we DO still have some honest people in this world.

But I learned one thing for sure. I DO NOT want Samantha on my side during a legitimate crisis. She was a blubbering, hysterical bundle of absolute panic last night over a lost wallet. Do you know what REALLY had her frightened? "SOMEBODY CAN STEAL OUR IDENTITY!!!" Bejus. How would she behave when faced with a REAL problem?

Not well, I imagine. That phone call took ten years off my life over nothing.

unhappy ending

Bejus! The search is over, the body has been found and the killer has confessed. Now all we need is a rope and a tree.

But it won't be that easy. The bastard who did it never should have been on the street in the first place.

Couey has an extensive criminal record that includes 24 arrests for burglary, carrying a concealed weapon and indecent exposure. In 1991, he was arrested in Kissimmee on a charge of fondling a child under age 16. Records don't show how the case was resolved.

During a house burglary in 1978, Couey was accused of grabbing a girl in her bedroom, placing his hand over her mouth and kissing her, Dawsy said. Couey was sentenced to 10 years in prison but was paroled in 1980.

I am an English major--- I don't do math. But 1978 to 1980 does not sound like TEN YEARS to me. 24 arrests and our compassionate criminal "justice" system kept turning this very sick puppy loose every time. Now, he's killed a nine year-old girl. Good job.

At least Florida means it when someone gets the death penalty in that state. It may take a while, but I suspect that Couey's next parole hearing will be with the spirit in the sky. I certainly hope so. That sorry bastard deserves to rot in hell.

Of course, that's just MY humble opinion.


it sounds gross

Being called a "maggot" is not a form of flattery. But soon you may be able to respond, "That's doctor maggot, to you, fucktard."

Last year, the U.S. Food and Drug Administration approved maggots as a "medical device" and Britain has also made them available on prescription within the National Health Service, demonstrating how maggots are entering the mainstream, he said.

I dunno. It still sounds gross to me.

March 18, 2005

whore!!!

Bejus!!! This guy starts a blog and he's ALREADY trying to figure out how to make money from it. Got-dam Philistine! Is NOTHING sacred to you?

I need to watch what he does.

civil disobediance

I haven't blogged about this issue and I haven't signed any pledges. I don't intend to do either one. I know what I'm gonna do if Congress agrees that the bleeding abortion known as McCain-Feingold Campaign Finance Reform applies to blogs.... I'll just keep blogging. I intend to ignore that bullshit.

But I have an idea. Let's say Congress agrees with the legislation and the FCC is granted the power to regulate the political content of blogs. What happens if EVERY BLOGGER WITH A SITE violates the law EVERY DAY for five straight days? What is the FCC going to do? Arrest us all? Fat chance.

I say bury them in their own bullshit.

But that's just me, and I tend to rant sometimes.

gambling is evil

Yes, it is--- except when government runs it. Then, it goes beyond evil into a pure sucker's game. Just look at the stats there.

I'm not saying BAN THE LOTTERIES or telling you not to buy tickets. Hell, who doesn't want to get rich quick? Go for it. I just think it's totally hypocritical for the government to sponsor a lottery and still bust bookies who place bets on football games. Gambling is either evil, or it isn't.

Government should make up its fucking mind.

catfish

Photo of my friend Catfish

I posted this picture a while back, but it must have been a long time ago, judging by the reaction to this post. That's my buddy, Catfish--- in all his radiance and glory. Yes, he's big. Yes, he has a few tattoos. Yes, he has long hair. (He was a biker before his back went out on him.)

And if an idea hits his mind, it comes right out of his mouth, unabridged and unadulterated. If you are easily offended, you might not like him.

But I do.

old fart

I must REALLY be an old fart. When I first read this story, I was all set to ride off on high horse and call that puritanical old fuddy-duddy a perverted little asswipe. In fact, I was half-way through a post on the subject before I stopped to think.

I deleted that post.

I still think the law is a bad idea, but I understand where the guy is coming from. When I was in high school, every boy there lusted after the cheerleaders. Bejus, but they were beautiful.

When they cheered, they gave off an aura--- a strange combination of sexiness, virginity, enthuiasm, submissiveness, and all-American HOO-RAY-FOR-US attitude that totally hypnotized me. It was erotic, but somehow PURE. I LOVE cheerleaders at a ball game.

But I've also seen some "cheerleading" that resembled the bump-and-grind shows I've seen in titty-bars. I really don't like that.

It's not the sexual aspect that bothers me. If you want to put on a bump-and-grind show, go right ahead. If you want to FUCK out there on the field, go right ahead. Just don't call it cheerleading.

I don't like the thugs in the NBA who despoil their game frequently. I don't like the showboats in the NFL who spend as much time practicing their victory dances as they do practicing football. I don't like modern Major League baseball players, period. These people shit on sports I once loved.

I don't want to see cheerleading go the same way.

how true

A doctor was addressing a large audience in Tampa. ďThe material we put into our stomachs is enough to have killed most of us sitting here, years ago. Red meat is awful. Soft drinks corrode your stomach lining. Chinese food is loaded with MSG. High fat diets can be disastrous, and none of us realizes the long-term harm caused by the germs in our drinking water. But there is one thing that is the most dangerous of all and we all have, or will, eat it. Can anyone here tell me what food it is that causes the most grief and suffering for years after eating it?Ē

After several seconds of quiet, a 75-year-old man in the front row raised his hand, and softly said, ďWedding Cake.

Shamelessly stolen from here.

the girls are gone

Sam and Stacey survived St. Patrick's Day and arrived back at the Crackerbox at about 10:00 last night. They were wearing green beads and goofy hats, but they appeared to be fairly sober. They bought me a tee shirt.

They had some good war stories to tell, but the celebration must have been a lot more calm than some I've witnessed in the past. They didn't see any dead bodies or mass arrests. Maybe the weather harshed the mellow a little, because yesterday was cold and wet. They had a good time and went to bed shortly after they made it back to my house.

I was supposed to take them out to eat today, but Stacey's cell phone rang at 8:30 this morning. I didn't hear the conversation, but when it was over, they started packing up to leave. "We've gotta go, Daddy," Samantha said. I didn't ask any questions. I just hugged them both before they left.

So, they are on their way back to Texas now and I hope they have a safe trip. I enjoyed their company but I SWEAR that they are messier than I am. I wasn't a very good host, but these weren't the best of circumstances, either. Funerals don't exactly put everybody in the party mode and I've been sickly again lately.

I hope they get home okay.

ask yourself

That cat-bombing bastard from Atlanta has a good post here. If you're a Muslim (or French), look at that picture and ask "Why?"

Never mind. You're probably so soaked in denial that you won't contemplate the truth. Americans walked on the moon because we had the imagination to do it, the courage to do it and the brains to do it. You people don't. That's one of the REAL reasons that you hate us so much. Pure envy.

The Muslims fucked up centuries ago when they finally succeeded in conquering Constantinople. That clever operation removed the last Christian obstacle in their way and solidified the Ottoman Empire, but it also cut the Spice Road from east to west and led to Age of Exploration. Talk about the law of Unintended Consequences.

Thanks to the fall of Constantinople, people started heading WEST in search of a new route to India and the Far East. That exploration eventually led to the founding of the United States. So I suppose, in a strange way, we have Islam to thank for that picture of a US flag on the moon.

We never could have done it without you.

butt out!

What in the hell is the US Congress doing getting involved in this matter? Don't they have anything better to do with their time? (Actually, they do--- they also want to chase after steroids in baseball)

Terri Schiavo's situation is a family affair that should be settled by the family. If they cannot agree, then the case should go to a local court. The Federal Government should butt out. I know that the grandstanding assholes believe that government should handle EVERYTHING today, right down to the microscopic level, but we have to draw the line somewhere.

This is none of their goddam business.

March 17, 2005

a crying shame

I saw this crap for years. I would stop by Harry's Liquor Store on President Street after I got off work. The sidewalks were filled with young black men, all wearing baggy pants that hung below their butt-cheeks and boxer drawers that went clean up the their armpits. They were rude, crude, and obscene.

A typical conversation went something like this: "Shut the FUCK UP, N---ger! Yo lay some direspect on me and I'll pop a cap on yo black ass. Muthafucka. I got a Glock. I'll shoot yo N---ger ass if you fuck with me!"

In response: "Oh yeah, muthafucka? I got a Glock, too. I be poppin' a cap in yo ass before you get a chance to shoot ME!"

"Muthafucka! I can do seven years standing on my head. I'll shoot yo muthafuckin' black ass dead."

Yeah, I saw real, live shizination for a long time. I don't find that crap amusing.

But y'all go play with the toy all you want to.

high anxiety

I blogged before about how I don't fear much in this world anymore. And I DON'T. I'm not afraid of dying and I ain't afraid of the latest Booger-Man that "science" invents to scare me to death. I ain't afraid of ANYBODY.

But I have dreams... oh, boy do I have dreams.

My nightmares all involves snakes, heights and being unable to find something really important when I go to look for it. I dreamed last night that I was stuck on a steep roof, about six stories off the ground, with only a ladder to get me down. I couldn't approach the ladder because I became really dizzy every time I tried to crawl to the edge of the roof. I wondered how I was going to get myself onto that ladder without falling.

I woke up in a cold sweat.

I do that crap all the time. Welcome to my world.

i am grateful

Every now and then a perfect stranger does me a huge favor for no reason at all, other than the fact that I needed a favor. I've been trying to recover my archives for almost a year now and she has them all. AND SHE POSTED THE LINK!!!

If you wish to study the evolution (or mutation) if this blog over the past few years, you can find it there. Damn! I thought I'd never see that shit again.

Thank you, Stevie.

i've said it before

I saw a good post at this site today, and I really wanted to comment on it. But I received the dreaded "you must register and log in to leave a comment" notice, and I immediately decided that my pathetic comment was not worth the effort.

I do NOT--- EVER--- "register and log in" to leave a comment on a blog. If you set up your comments that way, forget about hearing from me. I know (Belive me... I KNOW... ) what a hassle dealing with spammers can be, but don't expect comments if you make them difficult to submit.

Hell, I'm still pissed at a few of my CLOSE FRIEND bloggers because their sites won't remember me. I have to type in my name, my email and my URL EVERY TIME I want to make a comment. That shit takes me longer to do than it does to write the comment. It's a pain in the ass.

The Blogsplat comment system sucks pretty bad, but some people have found a way to make the same system suck even worse. I will not link to or read a newspaper article that requires registration. Call it a personal quirk, but I'm pretty adamant about my personal quirks.

Also, all you complainers who say that my pictures won't load on your computer: it ain't me and it ain't my blog. It's your goddam "firewall" protection. Disable it and try again. Trust me--- you won't catch a virus or have anyone steal your identity.

Bejus! People live in fear anymore.

if the shoe fits

I am Rabies. Grrrrrrrr!
Which Horrible Affliction are you?
A Rum and Monkey disease.

I'll wear it.

small world

One of the Morning News bloggers saw fit to mention an incident from last year's parade, where a driver swerved out of the parade and plowed his car into a bunch of people.

Monmouth County revisited 10:31 am Dana Felty Just a reminder, Monmouth's band was the group last year hit by a parade driver who lost control of his Chrysler Sebring last year. Looks like they're returning this year and the Parade Committee is giving them a lead spot.

My brother is handling that case. DEFENDING the driver.



amazing

The Savannah Morning News has two people live-blogging the parade. I've never heard of either one of those people and I am surprised that the Morning News even knows what a blog is.

I may have to check this out.

they're off!

Sam and Stacey headed out to Savannah this morning to watch the St. Patrick's Day Parade. I hope they have a good time and that I DO NOT have to come and get them out of jail today. I just told them to enjoy themselves and be careful ("Yeah, yeah, yeah... we'll be okay. Don't WORRY, Daddy.")

Well, I'll worry if I want to, but I survived many of those parades and their aftermaths in my past, so I'm a fine one to be lecturing those girls about how to comport themselves. That's the bad thing about having a checkered past and then trying to lecture your daughter about how to behave. ("YOU did it!")

I'm pretty sure that they'll be okay if they can find a place to park.

why not?

Okay... you're a 23 year-old nutball, zealously and stupidly defending some Palestinian house against destruction by bulldozer, and you are foolish enough to get run over and killed by the bulldozer. What does your family do?

Why, they sue Caterpillar, of course. Remember Rachel Corrie, that determined, fearless and brainless "activist" who got her silly ass killed trying to face down a bulldozer? (I nominated HER for a Darwin Award) Well, she ain't really dead yet.

"The brutal death of my daughter should never have happened," her mother, Cindy Corrie, said in a statement released by the Center for Constitutional Rights, one of the law firms handling the case. "We believe Caterpillar and the (Israeli Defense Forces) must be held accountable for their role in the attack."

Cindy and Craig Corrie, who live in Olympia (surprise! surprise!), are pursuing separate claims in Israel against the state of Israel, the Israeli Defense Ministry and the Israeli Defense Forces.

My aching ass.

The parents, of course, bear no responsibility at all for raising a fucked-up daughter.

i thought it...

...but I didn't say it. I was trying to be politically correct. But I was thinking the same thing all along.

How many people have to die before the country stops humoring feminists? Last week, a defendant in a rape case, Brian Nichols, wrested a gun from a female deputy in an Atlanta courthouse and went on a murderous rampage. Liberals have proffered every possible explanation for this breakdown in security except the giant elephant in the room -- who undoubtedly has an eating disorder and would appreciate a little support vis-a-vis her negative body image.

The New York Times said the problem was not enough government spending on courthouse security ("Budgets Can Affect Safety Inside Many Courthouses"). Yes, it was tax-cuts-for-the-rich that somehow enabled a 200-pound former linebacker to take a gun from a 5-foot-tall grandmother.

That's right--- dance all around the obvious. A little old lady had no business escorting a 200-pound male criminal to court alone, even if she WAS wearing a uniform. Physically, she simply could not handle the attack. But I'll bet that she looked really good on an Affirmative Action report.

I've mentioned before that one of the requirements I faced in Fire School was picking up a 150-pound sack of sand and hauling it in a "carry" down three flights of stairs (you know-- kinda like what a REAL fireman might have to do if he found an unconscious body in a burning building). Wimmen couldn't do it, the government insisted that wimmen become firemen, so that requirement was dropped from the program.

Yes. It was done to LOWER THE STANDARDS so that wimmen could meet them.

There is also the telling fact that feminists demand that strength tests be watered down so that women can pass them. Feminists simultaneously demand that no one suggest women are not as strong as men and then turn around and demand that all the strength tests be changed. It's one thing to waste everyone's time by allowing women to try out for police and fire departments under the same tests given to men. It's quite another to demand that the tests be brawned-down so no one ever has to tell female Harvard professors that women aren't as strong as men.

Denying the obvious makes a lot of people feel good. Except those who get killed because of it.


March 16, 2005

fart-lighting

Yes, guys do it--- and yes, it does burn with a blue flame. I've NEVER done that myself, but I've studied some on the subject. I offer this advice when you decide to light a fart:

*Don't have an overly-hairy ass.

*Keep your balls out of the way.

*If you are the Designated Lighter, stand to the side. You've got no business with your head in that guy's asshole anyway.

*Beware of the Blowback Effect.

Just thought some of you might want to know...

semi-good news

Get ready for the howling to begin. The Senate voted to allow drilling for oil in the ANWR today and the environmentalists will pitch a hissy-fit about it. Bet your sweet ass on that.

The ANWR is a vast piece of frozen, mostly desolate wasteland that stays dark about as much as it sees sunlight. I NEVER understood how anyone could become so emotionally charged about forbidding drilling for oil in that place. To NOT do it would be the height of stupidity. But Stupidity Heights is where most environmentalists live.

Opponents said there is not enough oil in the refuge to justify harming the area's caribou, musk oxen, polar bears, migratory birds and other wildlife. Instead, they say, Congress should tighten mileage standards for vehicles to reduce U.S. oil demand and reliance on oil imports.

BULLSHIT!!!

I worked for a company that drills for oil all over the world, including many "delicate ecosystems" in the ocean. New technology leaves a very small footprint where drilling operations are performed, and if we can do it in the Gulf of Mexico without screwing up, we can do it in ANWR, too.

Besides, we're talking about a tiny fraction of the land--- I once read that if you have a 10' X 10' carpet and place a quarter in one corner, you're looking at an illustration of how much land will be affected. That's still too much for the environmentalists, because they are fucking idiots.

I hope we do it, because it's the right thing to do, but you can smell the lawsuits in the wind. I'm a betting man. I'll bet you RIGHT NOW that if we DO drill, we won't affect the wildlife at all.

Any takers?

the white OJ

I think Robert Blake killed his wife, but he's gonna walk on that charge. I didn't follow the trial closely, but it seemed to me that the prosecution had more evidence against Blake than they did against Scott Peterson. A jury fried Peterson and another one let Blake off the hook.

Go figure.

another poll

Are men REALLY more comfortable being nekkid than wimmen are?

I got the idea from an enquiring mind and she made me think.

I was an athlete from the time I was a young boy until my body fell apart on me, many years ago. Most male locker room showers are simply a nice tile enclosure with a whole bunch of spigots on the wall. You all walk in there nekkid and don't think twice about it (or at least I never did.).

Guys horseplay nekkid, too--- you know--- pop somebody in the ass with a wet towel, go piss in the hot tub from OUTSIDE while somebody is IN it, smack a wad of Atomic Balm on somebody's bare balls and run off cackling... yeah.

I never did that ANY of that stuff, but some guys do.

Wimmen DON'T. Do you?

I believe that (most) men ARE more comfortable being nekkid than (most) wimmen.

all the fountains flow green water

You'll notice that fact if you're in Savannah over the next five days. Every fountain in the city, including the BIG one at Forsythe Park, will flow with green water. That's not all a St. Patrick's Day celebration.

Once, the city failed miserably at atempting to dye the Savannah River green for the occasion. That plan didn't work, so they never tried it again. In fact, the city was so embarassed by that fiasco (and I think they used up the dye budget for the next 500 years) that they decided NEVER to try to dye the river again.

But that didn't stop the vandals and the ignorant Irish from turning all the fountains green. They threw whatever they could get their hands on to stain the water, with total disregard of what that crap might do to the fountains. They ruined a lot of old, priceless work with those idiot celebrations.

So now, Savannah beats them to the punch and turns all the water green with a dye that won't hurt the fountains, just to head the Irish off at the pass. It's really pretty to see. But knowing why they do it just confirms what I already know about my "fellow man."

We've got a lot of assholes out there.

i've got bail money

Sam and Stacey want to go go to River Street tomorrow and then attend the parade on Thursday. They've never seen a real, live Savannah St. Patrick's Day show. Hell, they need to do it at least once, so I told them to go ahead, but they'll be doing it without me.

I also told them that if they get arrested, don't call me to bail them out before 9:00 in the morning. As long as they want to extend their learning curves, a night in jail might do them both a world of good. That'll learn 'em, for sure.

I got maced during the parade once. I was standing on the south side of Bay Street, minding my own business, just watching the parade. I had one firm arm around a lamp post to keep from falling down and a green beer in my other hand. I was standing next to a grandmotherly-looking woman with two small children in tow. We were having a good time.

Some kind of ruckus erupted across the street. I couldn't see what was going on because of the parade, but I DID see the paddy wagon pull up and I saw people being tossed inside. Suddenly, beer bottles were flying and breaking everywhere around the cops. People were THROWING SHIT and hooting at the police. Some of that crap was coming from my side of the street.

I wasn't involved, so I wasn't upset at first. People go crazy on St. Paddy's Day in Savannah. Then, I heard somebody yell, "LOOK OUT!!!" I turned to see what I was supposed to look out for and I put my face right into a can of mace.

Some idiot cop ran for about a block spraying mace on everybody on MY side of the street. He got me. He got grandma. He got the two little kids. He got EVERYBODY he could spray. Looking back now, I'm just glad that the bastard didn't have a taser. That Barney Fife fuckhead might have killed somebody.

He hit ME square in my wide-open eyes. I've had some unpleasant experiences in my life, but that one still ranks near the top, well above having my four front teeth knocked out on the football field. In fact, it was worse than breaking my arm.

Have YOU ever been maced? If not, you want to keep it that way.

It blinded me, it stung like a swarm of wasps and it burned like a lit cigarette shoved into both of my eyes. It choked off my breath and made think I WAS GONNA DIE at the age of 22 just for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Grandma hit the pavement gasping for breath. The kids were running in circles and screaming while clawing at their eyes. I held onto the lamp post because I didn't know what else to do.

Barney The Gasser kept right on going until his can was empty, that prick. If I've ever seen ANYBODY in this life who really needed to be dragged off and shot, it was him. Fucking Nazi asshole.

Luckily for me, I had a couple of friends nearby and they saw what happened. They dragged me right through the parade to the other side of the street to the fountain with the big, brass lion spitting water from his mouth. I stuck my head in the pond at the lion's feet.

I was okay as long as I kept my head under water and blinked my eyes rapidly. But as soon as I took my face out of the water, the mace kicked in and started burning just like that first blast. I musta spent 30 minutes baptizing myself until I could see again. My eyes weren't right for three days after that episode.

I don't know what happened to grandma and the kids. I don't know what happened to Barney The Gasser. But I know what happened to ME, and I didn't like it.

I have a healthy respect for mace or pepper spray to this day.

March 15, 2005

I confess

I have bought bottled water before. I once spent a week just outside Fort Myers, Florida, and I didn't even like to SHOWER with that water, let alone drink it or use it for cooking. That was the most vile, sulfurous, foul-tasting and foul-smelling water I've ever encountered in my life. It was as rotten as rotten eggs.

If you used tap-water to make a pot of coffee, it made the funkiest coffee you ever tasted. The rotten water overcame whatever you tried to camouflage it with. Cook with it? Your meal was fucked. It was THAT nasty.

A local grocery store sold bottled water for 50 cents per gallon and I bought about a dozen gallons just for cooking and drinking. At the time, I thought even THAT was over-priced, but I had paid in advance for the beach house for a week and I wasn't about to let some stinking water run me off. But what I bought was damn sure less expensive that that $2.00 a pint yuppie designer shit that people are sucking up today.

Is the water still that bad around Fort Myers? It's been 15 years since I was there. I also was treated to my first "red tide" which was an interesting thing to see on the beach. Plus GADZILLIONS of stinging jellyfish. I never went back after that.

The place looked good in the brochures. Reality was somewhat different.

i'm going to hurt her feelings again

I have lived long enough to SEE strong wimmen in leadership positions and I was impressed by them. I only read about her, but Queen Elizabeth was a tough old broad. So were golda meir and margaret thatcher, and I was alive to see them run their countries well. I believe that Condi Rice is cut from that same bolt of cloth.

Hillary Clinton IS NOT. She is a conniving political whore, not a leader.

But I read this and I have agree with her husband. If that is typical girl-think, you need to stay in the fucking kitchen.

Women take a common sense approach to things. We don't allow our egos to work it's way into our decision making. We're relatively calm and peaceful and we believe in working things out in a manner to which everyone comes out ahead. But don't think for a second that we won't break bad on your ass if we have to. For example, think back to your mother. I'm sure she was all sunshine and daisies until you pissed her off and then it was on. She would beat your ass.

Wimmen DO NOT take a "common sense approach" to things, at least not as a rule. They are emotional, easily overwrought, pure dingbat in most of their thinking and they "break bad" on your ass for no fucking reason at all, except that they FELT it was the correct response at the time. Don't hand me that shit.

Step away from the stereo and allow someone to remove that Helen Reddy disc you've been listening to.

If Mama can run the household, what makes you think she can't run the country? Despite what some of you men may think, we're not stupid. We're fully capable of doing the right thing. We can handle any situation just as well, if not better, than you can. Stop patting us on our hands and patronizing us already damnit, like we're dainty things that need to be humored and never taken seriously.

Let's see... running the household=running the country and there's no difference whatsoever. I'm sorry, but I find it very difficult to take that logic "seriously."

You men have had your chance and you've fucked up the world mighty good. Now step aside and let us try to fix it for you...like we always do.

Why do I hear the words to "Kumbaya" echoing in my head right now?

C'mon, Gennie. You wouldn't touch a few dressed squirrels with your bare hands but you're ready to handle a war in the Middle East and run the only superpower in the free world? Whadda ya gonna do? Bake the terrorists some cookies, serve them milk and talk out all the differences? Threaten them with a spanking if they don't behave? (Remember-- it was Thatcher who said to the first Bush, ďGeorge, donít get wobbly on me now.Ē) Most wimmen are wobbly all the time.

Bejus. The last time I laid into you like this, you got your feelings all hurt and quivered like a bowl of half-melted jello. Yep, you did. Those are the attributes most wimmen bring to the leadership table. They get all wobbly when somebody says something hurtful to them. Those are ALSO the EXACT attributes we need when we have to deal with bloodthirsty dictators, devious diplomats and craven back-stabbers in a time of war. That wobbly stuff works well when people are trying to kill you. It works well for THEM, but not for you, nor for your country.

But wimmen have the answer to that problem.

Yeah, right. Get out of the way and let ME handle this. You men have fucked up the world long enough.

What would happen if all men said, ďOkay, it's all yours. Fix it.Ē I can tell you, although you ainít gonna like what I have to say.

What? Huh? How come? They ate my cookies and drank the milk, but now my ass hurts! Bejus! THOSE PEOPLE LIED TO ME!!! WHAAAAAAH! I think I'm gonna CRY!!!

Don't pitch that shit at me. Listen to your husband. He is a cop and he deals with bad guys every day. You don't charm those fuckers into submission. If you try, they will eat you alive. You don't "feel" for them, either. You bust their asses and take them to jail and you'll make them bruised and bloody along the way if you have to. That's the REAL WORLD, not some "liberated" woman's fantasy.

If you take offense at this post, I'm sorry. But if wimmen are so strong, you should be able to handle it.

it starts tomorrow

Savannah's annual St. Patrick's Day orgy starts tomorrow. Yeah, I know that the actual St. Patrick's Day isn't until the 17th, but that miniscule detail won't stop the party, and it will continue until the bars close next Sunday night. If you've never seen St. Patrick's Day, in Savannah, you have not lived a complete life. "Orgy" is the right word to use.

If you wish to LIVE a complete, life, however, I suggest that you stay the hell away. It can become very, very crazy.

The parade is really nice, but the serious stuff starts after the parade. Just imagine almost ONE MILLION PEOPLE crammed into Savannah, with most of them drunker than a barn owl, with azealias and dogwoods in full bloom everywhere, people drinking green beer and pretty wimmen crammed into the streets like sardines in a can.

I intend to keep my Cracker ass in Effingham County for the next five days or so. I know very few people who grew up in Savannah who DON'T have a few St. Patrick's Day adventure stories to tell. I have some good ones, which I might share over the next few days.

I have been maced. I have been thrown into a paddy wagon and then immediately released because I was taking up valuable room the police needed for somebody else. I have gotten laid with a complete stranger. I have seen a dead body bleeding on the Abercorn ramp to River Street. (He fell from one of those walk-over bridges above the ramp.) I once pissed in an alley while standing next to Hizzoner the Mayor, John Rosakis, who ALSO was pissing in the alley at the time.

I've probably seen 1,000 titties from back in the days when wimmen would flash their boobs for a handful of beads or a tee shirt. I've gotten so drunk that I don't remember how I found my way home. I once made almost $300 in tips for playing a two-hour matinee gig in a River Street bar after the parade. I also TENDED bar down there once and I know FOR SURE that the owner sold 35 kegs of beer that day, because I helped haul the full ones and replace the empties.

Savannah is a fairly conservative town. But once every year, this "beautiful lady with a dirty face" kicks up her heels, throws away her panties and runs wild. That crap starts tomorrow.

I once loved being a part of it. Now, I want to stay far, far away. I'm too old for that shit anymore and I damn sure ain't driving from Effingham County and back hoping to dodge the cops when I have a belly full of green beer.

Have YOU ever been to Savannah on St. Patrick's Day?

a compost bin

I wonder how many tree-hugging, lunatic environmentalists know how to make compost? Mama did it for years and always had the prettiest, richest BLACK dirt in her garden. For a while after I moved to Effingham Country, I saved my lawn clippings and vegetable table scaps in plastic bags and I would bring them over to toss into the compost on weekends.

Once I started a garden of my own, she didn't get that good shit anymore. I saved it for myself. She taught me how to make compost.

You can build a compost bin out of wood or chicken wire. If you use wood (I did), just make sure you leave enough space between the boards for plenty of air to get in there. Dump lawn clippings, sawdust, peanut hulls, fireplace ashes, dead leaves, vegetable scraps from the table and just about anything else you can think of that isn't meat and allow it to decay. Wet it down with a water hose and keep it moist.

Turn the compost with a pitchfork every couple of days. Roll it around so that it can breathe and you'll get aerobic decomposition--- it won't stink. In fact, it smells rich and fecund and you'll sprout a big crop of red wiggler worms in there before long. The worms are good for the compost, too, because they help to aeriate it. (Mine was going so good that I once considered starting a worm farm.)

If you pile up compost and DO NOT stir it, you'll have anaerobic decomposition occur and the bin will smell just like rotting garbage. You don't want that, so go agitate it every couple of days. Keep it wet.

I built my bin in two sections. The first part was for new stuff and the back part was for stuff almost ready to spread in the garden. All that vegetation will break down, decay and start to look just like potting soil if you do it right. I would take that almost-ready stuff and pitch it into the back bin with a shovel, and continue tending both sides the same way.

I became a very good composter and that stuff is GREAT in a garden. Not only did you spare the landfills from disposing of your waste, you created wonderful home-made dirt. Plants love it. When the back bin was ready to use, I spread it all over my garden. I grew some good stuff that way.

Plus you get an added bonus in using compost in your garden. Never did it fail that I had a crop of cherry tomatoes, watermelons, cucumbers and cantelopes spring up as "volunteers" from my home-made dirt. Those seeds are hardy and they survived the compost operation.

If you garden, start a compost bin. It's good for the garden, good for "the planet" and good for growing things you never planted.

Try it. You'll LIKE it.

risk your immortal soul

Do you like caption contests? Here's a good one, if you're not afraid of God striking you dead for participating.

I participated.

must be cheap at the price

Oil prices rose to $55 a barrel yesterday and I am certain that we'll see the result in higher gas prices shortly. But I see no reason to panic. People scream about paying $2.00 a gallon for gas, but they'll plunk down $2.00 for a pint of bottled water without a second thought. Fools.

As one of my commenters observed, gas is still a LOT cheaper than bottled water.

throw the book at him

Great Britain surely knows how to handle violent criminals. What in the hell were the people in charge thinking?

A major row erupted over how he was ever considered to be safe enough to be discharged. Bryan, now 36, was convicted of killing a 20-year-old girl with a hammer in 1993 and sent to Rampton. In 2002 he was freed.

In February 2004, within hours of his release by the East London and City Mental Health Trust, he had killed and dismembered a friend at a Walthamstow flat. He cooked his brain in a frying pan with butter before eating it. The trust today promised a full independent inquiry. Following the Walthamstow killing Bryan was sent to Broadmoor mental hospital where he killed a fellow inmate in a "medium risk room" nine weeks later.

The British government won't trust private citizens to own firearms, but it'll give a crazed, convicted murderer the key to his own room and the door to the building so that he can come and go as he pleases. Such compassion warms my heart, much the way the killer warmed the brains of his "friend" right before he ATE them.

I couldn't invent this kind of stupidity if I tried.

sweet irony

I've seen a dog bark at his own reflection in a mirror and I read once that sharks will bite off their own tails when they go into a feeding frenzy. They aren't smart enough to know that they are attacking their own selves. Evidently, some lawyers aren't, either.

I wonder if he'll settle the case against himself?

strange, isn't it?

Yeah, I've noticed this, too. Guns are bad, bad, bad... but it could be okay to let a judge pack one in court.

If I didn't know better I might conclude that arming judges and airline pilots is a good idea, because these are RESPONSIBLE people, while the rest of the riff-raff out there can't be trusted. They're all just witless drones, incapable of making intelligent decisions and behaving rationally.

Nanny government thinks that way.

one-armed bandit

In 1990, I fractured the radial head in my left elbow (yeah, I fell out of a goddam TREE and don't ask for any details about how I did THAT) and I was forced to wear a cast from armpit to hand for two weeks. This display of monumental stupidity occurred in July, too, which made wearing that cast very pleasant in the Savannah summer heat.

When that cast came off, it smelled like a dead skunk on the inside. Sweat you can't wash off will do that. And ITCH? Bejus! I spent 30 minutes doing nothing but scratching my arm once I could reach it again.

But even worse than the stench and the itching was being a one-armed bandit for two weeks. Hvae you ever thought about how difficult simple tasks become when you have to perform them one-handed? Try these.

*Tie your shoes.

*Put on a shirt and button the buttons.

*Unzip your fly, then take a piss. Then, get your fly zipped again.

*Wash your hair.

*Put toothpaste on your toothbrush.

*Wipe your ass. (The wiping past isn't difficult, but getting the toilet paper off the roll is.)

*Put on a pair of pants, tuck in your shirttail.

*Drive a manual transmission vehicle.

*Get the lid off a brand-new jar of peanuts.

There were others--- but those are the ones I remember best.

March 14, 2005

penn and teller

One of my favorite shows on television is Penn and Teller's Bullshit!. They frequently lampoon "conventional wisdom" on topics that I have blogged about in the past. They are good at it, too.

Tonight, they went after feng shui and bottled water, two of my favorite subjects. Feng Shui is allegedly a "science" that uses ancient Chinese formulas for centering your energy and achieving the perfect tao. For a price of about $7,000, an expert will come to your house and rearrange your furniture to achieve absolute harmony with the universe inside your abode.

They hired three such experts and put them to work on the same house (separately, of course). All three used the ancient "science" and precise formulas to come up with three different answers. They took identical twins, gave one a $150 Feng Shui haircut and the other one a $16 cut from a local barber shop. Strangers interviewed on the street couldn't tell the difference.

And people are actually pissing away that kind of money on this BULLSHIT.

The bottled water segment was even better. 75% of the people participating in a blind taste test picked New York City tap water as being better tasting than the bottled water. They also made up some fancy names, filled a bunch of bottles from the same garden hose in Los Angeles and offered a "Water Menu" at a restaurant. People who sampled the "different" waters agreed that the $7.00 a bottle stuff was better than anything else on the menu, they all had distinctly different tastes and ALL were much better than local tap water. More BULLSHIT!

I can't believe that people are gullible enough to fall for such bullshit, but they do, in droves, and bullshit sells for big bucks here.

Don't wanna hurt no feelings

With all the overly-sensitive and easily-offended people in this country, the news has been heading this way for a long time.

(Link shamelessly stolen from dax montana.)

thanks, guys and gals

I want to thank eric, key, kim, catfish and gennie for coming to to the funeral home Sunday for mama's visitation. Some of those folks drove a long way to get there.

I hope they had better luck getting home than Catfish did. I think he forgot that he doesn't live just around the corner anymore, when we pitched a mini-wake at a Mexican restaurant afterward.

I really appreciate you people coming.

March 13, 2005

off to the rodeo

I'm showered, shaved, dressed and as ready as I'm going to get for today's festivities. I hate this shit. I just hope that I can hold myself together through two hours of "visitation" at the funeral home. Mama would want me to make her proud.

I'll do my best, but I won't enjoy it.

just a little late

Samantha didn't make it in time. She and Stacey arrived about 10:00 last night.

But I like what she had to say about mama. It's all true.

I'm trying

Death is nothing at all. It does not count. I have only
slipped away into the next room. Nothing has happened.
Everything remains exactly as it was. I am I, and you are
you, and the old life that we lived so fondly together is
untouched, unchanged. Whatever we were to each other,
that we are still. Call me by the old familiar name. Speak
of me in the easy way which you always used. Put no
difference into your tone. Wear no forced air of solemnity
or sorrow. Laugh as we always laughed at the little jokes
that we enjoyed together. Play, smile, think of me, pray
for me. Let my name be ever the household word that it
always was. Let it be spoken without an effort, without
the ghost of a shadow upon it. Life means all that it ever
meant. It is the same as it ever was. There is absolute and
unbroken continuity. What is this death but a negligible
accident? Why should I be out of mind because I am out
of sight? I am but waiting for you, for an interval, some-
where very near, just round the corner. All is well.



Part of a sermon given by Henry Scott Holland, Canon of St. Paul's Cathedral in 1910, but I appreciate it because it's not overtly religious in tone.
http://www.qunl.com/rees0007.html

Be gentle with yourself, my friend, and God bless.

Marianne in CA

March 12, 2005

non abortions

Here are some movies that were just as good (if not better) than the book:

1) Lonesome Dove. Yeah, I know that it was a TV mini-series, but it was powerful and it followed the book fairly closely. Robert Duvall and Tommie Lee Jones were fantastic as Gus and Woodrow. I've watched the whole thing five times now and I'm still not tired of it.

2) Carrie. The ONLY Stephen King book that ever turned out worth a shit as a movie.

3) Forrest Gump. Read the book. You'll see what I mean.

4) The Exorcist. That movie gets my vote for the most terrifying experience I ever had in a movie theater. I stayed so clenched-up during that show that I felt as if I had been physically WHIPPED when I left the theater. That movie was better than the book.

5) Deliverance. The movie left out Dickey's existential blathering but stayed pretty well on track with the story. The casting was excellent, too. Plus, it added a couple of interesting lines to standard American English. "Boy, you got a pretty mouth" and "Squeal like a PIG!"

You don't find many non-abortions coming out of Hollywood, but they do exist.

my mama

Just a few things I was thinking about:

*Mama was a great cook. Not a CHEF, but a COOK. She made the best chicken and dumplings, the best pinto beans and the best cornbread I ever tasted. Once I wondered whether her cooking was that good, or if I just liked it because I grew up eating it. Naw, no doubt. It was that good.

*Mama had a green thumb. She never outgrew being a Kentucky farm-girl and tended a garden for years. She liked playing in the dirt. When I started growing my own crops, we were competitive (as all in the Smith family are). My squash always out-did hers, but she produced better bell peppers. We called it a draw.

*Mama always had shuck beans for Thanksgiving. She grew them and dried them herself, just FOR Thanksgiving. And if you don't know what shuck beans are, you need to be dragged off and shot.

*Mama was the sweetest, most kind person I've ever known. But she had a temper and you NEVER wanted to see that come out. She could turn into a 5' 2" Tazmanian devil in a heartbeat when she got pissed. The few times I saw that happen, it was over somebody fucking with her children. She would not tolerate that.

*Mama always loved kids, and kids always loved my mama.

*Mama was smart, witty, active and excellent at many different skills. She was a superb seamstress before arthritus took her hands, and I still have a quilt she made for me two years ago that I will keep forever. She sang with a wonderful voice and could play the piano, too. The music in me came from her. (My dad couldn't carry a tune in a bucket.)

*Mama always smiled a lot more than she frowned. She was a naturally happy person.

*Mama was beautiful when she was young. My dad caught himself a hottie when he married her.

*Mama would never admit that I worked crossword puzzles better than she did, no matter how much evidence I provided.

*Mama didn't approve of gambling, but she was a sharp card-player. She'd hand you your bloody ass in a game of Pedro, Gin, Pinocle or Canasta. As long as you weren't playing for money.

*I never knew anyone else who embraced life the way my mama did. She was a loving person. She had a heart as big as the moon and she put up with my sorry ass for 53 years. I am glad that I had time to talk to her--- SERIOUSLY talk to her--- before she died. I never had the chance to do that with my father.

*She's gone from this earth now, but she'll never leave my memory.

I'll love my mama forever.

exactly!

This is a damn good post. Read it. It touches all the bases.

If you play poker, you reach a point in every game where you look at your opponent and decide to "shake it and see." You may win or you may lose after that, but you can bet your sweet ass that the balance of chips are gonna shift on the table. We did that in the war on terror.

I think the chips shifted the right way in the Middle East.

just in case

All the arrangements are made. Visitation for my mama's funeral will be tomorrow from 4:00 until 6:00 PM at Fox and Weeks Funeral Home on Eisenhower Drive in Savannah. The burial will be at 10:00 Monday morning. I can't remember the name of the cemetary, but it's the one just to the left of Bonaventure Cemetary, at the end of Bonaventure Road.

Hell, my dad is buried there and I don't recall the name of the place.

If anybody in the area wants to drop by and offer last respects, you are welcome. I'll be easy to spot.

I'll be the one looking like Fido's ass.

they got him

This didn't take long, just as I predicted. But I was wrong about the cowardly sack 'o shit being taken alive. I thought he would either kill himself or commit Suicide By Cop.

He did neither one. Sorry bastard.

thanks, but no thanks

People are already offering to send flowers for my mama, and I appreciate the kind thoughts. But don't do that, please. Flowers just die. If you really feel generous, take the money you were going to spend on flowers and donate it to:

hospice of Savannah

or to the american diabetes association, in the name of Elva L. Smith.

Both organizations have been wonderful to my family and if you put your money there, it blooms, just like a beautiful flower. And you'll be helping a lot of people you don't even know.

it's over

Mama died at 5:00 this morning, in her sleep.

The world lost a good woman today.

March 11, 2005

get pissed off

I've never known a woman in my life who could read a map worth a shit, and if I had a dollar for every time my female "navigator" said, "Oh! I think we should have turned left back there," I'd be a rich man. Most wimmen simply CANNOT read a map.

Even if you tell them ahead of time, "We should be getting close to the turnoff on highway 35. Let me know when you see it," you usually get--- "Oh! I think that was Highway 35 we just passed!" And usually, you just passed Highway 35. If you are watching the road and expecting her to watch road signs, you're fucked.

I do much better all by myself.

Of course, science shows us why.

Rahman and his colleagues designed the study to test a theory that gay men and lesbian women might show "cross-sex shifts" in some cognitive abilities as well as in their sexual preferences.

The hypothesis is that homosexual people shift in the direction of the opposite sex in other aspects of their psychology other than sexual preference. That is, gay men may take on aspects of female psychology, and lesbians acquire aspects of male psychology.

What the hell does that mean? I need a lesbian navigator the next time I take a long road trip because SHE can read a map and a gay guy can't? Or I need to let a gay guy drive while I navigate? I know good and well that most wimmen CANNOT read a map or watch road signs. But I also don't think a study of 80 people proves anything.

I've just never seen a woman who wasn't damned good at getting me lost.

another nutball

Yeah, this story was all over the news today. When I first heard it, I wondered how the perp mamaged to smuggle a gun into the courthouse. Then I learned that he stole a deputy's gun to launch his mayhem.

Three dead, the last I heard and the scumbag on the run.

But I gotta wonder--- what was the deputy thinking around this guy in court? That this piece of shit WOULDN'T try such a thing? I don't like to second-guess anything, but I believe that I would have kept one hand on my pistol the entire time I was dealing with this nutball.

Something went badly wrong with procedures here.

i don't own any guns

Nope. I don't have any guns in my house. I don't WANT a gun, because they are dangerous things and they frighten me. Guns kill people. Everybody knows that fact.

That's why this kind of stuff doesn't bother me. Since I don't own any guns, I'm kinda like a non-smoker watching the smoke-Gestapo at work. Who cares what they do? It doesn't affect me.

As long as it doesn't affect ME, the government can do what it wants to. That's how they get away with their bullshit.

innocent child

This is exactly what I think. How dare the police fire on a 13 year-old car thief at 4:00 in the morning? Even if he WAS resisting arrest and attempting to run them over with the stolen car. They wouldn't have done that to a white boy.

This incident is blatant racism.

interesting stuff

I don't know what this means, but it SEEMS to me that blogs are a lot more popular than a lot of people think they are.

Imagine that.

abortions

How many movies have you seen that totally aborted a really good book? I can name several.

#1) Catch 22. Buck Henry needs to be dragged off and shot for writing that screenplay.

#2) Bonfire of the Vanities. The book was good. The movie sucked.

#3) ANY James Bond movie except Goldfinger and Dr. No.

4) The Shining. I know a lot of people liked it, but I didn't. That book gave me the skin-crawling willies. The movie disappointed me.

#5) The Hunt for Red October. That book mesmerized me. The movie damn near put me to sleep.

There's a lot more, but I'm too lazy to list them now.

unions

I've got no use for unions because I believe that they have out-lived their usefulness in this country. Now I read this and wonder about all that "solidarity" bullshit they preach.

This move sounds much like a corproate downsizing to me, and unions always howl when that happens in a real corporation. Just look at their motives:

The decision to cut the work force is a result of a move by AFL-CIO's 24-member executive committee at its annual winter meeting in Las Vegas to approve Sweeney's plan for increased spending on political and legislative activity from $32 million to $45 million annually while cutting funds for organizing efforts by about $15 million.

I think that pretty well explains what unions are today.

my first car

In 1971, my father co-signed a bank loan for me to buy a fire-engine red 1968 Javelin, which was a sweet deal at $1,000. It belonged to a friend of mine who was shipping off with the Navy. I was responsible for insurance, gas and upkeep, plus paying back that loan in one year.

Do you remember the sense of FREEDOM you felt when you had your first car, one that belonged to YOU? Especially one that was fast, good-looking and a real pussy-magnet. No more begging the parents for the car keys. You had your own wheels and you could go when and where you pleased.

I loved that car. I paid off the loan on time and kept my insurance current because I had a job flipping burgers while I went to college. I also played guitar in bars on the weekends. But DAMN! Owning your own car was an expensive proposition, even back when gas was 26 cents per gallon.

That was my first dose of adult responsibility, especially after I got my first speeding ticket. But I thought I was hot shit at the time, so I moved out of my parent's house and started living on my own. That was another shock, as I discovered that meals didn't just appear by magic on the supper table and laundry didn't wash itself.

That was my SECOND dose of adult responsibility, and I still don't have a handle on that one today. But I loved my car.

I drove it for five years, put over 120,000 miles on it and sold it for $500 to a guy who drove it for at least another three years. I'm pretty sure that I saw the car broken down with the hood up on Lynes Parkway sometime in 1979. I might be mistaken, but it sure looked a lot like my first car.

It's strange... but I still dream about driving that thing.

i think he's pissed

Well, I am, too. When did it become the role of government to dictate how much coffee you can drink?

The LAST thing I want is government doing ANYTHING "for my own good."

squeeze the charmin

Democrats will tax just about anything. I would say that this proposal from Florida is a bunch of shit and it chaps my ass, but that would be bathroom humor.

Personally, I think Sen. Al Lawson is full of crap, but taxing toilet paper might be a good way to go. The state could be flush with $50 million in additional revenue from this tax. They might wipe some debt off the books.

Hell, government taxes almost everything else anyway. Why not toilet paper?

March 10, 2005

pure trivia

LET'S JUST SEE HOW OBSERVANT YOU REALLY ARE.

1. On a standard traffic light, is the green on the top or bottom?

2. How many states are there in the USA? (Don't laugh, some people don't
know)

3. In which hand is the Statue of Liberty's torch?

4. What six colors are on the classic Campbell's soup label? Two colors
are very similar!

5. What two numbers on the telephone dial don't have letters by them?

6. When you walk does your left arm swing with your right or left leg?

7. How many matches are in a standard pack?

8. On the United States flag is the top stripe red or white?

9. What is the lowest number on the FM dial?

10. Which way does water go down the drain, counter or clockwise?

11. Which way does a "no smoking" sign's slash run?

12. How many channels on a VHF TV dial?

13. On which side of a women's blouse are the buttons?

14. Which way do fans rotate?

15. What is on the back of a Canadian dime?

16. How many sides does a stop sign have?

17. Do books have even-numbered pages on the right or left side?

18. How many lug nuts are on a standard car wheel?

19. How many sides are there on a standard pencil?

20. Sleepy, Happy, Sneezy, Grumpy, Dopey, Doc. Who's missing?

21. How many hot dog buns are in a standard package?

22. On which playing card is the card maker's trademark?

23. On which side of a Venetian blind is the cord that adjusts the
opening between the slats?

24. On the back of a Canadian $1 coin, what is in the center?

25. There are 12 buttons on a touch tone phone. What 2 symbols bear no
digits?

26. How many curves are there in the standard paper clip?

27. Does a merry-go-round turn counter or clockwise?

I got 19 right. Those Canadian questions fucked me up. I'll post the answers later.

smoking cigars

I don't smoke them as much as I once did, but I still like firing up a big stogie from time to time. When I had my mini-farm I always liked to sit on the back deck after a big meal and enjoy a fat cigar, along with a glass of wine.

I smoke cigarettes like a fiend and I often light one just to see it burn up, untouched, in the ashtray while I write. But I don't do that with cigars. Cigars are for savoring, in a slow and mellow fashion. I managed to smuggle a couple of Cuban cohibas back on my last trip to Costa Rica, and I have some fine Panamanian centenarios that aren't half-bad. I like to smoke a cigar in the evening, on my back porch, while the sun goes down.

Smoking a cigar is a lot like making love. If you get in a hurry, you'll spoil the experience. A cigar is meant to be enjoyed slowly and thoroughly, just like a woman. I like the way they taste and I like the way they smell, but even more than that, I like the way I FEEL when I'm smoking a good cigar. Relaxed. Comfortable. Happy.

I'm going to go smoke one now. The time is right.

a blog poll

Name five absolute, no-talent dickwads who are famous and highly-paid celebrities today. Here's MY list:

#1 Larry King

#2 Peter Jennings

#3 Nancy Pelosi

#4 William Raspberry

#5 Maureen Dowd

If you can do better than that list, I'd like to see yours.

ache my ass

If something like this ever happens to you, just hang the barrel of a .357 magnum out the window and see just how zealous the crazy bastard really is. I'll bet that you change his mind in a hurry.

And if you don't change his mind, then shoot him.

i'm available

I would do this, but her blogsplat comments are fucked-up right now and I an unable to reply to her missive. But I am easy and VERY talkative.

If ANYBODY in blogdom wants to interview me, just send me the questions. I'll respond. You might not like the ANSWERS, but I'll damn sure do it.

non-smoker

hog.jpg

Yep. Cigarette smoke bothers HIM, too. Ain't he a healthy-looking specimen?

I am in a pissy mood

I went to see mama today. If she lives to see the weekend, I'll be surprised. You cannot possibly understand how bad I feel to see this happen to the robust woman who raised me. Hospice is keeping her comfortable, but she's fading fast. Just in the past three days, the downhill slide has been tremendous.

That's MY MAMA. I don't want to watch her shrivel and die the way she is doing. She can't sit up by herself anymore. She can't go to the bathroom by herself anymore. She can't even drink water without puking it right back up. She's nothing but skin and bones now. But she keeps fighting.

Today was another day where I wished for a lightswitch on the wall that I could turn off and stop this shit.

She's worried about ME. She said that I should go to a doctor and find out what was wrong with my belly. "I'm fine, mama," I said. "No, you're not," she replied. "You look bad. Promise me that you'll go see a doctor."

I told her that I would.

After the nurse gave her a dose of liquid morphene and she fell asleep, I went out to the parking lot and cried for about 15 minutes before I drove home. I was always taught that life isn't easy, but nobody ever told me that death is so hard. This is my second time watching a parent go slowly, and this time is no easier than the first one was. In fact, I think this one is worse. I am hurt and angry right now.

If you want to pick a fight with me, today is the day to do it.

smoking cigarettes

I am an intelligent, well-educated man. I KNOW that cigarettes are addictive, bad for my health and they may very well kill me some day. But I CHOOSE to smoke them because I like them. It's MY goddam life, after all.

Read this post and pay special attention to the comments. Anti-smokers are about the most sanctimonious, full-of-shit, lying bunch of super-delicate pissants I've met in this life. Who died and made YOU assholes God?

Fuck every one of you. You ought to THANK ME for smoking, because I won't live long enough to suck up YOUR Social Security money.

How about I jump all over YOUR ASS for being fat? Huh? I mean, it really takes an undisciplined, greedy, food-stuffing, self-centered prick to take the body God gave you and blow it up into such disgusting porportions. You don't want to smell cigarette smoke, but the scent of fresh-baked cookies drives YOU right up the wall.

And you'll not only eat all the cookies, but lick the icing off the plate, too. Got-dam, but you self-righteous people piss me off. I love it when some 300-pound beached whale frantically waves a hand in front of its face and demands that I put out my cigarette because I AM KILLING THEM, while they eat an entire prime rib, with a Chocolate Thunder dessert.

Fucking hypocrites. Kiss my Cracker ass.

a meme

I found this post here, via a link from here. But it's a good question.

What I'd like to know, though, is about you. - Why do you live where you live? - Where would you like to live? - What is keeping you from living there, really?

I live in Effingham County, Georgia because I like the quiet country atmosphere and the people who live here. I like having a lot of open land and woods around me. I like the fact that owning several guns is considered NORMAL around here. I like the politeness and the good manners of my neighbors.

If I left here, I would move to Costa Rica. The only reason I DON'T, right NOW, is because I have family obligations that keep me here. But once those are gone, I'll reconsider where I want to stay. Costa Rica is at the top of my list.

It's a beautiful country and I speak enough Spanish to get by, plus I know a few people who could help me with the relocation hassle.

That's where I intend to live one of these days.

desperado

I was sorry to learn about this. Cowboy and country music writer Chris LeDoux died yesterday. Most people probably never heard of him, but I liked his music. He was 56 years old.

Happy trails, Chris.

it's about time

I've heard that this idea has been languishing in the state government for years. Now, they may finally be ready to act on it. I hope the hell so.

Non-custodial parents (mostly men) are raped, fucked, screwed, blued and tattooed under the current child support guidelines. I KNOW, because I've had a double-barrelled dose of it. My ex-wife is a wealthy woman with a very good job and a six-figure income. I am unemployed and living off a retirement settlement.

In court, none of that matters. I'm still expected to pay 17% of the GROSS I received from my severance pay. I could buy Quinton a house and a car for what I'm asked to pay that bloodless cunt. I pay HER more money than it takes me to support MYSELF every month.

That ain't right and it needs to be changed.

i had to

I could not resist linking ANY blog-post with the words homosexual necrophiliac ducks in it.

You just don't see that every day.

prophesy

Don't laugh--- it all could come true.

Headlines from the year 2029

Ozone created by electric cars now killing millions in the seventh largest country in the world, Mexifornia formally known as California. White minorities still trying to have English recognized as Mexifornia's third language.

Spotted Owl plague threatens northwestern United States crops and livestock.

Baby conceived naturally . scientists stumped.

Couple petitions court to reinstate heterosexual marriage.

Last remaining Fundamentalist Muslim dies in the American Territory of the Middle East (formerly known as Iran, Afghanistan, Syria and Lebanon).

Iraq still closed off; physicists estimate it will take at least 10 more years before radioactivity decreases to safe levels.

France pleads for global help after being taken over by Jamaica.

Castro finally dies at age 112; Cuban cigars can now be imported legally, but President Chelsea Clinton has banned all smoking.

George Z. Bush says he will run for President in 2036.

Postal Service raises price of first class stamp to $17.89 and reduces mail delivery to Wednesdays only.

85-year, $75.8 billion study: Diet and Exercise is the key to weight loss.

Average weight of Americans drops to 250 lbs.

Japanese scientists have created a camera with such a fast shutter speed, they now can photograph a woman with her mouth shut. (hey! I just sent it. I didn't write it!)

Massachusetts executes last remaining conservative.

Supreme Court rules punishment of criminals violates their civil rights.

Average height of NBA players now nine feet, seven inches.

New federal law requires that all nail clippers, screwdrivers, fly swatters and rolled-up newspapers must be registered by January 2036.

Congress authorizes direct deposit of formerly illegal political contributions to campaign accounts.

Capitol Hill intern indicted for refusing to have sex with congressman.

IRS sets lowest tax rate at 75 percent.

Florida voters still having trouble with voting machines

(Sent to me by Maggie)

I could add several others, but I'm still feeling kinda poorly today.

March 09, 2005

earth abides

Environmentalists are idiots. I'm sorry, but that's the blunt truth. Mother Earth has this kind of dance for 4 billion years. Yet life thrives.

Remember the panic about the Exxon Valdez oil spill? Just how many oil tankers do you think were sunk during World War II? Why didn't THAT destroy the planet?

I'll tell you why. Gaia knows how to clean herself up. She's been doing it a long time, and people who think they need to "save" her are out of their minds. How much "second-hand smoke" did Mt. St. Helens produce if it dropped ash 125 miles away?

Roger Cloutier, a senior weather service forecaster, said very fine ash was reported in much of Yakima and Kittitas counties, including Yakima, Ellensburg and Toppenish.

"It's a very light dusting," Cloutier said. "You probably could only see it on cars."

This Cloutier guy obviously is not an environmentalist or a lawyer. If he were, he'd be running in circles and screaming, "WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!!!" while demanding all sorts of lawsuits and regulations to stop volcanos from erupting.
Instead, he's kinda saying that it's no big deal.

The truth is, it AIN'T no big deal.


blind dates

Have you ever had a "blind date?" I don't mean a date who couldn't SEE, but someone YOU had never seen or spoken to before. Somebody set you up, you got roped into it by a friend, or the offer came and you accepted. How many people actually have done that?

I have, three times. One totally sucked (not in a sexual way), one was a very pleasant partner who showed me a good night, and the other was someone I almost fell in love with. She was a respiratory therapist. She was Irish and she could drink like a fish. Had big titties, too.

She gave a tremendous back-rub, but she got a lot of practice on the job with terminal lung cancer, heart disease and emphasema patients to help their breathing. She worked around DYING PEOPLE every day.

I don't know how she did it. I don't believe that I could. But she was one hell of a woman. I came close to falling in love with her.

We split when I went off to Athens to attend graduate school. I haven't seen her or heard about her now for almost 30 years. I find that idea strange, although I have no idea what made me think of her tonight. I hope life treated her well.

Blind dates. Have YOU ever had a good one?

this might work

I am NOT a vegetarian. I have canine teeth in my mouth and I like red meat. (I also like PINK, too, but I digress...). NO WAY would I condemn myself to a vegan diet.

But this doesn't sound bad. I've always believed that portabella mushrooms taste like steak when they're cooked right, so a good chef might actually be able to make something not only edible, but GOOD, from this recipe.

My experience with the pizza last night makes me afraid to try it, but I'll bet it's pretty good.

feeling better (I think)

I spent most of the day curled up on the couch with a severe belly ache that went from intense to downright excruciating. I drank water and club soda and didn't eat any food. I'm feeling somewhat better now. The swelling in my belly has gone down and I don't hurt (much) anymore. I really do need to go see a doctor about this shit.

I didn't make it to Hospice to see mama today, but I called and she isn't doing well at all. The stomach cancer must be really taking its toll now, because she can't eat anymore. She was too weak to talk for more than a minute, but she told me that she's not in any pain, just really thirsty. Everything she tries to drink just comes right back up.

They've got her on an IV to keep her hydrated, but I fear that the end is near. Everytime the phone rings, I cringe before I answer it. I expect bad news at any time.

I'll be there tomorrow even if I have to hire a taxi to drive me to Hospice and back. I just couldn't do it today. I don't understand how eating a slice of pizza made me so sick. But it did, and I will never do it again, that's for SURE.

I don't like pain. And I don't like seeing other people suffer, either.

i thought i might do better

I got seven out of eleven on this test. Not bad, but I expected a better score. Some of the questions are tricky.

I stole the link from here.

holey-moley!

I've gone about three weeks now with no belly-pain and no trouble sleeping at night. I've actually felt pretty good for the first time in a long while. But I fucked up yesterday.

I arrived home from visiting my mama at Hospice and I didn't feel like cooking. I called Dominos and ordered a pizza delivered to the Crackerbox. I was hungry, too, and the pizza was just what I wanted.

I ate ONE SLICE and found myself doubled over with stomach pain. My belly swelled, my kidneys hurt and I felt as if someone just ran a flaming spear right through my gut. GOT-DAM!!! I hurt all night long, too, and didn't get a lot of sleep. I was still hurting this morning.

I drank some club soda and some orange juice and I feel better now. But my belly still hurts. Not like it did yesterday or all night long, but I can tell something still is wrong. Pizza goes off my list of foods to eat FOREVER now. And I regret that fact, because I love pizza.

But it damn sure doesn't love me anymore.

it's a crazy world

And this is a crazy blog. Why do I read it? I must be crazy myself.

this story definitely falls into the "there's something seriously wrong with that guy" category. I don't want to know what he was thinking, and I DAMN sure don't want any of what he was drinking, smoking or taking at the time.

A 40-year-old man is recovering in hospital in The Philippines after cutting off his penis and eating it.

To me, that's pretty drastic action. Cuttin' off your own dick is bad enough, but then cooking it and EATING IT takes the whole thing to a new level of the bizarre. My mind boggles.

But this guy probably has half a dozen recipes for preparing severed penis--- smoked, sauteed, stuffed or pickled, with lots of spices.

I don't want to try it.

stupid blog fodder

Stolen from here and I found a challenge in not duplicating any of his answers.

Name Five Famous Franks

1) Barney (Frank)

2) (Frank) Robinson

3) (Frank)-lin Roosevelt

4) (Frank) Gifford

5) (Frank) enstein

Try that yourself. It's more difficult than it sounds.

the big apple

Under the Hoover-vaccum money-suck "leadership" of Mayor Bloomberg, New York City has invented all kinds of ways to levy fines against citizens for bullshit reasons. But this is pretty despicable.

When your government goes after Girl Scouts for selling cookies, you need a new government.

marketing

Via catfish:

What is marketing ???

Women have asked for an explanation of Marketing. Perhaps the following
analogies will help clarify what is Marketing:

You see a handsome guy at a party. You go up to him and say, "I'm fantastic
in bed." That's Direct Marketing.

You're at a party with a bunch of friends and see a handsome guy. One of
your friends goes up to him and pointing at you says, "She's fantastic in
bed." That's Advertising.

You see a handsome guy at a party. You go up to him and get his telephone
number. The next day you call and say, "Hi, I'm fantastic in bed." That's
Telemarketing.

You're at a party and see a handsome guy. You get up and straighten your
dress. You walk up to him and pour him a drink. You say, "May I," and reach

up to straighten his tie brushing your breast lightly against his arm, and
then say, "By the way, I'm fantastic in bed." That's Public Relations.

You're at a party and see a handsome guy. He walks up to you and says, "I
hear you're fantastic in bed." That's Brand Recognition.

You're at a party and see a handsome guy. You talk him into going home with
your friend. That's a Sales Rep.

Your friend can't satisfy him so he calls you. That's Tech Support.

You're on your way to a party when you realize that there could be handsome
men in all these houses you're passing. So you climb onto the roof of one
situated toward the center and shout at the top of your lungs, "I'm
fantastic in bed!"

That's Spam.


we can't be all bad

A college professor of Journalism at SMU has posted a list of "interesting" blogs and a bunch of Jawja blog-meet participants made the list. Including yours, truly.

Hell, I thought we just had our own mutual admiration society. Evidently a distinguished man of letters reads us, too.

I am very flattered.

March 08, 2005

fate

Mama didn't look so good when I saw her at Hospice today. Her condition appears to have gone downhill over the past couple of days. Still, she's worried about getting a 2005 tag on her car and renewing her driver's license, which expires on May 5th this year. I told her that I would take care of it.

Mama knows that she's very sick, but she always finds something to worry about. Mamas do that sort of thing.

Mama is 74 years old. She's lived a full and glorious life. It's almost over now, but she damned sure squeezed the goody out of the time she had. And she feels no pain right now.

That's nature's way, no matter how much I wish it weren't true. this story, on the other hand, is the kind of goodbyes you don't expect in life. But they happen, too.

Death is inevitable, but always painful when if affects someone you know and love. Die at 74 and everyone mourns.

Die at 19 and people really grieve. What a waste.

i agree

This picture DOES look rather odd, and it DID make me think dirty thoughts. But I'm a sick fuck anyway.

YOU look at it and see if your mind wanders into the gutter, too.

i knew this already

I am 15% Idiot.
Friggin Genius
I am not annoying at all. In fact most people come to me for advice. Of course they annoy the hell out of me. But what can I do? I am smarter than most people.

I'm a smart guy. But I let that 15% idiot out to run free frequently.

taxes

Read this post and either weep or laugh, depending on your mood. I know what I would do with one of those tax bills. It would spare me a couple of sheets off the toilet paper roll.

When government taxes the shit out of cigarettes, people find ways to avoid paying those taxes. Who wouldn't? I read once that without taxation, a pack of cigarettes would cost about 25 cents. I pay $24 a carton. I think I'm being raped. Government hides this greedy money-grab behind the cloak of "health," but they don't fool me.

It's all about money.

job-blogging

Here is some good advice. I think. Well, maybe not, but YOU'RE all grown up, so YOU decide.

You just might become "rich and famous."

no

Trust me. it's not just you. I believe that the global warming scare is a steaming pile and the Social Security crisis is REAL.

But that's just MY humble opinion. Politicians won't touch Social Security because they figure that they'll be long out of office or dead by the time the shit finally hits the fan. Doing something NOW, while in office, might jeopardize reelection.

Global warming, on the other hand, is a nice, touchy-feely environmental issue, which is much better for pandering, lying and consuming taxpayer's dollars. Politicians LIKE that kind of issue. They can pretend to do good while attacking a problem that doesn't exist. They don't like handling real problems because... well, some accountability is involved there and politicians don't like that slippery ground.

That's why they are politicians in the first place. Otherwise, they'd have real jobs.

i'm all for it

This sounds like a good idea to me. It's not like we're talking about wiping out an endangered species.

Heh. I like the fact that they guy behind the proposal is named "Smith," too. He must be a relative of mine.

(Thanks to Rodrigo for the link!)

March 07, 2005

i am in love

Just go read this, then look at her picture.

What's NOT to love?

the bar bidness

I read this post and reflected back on my days as a bar musician. I know the kind of people he's talking about. I never had any trouble with them, but I knew others who did and some of THEM had terrible, fatal accidents as a result.

Those guys dressed well, tipped VERY well and were polite until you got on the wrong side of their ire. If you managed to get THERE... well, you never knew what might happen. I didn't want to know.

I stayed out of their way.

i know what it feels like

I've been this way all of my life. Good at most things...

But never the poster-boy.

canooks

I've met a lot of Canadians in my life and I've liked almost every one of them. I DON'T like their national politics and I DO wish that all the leftist assholes who threatened to leave this country after Bush was re-elected would go ahead and move there, but my experience with individual Canadians has been pleasant. As a Southerner, I like being able to say, "They talk with a funny accent."

I'll bet that I would like this person, too. After a few beers, we could debate funny accents.

another sick fuck

I don't know what to say about this. The mind boggles.

The story didn't do a lot for my nether regions, either.

dragged off and shot

Yep. That's what should happen to this blogger. "A recent graduate from Texas Tech University with a double major degree in Biology and Exercise & Sports Science (with a concentration in Exercise & Health Promotion), I thought I'd use this forum to post information related to those topics."

Well, I'm a graduate of life and I double-majored in cigarette smoke and booze, with a minor in chasing pussy. I use my forum to post information related to those topics.

I think my stories are better.

just study the evidence

Lebanese wimmen are almost as good-looking as the wimmen in Costa Rica. I learned that fact from here, which is a site I seldom link. But YOU look at the pictures.

Which side would YOU rather be on?

I got paid righteously

Yeah, I lost my job because of my blog. But Kerr-McGee paid me well to get the fuck off the premises before I "embarassed" the company any more, so I took the money and ran. I never blogged on company time, I never mentioned the name of my employer and I STILL knew that what I was doing was dangerous. It bit me.

Other people are not so lucky, but I'm gonna ask a simple question. When are businesses going to wake up to the fact that blogs exist? Before I started blogging, I wrote for the Effingham Herald and I was a frequent columnist for the Savannah Morning News. I wrote in those places much like I write today, minus the profanity.

I never heard a peep from work management about me doing THAT in my free time. But my blog got me fired. Companies had better start making some clear-cut rules about such things. They'll piss-test you and refuse to hire smokers, but they leave this part out of the equation.

How much of your personal life does a company own when you accept a paycheck from them?

serves you right

This is what you get for living in Florida. Bad drivers, old retired yankees and sinkholes.

Piss on Florida, even if it DOES have Key West.

i knew she had a mean streak

I read this post and thought back upon my own childhood. I have a younger brother. When I got bored, I would beat him up, just for the hell of it.

Take a rainy day, with both of you cooped up inside the house and it doesn't require much time before you decide, "I'm bored. I think I'll whip my little brother's ass." You DO IT, too, just because he's there and he's your little brother and that's what little brothers are for.

I usually got my own ass tore up by mama or daddy for picking on my brother, but the spanking was worth it. I wasn't bored anymore.

I remember two things about Dave as we grew up together. First, it was okay for ME to whip his ass, but if YOU picked on my brother, you'd better be ready to fight me, too. I'd whip his ass one minute, then fight anybody else who tried the same thing the next. That's still a complicated situation to think about today. In my mind, it was okay for ME to kick my brother's ass, but you'd better not try it unless you could kick MY ass, too.

Second, my brother wouldn't fight anybody when he was young except ME. I never understood that. He would allow people to bully him, pick on him and throw rocks at him and he never fought back. But he would tear into ME at the drop of a hat, KNOWING that I was gonna whip his ass. If he had fought those bullies the way he fought me, he wouldn't have had any bullies picking on him.

Of course, he grew up to be a high-octane attorney. Pick on him today and he'll fuck you up in court. Maybe he was planning this shit all along.

My brother is a smart guy.

no surprise here


What Flavour Are You? I tashte like Alcohol.I tashte like Alcohol.


Heh. Heh. I taste like beer. I like beer. Buy me a beer. I'm not drunk, I can drink plenty without... What was I saying? Beer. What Flavour Are You?

Some of these quizzes peg me pretty well.

random linkage

I found this one in my re-furls. If I were her, I'd change the format a little bit, but it's not a bad blog.

Hell, if she's married to a retired Marine, she must have the patience of Job, the skin of a rhino and the spine of a cactus.

that had to hurt

I've never understood people who want to keep exotic, wild animals as pets. Those critters are NOT domesticated. Get a dog or a cat, or you just might end up getting this.

St. James and LaDonna Davis were at the Animal Haven Ranch in Caliente to celebrate the birthday of Moe, a 39-year-old chimpanzee who was taken from their suburban Los Angeles home in 1999 after biting off part of a woman's finger.

Did anybody except me see a clue alert there? I DON'T WANT a "pet" that might bite somebody's finger off. I don't want a visitor to lose a finger and I damn sure don't want the lawsuits that are bound to follow. I don't want a fucking DOG that bites (unless I tell him to), and I can't see wanting a chimp as a pet.

St. James Davis had severe facial injuries and would require extensive surgery in an attempt to reattach his nose, Dr. Maureen Martin of Kern Medical Center told KGET-TV of Bakersfield. His testicles and a foot also were severed, Kern County Sheriff's Cmdr. Hal Chealander told The Bakersfield Californian.

The chimps chewed his face off, bit off his balls and took a foot for good measure. The dumb bastard is lucky to be alive (well... maybe with half of your face and your balls bitten off, you might be better off dead) and it's all because he wanted a "pet" that isn't a pet.

Why do people do such stupid things?

March 06, 2005

damn right!

I could not possibly agree more with this post. I believe that I can safely say that if the US military "targeted" that blithering idiot, she would be dead now. Our good shots don't usually miss.

Whatta maroon.

a challenge

I can cook a turkey better than this guy can and I don't care if he does stuff a can of beer up his bird's butt.

I can do better.

Another quote

Yeah, I know I already posted some quotes, but I'm going to post another one because I do not believe that enough people understand this simple fact:

Another thing we should do is make the EPA and all 50 states agree upon one blend of gasoline that fits most uses. Right now, the industry has to produce dozens of different blends to meet emmission standards across the country.

We don't have enough refineries, but that's not the real problem. Anybody who ever worked in production knows this little tidbit: You don't work in a Baskin Robbins store where the customer can just walk up and ask for the flavor that he wants and all you do is scoop it out of a box for him. You make "runs" of whatever product you need at the time, and your runs last as long as you can make them last.

Changing "flavors" costs money, affects quality and is a major pain in the ass. You want to "run" a grade as long as you can once you get the operation tuned. But refineries can't do that, because we don't have enough refineries, and therefore, they are changing "flavors" all the time. That costs money, reduces production and leads to the gas prices we're paying today.

And it ain't greedy "oil barons" causing this shit. This crap is the result of asshole environmentalists and rectum politicians, combined with an ignorant public. Putting gas in your vehicle isn't like walking up to a vending machine and choosing either Coke or Diet Coke. Coke has the time and the facilities to make "runs" of whatever flavor you want. Refineries don't, and gasoline costs you out the wazoo as a result.

I'll rant about the government's taxation role in this subject later.

bats

I read this post and it triggered a lot of memories. I've never had a "bat box" (In fact, I've never HEARD of one before) but I would have put up a dozen when I had my mini-farm, if they attracted bats. But I had a barn and so did almost everybody else, so bats had plenty of "boxes" to rest in.

Bats always swarmed the skies just after sundown in the summer. I sat on my back deck and watched them hunt. They are amazingly good at finding and eating mosquitos in the dark. They've also got moves in the air that no fighter pilot could ever duplicate.

Once, Jennifer and I were drinking wine on the deck and I was watching the bats perform. It was quite a show. Must have been at least 50 of them flying around at the time. "What kind of birds are those?" she asked.

"Those aren't birds," I replied. "Those are bats." She ran back into the house, terrified that one would fly into her hair.

I always liked bats, but occasionally one would fly down the chimney and end up in the house. (How the hell do those blind bastards DO that? They can't see what they're doing but they damn sure WILL fly down a chimney.) Total panic ensued among the wimmen and children until I could either catch or kill the damned thing. I always tried to catch them and turn them loose again.

I caught one in a beach towel one night and spread it out for Samantha and Quinton to see. Have you ever studied a bat up close? It's a mouse with wings. A fucking flying rodent and ugly as hell. Among choruses of "KILL IT, Daddy!!! KILL IT!!" I took the bat out on the deck and threw it up in the air. It flew away.

I was proud of myself, both for the biology lesson I gave my children and for my bat-kindness. I hope that one ate a ton of mosquitoes.

rip

I should have mentioned this earlier. Growing up where I did, I've seen a lot of families where everybody played a musical instrument and the family WAS a band.

So were the Carters. One of the best.

idiots. real idiots

I received this link from maggie and it's too good not to share. (AGAIN, I tell you people--- if you email me something like this PLEASE include your URL (if you have one) so that I can throw you a link back. My brain is full right now.)

I like this one best:

We must make this an insecure and inhospitable place for capitalists and their projectsÖ. We must reclaim the roads and plowed land, halt dam construction, tear down existing dams, free shackled rivers and return to wilderness millions of tens of millions of acres of presently settled land.

óDavid Foreman, Earth First!

And we should all freeze to death in the dark. The dumbfuck actually BELIEVES that, too.

what are you paying for gas?

I drove over to Hospice again today to visit with mama. She is being taken care of well there, and she doesn't have any complaints other than the fact that she's tired all the time. She looks better than she did three days ago and seems to feel better, too. I think getting out of her house and away from everybody worrying about her helped her condition.

She never liked to inconvenience anybody.

But I needed some gas for my truck on the way home, and the best price I could find was $1.96 per gallon for 87 octane regular. The same gas was about $2.01 in Savannah.

What are YOU paying for gas now?

wonderful people

I had never read this blog before today. But the author sent me an email that got me all choked up and teary-eyed. I do that a lot anymore.

The writer gave me permission to use the email as I saw fit, so I want to quote a couple of passages. Anybody who feels this deeply and thinks so wisely deserves a big audience.

Indian Summer comes to NH late January of every year. On the Monday I went to see Grampa, Indian Summer was in full swing. Grampa was having a particularly bad day. Diarrhea and vomiting. An onset of puking came on so I rang for the nurse and held the bowl for him to upchuck into. He could no longer do it himself. The nurse came in and relieved me of my task. She cleaned him up and genuinely asked if he wanted anything. No. Then she made her exit. In a moment of clarity I hadn't seen for some time, Grampa looked me square in the eyes and spoke the following words: "Dear God, I wish these people would leave me alone and let me die in peace."

I know that feeling. Not for myself, but for someone I love with all my heart.

Sidney Oscar Davis, Sr Born: Jan 1899, Marlow, New Hampshire Died: Jan 1980, Keene, New Hampshire "A Giving Man Rests Here" In 1981 we were forced to add to the 'stone: Bertha Marie Salzgiver Born: Sept 1900, Wilmington, Delaware Died: Aug 1981, Exeter, New Hampshire "Beloved Wife, Cherished Mother, Protector of the Innocent"

I hurt a lot when my father died, but that was a long time ago and I've gotten over the grief now. My mama is about to follow him wherever he went. If there is an afterlife, I hope they hold hands and make love they way they did when they were young. I'll bury my mama right next to my daddy, but I'll never go back to look at either grave.

I prefer to cherish my memories rather than look at a goddam hole in the ground.

In the end, I dearly hope people will think enough of me to write such an epitaph as "A Giving Man Rests Here".

So do I, Stephan. So do I.


a picture of me

duck.bmp

Honest. That's ME! I wouldn't lie to you about something so important.

Of course, that picture is a couple of years old and I don't look quite the same now. But it's still ME. Honest. So, all you wimmen who meet me for the first time at Jekyll Island, close you eyes and remeber what I ONCE looked like, not what I am today.

We'll both be happier.

i'd have shot the bastard

One thing I had some trouble with on the mini-farm was raccoons. Those bastards are excellent trash-can raiders, egg-stealers and general nusiances, so I kept a shotgun handy just for them.

Some of them were rabid, and they'll hiss and attack you if you give them the chance. Go outside at night in your shorts with a flashlight and a .410 shotgun and do battle with a rabid raccoon. That AIN'T a pleasant experience. I killed about a dozen of those pissants, then put on work gloves before I would pick them up and bury them.

I read this post and laughed. The possum had a bad night, but I would have made it worse for him. I'd have shot that sumbitch.

My friend Willy had a horse that was killed by a lightning strike during a summer thinderstorm. The horse went to hide under a tree, lightning hit the tree, and the horse dropped dead. It was a BIG horse, too.

We couldn't bury it or drag it off, so Willy hired a guy who owned a back-hoe to come bury the horse. He didn't arrive to do the job for about three days. The horse laid there in the summer sunshine in the meantime and was beginning to swell up, stink and attract a lot of flies.

When Johnny finally showed up with the back-hoe, I went down to help on the project and I wasn't certain that the horse was dead. It was MOVING, almost as if it were breathing. Johnny took a stick and beat the horse. FIVE possums came out of the horse's ass, where they had been dining from the inside out. That was one of the most disgusting sights I've ever seen.

We let the possums waddle away and buried the horse.

Now, I'll shoot a possum as soon as I see one.

quotes of the day

Yeah, when I start a shit storm, I do a pretty good job. But, I believe this, too:

"The day you write to please everyone, you are no longer in journalism. You are in show business."
(Frank Miller, Jr.)

And I like this one, too:

"The news is the one thing the networks can point to with pride. Everything else they do is crap, and they know it."
(Fred Friendly)

I wonder what Fred would think of Dan Rather today.

I've written before about how I can make people angry enough to show me the veins in their teeth if I mention my opinions about abortion or religion. But I left out the #1 kick-starter for some really spittle-stained "debate." Just mention RACE. That's a got-dam radioactive topic today.

I stick with my original premise on the post below. The FACT that we don't have a lot of black people in Special Forces in the military (when considered given the number of blacks overall in the military) is confusing to me. I'm not calling it cowardice, incompetence or any other finger-pointing bullshit. I'm just asking why.

I see all sorts of avenues for debate here--- do blacks NOT join the Rangers or Delta Force because those units are mostly white, and they feel uncomfortable there--- or do they just prefer something else in the military? Does the military itself discourage blacks from going into Special Ops? If so, why? How do black troops feel about the opportunities the military offers them?

MY humble opinion, from playing football and making music is that very few people give a rat's ass about the color of your skin if you prove yourself worthy. If you are trusted to be a member of the group, you're in. Period. As long as you show up on time, do your job well and convince me that you've got my back when I need a partner, race doesn't matter.

I believe that these are legitimate questions and I don't see anything wrong with talking about them. The Savannah Saint Patrick's Day Parade is happening in a week or so, and if you go watch it, pay attention to the Rangers when they march by.

They not only appear to be the meanest, most well-drilled group in the march---(I would hate to see those bastards coming after ME!) but they also appear to be mostly white. Why is that?

I suppose we're just not supposed to ask those kinds of questions anymore today.

they should know better

I'm sorry. I like "flipper" as well as the next guy and I've had dolphins swim close enough to me in the water that I was able to grab a handfull of dorsal fin and take a nice ride. I've also watched them hunt fish in teams.

Have you ever watched them do that in a salt water creek? Four or five of them will get together in a school of mullet or shiners and then swim together to make a wave that washes all the little fishies up on the bank. After that, they idle there and eat the little fishies when they flop back toward the water. It's a damned effective fishing operation.

Those fuckers have scared the shit out of me before. I was trying to don a pair of water skis in the Wilmington River one day, when somebody on the boat shouted "SHARK!!!" I looked around and saw this HUGE creature swimming right next to me and showing that dorsal fin above the water. I almost put on my Jesus shoes and ran across the water back to the boat, leaving a trail of bodily fluids behind me.

But it wasn't a shark. It was a dolphin, along with about four friends, just curious about what I was doing in their domain. Those critters do everything but sniff you like a dog when you're in the water with them. I got bumped and thumped and blow-hole drenched until I managed to get the skis on my feet. I yelled "GO!" and made that round-and-round motion with my hand that told the boat driver to hit the throttle.

I took off and watched those crazy bastards chase me all the way down the river. No... "chase" is the wrong word, because they could swim a lot faster than I was going. They were PLAYING with me, and they almost dumped me more than once. I was probably doing about 30 to 40 MPH at the time, and those beautiful creatures didn't even have to try hard to keep up.

They liked to hem me in on both sides, then have one of their buddies surface right in front of me. If I dodged HIM, they set up another plan of attack and came after me again. I really believe that they knew what water skis were and they were trying to give me a nice spill. Kinda like playing a video game for them.

I managed to stay on the skis and they got bored with the game after about 15 minutes. They swam off to amuse themselves doing something else. But that was a hoot of an experience. I've never "Danced With Wolves."

But I HAVE swum with dolphins.

i'm gonna die!!!

Here's another study that tells me I am doomed. For a change, however, I'm not going to dispute these findings. I believe that married men in a loving relationship are better off than divorced bachelors such as myself.

I just have one problem:

All of this led Charlotte Schoenborn, a health statistician at the National Center for Health Statistics, to a surprising conclusion: Doctors should consider their patients' marital status as a risk factor for their health, just as if they smoke or are overweight.

Thomas Rutledge, assistant professor of psychiatry at the University of California, San Diego told the Indianapolis Star this isn't surprising at all. Close social relationships, especially marriage, help protect us against disease and premature death. "Marriage was just as potent a predictor of death as diabetes and heart disease," Rutledge told the newspaper.

We already have businesses that won't hire smokers. Businesses are looking at what they can do to obese people in the name of "lowering health-care costs." Will the nannies come after single men next?

I don't care. I don't intend to work for somebody else ever again in my (shortened by my non-married status) life.

March 05, 2005

about time for a shit storm

I started not to write anything about this post because I knew that it would get me in trouble. But I don't give a shit. I'm gonna tell the truth and you can choke all over it if offends your delicate sensibilities.

Recondo 32 served as a LRRP in Vietnam. That's serious special forces shit, and he told me that he had two reasons for joining. First was the extra $90 a month he got for hazardous duty pay and the second was to get away from draftees. There were almost no black LRRPs. "Draftees would get you killed," he said.

I knew a lot of Rangers when I was playing guitar and they were still based at Hunter Army Airfield. Damn near every one of them was white and all told me the same thing. They went into that airplane-jumping, crazy-assed shit to get with a better set of buddies. They wanted somebody they could TRUST to watch their back. You don't see many black Rangers.

I don't understand that fact, because black athletes dominate most professional sports today. But you don't see many of them making it in the Rangers or Delta Force. Why is that? I think this is a serious question that assholes such as Charles Rangle should answer, if you can ever get a straight answer out of that greasy weasel.

What is the answer? Black guys are whiners who are a lot better with a basketball than they are with a rifle? Bullshit. They can't CUT IT, when the going gets tough? Bullshit. So, you tell me.

We have plenty of black Marines, and that training ain't no cake-walk. If they can make it through Parris Island, why aren't they taking the next step? But just look around. You don't see many black faces in the really specialized branches of the military. It ain't racism that causes that, either.

So... explain it to me.

thank you

I had 44 emails this morning from all over the world wishing my mama well. In the last week, I've probably received close to 1,000. My mama received a lot too, before she became too weak to get on-line anymore, and you people brought her a lot of comfort.

You didn't have to do that, and both she and I were stunned at the good will sent our way. Those messages sure help to make you feel not as alone as you might otherwise be in dark times. When I told her about all the messages she's missed over the past couple of days, she was half-asleep, but she laughed. "Everybody loves me," she said.

And everybody who ever met my mama DOES love her. She's that kind of person.

There's not a damned thing anybody can do to change what's happening now, but you people have been more than kind to me and my family. I cannot tell you how much I appreciate it, because words fail me right now, and that NEVER happens to Acidman.

I just wanna say thanks. You HAVE helped.

i'll be got-damned!

battle axe.bmp

Somebody found a picture of my bloodless cunt ex-wife and posted it on the internet. I know that it resembles a battle-axe, but that's damn sure her.

okay...

I found the idea here. Grab a book, turn to page 123, then count down five sentences. Post the next three.

That ploy accomplished nothing except to make me even blinder when the ruthless searchlight came probing through the open hatch. It raked the mess, then nailed me where I stood. In a gesture of great helplessness and pity, I raised my arms, crossed my wrists in front of my face--- and all I saw was an exploding brightness, and a gun barrel wagging, obscene and without context, a few feet from my face.

Not bad, huh? This shit may work every time. Why don't YOU try it?

(By the way, my quote was taken from The Naked Detective, written by Laurence Shames. It was the first book I could lay my hands on.)

firepower

mygal.bmp

I think she's got the right equipment. I sure would like to get my hands on her pistols.

Uh... I meant PISTOL.

tROUBLES

My flag blew down off my porch again. March is coming in like a lion and the wind has been fierce.

My goddam speakers quit working on my computer today and I don't know why (I'll research that problem later-- maybe tomorrow). Meanwhile, I'll just enjoy the Sound of Silence from my PC.

My digital camera is sick. It says it can't format a disk anymore, so I can't take any pictures until I either have the disk drive repaired or buy a memory stick for the damned thing, which costs almost as much as the camera did. I may just say to hell with it and buy another fucking camera. Maybe tomorrow.

I came home from Hospice today and smelled rotting garbage in my house. This was no olfactory illusion, either; it was the real thing. I tracked it down to a piece of uncooked catfish I threw in the kitchen trash can about two days ago. It was getting ripe. I took out the garbage and burned a couple of insense sticks to camouflage the smell.

Two basketballs and most of my lawn furniture are in my neighbor's yard now. I TOLD you that the wind was fierce. I'll go pick them up later. Maybe tomorrow. Hell, he knows who that shit belongs to.

I thought about doing my income taxes today, but I couldn't locate my calculator. I figured that was the perfect excuse not to do that onerous task. I think the feds are going to screw me blind this year. Maybe I'll look at that crap tomorrow.

I bought a six pack of Bass Ale and I almost never found the church key to pry the lid off the first bottle. I finally located it in the dishwasher, just about the time I was getting desperate and thinking about using the edge of the kitchen counter to pop the lid off, the way I did when I was in college. Jack's sisters must have put it there a week ago.

My truck needs an oil change, but I don't feel like crawling under the sumbitch and doing that today. Maybe tomorrow.

"Maybe tomorrow." That's my motto today.

i'm pretty sure it's him

burger.bmp

I believe that I have an exclusive picture of Oliver... what's-his-name attacking a plate of stupid the way he does best. Yep. He's "Like Kryptonite to Stupid," all right, if he says so. I'm more inclined to describe him as "Like a Turd That Won't Flush," but that's just MY humble opinion.

That guy really chaps my ass.

i feel better

Mama is resting comfortably and Hospice is taking good care of her. She's breathing better now than she was yesterday and the staff people are as friendly and helpful as they can be. I was impressed by what I saw.

My brother was already in the room when I arrived. He and I need to talk, but I didn't feel like doing it today and neither did he. Maybe tomorrow. We just visited with mama today. She slept a lot while we were there.

And that's all I'm going to write about it.

virulent asshole

I'll read anything, no matter how inane it is. But some people just make me shake my head and wonder how the hell they manage to feed themselves, although Fat Ollie seems to have no problem stuffing food down HIS gullet. Too bad his waist size is bigger than his IQ.

This guy called me a "virulent racist." I call him a complete dumbfuck.
"Like Kyptonite to Stupid," indeed.

More like dog shit on a shoe in MY humble opinion.

Places to go

I'm about to go to Hospice and visit my mama.

I was looking at some pictures I have and I wish I could make my scanner work correctly, because I would post the one on my desk right now. It's my mama crossing the finish line in the Savannah Marathon she ran at Hunter Field when she was 50 years old.

Dad bought her this ridiculous hat with wings on it, kinda like Mercury or the FTD Florist guy, and mama wore it through the entire run. Her time was slightly over FIVE HOURS, but she was grinning like a dog eating cat-shit as she crossed the finish line. She was proud of herself, as well she should have been. Her longest run before then was 15 miles, but she did 26.2 with no problem.

She finished third in her age group and won a trophy in that race. Not many 50 year-old wimmen can run a full marathon. But my mama did.

I told you before: I come from good stock.

i've done it

If you haven't done this, you should, the very next chance you get. Show some goddam gratitude for young people who are risking their lives for you.

And like the writer of that post, I've never done it without having the troops thank me. I shell out a few bucks for a meal and THEY want to thank ME? I've always told them that they had it backward. I thank THEM. I'm not the one about to be shot at. They are.

I don't care if you're in a McDonald's or a fancy steak house. Buy a meal for the people in uniform who are headed into harm's way. They appreciate it, and you'll feel good about yourself afterward, too.

Just try it.

March 04, 2005

must be blood on the moon

I just thought of ten people that I would like to strangle with my bare hands. Don't ask me WHY I thought such a thing. I don't know. But I did. I'm too old and decrepit to actually strangle anybody anymore, but here's my list anyway. (not in any particular order)

* Barry Manilow, and if you have to ask why, I want to strangle you, too.

* Jimmy Carter, and if you have to ask why, you must have voted for John Kerry.

* Al Sharpton. Just because, that's why.

* Dan Rather. Never mind. Somebody beat me to that one. He choked on some paper, didn't he?

* Hillary Clinton. I believe that she's the Antichrist, but I'd be afraid to try to choke her. She might nut-kick me, head-butt me and them rip my still-beating heart out of my chest and EAT IT in front of me.

* Bill Clinton. I could probably handle him if he didn't sic his wife on me.

* Richard Simmons, just because he deserves it.

* Carrot Top. I can't help it. I HATE that guy.

*The Jogger Dude. I've mentioned him in earlier posts, that running bastard from somewhere down the street. He does about 20 laps around the neighborhood every day. He resembles John Clease without a moustache and I am certain that he expects to live forever. That's why I want to strangle him.

*Molly Ivans. I'm not sure that I have the hand-span to make it around her wattled neck, but I would like to try. Bloviating, bovine, babbling bitch.

If I were 30 years younger, if I hadn't smoked all those cigarettes, if I hadn't gotten drunk so much, if I had watched my diet better and if I could jog 20 laps around the neighborhood every day, some of those people might be in trouble. But they are safe, for now.

I'm worried that Carrot Top might whip my ass, and I'd NEVER live that down.

i can believe it

Here's a story about a celebrity asshole. I woulda lost my job that day, but I would have laid a shovel upside that fucker's head and then kicked him in the nuts for good measure.

I have a cousin in Dayton, Ohio who was a tremendous Cincinatti Reds fan. (Johnny Mays was also "Mr. Basketball" for the WHOLE FUCKING STATE when he was 15 years old.) He was playing golf one day when he saw Pete Rose and Johnny Bench on a hole next to the one he was playing. He hopped out of the cart and ran over to them with his scorecard.

"Mr. Rose? Could I please have your autograph?"

Pete Rose snatched the scorecard out of my cousin's hand, threw it on the ground and spit on it. "Get the fuck outta here, kid," he said. "If you want MY autograph, you'll pay for it." My cousin was heartbroken because he thought Pete Rose was the best baseball player who ever lived.

Johnny Bench picked up the scorecard, wiped the spit off of it with a golf towel and told my cousin, "I'm not Pete Rose, but I'll sign your scorecard if you want me to." And he did.

To this day, my cousin despises Pete Rose and loves Johnny Bench. He still has that scorecard, too.

What makes some celebrities act like colossal assholes to a 15 year-old fan? Did celebrity do that to them, or were they just pure assholes to begin with? I vote for the pure assholes to begin with theory, because I've met Arnold Palmer and I have HIS autograph. He signed my hat, and I was one of many people who aggravated him that day at the practice round of The Masters.

But he signed autographs until the sun went down. And he was a gentleman the entire time. What's so difficult about doing that?

I dunno. Ask Pete Rose, that shitass.

yorkshire terriers

For years, my mom and dad had two dogs: Macho and Muppet. They were both Yorkies and they were damn good dogs. Macho wasn't afraid of anything except Muppet. Muppet wasn't afraid of ANYTHING.

Those little fuckers weighed less than a few steaks I've eaten, but they were bred to go down holes and catch live rats. They are smart, courageous little dogs. They may not be big in stature, but they have hearts like a lion. I loved those dogs.

I put both of them down, about two months apart, at the vet's office (Oh, MY! Beth should have a REALLY clever comment on this post). My dad was dying at the time, both dogs got cancer and my mama didn't have the heart to do it, so I did.

One at a time, I held them both when the vet slipped the needle into the leg-vein they use for the job. One quiet sigh and the lights went out. Nothing left after that but a dead dog and a lot of memories. I did that twice.

My father died and my brother and I bought "Fancy," another Yorkie, as a Christmas present for my mama. ($400 for a pup that would fit in my jacket pocket at the time.) Fancy has been my mama's companion for 11 years now, and she's dying of grief from what she sees happening to my mama. Yorkies are smart, emotional dogs, and I just hope that I don't have to do to her what I did with Macho and Muppet.

I like Fancy a lot.

low as they go

Usually, if I call you a "sick fuck," I mean it as a compliment, a real feather in your cap--- something to be proud of. I don't hand out such accolades to just anybody. You've got to EARN it.

But I've had this troll on my site for a while, and while I usually ignore "her" pathetic shit-stains she leaves on my page, sweet, sweet "Beth" crossed the line today. My mama is dying. She went into a Hospice care center today and she's not coming out alive. I tried to let her know what I thought about her and I wrote about what that felt like.

And Beth TROLLED THAT POST.

What kind of really, truly complete piece of shit does something like that? Well, BETH does, because "she" did. And she claimed once upon a time to be a psycologist. "She" may be degreed in something, but I think "Copropheliac" is more to her way of thinking. I also notice that she has one of those email addresses to which you cannot reply. I wonder why that is?

Thank you, Beth. You restored my faith in human nature, just when I was beginning to wonder, after all the good wishes and prayers I've received from all over the world. My daddy was right all along. "Unbelievable assholes abound in this world, son. Recognize them when you see them."

Beth, I see you for what you are. You are a TRULY sick individual.

my carpet cleaner

When the guy came by yesterday, he was a little bit freaked by all the guns musical instruments he saw around the house. I told him that I would move them out of his way, but he was curious about which ones were loaded which one were in tune and which ones weren't.

I told him that I keep ALL of my guitars in tune, all the time. What good is a guitar if you can't pick it up and play it anytime you want to? I kinda liked that guy.

But I believe that I frightened him.

jobs i don't want

* Cop. I've never wanted to be a policeman and I don't understand people who do. I have two good friends (well... good acquaintences) and one cousin who are cops and they love their jobs. They can have that line of work. Different strokes for different folks.

* Politician. I'd just as soon put on a tin bill and peck shit with the chickens. Hell, that's what most politicians do anyway.

* Firefighter. I've been trained to do it, but I never LIKED doing it. Real firefighters have smoke in their veins and fire in their eyes. I don't.

* Salesman. I don't have the personality for such an occupation. I can't eat the shit those people do every day. I'd rather be a firefighter.

* Mortician. Yeah, I know that people are just DYING to be your clients, but I'd rather have YOU do that job, not me. I believe in cremation anyway.

* Nurse. I've dated a few nurses and bedded a few along the way. Most of them are wonderful, uninhibited lays. But I couldn't do what they do every day. Too much dealing with bedpans, suppositories and death for me.

* Accountant. I know that's a good line of work, especially when you get a CPA. But I'd go crazy staring at numbers all day. I can feel my hair falling out just from thinking about it.

* President of the United States. Yeah, I intend for the "Reprobates in 2008" to take over the country, but when I'm HMFIC, I will DELEGATE a lot of responsibility. In fact, I will delegate ALL of it if I can. I'm just in the race for some strange pussy, kinda like Bill Clinton.

Just a sample of more things you really need to know about me before you volunteer to have my love-child.

mama tried

I held her hand today, and I don't know if she really understood me or not. But I think she did.

"Mama, I've screwed up a bunch in my life..."

"I know, I know."

"...but I've always loved you and I always will."

"I know, I know."

"I'm your black sheep, the radioactive son. Dave is the good one and I'm the bad example. You raised me better than the way I turned out. I know that I've broken you heart 100 times, and I regret that deeply. I am sorry for the pain I've caused you."

"I know, I know."

"I've been a shit, a complete jerk, but I always loved you. Maybe I didn't show it the right way, but I loved you just the same."

"I know. I know."

She fell asleep then and the ambulance from Hospice came to pick her up shortly thereafter. Man, do I feel bad right now. I've followed that different drummer all of my life and he didn't always lead me down the right path. But that shit is MY fault.

Mama tried.

ain't gonna happen

This is a pretty good read that reflects my opinion of most universities today. "Speech codes" and "sensitivity training" are pure abominations in what SHOULD be an institution of higher education. Those things don't educate--- they brainwash.

The Ward Churchill flapdoodle is nothing unusual. Ward Churchills are EVERYWHERE on college campuses (campi?) today and they've been there for a long time. When he is exposed for the corrupt poseur he actually is, just watch his ilk circle the wagons.

One hundred ninety-nine CU faculty members, in an ad in the Boulder Daily Camera, have "demanded" that the investigation of Churchill be "stopped immediately." They argue that inquiries into his alleged plagiarism, misrepresentation of sources cited in his "scholarly" writings, false claims of Indian status in his affirmative action job application, and incitements to commit violence should be inadmissible because he had originally been criticized only for his ideas. Please. This is like saying a fugitive serial killer should be released because he was originally stopped by the police for making an illegal left turn. Churchill's potty mouth is what got him noticed.

If I'm going to shell out mega-bucks to buy my offspring a college education, I expect the people taking my money to have higher standards. Of course, I'm just a red-necked asshole, not a fake Indian or some academic pisshead who wouldn't recognize the real world if it walked up and bit him square on the ass.

What do I know?

mama

Mama went into Hospice today. The nurse told me that mama has maybe three days, maybe three weeks to go. ("She won't see the end of the month.") She's in bad shape and suffering a lot. Her condition has deterioriated seriously over the past week. Even with oxygen, she can barely breathe anymore.

I told my daughter that I would buy her a plane ticket if she would fly to Savannah as quickly as she can. She should be here tomorrow. It appears that my wonderful son could give a shit.

Got-dam! If there was a light switch on the wall that I could turn OFF, and make my mama stop breathing, I would do it. Right now. That may sound sound heartless and cruel, but it doesn't seem that way to me. I can't stand to see her just hanging on by her fingernails with no hope for recovery.

I've heard good things about Hospice. I hope they take care of my mama.

does this gun make my ass look fat?

gunner.bmp

I like firearms. Aren't those a couple of beauties?

does this quiz make my ass look fat?

Your Brain is 53.33% Female, 46.67% Male


Your brain is a healthy mix of male and female

You are both sensitive and savvy

Rational and reasonable, you tend to keep level headed

But you also tend to wear your heart on your sleeve

Bejus! I must have a feminine side I've never gotten in touch with. I'm a goddam WOMAN, trapped in a Cracker male body.

March 03, 2005

get a reaction

I've noticed over the years that if I really want to stir shit, generate a lot of comment and actually start blog-piss wars between people who just showed up to comment, I can write about either one of two subjects.

#1: ABORTION!!!

#2: RELIGION!!!

Some people get fired up on those topics when they don't really seem to give a shit about anything else. I've never understood that kind of visceral reaction. These people couldn't find the Middle East on a globe, but they know what they're talking about when it comes to abortion and religion. Some of them will have an abortion and then join PETA. Some of them will become Wicca or Bhuddist. Others will be athiests or else establish a NEW RELIGION!!!

I know what I think about it, but I don't care to discuss either one of those topics tonight.

random links

Ain't no hope for this guy. He's a sicker fuck than I am.

She sounds threatening, but I think I want to get in her pants. I like to live dangerously.

This is june Cleaver and I would like to get her drunk, feed her illegal drugs and watch her dance nekkid around a big campfire.

Heh. What can I say about this site? I LIKE nekkidity.

I want to see if this woman is as bold in person as she is on her blog. I wanna screw with her head talk to her over a beer or two.

I wanna see her panties and I'll wear them on my head as a trophy when I whip her ass at poker. I wouldn't mind seeing her titties, either. Hell, I'll show her MINE if she'll show me HERS!

I live a rich fantasy life. this blogger is a big part of it, even if she does have a husband and a farting dog.

That's enough link-love for one night except for this slobbering link to my blog-love.

I'm finished now.

truth hurts

During my second freshman year of college I discovered the solution to global warming, but nobody would listen to me. Most people think that most of our oxygen comes from trees. But with two-thirds of the Earth's surface covered with water, it actually comes from oceans full of plant plankton, who dutifully convert CO2 to oxygen through photosynthesis. The biggest harm to plant plankton is not global warming, since a spike in CO2 would just mean that plant life thrives. Instead, plant plankton's biggest predator is whales. Whales scoop up plankton by the truckload. It would seem obvious then, that the solution is to protect plant plankton by slaughtering whales. With an absence of predators, plant plankton will overpopulate and drastically cut CO2 levels.

I read that and laughed out loud. You can't argue with the logic if you REALLY want to be enviromentally sensitive. Of course, the writer is just a sick fuck in my book.

EVERYBODY KNOWS that oxygen comes from whales. Dumbshit.

i'm gonna cook a pig

Fuck steve H.. I know how to cook a pig and I think I'm going to do one at Jekyll Island. I have a shovel, some nice oak wood, four cinder blocks and a big piece of stainless steel checkerboard expanded metal. I'll put a rub on that bastard pig, cook him all night long and DARE Steve to tell me that it's not good, when his mouth is full and pork grease is running down his chin.

If he says it's NOT good, I'll order my minions to throw HIM in the fire, goddamit! I can cook a fucking pig. It'll be the best pork you ever tasted, and I don't need any exotic smoker to do it, either. Wood, a hole in the ground and some patience. That's all it takes.

Well, you need a PIG, too, but I'll make sure we have one of those.

"everybody knows"

I just heard another Democrat munchbutt preface a statement with those words. "Everybody knows." I don't even recall what the numbnutted bastard was talking about, because if "everybody" knew, we wouldn't need his pissant self on TV in the first place. But this silly bastard seems to believe that if you say "everybody knows" often enough, you must be a real dumbass not to know THAT FACT, even if it's not a fact.

This is Democrat rhetoric today. It is silly, it is spiteful and it is pure bullshit. What has happened to that party?

just a question

Do you ever eat with chopsticks? If you DON'T, somethng is seriously wrong with you. I LOVE using chopsticks because I'm good at it and I can eat ANYTHING using a pair of wooden sticks to shovel the food into my mouth. I'm having shrimp fried rice, roast pork and shallots, with sauteed vegatables and bean sprouts, all soaked in a very mysterious Chinese sauce, and all very good right now. I am eating with chopsticks.

Plus, somebody showed up at my door and offered to CLEAN MY CARPET FOR FREE if I would listen to his pitch for a Kirby vacuum cleaner. That sounded like a good deal to me, even though I told him right up-front that I wasn't gonna buy a vacuum cleaner, but that didn't matter to him. It was a certified service call, he's doing his job and he gets paid. I told him to go for it. I got a phone call from his boss about 15 minutes after he started, just to make sure that he was at my house and working.

I told the boss that I had never seen the guy in my life.

Heh. Life is fun sometimes.

my son

I am badly pissed at that boy right now. Forget the fact that during one of the lowest points in my life I wrote him a letter every day for 45 straight days, and he never responded. Not once.

Forget the fact that when I was his age, I cut grass, washed cars and raked leaves to make some spending money. He's had everything handed to him all his life and he probably thinks that kind of work is beneath HIS dignity. After all, he has a rich mama, a swimming pool in the back yard and a daddy who pays LOTS of child support.

He wears the finest of clothes, dresses to the nines and takes money for granted. That little piece of shit.

He won't even get off his preppie ass and call my mama. And I've NEVER seen the pissant do any work in his life.

Jennifer is raising him right.

quote of the day

"The Court thus proclaims itself sole arbiter of our Nation's moral standards--and in the course of discharging that awesome responsibility purports to take guidance from the views of foreign courts and legislatures. Because I do not believe that the meaning of our Eighth Amendment, any more than the meaning of other provisions of our Constitution, should be determined by the subjective views of five Members of this Court and like-minded foreigners, I dissent."

Well, if we don't listen to the French, we're uncivilized, aren't we? These judges deserve to kiss my Cracker ass.

watching too much news

* I'll be happy to see Martha Stewart get out of jail. I never thought she belonged there in the first place.

* Michael Jackson is one fucked-up individual, but I believe that the people going after his ass for child molestation are more fucked-up than he is.

* Robert Byrd is a disgrace to this country. He makes Ted Kennedy appear intelligent, and if someone combined BOTH of their brains and put it in a hummingbird, the bird would still fly backward.

* Is Joe Leiberman a complete political whore or a man with some strong ideals? I don't know.

* Sean Hannity is a bully and Alan Colmbs is a wimp. They make a good team because I don't like either one of them.

* I'd like to challenge Bill O'Reilly to a gunfight. I wanna see how tough he really is. Personally, I think he's a pussy at heart.

* I could name a dozen newsbabes that I'd like to hump into complete senselessness. Some of those chicks are damn good looking, with or without their "war paint." Not as pretty as my blog-love, but close.

* I would LOVE to be interviewed on one of those talk shows if the "moderator" didn't spend the entire time stepping on my comments. Sean and Bill are very bad about that. If the show is all about YOU speaking, why bother with guests anyway?

* What we have done in the Middle East is beginning to show serious results. The entire region is changing for the better. I believe that anti-war Democrats have shit in their pants on this issue, and I don't see how they can recover.

* I grieve for all 1,500 Americans killed in the war so far and for their comrades who were badly wounded. But we're winning, and victory isn't cheap. Either we have the balls to finish this job or we don't. I think we do.

Okay, I'm done now.

poetry contest

Who said this:

* "a pair of ragged claws, scuttling across the floors of silent seas,"

* "Fear not, till Burnham wood doth come to Dunsinane."

* "His vorpal blade went snicker-snack, snicker-snack! He left it dead and with its head, he went galumphing back."

* "I grow old, I grow old. I shall wear the bottoms of my trousers rolled"

* " Candy is dandy. But liquor is quicker."

* " Alas, poor Yorick. I knew him, Horatio."

* "Two roads diverged in a yellow wood, and I... I took the one less travelled by... and that has made all of the difference.

* "The fog crept in on little cat feet."

* "There was a young woman named Alice
Who used a dynamite stick for a phallus
They found her vagina in South Carolina
And part of her anus in Dallas."

I LOVE poetry.

word play

The ancient misanthrope labored over his crucible as he melted the proper ingredients into the cast-iron form. Smoke formed a diaphanous cloud, almost like a halo around his head as he worked. He didn't believe the masses when they said truth was "fungible." To this tendentious alchemist, truth was etched in stone and no king, no sheriff and no priest would ever convince him othewise. When he was finished with this spell, they would see. They would ALL see.

going again tomorrow

I went to see mama today. I think she knows I was there, but I'm not certain. She was in that netherland between consciousness and sleep most of the time. Her best friend Joyce and my Aunt Peggy are taking care of her, and they're doing a good job. They talked her into drinking some liquid morphene last night, and mama kinda likes that stuff. She quits hurting and she sleeps a lot.

Her dog knows what is happening and "Fancy" (a four-pound Yorkie who knows no fear) ended up at the vet's office yesterday, because the dog is unable to cope with the stress. Imagine a cat doing that. I can't. Mama has had Fancy for 11 years now and the dog SENSES that something bad is about to happen to the person she loves most in this world. The dog is freaking out.

Hell, I am, too.

I'll go back again tomorrow. After I cussed my shitass son on Saturday for not calling his Mamaw, he finally called last night. That turd. He's got a lot of his mama in him, and that ain't a good thing. Jennifer made visiting pretty much out of the question a year ago, but now the little shit won't even pick up the phone and call his grandmother when she's dying. That's fucking pitiful.

I'm going to have a big drink of Barnett's citrus vodka while I cuss my worthless son and my bloodless cunt of an ex-wife. Maybe I'll cry a little bit. Maybe I'll just get shit-faced and pass out on my couch.

But I'll be back to see mama tomorrow.

let us mourn

bubba the lobster is dead. Poor bastard. He was too big to be any good steamed, but it was a waste of 22 pounds of damn fine eating just to traumatize him to death.

Experts will examine Bubba to try to figure out why he died, but the owner of the fish market thinks it had to do with the stress of the move. Bob Wholey says lobsters are ďvery finicky.Ē

RIP, Bubba.

sounds reasonable

Just reading the story made me itch. I can't blame the woman for itching for a divorce, either.

Just damn! Would YOU want to sleep with someone who hadn't bathed in a year?

March 02, 2005

if i say this to you...

Loyal readers already know these facts, but I'm posting them for newbies who may be easily insulted:

* You sick fuck. If I accuse you of being a sick fuck, that's high praise from me. You've got to EARN that honor.

* You should be dragged off and shot. That's not as good as being a sick fuck, but it's close.

* "Bite my Cracker ass." You're slipping down the food chain here, but you're still a contender to be dragged off and shot.

* "In MY humble opinion" means that I don't give a rat's ass WHAT you think.

* "Bejus!" I made that one up, and even I'm not sure what it means. I think it has religious connotations.

* WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE!!!! My typical response to junk-science bullshit.

* My aching ass. Figure that one out for yourself.

Just more that I thought you needed to know about Acidman.

word challenge

Use "fungible," diaphanous," "crucible", ""tendentious" and "misanthrope" in a coherent paragraph. I dare you.

I'll post mine later.

fat police

Get ready for more and more of this bullshit, because you people let it happen with tobacco. Put serious do-gooders in charge of government and they end up doing bad every time. But you sheeple never learn.

I read this story with interest. The last time I was in Costa Rica, I collected a lot of souvenir matchbooks from different places I had been. Customs confiscated every one of those.

Can't carry matches on a plane anymore.

They already banned smoking years ago and only a few airports such as Atlanta even have one of those fishbowls you can enter between flights to get your nicotine and CO fix. Now, they're going to ban butane lighters. Wonderful. How in the fuck am I supposed to light a cigarette when I get that rare opportunity to smoke one when I fly?

The government will ban cigarette lighters on airplanes beginning in April, but passengers can still tote as many as four matchbooks in carry-on bags, security officials said.

That ain't what Customs told me in Costa Rica. I could keep the matchbooks, but they had to tear out all the matches first. Sweet Bejus! What is this world coming to?

I'm gonna trick their asses. Have you ever seen a cigarette lighter built for carrying on a boat? I have one. It uses two AA batteries and operates much like the cigarette lighter in your car (if you still have one of those obsolete devices). Press the button and a couple of electric coils become hot in the lighter and you can light a cigarette in there, by poking it into a hole in the lighter. It's made that way so that wind and water won't affect it's efficiency. It works like a champ, too.

I wonder if I can carry THAT through Checkpoint Charlie at the airport terminal without having it confiscated?


i've got a bad feeling

My mama's time is short. She's on oxygen now and she sleeps a lot, even though she won't take the pain medication the doctors give her. I'm thinking about busting some of that stuff up and mixing it with ginger ale and slippin' her a dose for her own good. She's pretty much quit eating and she's losing weight fast.

Hard-headed old woman. Won't listen to anybody, much like a son she raised.

I'm going back to see her again tomorrow, but I believe that the time for visiting is running out. I hate to see this happen, but at this point I hope the end comes sooner rather than later. She deserves better than this.

She's my mama.

cruel and unusual

I read a lot of history and I know for a fact that "human beans" are some of the most sadistic creatures who ever walked this planet. We have a lot of people throughout history who spent their time inventing horrible ways to kill people.

Just look at the facts. Crucifixion was bad enough (you'd suffer miserably for about 72 hours before you died) but some people had even BETTER ideas. Break somebody at the wheel. Take somebody, strip them nekkid, tie them to a wagon wheel and use a metal rod to slowly break every bone in their bodies. That could last about 12 hours if done properly.

Put somebody on a rack and slowly dislocate every joint in the body. Draw and quarter someone. Practice hanging, until just before the person strangles, then cut him down and slowly eviscerate him once he regains consciousness.

Do like the American Indians did: tie somebody to a tree with a piece of loose rope, then cut a hole in his belly and drag out a piece of intestine. Nail THAT to the tree with a sharp knife and make the poor bastard march around and around the tree while squaws poked him with hot sticks from the fire they started at his feet while he pulls his own guts out.

Scalp a man, then pack his bare skull with glowing embers from a fire. Then tie his scalp back on and watch his brain bake from the heat as he jabbers like a madman as his brain cooks while he's still alive.

I'm not making this stuff up. It's history. And people used to like to WATCH this kind of shit happening. They still do today, except we call it "reality TV" instead of a public execution.

Anybody who asks me "How COULD they?" when they talk about Hitlers minions murdering millions of Jews during WWII are idiots in my humble opinion. They don't read history and they don't understand human nature.

We have NEVER lacked sadists in this world, and we never will. All they really need is permission from government to do what they already LIKE to do. They'll poke a child's eyes out with a screwdriver and laugh while they do it.

Don't tell me that these people don't exist. They do, and there's more of them than you think.

take this test

Go here and answer the questions. Feel free to use me as the referring blog.

I'm thinking seriously about going commercial here shortly.

selective outrage

Just read this quote slowly and ponder its meaning:

After some students were offended by Jada Pinkett Smithís comments at Saturdayís Cultural Rhythms show, the Bisexual, Gay, Lesbian, Transgender, and Supporters Alliance (BGLTSA) and the Harvard Foundation for Intercultural and Race Relations have begun working together to increase sensitivity toward issues of sexuality at Harvard.

I think we have TOO MUCH goddam "sensitivity" on campus today. Why do these people expect life to kiss their asses? Wanna be different? That's fine with me. But be prepared. It's a jungle out there, folks, and if you can't handle it, stick your sensitivity right up your delicate candy ass and stay out of the bushes. Life is rough.

I've got no sympathy for a whining wimp with hurt feelings.

they didn't make it idiot-proof

I never did any garage jumping in my invulnerable youth, but I can imagine myself doing such a stupid thing, given the right circumstances and the wrong friends. But if missed the jump and my silly ass fell 80 feet, I can't see why I would be suing anybody. I'm the dumbass who tried the jump.

D'Assaro is filing a lawsuit against the city of Orlando and the private garage owner for making little effort to correct a potential deadly risk.

Bejus on a bicycle. Now we have to idiot-proof parking garages to aviod an expensive lawsuit because some fucked-up kid decided to jump off the roof.

How stupid can we get before somebody says "ENOUGH!" and makes people such as D'Assaro PAY all the expenses if he loses such a bullshit lawsuit? That may cut down on the crap-shoot mentality that seems to power such suits. NOBODY can idiot-proof the world.

But we don't have to tolerate idiotic lawsuits.

if she read me, she'd already know

From christina:

Here is a question for some of the seasoned bloggers (Jack, Mr. Helpful, Velociman, Rob, Key, Sam, Eric, Jim, and Dax) out there, as well as for the newbies (Will, Bad Bad Juju, Wit Nit, Phin, Smiling Dynamite and 30 second thoughts) :

Why do we do this blogging thing?

It is time consuming and it costs most bloggers money out of their own pockets to do.

Personally, I have always enjoyed writing and sharing stories and experiences.

I was not sure what to expect when I first launched into this endeavor six months ago, but I am so very pleased I did.

I had no idea how rewarding the "connection" with those who comment and other bloggers would be. Some of those connections have turned into real friendships.

While there are days I think I would like nothing better than to delete Feisty (usually for reasons totally unrelated to blogging), at this point, I cannot imagine not blogging.

I started blogging to get a lot of crap out of my system. I believe I posted almost every day for six months before I reached 5,000 visitors on my site meter. At the time, I was flattered that SO MANY people read me. Now, I see newbies come along who crash 5,000 visitors in their first week.

I think blogging was more difficult when I started (yeah, yeah... typical old fart reaction) because blogging was fairly new at the time. Not many people ever heard of a blog before, and most bloggers I met at the time did it for the same reason I did-- it was fun.

The blog-world has changed a lot during the past three years, and not all of those changes have been for the better in MY humble opinion, but blogging is just now talking its first serious baby-steps. It will continue to grow, evolve, mutate or whatever--- but it ain't going away.

I really believe that blogs will change communications permenently and for the better over the next five years. MSM had better watch out. It's just too easy to start a blog and that "internet community" DOES exist. Once you find yourself a part of it, the experience becomes addictive.

I still blog for the same reason I started: "A ceaseless quest for adoration from people who don't know me."

But somehow, along the way, I've met a lot of people who DO know me now. And I consider them to be part of my extended family. They piss me off, they make me laugh and on more than one occasion, they've gotten me drunk. I exchange emails with people from all over the world. I have "friends" that I'll probably never meet in person.

Yes, I even got laid a couple of times because of my blog.

I've had people threaten to kill me, I've received the most obscene and despicable hate-mail imaginable and I've had people call me all kinds of hurtful names. And I've received marriage proposals, too. That's part of the fun. You never know what in the hell you may find when you open your email.

I blog because I enjoy doing it. It feeds my ever-hungry ego, plain and simple. But I wouldn't trade the people I've met through blogging for anything in this world. Them's some good people. Sometimes, I like the blogosphere better than I like my real life. Spooky thought, isn't it?

That's why I blog. I am a disturbed man.


------------------------------------------------------

war paint

I don't know what made me think of it just now, but I heard my father say it dozens of times when I was young and we were getting ready to go out somewhere.

"Dad, where's Mama?"

"She's in the bathroom, puttin' on her war paint."

That meant mama was applying makeup. It was always "war paint" to my father, and as I grow older, I believe he had it pegged.

"War Paint," indeed.

a piss-fight

These things certainly do get really ugly sometimes. Just damn!

Bloggers can be so mean sometimes.

why not?

This is one of those blog-things making the rounds now, and I'm going to post it because I don't feel really inspired to write any of my usually brilliant shit this morning. I stole it from here and he stole it from somebody else. You know how it goes in blogdom. Everybody steals.

Anyway, the ones in Bold Type are the things I have NOT done before:

Iíve Never Kissed A Member Of The Opposite Sex.
Iíve Never Kissed A Member Of The Same Sex (eh, no comment)
Iíve Never Crashed A Friendís Car.
Iíve Never Been To Japan.
Iíve Never Been In A Taxi.
Iíve Never Been In Love.
Iíve Never Had Sex In a Public Place.
Iíve Never Been Dumped.
Iíve Never Done Cocaine
Iíve Never Shoplifted.
Iíve Never Been Fired
Iíve Never Been In A Fist Fight.
Iíve Never Had Group Intercourse.
Iíve Never Snuck Out Of My Parentís House.
Iíve Never Been Tied Up.
Iíve Never Regretted Having Sex With Someone.
I've Never Been Arrested.
Iíve Never Made Out With A Stranger.
Iíve Never Stolen Something From My Job.
Iíve Never Celebrated New Years In Time Square. (Nor do I want to!)
Iíve Never Gone On A Blind Date.
Iíve Never Lied To A Friend.
Iíve Never Had A Crush On A Teacher or Professor.
Iíve Never Celebrated Mardi Gras In New Orleans. (THAT, I want to do!)
Iíve Never Been To Europe. -
Iíve Never Skipped School.
Iíve Never Slept With A Co-Worker.
Iíve Never Cut Myself On Purpose.
Iíve Never Had Sex At The Office.
Iíve Never Been Married.
Iíve Never Been Divorced.
Iíve Never Had Sex With More Than One Person Within The Same Week.
Iíve Never Posed Nude. (BWHAHAHAHAAA!!!)
Iíve Never Gotten Someone Drunk Just To Have Sex With Them.
Iíve Never Killed Anyone.. (Not YET anyway.)
Iíve Never Received Scars From My Sex Partner.
Iíve Never Thrown Up In A Bar.
I've Never Taken a Hallucinogenic Drug. (BWHAHAHAHAAA!!!)
Iíve Never Purposely Set A Part Of Myself On Fire. (I've done it by accident many times, but never on purpose.)
Iíve Never Eaten Sushi. (Fuck sushi. I like my fish cooked.)
Iíve Never Been Snowboarding. (Don't get many opportunities where I live.)
Iíve Never Had Sex At A Friendís House While They Were Throwing A Party.
Iíve Never Had Sex In A Dressing Room.
Iíve Never Flashed Anyone. (Mooning counts, right?)
Iíve Never Met Anyone From Online. (Met a bunch of them. Really scary people.)

There. Now you know more about me than you ever wanted to know.

more movie trivia

Think you know your movie quotes? Try these to test your skills.

I know four of them for sure. I'll have to ponder the other six before I answer.

well, I'm on a roll

Define "Cruel and unusual punishment" for me. I kinda thought crucifxion, being broken at the wheel, being burned at the stake or may being hanged, cut down right before death and then being evicerated by people who knew how to keep you alive through the process just MIGHT qualify as cruel and unusual punishment.

Evidently not, according the the Supreme Court. Some big, smelly "penumbra" erupted in that court today and five justices got gassed. When they aroused from their stupor they ruled that minors can't be executed in this country anymore because killing someone under the age of 18 violates the 8th Amendment.

So... let's just unleash some cruel and unusual punishment on law-abiding society. I'll bet you my hat shirt and ass: Lee Boyd Malvo will be a free man again before he dies. Yeah, he killed almost a dozen people and he ADMITS DOING IT! But he'll walk as a free man again.

Wanna take that bet?

March 01, 2005

torture

Give me a fucking break here, Let's DEFINE "torture."

If it's that "intimidation," that "sleep deprivation," that "diet abuse," and having people march you around, I don't call that torture. I called it GODDAM FOOTBALL PRACTICE, when I DID IT, .... (you buncha pussified, needle-dicked, numb-nutted bastards.) It's called "Marine Boot Camp" today.

YOU WHINING LITTLE SHITS!!! That wasn't torture. It was VERY unpleasant at times. People got hurt, sometimes badly. I THOUGHT I was going to die myself more than once. That wasn't much fun; but it wasn't torture.

Now, if you strip me nekkied, tie me to a chair, knock all of my teeth out, apply vice-grip pliers to my testicles, yank out my fingernails one by one, burn me with a cattle prod and then set my chair on fire with me still strapped in it, then that's torture!!!!

I see a very clear difference between the two, even if the ACLU doesn't.

do as i say, not as I do

Why am I not surprised by this? I've warned you before about wimmen who get the vapors and start to hyperventilate. They're all crazy and they do it all the time. Being absoulutely crazy seems NORMAL to them, and if you don't understand it, YOU'RE CRAZY, not them. you insensitive bastard.

A Springfield woman who began lobbying against gun violence after her son was shot to death in 2002 was arrested last week when police allegedly found an illegal gun and drugs in her home.

Annette "Flirty" Stevens, however, said Monday she's innocent, and the arrest is an attempt by police to get her to give up information about unsolved crime in the city.

The handgun, which had a scratched-off serial number, and drugs allegedly were discovered Friday morning inside Stevens' home in the 2500 block of South 15th Street. Authorities said they obtained a search warrant for the residence as part of an ongoing investigation of a recent series of drive-by shootings. No one has been hurt in the gunplay.

I report, you decide. We have "Flirty" here, being the stawlart mom that she is, joining the Million Mom Maniacs and then obtaining an illegal handgun and having drugs in her house. Take a wild guess. How do you think her son got killed?

Way to go, mama. March on!

bullshit!!!

I've been over this ground many times before with friends of mine who never finished college. Or those who DID finish, but never took advantage of what was offered them. Yes, I have a degree in ENGLISH LITERATURE. And yes, I ended up working for 24 years as a supervisor in a chemical plant. What else are you going to do with a degree in English Lit except become a teacher?

I'll tell you what my degree did for me. It taught me to read and write as an articulate human being. I did a LOT of communication via email and letters during my career. When you "speak" to people with whom you'll probably never meet in person, what you inscribe on paper is the only impression they'll ever have of you. You can come across as a complete idiot or someone worthy of trust, and it's all based on your words. I could come across as something other than a complete idiot.

My degree impressed my bosses. I probably gained a few promotions at work because I proved that I could finish what I started, even if it was a mere liberal arts degree.

I also learned that I could teach myself ANYTHING by reading. I have degrees and certificates all stored in a box somewhere to prove that I am certified as a firefighter, a chemical Haz-Mat Incident Commander, a Confined Space Rescue expert, a Licensed ASME Boiler Technician, a Certified Medical First Responder, a Six Sigma Green Belt, a QRO for burning waste-heat furnaces, DOT Haz-Chem shipping certifications, a genuine, gold-embossed sheepskin from the Philip Crosby College of Quality and I forget what all else. But I've got a stack of that shit.

And I wouldn't have ANY of that without my pissy little liberal arts degree in English Literature from Armstrong State College.

Steve, you can bite my Cracker ass on this one. My education paid for itself many times over again.

just browsing...

This is a pretty good blog.

That's MY humble opinion, anyway.

buying groceries

Do you shop for name brands, or just buy the cheapest shit you can find? I think that's a good question because I do a little of both. But my tastes are peculiar.

I smoke cigarettes and I buy Marlboro Menthol Light 100s. I'll settle for Dorals on occasion, but very rarely. I don't know why I prefer one cigarette over another because half the ones I light just burn up in the ashtray while I type. But I'll drive out of my way to buy a carton of Marlboros.

I like Bass Ale and Burnett's citrus-flavored vodka. Not TOGETHER, but separately. I can't think of a single "commercial" American beer that isn't anything but possum piss and when they make it "lite" on top of that, it's a waste of perfectly good kidneys to drink it. Now people are drinking "ultra-lite" beer because they're watching their carbs. My aching ass.

I buy Charmin Ultra toilet paper. I don't give a damn about a lot of things in life, but I like to wipe my ass with nice toilet paper. That stuff is good. I buy it by the bale and it lasts me a long time as long as I don't have a woman around. A damn woman will use half a roll of triple-thick, super-soft Charmin just to daub her pussy after an ultra-light beer piss. I don't understand that.

I like genuine Blue Plate mayonnaise. I won't buy anything else. And I LIKE mayonnaise.

Other than that, I pretty much go for whatever is on sale. I don't see a lot of difference between generic brands and top-o-the-line stuff when it comes to canned food, except for the price. Orida makes the best frozen french fries, but they aren't worth a dollar more than the Kroger brand for a bag. And I can't tell any difference between genuine Listerine and the "antiseptic mouth wash" that looks just like Listerine, TASTES just like Listerine and sells for $2.00 less for the same goddam bottle without the Listerine name on it.

My first wife SWORE that she could tell the difference between LeSeur canned green peas and anything else on the shelf. Maybe she could, but I couldn't. Canned green peas aren't exactly gourmet food. I ain't paying 25 cents more per can just so I can say we have LeSeur peas in the house.

Canned tuna? I like to eat it, but I can't tell Chicken o' the Sea from the generic store-brand. I buy whatever costs less. I like Hormel canned chili better than any other, but I'll buy Castlebury's, Dinty Moore or whatever store brand costs the least when I load my larder. After all--- it's only canned chili.

How do YOU shop? Do you have favorite name-brands, or do you just buy the cheap shit that'll pack your gut just as well for less money?

(UPDATE: I forgot one thing. I will not buy any other dill pickles than Claussins. That's the best fricking dill pickle in the world, hands down. Whether you like them whole, sliced, Kosher or any other way, they are the best! That's one piece of grocery shopping where I will not sacrifice quality for cost.)

idjits

Not many people really understand these terms:

*Joss

*Ju-Ju

* Ka (That's sometimes spelled "Kah," but I like to keep things simple.)

*Kharma

* Mojo

* Fate

* Luck

Flip a coin ten times and get ten tails in a row. What are the odds on the next flip? (The odds are still 50-50, the same as when you started.) What will give you eleven tails in a row is "joss."

I have a collection of "joss sticks" and I'll burn one every now and then to exorcise the demons from my life. I can't see where they've done much good with my joss, but they smell nice once you light them. Kinda like good luck insense.

don the beer goggles

Either get really drunk or be prepared for eye damage if you go here. Got-dam! That put me right off my peanut butter sandwich.

I think I need a bath now. Somehow... I feel dirty!

he got spanked

I've been predicting for a couple of years now that Mainstream Media better wake up and smell the coffee when it comes to blogs. My site is just a rant-platform where I can strut and fret. I don't claim to be doing anything earth-shaking, nor do I want to. But a lot of other blogs pay close attention to what's being reported as "news" and they'll be on it like a dog on a bone when something doesn't pass the smell test.

It appears that mike Gallagher learned that lesson the hard way. He got spanked by this guy when Mike said something stupid on his radio show.

You wanna enrage a bunch of bloggers in America and unleash storm clouds over the blogosphere? Then do what I did the other day on my radio show and proclaim that bloggers are "geeky losers in their basements cranking out crap on their computers."

That remark bit you right square in the ass, didn't it, Mike? I still agree with the Den Beste Theory that 90% of blogs are pure crap, but you'd better watch out for that other 10%. And you old media types had better learn fast that blogging is not just the latest video game that people are playing today, and it's gonna go away before long. It is a FORCE on the internet and it's getting bigger every day.

My colleague Hugh Hewitt has been described as one of the nation's foremost authorities on the blogosphere. In fact, I interviewed him on my show about his book, "Blog -- Understanding the Information Reformation That's Changing Our World." I wish Hugh, or someone else, would write a book that teaches people how to discern between truth and fiction on the internet. We all know that when people see something in print, they are inclined to believe it. When a screwball writes terrible and untruthful things about someone, where's the instruction manual for the reader to refer to that helps them know the difference between truth and fiction?

The bold type is my emphasis, but I have to ask Mike this question: Who issued that manual when Mainstream Media was writing and reporting "terrible and untruthful things?" BLOGGERS DID IT!!! Bloggers starting fact-checking people's asses and finding them sorely wanting in the truth department. They wrote about what they discovered, other bloggers read what they wrote, and all of a sudden, you had your mob of "geeky losers" showing that the Emperor has no clothes.

I don't see a damn thing wrong with that. In fact, it's something that our society requires very badly today. The Emperor needs to cover his nekkid ass. It's no longer good enough to proclaim that the new clothes are exquisite and expect people to believe that press release and shut up. Bloggers don't, and they won't.

Give blogging another five years. It's going to have a HUGE impact on how people get their news and what they decide to believe.



quote of the day

Terrorists are not criminals like pickpockets and car thievesótheir offenses are not against individuals or a particular country, but against civilization itself.

(Shamelessly stolen from here)

That's why I disagree with this ruling. The bastard is a rabid dog and the only "charge" he needs is from an electric chair. I don't know why we've bothered to feed him this long. He needs one of those mysterious fatal "accidents" that often occur in prison.

I also disagree with this decision. Some "juvenile" killers deserve the death penalty. They knew what they were doing when they committed their crimes. They should pay the ultimate price.

Besides, I know what "life in prison" actually means in this country. It means that the bastard will be back on the street one of these days. Just read about the Allday killings in Georgia or read The Onion Field by Joseph Wambaugh. You've got to be a crazy fuck such as Charles Manson to actually serve a life sentence in the United States today.

I'm a nasty old man. I believe in REVENGE. I don't give a shit about a debate over whether the death penalty is a deterrent to crime or not. It'll damn sure deter THAT BASTARD from ever doing it again. I believe in an eye for an eye.

And I don't care how old the perp is.

men and wimmen

More here, from catfish.

Marriage Quotes & what every woman wants --


At a cocktail party, one woman said to another, Aren't you wearing your wedding ring on the wrong finger?" Yes, I am. I married the wrong man."

A lady inserted an 'ad' in the classifieds: "Husband Wanted". Next day she received a hundred letters. They all said the same thing: "You can have mine."

When a woman steals your husband, there is no better revenge than to let her keep him.

A little boy asked his father, "Daddy, how much does it cost to get married?" Father replied, "I don't know son, I'm still paying."

Young son: "Is it true Dad, that in some parts of Africa a man doesn't know his wife until he marries her?" Dad: "That happens in every country, son."

Just think, if it weren't for marriage, men would go through life thinking they had no faults at all.

Women will never be equal to men until they can walk down the street with a bald head and a big gut, and still think they are attractive to the opposite sex.

Face it. After reading all these posts from both men and wimmen, the conclusion is obvious. We are cats and dogs, TRYING to live together.

a quiz

THE 'WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?' BLOGGER QUIZ

1. Who the hell do you think you are?
I KNOW who the fuck I am, asshat. I am Acidman, a crazed hillbilly turned Cracker who doesn't need to explain himself to YOU.

2. So, other than blogging, what's your job? Do you work at some fast food joint, dumbass?
I am a man of leasure today. I don't work. But I HAVE worked in a fast-food restaurant before, and I was good at it. Of course, I've been pretty good at everything I ever tried in life--- except staying married.

3. Do you have like any experience in journalism, idiot?
Yes, and most of it was unpleasant. Not nearly as much fun as blogging.

4. Do you even read newspapers?
No. I am functionally illiterate and I don't read at all. "Stop" signs confuse me.

5. Do you watch any other news than FOX News propaganda, you ignorant fool?
Yes. I sometimes watch CNN and CBS when I feel the overpowering desire to hear lies.

6. I bet you're some moron talk radio listener too, huh?
Hey! We've got a GREAT talk radio host right here in Savannah, with his own show from 8:00 till noon every day on WBMQ, 630 on the AM dial. His name is Ben Bennet and I think he's headed for stardom someday. I listen to his show only when I'm driving around in my truck, but I think he's damned good. He needs to start a blog.

7. So, do you get a fax from the GOP each day for what to say, you @#$% Republican parrot?
Acutally, I receive several such missives every day and I delete them without reading them. I have my own opinions about EVERYTHING, including where you can bite me for calling me a "parrot."

8. Why do you and your blogger friends want to silence and fire everyone who disagrees with you, fascist?
I don't want to "silence" them. I want them dragged off and shot. I deplore stupidity.

9. Are you completely ignorant of other countries, or do you actually own a passport?
I own a passport. It doesn't have a very good picture of me on it. I resemble a serial killer in that photo. Maybe that's why Customs always pays me extra attention when I travel.

10. Have you even been to another country, you dumb hick?
No. I've never left my mama's basement. I LIE about going to other countries, but it's all bullshit.

11. If you're so keen on the war, why haven't you signed up, chickenhawk?
I'm 53 fucking years old, asswipe, and I ain't in the best of shape anymore. The military wouldn't have me now if I offered to pay THEM for the privilege to serve. But I still support the war 100% and if my son ends up in it, I'll be proud of him.

12. Do you have any idea of the horrors of war? Have you ever reached into a pile of goo that was your best friend's face?
No. But I've felt my own face turn into a pile of goo after drinking moonshine whiskey.

13. Have you ever reached into any pile of goo?
Yes. That would be my last ex-wife, the Bloodless Cunt. That is True Goo.

14. Once again, who the hell do you think you are?!"
What's YOUR problem, numbnuts? Ya got short-term memory loss from sniffing too much model airplane glue? I already answered this question. I am ACIDMAN!!! Who the hell do you think YOU are?

I stole the quiz from here because I had nothing better to do at the time.

great movie lines

Do YOU know who said these lines and what movie they came from?

1) "Custer was a pussy. You ain't."

2) "I call that bold talk for a one-eyed fat man!"

3) "It ain't your WORD that counts. It's who you GIVE IT TO."

4) "You don't leave a man much, do you?" (Reply: "You didn't bring much with you.")

5) "I'm the pater familias!"

6) "Music, yes! Music is very good for the digestion!"

7) "I'd like to... suck...his... cock."

8) "Dirt. Dirt in the fuel line. Just blowed it away."

9) "Open pod bay doors, Hal. Hal? Open pod bay doors."

10) "You go on down there, if you've got the nerve. But them ain't wimmen and children waiting on you. Them's Cheyenne and Souix braves. Go down there and there won't be nothin' left but a greasy spot. So, you go on, if you've got the nerve."

My head is chocked full of useless trivia.

(And if Velociman doesn't know #6, I'm going to be very disappointed in him.)

i thought only I did this

Here is a post from a very sick man. Poor bastard.

He reminds me of ME.

read it

This is one of the best posts I've ever read about what we are doing in Iraq. And the longer we stay there, the more lame the anti-war people sound when they bleat about what a "disaster" or a "quagmire" it is.

Just look around. Tell me our presence in Iraq hasn't sent "fallout" all over the Middle East. Tell me that we didn't lance a festering boil on the ass of the world. Tell me that the relief isn't felt by millions of people and millions of others DON'T want the same kind of relief. Dream on.

We were headed for a war there eventually anyway. The place was a sump, ruled by manicial leaders with brutish regimes who sat upon incredible wealth while treating their people worse than dogs. If we were going to give the world an enema, we'd put the tube in the Middle East. We did that with the Third Armored Division from Fort Stewart, Georgia.

People continue to die in this struggle, but the numbers (in MY mind anyway) are acceptable when you consider the final outcome. Freedom isn't free. And every troop on the ground over there is fighting for US just as much as he is fighting for the freedom of Afghanistan or Iraq. And we are winning.

I see a tremendously impressive part of history unfolding before me. We ARE changing the world, for the better. It's gonna take some time and the price won't be cheap. We still have some really diseased people to eliminate before this is over.

But if we're willing to pay that price, the dividends will be everlasting.