A Few Things That Amuse Me

A three year old little boy was examining his testicles while taking a bath. "Mama," he asked, "Are these my brains? "Mama answered, "No son, not yet."
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The Humor of Steven Wright,
His mind sees things differently than we do, to our amazement and amusement. Here are some of his gems;

I'd kill for a Nobel Peace Prize.

Borrow money from pessimists -they don't expect it back.

Half the people you know are below average.

99% of lawyers give the rest a bad name.

42.7% of all statistics are made up on the spot.

A conscience is what hurts when all your other parts feel so good.

A clear conscience is usually the sign of a bad memory.

If you want the rainbow, you gotta put up with the rain.

All those who believe in psycho kinesis, raise my hand.

The early bird may get the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.

I almost had a psychic girlfriend, but she left me before we met.

OK, so what's the speed of dark?

How do you tell when you're out of invisible ink?

If everything seems to be going well, you have obviously over looked something.

Depression is merely anger without enthusiasm.

When everything is coming your way, you're in the wrong lane.

Ambition is a poor excuse for not having enough sense to be lazy.

Hard work pays off in the future - laziness pays off now.

I intend to live forever - so far, so good.

If Barbie is so popular, why do you have to buy her friends?

Eagles may soar, but weasels don't get sucked into jet engines.

What happens if you get scared half to death twice?

My mechanic told me: "I couldn't repair your brakes, so I made your horn louder".

Why do psychics have to ask you for your name?

If at first you don't succeed, destroy all evidence that you tried.

A conclusion is the place where you got tired of thinking.

Experience is something you don't get until just after you need it.

The hardness of the butter is proportional to the softness of the bread.

To steal ideas from one person is plagiarism - to steal from many is research.

The problem with the gene pool is that there is no lifeguard.

The sooner you fall behind, the more time you'll have to catch up.

The colder the x-ray table, the more of your body is required to be on it.

Everyone has a photographic memory - some just don't have film.
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Top 10 Things to Say if You Get Caught Sleeping atYour Desk;

10. "They told me at the blood bank this might happen."

9. "This is just a 15 minute power-nap like they raved about in that time management course you sent me to."

8. "Whew! Guess I left the top off the White-Out. You probably got here just in time!"

7. "I wasn't sleeping! I was meditating on the mission statement and envisioning a new paradigm."

6. "I was testing my keyboard for drool resistance."

5. "I was doing a highly specific Yoga exercise to relieve work-related stress. Are you discriminatory toward people who practice Yoga?"

4. "Darn! Why did you interrupt me? I had almost figured out a solution to our biggest problem."

3. "The coffee machine is broken..."

2. "Someone must've put decaf in the wrong pot..."

And the #1 best thing to say if you get caught sleeping at work...

1. "... in Jesus' name. Amen."
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The Phone Call;

Xmichra calls her boss one morning and tells her that she is staying home because she is not feeling well.

"What's the matter?" her boss asks.

"I have a case of anal glaucoma," she says in a weak voice.

"What the Hell is anal glaucoma?"

"I can't see my ass coming into work today.
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The Crash;

A woman and a man are involved in a car accident on a snowy, cold Monday morning, it's a bad one. Both of their cars are totally demolished but amazingly neither of them are hurt. God works in Mysterious ways. After they crawl out of their cars, the woman says, "So you're a man. That's interesting. I'm a woman. Wow, just look at our cars! There's nothing left, but we're unhurt. This must be a sign from God that we should meet and befriends and live together in peace for the rest of our days". Flattered, the man replies, "Oh yes, I agree with you completely, this must be a sign from God!" The woman continues, "And look at this, here's another miracle. My car is completely demolished but this bottle of wine didn't break. Surely God wants us to drink this wine and celebrate our good fortune." Then she hands the bottle to the man. The man nods his head in agreement, opens it and drinks half the bottle and then hands it back to the woman. The woman takes the bottle and immediately puts the cap back on, and hands it back to the man. The man asks, "Aren't you having any?" The woman replies, "No. I think I'll just wait for the police..."

MORAL OF THE STORY:

Women are clever, sometimes evil creatures. Don't trust them.
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The Inheritance;

When Dan found out he was going to inherit a fortune when his sickly father died, he decided he needed a woman to enjoy it with. So one evening he went to a singles bar where he spotted the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her natural beauty took his breath away. I may look like just an ordinary man," he said as he walked up to her but in just a week or two, my father will die, and I'll inherit 20 million dollars." Impressed, the woman went home with him that evening and, three days later, she became his stepmother.

MORAL OF THE STORY:

Women are clever, sometimes evil creatures. Don’t trust them.
___________________________________________________
Have a Good Day.

She Hates Me

Met a girl, thought she was grand
fell in love, found out first hand
went well for a week or two
then it all came un-glued

in a trap, trip I can’t grip
never thought
I'd be the one who would slip
then I started to realize
I was living one big lie

she f**kin' hates me, trust
she f**kin' hates me
La La La love
I tried too hard
and she tore my feelings like I had none
and ripped them away

she was queen for about an hour
after that, shit got sour
she took all I ever had
no sign of guilt
no feeling of pain, no

in a trap, trip I can’t grip
never thought
I'd be the one who would slip
then I started to realize
I was living one big lie

she f**kin' hates me, trust
she f**kin' hates me
La La La love
I tried too hard
and she tore my feelings like I had none
and ripped them away

that’s my story, as you see
learned my lesson and so did she
now it’s over, and I'm glad
‘cause I'm a fool for all I've said

she f**kin' hates me, trust
she f**kin' hates me
la la la love
I tried too hard
and she tore my feelings like I had none
and ripped them away

la la la la la la la la la love, trust
la la la la la la la la la love, trust
la la la la la, and she tore my feelings like I had none
trust, she f**kin' hates me

Puddle Of Mudd
(2001)
Come Clean

~ What I Live With ~

Some people have heard me complain, some have heard me complain a lot. I thought I would post something like this to
clear up any questions, and maybe I won't feel the need to
mention it quite so much. This is not who I am, it's just what
I have. And what I take... everyday.


Type-1 Diabetes is when the body stops producing insulin or produces too little insulin to regulate blood glucose level. Diabetes is a set of related diseases in which the body cannot regulate the amount of sugar (glucose) in the blood.
Glucose in the blood gives you energy—the kind you need when you walk briskly, run for a bus, ride your bike, take an aerobics class, and perform your day-to-day chores.

Neuropathy is a problem in peripheral nerve function (that is, in any part of the nervous system except the brain and spinal cord) that causes pain, numbness, tingling, and muscle weakness in various parts of the body. Mine is in the lower legs from just below the knees down, it is also starting in my hands.

Anasarca is generalized massive edema (swelling). It can be associated with vascular congestion and may include fatigue, shortness of breath, hypertension, congestive heart failure, accumulation of fluid in the abdomen (ascites) or chest (pleural effusions), and peripheral edema. The swelling is targeted mainly in my legs once again, but affects all areas as mentioned.

Hypertension (high blood pressure) is when your blood pressure frequently goes over 140/90 mm Hg. Mine on medication runs around, 170/96, without medication about, 185/102 on the average or higher.

Obstructive Sleep Apnea Syndrome Sleep apnea means "cessation of breath." It is characterized by repetitive episodes of upper airway obstruction that occur during sleep, usually associated with a reduction in blood oxygen saturation. In other words, the airway becomes obstructed at several possible sites. The upper airway can be obstructed by excess tissue in the airway, large tonsils, a large tongue and usually includes the airway muscles relaxing and collapsing when asleep. Another site of obstruction can be the nasal passages. Sometimes the structure of the jaw and airway can be a factor in sleep apnea.

Everyday I take;

INSULIN GLARGINE INJ - 75 UNITS AT BED TIME
that's one shot
INSULIN ASPART INJ - 45 UNITS BEFORE EACH MEAL OR SNACK
that's 4 to 5 shots
GABAPENTIN 300 MG TAB 2 TABS TID
that's 6 tablets, supposed to be for pain. Right.
IRBESARTAN 300 MG TAB 1 TAB DAILY FOR HIGH B/P
that's 1 tablet
METOPROLOL TARTRATE 50 MG TAB 2 TABS BID
that's 4 tablets, to regulate my heart beat.
ALBUTEROL 90 MCG INHALER 2 PUFFS PO EVERY 4 HRS
that's 12 puffs if i'm awake, for the sleep apnea

And i'm supposed to take
FUROSEMIDE 40 MG TAB 1 ½ TAB DAILY FOR FLUID RETENTION
that's 1 and 1/2 tablets of LASIX it's called "la-six" because it "lasts" for "six" hours & it makes you void excess fluids (pee), for me that's about every 20 to 30 minutes. It makes me feel like i've been kicked in the groin after a while and so I do not take it like I should.

POTASSIUM CHLORIDE 8m EQ TAB 1 TAB BID PRN
that's one more tab to replenish my diminished potassium level from peeing all the time, I don't take it much either.

But all the rest I take daily as I am supposed to, I start at 5:30 AM, and take my last pills at 8:00 PM, and my last puffs around Midnight if I'm up (I'm in bed about 2 hours up between 2 and 4 hours then back down). After I started putting this together I thought "Damn! my health is jacked up." But to me it's kind of normal anymore, I was diagnosed with Diabetes in '94 so i'm kind of used to it, I have bad days and good days. I've been in the hospital 3 times for 2 weeks at a time, (they take about 50 lbs of fluid off of me each time) my doctors want me admitted right now but I don't wanna! Most of the time I can manage the pain, I have to move around a lot which is kind of ironic because I can't move around ta lot. When the pain is too much too handle it is quite bad but I know it will ease up eventually. Like I said my daughter helps me a lot. Sorry to unload on you like this, it won't happen again. Thanks and Good day.

I Don't Get Out Much


I really don’t get out much, but talking with some of my new friends while blogging has made me feel a little more social. There is a little bar a few blocks from my house and it’s usually not very crowded. So when my kid went to stay with her Mom for a few days I thought why not, I got cleaned up, shaved broke out the Z-14, and headed on down to the beer joint to check out the local action. When I arrived there was only about six or eight cars in the parking lot which was great because I could park close to the door and limp inside. Now I’m a big guy but I think I’m pretty charming and witty so I don’t do too bad with the ladies. But there is really none there to be had. I can’t stand long enough to play pool so I just sit down at the bar and have a beer… or seven.
It’s about 9:15 pm when somebody taps me on the back. I turn and it’s an old buddy of mine that I used to see around a lot when I got out and frequented the clubs more. We talked some and had a few more beers and then talked some more, mostly about getting older and being single and how it was getting later and there still was no more women in the place. Then he told me he had bought a monkey. I started laughing and said “no way” he said “no shit, a little spider monkey like Ross had on Friends.” He said he got it from a guy who lived in Tulsa in an apartment and couldn’t keep it anymore. It was getting late and I was ready to head for home and he ask me if I wanted to see his monkey? After spitting beer out of my nose, I ask him if he knew how funny that sounded but he was laughing too and wiping beer off of his shirt.
We walked out to the parking lot and I got in my truck and he said, “no really, come on by and we can have a few more beers and it would be a lot cheaper than drinking in the bar anyway”, I thought about some more and said, “what the hell", and followed him to his house, it was only a few blocks in the other direction. When we got to his house, while I was peeing he got his monkey out of the cage and brought it into the living room. Sure as shit it looked just like the monkey on “Friends”, he said it could do a few tricks and told it to get his beer (it’s name was Bob) so it jumped off his lap, onto the coffee table and picked up his beer for him. He then said it had a special trick that it could do and I asked, “what’s that?” He said it would give him a head job. More beer came out my nose. I told him he was full of shit and that I was heading home because this was getting pretty damn weird, he then told me he was not shitting me and said “watch this”, he opened his pants up, smacked the monkey across the back of the head, leaned back and the monkey jumped down on his goober and started giving him a head job! I thought to myself, OMG where in the Hell am I, this is some freaky shit. That little monkey was going to town on that johnson, he was acting like he liked it and my buddy was REALLY acting like he liked it. About two minutes later when the deed was done, the monkey jumped back on the coffee table and took a drink of beer. I could not believe that shit. My buddy was all smiles and said it was better than any girl he ever knew. He then asked me if I wanted to try it? I thought to myself, I’ve done worse shit in my life so why not. I said, “sure I’ll give it a try” my buddy reached over and smacked me across the back of the head and leaned back.
I don’t go out on Thursday nights anymore.

My legs hurt like a bitch this morning,



I couldn't hardly stand the pain,



I got mad and took two Valiums, and then I took two Lortabs, and I chased them down with a couple of oversized shots of Jack Daniel's.
Now my legs may still hurt, I'm not really sure, I may not even have legs anymore and I don't care. As long as I get a break from the pain, I don't give a Damn!

Do you remember that old commercial on drugs where it showed the egg and the skillet and the guy said, "this is you brain" then he broke the egg in the skillet and said, "this is your brain on drugs" do you remember that? Well I remember it and now I have to go fix me an egg samich! Thanks for the dance.

I'm having some difficulties with my legs today and I can't set still long enough to write anything. It's a bitch when you can't walk, sit, or even lie down without pain. On the first anniversary of September Eleventh I was growing a little tired of being reminded of what had happened, of course it was all that was on TV for that week. I didn't want to just forget about it, but I wanted something lighter to dwell on. Why should I let, or we let the acts of a few disturbed people bring us down and keep us that way. This is one of my first attempts at writing anything. September is one of my favorite times of the year. For one it's my birth month and everything is changing, it's getting cooler and deer season is just around the corner. Theres nothing I like more than to be outside on a cool overcast day, there is something surreal about it to me. Anyway I've thought of changing this several times, I know it could be improved upon but I leave it as is, the original way I wrote it. I know it's the wrong time of year but it's in there somewhere. Maybe I'll feel better later on. Good day.

“Seasons Change”

Fall begins, the weather breaks, the leaves turn. The squirrels, the birds, and all of God’s creatures scamper to gather enough food for the winter. The wind starts to pick up, there is a smell on the air that we have not smelled in a while. On days that are clear, the sun does not shine as it did but it is still bright. What was once a blue sky is more gray now. A coolness in every breeze tells us there is yet another change coming. This is a more calm time of the year, time to get out last years jacket, maybe a sweater or flannel shirt. Don’t forget to put another blanket on the bed. A long sleeve shirt becomes a topic for an argument from a small child that says “ah ma, do I have ta?” We get to put the lawn mowers away for six or seven months and get out the leaf rakes. No more running outside in our bare feet or just slipping on those sandals you keep by the door. Gradually it gets colder, the days shorter, time to set the clocks back. Sleep comes easier on a cool night wrapped up in an old quilt that Grandma made. Halloween, Thanksgiving and then Christmas, time to see if those lights still work that you did not take down last year. The first big snow. Excited children wanting to go out and play. What was a pristine white blanket covering the yard, now in the evening is a clutter of little feet print, snow angels, and a little crooked snow man with twigs for arms and an old hat from Grandpa. But this also shall soon pass. A different smell is in the air, a warmer greener smell. We notice the days slowly getting longer, there is more noise and clatter during the day now. The squirrels and birds are moving for a different reason, there is more chasing in the playfulness, little ones running around seeing the world change for their first time. Then the rains start to come, bringing with it the flowers and all the colors of spring. The clocks go back forward. We went from jackets to coats and now back to jackets again. Warmer and warmer, soon we put the jackets and the blankets and the boots away. Where are those sandals? Still more rain, too much when we don’t need it and all the time knowing there won’t be enough when we do. Hey, it’s not just getting warmer, it’s getting hotter! And why are all these kids around and underfoot? Summer break already… barefooted kids, popsicles, and juice. It’s getting too hot to go outside again. Work, pick up the kids, stop by the store and then dash home before the Heat-Monster gets you. Man oh man, is Fall ever going to get here?

Sept. 10th, 2002

~ Obeying the Laws of the Creator ~

These "laws" have been passed down from generation to generation by the Cherokee. If you study these in depth, you will see that they will cover the Ten Commandments and the others that Jesus gave, most found in the respect shown to others. This is what the Cherokee based their life on. By following these, one would live in harmony and balance with all of Creation.

1. The first thing one should do of the morning is to praise the Creator for your life and all of Creation. Asking Him for guidance through the day and thanking Him for providing another day for you. Recognizing Him as the only one true God.

2. Always keep fresh in your mind that everything has been created by God and deserve respect. Everything God has created has a purpose in life. We should honor these and treat them with kindness and generosity. Always assume that others are in need of something. Offer what you have to give.

3. When you find that you have more than you and your family need, then give the excess to someone who can use it.

4. When you say you are going to do something, or otherwise promise something, you are bound by your words. You can not break it without permission from the person you have told this to.

5. Practice silence. This shows self-control, true courage, patience, dignity, reverence and internal peace. And by practicing silence you can build these characteristics up through time.

6. Never over indulge or under indulge on anything. Do all things in moderation. And this includes boasting or attracting attention through your behavior. Eating, sleeping, working, learning and so on.

7. Know what helps you and what hurts you. Learn from your experiences and be open to new ones, remembering to live each day in itself, not worrying about tomorrow or living in the past but retaining the knowledge learned. Listen to advice and guidance offered by elders and friends. Listen with your heart and then follow up through prayer to the Creator for His guidance.

8. Always ask permission before doing anything that involves someone else, including all living things. Always give something back in return for things received, including a simple "thank you." Remember that a smile can be shared.

9. Beware of what is inside you and outside of you.

The following are all about respect and can be grouped together as one once it is understood what respect truly is.

10. Always, always, always show respect. From the youngest to the oldest, from the rocks to the trees, from all animals to all peoples.

11. Never stare at someone and drop your eyes in respect to an elder or teacher.

12. Always give a sign of greeting, even to strangers.

13. Never talk about someone in a harmful or critical way. Remember that what you say it will always come back to you one way or the other.

14. Never touch anything that is not yours without permission from the owner.

15. Respect the privacy of everyone. Never enter into their place or space without permission. Do not disturb anyone's quiet time or prayer time.

16. Never offer advice or ask questions of another without their permission.

17. Never interrupt.

18. When you are in someone's home, follow their customs out of respect.

19. Always treat other things held sacred by someone with respect even though you may not understand why.

20. Treat Mother Earth with respect. Always protect Mother Earth as well as all of Creation on her in all ways.

These natural laws and ways of obeying the one Creator is put inside us through the Sacred Fire. Putting these teachings into words is not an easy task. Kelly Hartley (Willow Branch), has used the book "Medicine of the Cherokee: The Way of Right Relationship" by JT Garrett and Michael Garrett in aiding her in doing this so that we could better understand the proper way of living as Cherokee.

~ Drinks Show Your Personality ~

Before you order a drink in public, you should read this!

Seven New York City bartenders were asked if they could nail a woman'spersonality based on what she drinks. Though interviewed separately, they concurred on almost all counts. The results are as follows;

Drink: Beer
Personality: Causal, low-maintenance, down to earth.
Your Approach: Challenge her to a game of pool.

Drink: Blender Drinks
Personality: Flaky, whiny, annoying, a pain in the ass.
Your Approach: Avoid her, unless you want to be her cabana boy.

Drink: Mixed Drinks
Personality: Older, more refined, high maintenance, has very picky taste, knows EXACTLY what she wants.
Your Approach: You won't have to approach her. If she's interested, she'll send YOU a drink...

Drink: Wine (does not include White Zinfandel)
Personality: Conservative and classy, sophisticated yet giggles.
Your Approach: Tell her you love to travel and spend quiet evenings withfriends.

Drink: White Zinfandel
Personality: Easy, thinks she is classy and sophisticated, actually, she has NO clue.
Your Approach: Make her feel smarter than she is... this should be an easy target.

Drink: Shots
Personality: Likes to hang with frat-boy pals and looking to get totally drunk... and naked.
Your Approach: Easiest hit in the joint. You have been blessed. Nothing to do but wait, however, be careful not to make her mad!

Drink: Tequila
No explanations required - everyone just KNOWS what happens there.

THEN, there is the MALE addendum ---- The deal with guys is, as always, very simple and clear cut:

Domestic Beer: He's poor and wants to get laid.

Imported Beer: He likes good beer and wants to get laid.

Wine: He is hoping that the wine will give him a sophisticated image to help him get laid.

Whiskey: He doesn't give a damn about anything but getting laid.

Tequila: He is thinking he has a chance with the toothless waitress.

White Zinfandel: He's gay! And wants to get laid.

~ PEOPLE PISS ME OFF ~

I was in in a bad mood all day, Blogger wouldn’t work Monday morning, that’s kind of how I like to start my day. Read a little, comment some. Get motivated, then get my blog on. But no, I got to read some, didn’t get to comment, and seeing as how I couldn’t publish the post I had ready, I read some more. Now the bad thing about reading someone else’s thoughts and opinions is that eventually you’re gonna see something you don’t agree with. What do you do? Take it too serious and get mad, leave a hateful comment. Well I chose to be the smaller person and I was a horse’s ass all day. I’m a firm believer in “only you can hurt yourself” and I sure did. I spent all day in a foul mood because of what I thought about someone else, and they will never know it or probably didn’t even give that much thought to what they said. So basically I was mad about something in my own head. I thought of every cliché “If you don’t love it leave it” and “That’s what Freedom means, being able to voice your opinions without fear of retribution” I wanted to say something, I wanted to right (write) something, I even thought of pissing someone off by making a “Hater” statement myself. But I caught a hold of myself and did not react stupidly and believe me I can get all up in some stupid. I‘m probably lucky Blogger was down at the time.
Now I’m not usually overly zealous in the patriotic department… The F**k I’m Not! The Government is not America, it's the people that make up this Country, and make it what it is. And when you make a derogatory remark about the U.S. or America, or however you wish to put it, you are talking about the People, you're talking about me. Simple minded Bastard (see how I made that singular, that keeps it from being a “Hate” in general statement) How can someone who lives in the U.S. make a generalized remark about U.S. people? That’s like me bitching about the guy who live in my house. Whether you are a citizen or not, you live here now. Did you move here? Were you placed here? Hell I don’t even know if you were born here or not. Did you have your ass kicked by someone here? Do you WANT your ass kicked by someone here? Bad thing is you are in a position to where some people listen to what you say, did anyone else catch it, did they just let it go by unnoticed. Or am I taking it wrong and being over sensitive? I don’t think so! I am Native American, however I prefer the word Indian, and that makes me American. You don’t know me so don’t include me in your Dumb Ass Lame observations about the U.S.. I can’t even say what I want in fear that I might offend the wrong person or people. I try and have no hate in my heart, but I do when it comes to ignorance. The lord knows I’ve been ignorant in my life and it usually led to hatred and fighting, only because that’s just what it was, ignorance. It’s always easier to lash out at someone than it is to address the situation like a man and think. Well I let a fool get the better of me today and control my emotions and spoil my day, and for that I am sorry. And if I offended anyone unintentionally I am also sorry. Today is going to be a good day. Have a Coke and a smile and shut the f**k up! Canada Rocks Too!

Genitals, They Are Not Just For Sex Anymore

Where do women get off thinking childbirth is so bad? If that Salvadoran Lady who got caught smuggling a grenade and some weed into a prison could fit a 4 inch by 10 inch tube up into her who-ha, what’s the big whoop?
Kidney stones, now there’s pain for you. Ladies try passing a walnut through a straw. Ok, maybe a grape nut, but still it just ain’t right. Every since I turned forty I have realized you just can’t trust your farts anymore, I mean it’s a crap shoot every time, literally. And now I have to be scared to pee also. Please, I have to pee right now but I ain’t gonna. The last time I was in the bathroom, it was 1:00 am, I woke up got out of bed (I usually get out of bed about 6 times a night to pee) head to the bathroom and start to do my business. I get into position and then relax the way you do to get things going and… nada, zilch, no flow. So now I become a little more awake.
Now I’m not gonna bother you with the details of shaking, pulling, or even twisting, but I was hopping up and down before I finally sat down. I am now full blown wide awake. I’ve been doing this for years, and I run through the steps again and I can’t figure out where I went wrong. Turn light on, drop trow, check lid (remember I have a daughter) aim, aim better, and relax. No I don’t believe I left anything out. Then what the Hell? So I set down, now the thing that bothers me about situations like this is the absence of logic part. This makes no sense, I have to figure this out, and all the time it don’t feel so good either. I mean the pressure has shifted but where is it at. You just can’t go back to bed, it may start to work at any moment. I’m trying to figure this out and wondering who to call. I mean who do you call at a time like this, a friend, family, is there a hot-line I don’t know about? Ouch! Hey now, that was unpleasant. Ouch again, not good, this was starting to get ugly. Oh… My… Damn! What the Hell was that? I immediately knew. Kidney Stone. My Dad had talked of such things but I never imagined. YeeeOooowwwweee… stop that. Well I’m just not gonna do this, no friggin’ way, and that‘s all there is to it! I’ll just go back to bed and forget about all of this nonsense until it’s over. Wrong! Hoo Hoo, Hee Hee, thank God my Lamaze training kicked in. Now I’m bent over setting on the commode, my head almost touching the floor. It’s moving, I feel it coming around the side and heading towards the business. I even got light headed. Man alive!
I could go into more detail but I’m choosing not to go back there. It’s a bad, bad place. This is what I know to be for sure, you should never be aware of your genitals. You should have them yes. They should be for sex and normal toileting activities only. In no way shape or form should they ever be hit, grazed, or stretched in any capacity. And whatever causes kidney stones or childbirth, just don’t do it, just don‘t. I did share this incident with a friend and she very dryly and kind of by the way stated “no I don’t think it’s like childbirth, maybe a close second.” Women you don’t ever ask why God burdened you with the pain of childbirth, it’s as simple as can be, if man had to do it there would be no people, period. Cause we ain’t havin’ it. No! Now I really have to pee, I wonder if I can get a C-Section.

~ This is my Daughter ~

Emily Katherine, named for her Grandpa Emile on her Mom's side, and with my Mother's middle name. Now keep in mind that I am a Man's - Man, and I have an image to uphold, I don't truck with any of that touchy-feely crap.
This kid is my life, since the day she was born she's been my best friend. Her Mom and I split up when she was almost two, the night before they left I sat on the floor of her room and cried worse than she ever did. I missed her Mom but it was nothing compared to the loss of her. This kid taught me what love was and has kept showing me everyday for 15 years. She has a heart as big as all outdoors. She has been my friend, my companion, my teacher, and my hero. I was fortunate enough to be on pretty good terms with her Mom, so visiting was never a problem, and when she was in the third grade I started getting her every weekend. It didn't leave much time for personal socialization but it never mattered, if she couldn't go along, I just didn't go. I'd rather be with her anyway. She's always been real good company. Like I said she's 15 now and is a God's Send to me. When school was over last year she moved in with me full time to help me out, you may already know that I don't get around very good, bad legs and all. She left her Mom and her sister which she loves very much. She left her friends and her school. I don't think she even knows the meaning of the word "selfish." She helps me with everything I do or she just does it herself. She does without a lot and she doesn't get to see her friends very often. She sure lives to make me uncomfortable though, she talks about boys and girly stuff all the time just to get my goat. We laugh hard everyday. All of my friends love her and she is welcome everywhere I go. And she loves her family also, it doesn't matter who you are or if she's ever even met you or not, if you're family then you are loved (I have no idea where she got that) She has a note I wrote her one time, telling how much I loved her and what she meant to me, she keeps it hid, says it's "proof" in case I ever try and tell her any different. One time when she was about 7 years old, I was broke when I had her, I had only $22 to last the week until payday and I explained to her we had to take it easy that week. After I dropped her back off, I looked in my bill-fold for some reason and I had $24 instead of $22, and 2 of the dollar bills were crumpled up, you know, like what a kid would have. She has always done stuff like that, and doesn't care if anyone knows or not. She's an awful good kid. If there was more like her growing up into adults this world would be in pretty good hands. But don't think she got any of her traits from me, I don't even really like people, or kids for that matter. I wouldn't even be writing this but she's making me. I'll probably delete it the first chance I get. She'd just try and use it against me anyway. Good day.

Busted or Not?

A Redneck was stopped by a game warden in Oklahoma recently with two ice chests full of fish. He was leaving a cove well known for its fishing.

The game warden asked the man, "Do you have a fishing license to be catching all those fish?"

"No, sir, I ain't got no fishin' licenses, but these here are my pet fish."

"Pet fish?" said the game warden.

"Yeah, every night I take these here fish down to the lake and let 'em swim around for a while. Then I whistle and they all jump right back into this here ice chest and I take 'em home."

"That's a bunch of crap! Fish can't do that!" says the Warden, the Redneck looked at the game warden for a moment and then said, "It's the truth Mr. Government man, I'll show you. It really works."

"Okay," said the game warden, " I've GOT to see this!"

The Redneck poured the fish into the lake and stood and waited. After several minutes, the game warden turned to him and said, "Well?"

"Well, what?" said the Redneck.

The warden said, "When are you going to call them back?"

The Redneck said, "Call who back?"

"The FISH!" replied the warden.

"What fish would that be?" answered the Redneck.

~ It's A Good Thing ~

It's been a good day, I've spent time catching up on e-mails, reading other peoples blogs, reading comments, laughing, and commenting back, I even talked to my brother on the phone (he had to e-mail me to get off of the computer). I've been doing this blog thing for a little over a month now. Not near as long as most, I've always been behind the times, I guess that's just the country in me, Hell I just got call waiting on my phone and I'm still hanging up on people. And like I said before, I happened onto it by circumstance. I wanted to know what a blog was and wound up starting my own. People have been great, I've made a few friends, one very good friend. The people you run across are genuine and unique. From a Gun Enthusiast living in the woods of Georgia to a wonderful Lady with a huge heart living on Long Island. Not to mention people all around the world. It has opened my eyes and mind to a whole new way of things. It has let me express myself while also seeing the good in others. It has also made me see how small the world really is. I talk to someone in New York everyday, and someone from China could be reading my thoughts and words right now. I've never been very big on progress or new things, never have been. Probably like most people a little intimidated by change. New things and new ways can be scary. Well ignorance can be scary too. I still think old things and old ways are good, probably always will. But new things can be good too... I guess. I sure get a charge out of new people reading my posts and commenting on them. I thank them all and they are welcome anytime. It makes writing a little easier when you know someone will read it. I need to get off of here now and see to my daughter, she just got home from school and is letting me know it's snack time. Until next time my new friends, good day.

~ My Anti-Drug ~

A new blog I’ve been browsing has got me worked up and thinking about outdoors, Living Back In The Woods , I spent most of my childhood outdoors. That’s what kids did in my day, there was no X-Boxes or Play Station II’s. I could have fun with a stick and a rock. Most of the time my Mom would tell me to go outside, and then she would have to whistle for me to come back in. I remember my Mom would only give me three trips a day through the front door, because I was either letting the heat out or I was trying to cool off the whole wide world. I was quite a bit older before I figured out an odd amount of trips (three) eventually left me being outside. My Mom used to whistle to get our attention, and no not like a dog. But her whistle carried a lot further than a yell. Every kid around knew that whistle and if we did not hear it they would tell us our Mom was looking for us. My family always had guns, and my Dad and Grandpa and eventually my big Brother made sure I knew how to respect them and how to use them. I never had the urge as a kid to play with one, or get one out and show off to a friend. I believe it was because they were natural to me, a big deal but at the same time no big deal. Guns led to being outdoors which is a good thing like I said. So of course living in Oklahoma that meant hunting. Rabbit, squirrel, duck, quail, dove, and my favorite, whitetail deer. My brother was into bow hunting at that time so that’s how I started hunting deer, I really liked it, we would hunt through primitive arms and riffle season with bows. For years I didn’t even hunt with a riffle. Then I started hunting with black powder, primitive arms. Shot my first deer with a .50 caliber Hawkin Riffle. It was not a kit gun, but the real deal, over 120 years old. I like old things, most of the time they are just made better. I liked to think that same gun put meat on someone’s table because it was a man taking care of his family, not just for sport. I use to let a lot of deer just walk by when I was hunting, there is just something about it, being out there watching, being quiet, being alone, watching nature, it‘s a lot more than killing. You can just melt into it and become something a little bigger that 9 to 5 Joe, keeping up with the Joneses. If killing a deer was all there was to hunting, I don’t believe a lot of us Southern boys would be doing it. And if that meant having a good hunt, well then I’ve had a lot of bad ones. Because as it stands; Deer - 1532, Chuck - 5. The best hunts I’ve ever had, is where I didn’t get anything, oh I wasn’t happy at the time but looking back I wouldn’t have it any other way. Only bad hunt I ever had was about 2 months after my wife and I split up, I was deep in the wood by myself, wasn’t having Thanksgiving that year, setting at the base of a tree about 5:30 am, waiting for the sun to come up and I thought to myself, I’m alone, all alone, no one knows or cares where I’m at and I have a large bore weapon. Half hour later I was setting down and having “Moon over My Hammy” at Denny’s in town. Other than that hunting has always been good. I started taking my daughter when she was eight, let her carry a knife on her belt (she thought that was big stuff). She was familiar with guns I’ve taught her just like I was, maybe a little better. I trust her around guns as much as I do anyone. I trust her at home with them too, a bid deal but no big deal, it works. Her first hunt she sat still with me and stayed quiet for two hours before she started getting fidgety, that’s about all I could do. She has great eyes and sees things I don’t. She is with out a doubt the best hunting partner I have ever had. We would go deer watching, that’s without guns. And we would set for hours watching deer. She’s 15 now and still gets exited to see them, and gets sad when we sees one hit by a car. She talks about some day taking her kids hunting and using my guns, you see when I’m gone they are all hers. She knows which ones were my Dads or other family members and which ones are just my guns. She says then that means she keeps them all. She has a few of her own, her first was an Ithaca .22 single shot, I thought if she was going to have an accident I’d rather only be shot once. Then she has a Rossi 20 gauge single shot break over, a .22 caliber Ruger 10/22. Her next gun will be a .223 of some nature, I have a 45.70 but she says it kicks a little too much. I have not gone hunting in two years now because of my legs, but I WILL go again some day, you can bet on it. The last 4 or 5 years that I did hunt, a friend and I set up a pretty good permanent deer camp on some land he owns. We call it “God’s Country”. We improved on it every year and it’s just about perfect for us. We would take our vacations at the same time (riffle season, the week of Thanksgiving) we’d camp out about 9 days come home on Thursday and eat, shower, and head back. There is nothing like setting around a camp fire at night before you bed down. After Em would go to bed we would maybe pass the bottle around a few times before turning in. I slept better there than I do at home. My daughter helped a lot and is welcome there anytime (even without me) she is a part of our tradition there and fits in perfect. She’s smart, a huge help, and she’s good company, my buddy always includes here automatically “when are you and Em gonna come out?” and believe me we don’t let just anybody hunt with us, we’ve had to weed of few tag alongs out. But like I said it’s more about being outdoors in the wilderness than it is actually killing a deer. Most Indians tribes used to not take anything from mother earth unless they had to, and then it was with sadness and respect, and out of honor you would use all of it, whatever it was for a good purpose. And they would give thanks for everything, sound like a pretty good way to me. That’s the way my daughter was taught and my friends and I believe the same way. We talk of what we saw more than what we shot. And having some deer chili sure doesn’t hurt either. When ever it is overcast (that’s my favorite time) cool or even cold old outside, calm and I hear the crows squawking, that’s when I get the urge to head to the woods. When my time here is through and if it’s alright with God, I’d like to be cremated and have my ashes buried out there where we hunt, the place marked by a simple white wooden cross, I would like it to have my name on it of course, the word “Father”, a Cherokee medicine wheel, and the words, “Good Bye, Good Luck, and Good Hunting” They say that when you die that your soul goes to the happiest time in your life, if that is true I might as well have a head start. Good day. Good Hunting.

Smoking

A little over a year ago I had to stop smoking (again) because it was killing me, I know it's bad for everyone but it put me in the hospital a couple of times. The oxygen level in my blood dropped way down and I started to get retarded. I smoked Phillies Chocolate Blunts, now there’s a friggin’ genius, the guy who thought of putting chocolate in something you could smoke. If a he could figure out how to make a chocolate cigarette filter that you just eat when you’ve finished smoking the cigarette, well then he’d be a millionaire for sure. I hated to have to quit smoking because lets face it... I made smoking look pretty Damn cool. I had the Clint Eastwood thing goin' and shit. I loved it, but like I do everything I had to do it to the extreme. I could have financed a small drug habit for what it cost me to smoke, Hell my brother spends less on weed than I did on stogies. Anyway, it was easy to quit, no shit. It was so easy I quit twice (I quit for 5 years a while back). The bitch of it is not starting again. I don't miss the smell, I don't miss the mess (ashes everywhere) I don't miss the cost, or the cough, the wheezing at night when I'd lay down. But I miss having something to do, smoking a blunt was as entertaining as fishing. You had to enjoy the pageantry of it, the process. Unwrapping it, lighting it (you had to use matches, using a bic was like using a condom) you even held it different than a cigarette. You wrapped your index finger around it and steadied it with your thumb and middle finger. I didn't take that much care holding my pud. There is nothing like lighting up in the evening after a meal, it made a crappy meal Ok and a good meal even better. I would pass up dessert to hurry up and get to that smoke (Hell I was getting to where I‘d light up before I was finished eating). But some how when you’re lying in a hospital bed and your kid is asking you when do you get to come home and you have to remove the oxygen so you can answer her. Well smoking doesn‘t quite seem as important anymore, not as cool. It’s been over a year now like I said, no coughing, no wheezing, I’ve got a little more wind whenever I try and do something. I can even think more clearly. It’s amazing what getting enough oxygen to the brain can do for you. But Damn it if I haven’t gained 40 lbs. I guess after supper I still have my chocolate, I just don’t light it anymore. I know I sure looked cooler smoking after a meal than I do loosening my pants, but at least I’m still here. Good day.

~ African American Warriors, Black Warriors ~

“The Americans were sending their Black troops straight into the front of the German lines, instead of to the side. And there was no reason for it. So the Americans sent these soldiers to die.”
~ Gino Dinelli, Italian Partisan WW-II ~

I’ve always said that my heroes have always been cowboys, I even wrote a post on it recently, I stand corrected, one of my heroes is a Buffalo Soldier. To me the word “Glory” has always a different meaning, it’s the feeling I get when I here or see a man or woman rise up from their normal station, pull up their pants and behave in a manner fitting a King. It’s one of the few things that will make me cry. I call it “Splendid Behavior.” I’ve read about it, seen it on a movie, I’ve witnessed it in life very few times. In 1985 my Mother was dieing of Leukemia, she went from about 160 lbs to about 80 lbs in a few months. The chemo therapy is what was killing her. I moved back home to help take care of her. It was the hardest and best thing I have ever done in my life. She was beyond weak, out of her head most of the time, had no muscle tone or motor, skills, and completely dependant on me and my family. I was extremely exhausted one day and was lifting her from the bed when there was a loud “Pop” in my lower back. Two discs went where they should not have. I was in deep trouble, I was half way up with her, I could not go up, could not go down, (without falling and killing her) My mother, who moments earlier thought she was 7 years old and wondering where her mother was, heard the pop and grabbed me, held on, and in a strong and clear voice asked “are you alright?” She held on around my neck with one hand, rubbed my back with the other and put her legs down by herself for the first time in 4 months and helped me. At her lowest moment before death, she never stopped being my Mother and taking care of me. She weighed 80 lbs and I weighed 235. Splendid Behavior.
Vernon J. Baker, Buffalo Soldier, 2nd Lieutenant U.S. Army, WW-II is a man of uncommon valor. Served his country with honor, in fact, received The Medal of Honor. But he did not receive it during the war, or just after, or even a year after the war. No Black soldier was awarded The Medal of Honor during WW-II. Vernon J. Baker was finally awarded The Medal by President Bill Clinton on Jan. 13, 1997. Over 52 years after his actions on April 5 and 6, 1945, near Viareggio, Italy deemed him worthy of the honor. At a time when his country, and that is exactly what he would tell you. It was “His Country” And it’s the reason he and all of the Black soldiers served. It was “Their Country Too” At a time when his country would not serve him, or any Black soldier, or any Black citizen for that matter. To charge head strong into the roar of the guns at a time when the country that you love and will lay down your life for, turns their backs on you takes a man that deserves better than a hunk of metal. For 52 years this good man should have been treated like and lived like a hero. But it does not matter to Vernon J. Baker, he is proud of his medal, cried when President Clinton awarded to him. But he conducted himself with dignity and honor his whole life, before and after the war. If history would have been told as it should, as the truth. Maybe children of all races and color would look at things different. My heroes helped make me who I am. Maybe if I had known of Vernon J. Baker sooner in life, I would have a different way of thinking, a different way of looking at things, maybe the word “Nigger” Would never have come out of my mouth. You should read more about Vernon in his book he co-wrote, “Lasting Valor” You can read about him on line many places, one of them is, The Defense Link or you can find out about other Americans like him at “African American Warriors” http://www.aawar.net/ 2nd Lieutenant, Vernon J. Baker, Buffalo Soldier, Splendid Behavior, Good day.

~ My Friend, Barbara Jean ~

This is my friend Barbara. That says it all right there, “my friend.” I don’t have many, The ones I do have are forever. You have to be one to make one, and that’s something I’m just not very good at. I don’t take the term or use the term lightly. Being a friend should be like family, you don’t choose to love them, you just do. And you love them no matter what, the way God intended. That’s the only way I know how to love. I don’t know what brought me and Babs together but we hit it off right from the start. She has character, not to be mistaken for being a character. Although sometimes she is the shits. She can tell a dirty joke to a Preacher and quote scripture to a Biker. She has traveled a road most people would not have taken. It has gotten her where she is and has made her who she is, so I have no troubles with it. She has a host of friends from all over. She makes no bones about it and will tell you just how the cow ate the cabbage. She wears her heart aches and failures as a badge, as a reminder. She will not forget her old road and her old ways, I know she stares down them often, but still she turns away. I may never get to meet my friend in person, I may never get to touch her hand, or kiss her cheek. She is in my thoughts and dreams and I... love her. That may be the only time I’ll say it, if I ever change my mind I’ll let her know. But I don’t reckon I’ll have to. Check out what she has to say, she is as interesting as she is entertaining. Just click on Babsbitchin' and hold on. Good day.

“Every normal man must be tempted at times to spit upon his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin splitting throats.” H.L. Mencken (1880 - 1956)

The “Sage of Baltimore”, American author, critic, newspaper man and iconoclast. Check out more about the man at,
http://www.mencken.org/ he was an interesting man to say the least.
“If, after I depart this vale, you ever remember me and have thought to please my ghost, forgive some sinner and wink your eye at some homely girl.”—“Epitaph” Dec. 3rd, 1921.

‘Life is not a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in a pretty and preserved body; but rather to skid in broadside, thoroughly used up, totally worn out, and loudly proclaiming,’ "Wow! What a Ride!".
(unknown)

‘When I come sliding in, I’ll probably catch my eyelid on a rusty nail and proclaim loudly,’ “Shit! My Eye!”
C.E. Shoemake,
4-17-06

~ The National Rifle Association ~

Incorporated in 1871 to provide firearms training and encourage interest in the shooting sports. Includes news on guns and hunting as well as gun safety and education. I’ve had this sticker in the back window of almost every truck I’ve owned since I was eighteen years old. Yes I may be a Redneck, and yes I might have had gun racks in my back window (I said had) but now days you can’t hardly put that sticker on your car or truck because it is an invitation to thieves. About a year ago my truck was broken into and my Stainless Ruger .357 Magnum was stolen (still makes me sick to think of it). I reported it to the local Police and when they came by to fill out the report, the young officer noticed my NRA sticker in my back window. He then told me that he belonged to the association and our behavior toward each other changed a little, it wasn‘t so formal anymore. He went on to tell me that since he became a cop, he took the sticker off of his car and his wife’s, he said that he learned that it was an invitation to a thief because it advertised that you were a gun owner. It made you a target. I thought just the opposite, The last person I would steal from would be a gun owner. He said years ago that was just the idea, I belong to the NRA so stay away from my property. But the thugs and wanna be gangsters of today are more bold and more stupid. Use to be, a stolen gun was a scary thing to have, it was hidden or modified, sold cheap or used and discarded. He said there was a good chance the gun would eventually show up because the punk that stole it would probably carry it and it would get picked up in a car search or a bust of some kind. Thugs now days are just that “Thugs” too scared to take an Ass Whooping, they have to use a gun and try and prove something. That makes it look bad for everyone that owns a gun. I’ve always owned guns and I hope I always will. My Grandpa owned them and so did my Dad, I’m pretty sure it went back farther than that, my Great Uncle was a U.S. Marshall during the early 1900’s, so I’m sure he had guns also. I’ve never pointed one at anybody and hope I never will. I don’t keep one in my truck anymore nor do I keep a NRA sticker on my truck. It’s on the front door to my house. And if someone wants to break in here and take my stuff, well he just better hope I’m not at home. I used to hear people say “I hate a liar worse than a thief.” The idiot that said that never had his Ruger .357 stolen I bet. That cop never acted like I shouldn't have had that gun in my truck, he just said that I shouldn’t have left it in there. Next year my Daughter turns 16, she already owns a couple of firearms and knows how to use them and more importantly she knows how to handle them safely. For her 16th birthday she will be getting a membership to the NRA along with a Hunter’s Safety Course and some cash so she can buy some girly stuff too. She’ll probably put her sticker on her guitar case. If you are a gun enthusiast and want to join or just know more about it, go to their web site, at The NRA http://www.nra.org/ there is a lot of helpful information along with some fine benefits. It would even make a fine gift. Good day.

LETTER FROM AN OKLAHOMA FARM KID
(now at Camp Pendleton, San Diego, Marine Corps Recruit Training)

Dear Ma and Pa,
I am well. Hope you are too. Tell Brother Walt and Brother Elmer that the Marine Corps beats working for old man Minch by a mile. Tell them to join up quick before all of the places are filled. I was restless at first because you got to stay in bed till nearly 6 a.m., but I am getting so I like to sleep late. Tell Walt and Elmer all you do before breakfast is smooth your cot and shine some things. No hogs to slop, feed to pitch, mash to mix, wood to split, fire to lay...practically nothing. Men got to shave but it's not so bad... there's even warm water. Breakfast is strong on trimmings like fruit juice, cereal, eggs, bacon, etc., but kind of weak on chops, potatoes, ham, steak, fried eggplant, pie, and other regular food, but tell Walt and Elmer you can always sit by the two city boys that live on coffee. Their food plus yours holds you 'til noon when you get fed again. It's no wonder these city boys can't walk much.We go on "route marches," which the platoon sergeant says are long walks to harden us. If he thinks so, it's not my place to tell him different. A "route march" is about as far as to our mailbox at home. Then the city guys get sore feet and we all ride back in trucks. The country is nice but awful flat. The sergeant is like a school teacher. He nags a lot. The captain is like the school board. Majors and colonels just ride around and frown. They don't bother you none. This next will kill Walt and Elmer with laughing. I keep getting medals for shooting. I don't know why. The bulls-eye is near as big as a chipmunk head and don't move, and it ain't shooting at you like the Higgett boys at home. All you got to do is lie there all comfortable and hit it. You don't even load your own cartridges. They come in boxes. Then we have what they call hand-to-hand combat training. You get to wrestle with them city boys. I have to be real careful though, they break real easy. It ain't like fighting with that ole bull at home. I'm about the best they got in this except for that Tug Jordan from over in Silver Lake. I only beat him once. He joined up the same time as me, but I'm only 5'6" and 130 pounds and he's 6'8" and near 300 pounds dry. Be sure to tell Walt and Elmer to hurry and join up before other fellers get onto this setup and come stampeding on in.Your loving daughter,
Amy

~ Hell Yeah It Was Him ~

You ever notice how when the police catch a murderer or a serial killer, the media interviews their neighbors and it's always the same response, "He's the best neighbor you could ask for, such a nice quiet young man," or "He wouldn't hurt a fly, he's a good Christian boy." If my cheese ever finally slips all the way off my cracker, and the police catch me on top of the 7-11, buck-naked with a .223 Caliber, Colt AR-15 H-Bar, with a Springfield 4x12 powered scope and 5 or 6, 30-round clips loaded with 55 Grain Remington Jacketed Hollow Points and a half empty canteen of Jack Daniels Whiskey (Hell I got chubby just typing it and NO! I haven't given it that much thought) well anyway it would be a whole different story when the media showed up to interview my neighbors. They would be having a block party, playing music, dancing in the streets. They would be burning my lawn mower and hauling my dogs away. And they would be fighting to get in front of the camera so they could be the first to say, "Hell Yeah It Was Him!" You see for some reason or the other, my neighbors have hated me for years. I don't know why. Maybe it's because I have the ugliest house on the street that needed painting 20 years ago. Maybe it's because I'm in my 40's and most of them are in their 70's and 80's. My immediate neighbor to my left is in her late 70's and her mom lives across the street. Maybe it's because I hardly ever mow my lawn. Back when the hatred first started and I was married, my pregnant (8 months along at the time) X-Wife was mowing the lawn (it was a little overgrown and the city had given me a citation for $120 to mow it or they would and put a lien on my property and, yada, yada, yada...and so on, anyway the mower burst into flame and she had to push it out into the street to keep from catching the yard on fire. Long story short, I'm not much on upkeep and lawn maintenance and all of my neighbors live for lawn care. One of my neighbors has a $6000 riding lawn mower and a 12' by 30' yard, it takes him longer to get it out of the garage than it does to mow. One of them pays a service to take care of his lawn once a week and then he gets out there in between visits and mows it himself, and he's only 86, the Ambulance has been at his house more times than I've fired up my mower. One time they called the police on me for having an abandoned vehicle in my yard. It Was My Friggin' Truck that I Drove Everyday! Also maybe there has been a few incidents with my dogs or a loud TV or Stereo. They watch me every time I come or go, you can see them looking out their windows and doors. They all know my name (I've lived here for 16 years and I couldn't tell you one of their names) But the one time somebody breaks into my Truck and steals my Ruger .357 Mag. Well Then, no one sees a Damn thing now do they? Well they can all take a flying smooch at my butt-crack with their tongues out. They've bugged me a whole hell of a lot more than I've bugged them. Cat prints on my truck, little yippin' foo foo dogs, lawn mowers and weed trimmers at 7:00 am on Saturdays and Sundays, yard sales and people blocking my driveway and driving through my yard. One time I had this tree in my back yard, my only tree. It was a Hackberry and not too desirable but it was a tree, probably a foot or so around, 30 or 40 foot tall. They wanted me to cut it down but I wouldn't. Now it was in my back yard mind you, and I never go back there. One day, Months later I happen to look out the back window and I notice... I HAVE NO TREE! The old codgers cut down my tree and hauled it all off, there was no sign of it at all (they did do a good job) There is no telling when they did it, I worked all the time, about 70 hours a week, I didn't pay attention to my back yard. The nerve of those people. Well that's my Hell on earth, living in town surrounded by Old Folks. I hope I never get old enough to worry about my grass as much as they do. Hey, maybe if I hold out long enough they will all take up a collection and pay a lawn service to keep my yard up. I gotta go now, I'm gonna plant some flowers in that old toilet setting out in my front yard, I never did haul it off when I got a new one back in 98. Good day.

From Humble Beginnings...

A young Hillbilly called Kenny moved to Texas and bought a donkey from a farmer for $100.00. The farmer agreed to deliver the donkey to Kenny the next day.

The following day the farmer drove up and said, "Sorry, son, but I have some bad news. That donkey just up and died."

Kenny replied, "Well then, I guess just give me back my money".

The farmer said, "I'm sorry, but I can't do that. I spent it already".

Kenny said, "OK. then, just bring me the dead donkey."

The farmer asked, "What are you going to do with a dead donkey?"

Kenny answered, "I'm going to raffle him off."

The farmer said "You can't raffle off a dead donkey!"

Kenny responded "Sure I can. I just won't tell anybody he's dead."

A month later the farmer met up with Kenny and asked, "What ever happened
with that dead donkey?"

Kenny answered, "I raffled him off. I sold 500 tickets at two dollars apiece and I made a profit of $998.00."

The farmer asked, "Didn't anyone complain?"

Kenny said, "Just the guy who won, so I gave him back his two dollars."

Kenny grew up and eventually became the chairman of Enron

I've not been with it much today, I can't set down at the computer long enough to get anything done. This is a note I wrote to my neighbor a while back after she left one on my fence. It seems one of my dogs had gotten into her yard and chewed up a 99 cent lawn ornament (among other dog-type activites) that she got at the Dollar Store (I guess that makes it 100 cents lawn ornament then don't it, my bad) Anyway the note said she would call the "Humane Society" (Dog Catcher) if I didn't mind. If I Didn't Mind!! What the Hell does that mean? She also put the ornament on my fence right next to where I parked my truck so I would be sure and see it, I think it' still there. Well I wrote her a note but I never gave it to her. The man that used to live accross the street from us had a heart attack (and died) and her husband went to check on him and had a heart attack in the middle of the friggin' road and I kind of felt bad for her. I have kept my dogs out of her yard since then. Here's the note.

DEAR NEIGHBOR,

HOW LONG HAVE WE BEEN NEIGHBORS? I AM SORRY THAT YOU HAVE BEEN INCONVIENIANCED BY ME AND MY DOGS. I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHERE THE LITTLE BLACK AND TAN ONE CAME FROM, PROBABLY DUMPED OR SOMEONE MOVED OFF AND LEFT HIM. NO ONE AROUND HERE SEEMED TO BE IN A HURRY TO FEED OR WATER A STRAY DOG, I GUESS IF YOU HAVE IT IN YOUR HEART TO LOVE AN ANIMAL IT MUST ONLY ACCOUNT FOR YOUR OWN. I DID NOT PICK THE LITTLE FELLOW HE KIND OF PICKED DUTCHY AND ME. HE'S NOT VERY TRUSTING OF PEOPLE, MUST HAVE BEEN MISTREATED SOMEHOW. HE HAS TAKEN A SHINE TO ME HOWEVER AND I'VE KIND OF GROWN FOND OF HIM. I THINK HE JUST NEEDS A LITTLE LOVE, I CALL HIM TIGG. I WOULD LIKE TO KEEP HIM IF HE IS NOT TOO MUCH OF A BOTHER. I CAN'T KEEP HIM IN MY BACK YARD RIGHT NOW BUT IF I CAN SAVE UP A LITTLE MONEY I WILL REMEDY THAT. YOU MENTIONED CALLING THE POUND (IF I DIDN’T MIND), I KNOW THAT THEY USE TO KILL ALL THE DOGS THAT WERE NOT CLAIMED IN THREE DAYS, NO ONE HAS CLAIMED HIM HERE IN A MONTH SO I GUESS THAT MEANS HE WOULD NOT BE CLAIMED THERE EITHER. I WAS AT THE DUMP ONE DAY WHEN THEY BROUGHT THE DOGS FROM THE POUND THAT HAD JUST BEEN GASSED (THEY CALL IT “EUTHENIZED” BUT IT’S REALLY GASSED), DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY THEY GAS AT ONE TIME ? AS MANY AS WILL FIT IN THE BACK OF THEIR PICK-UP TRUCK, I DON'T KNOW HOW THEY LOAD THEM BUT THEY UNLOAD THEM WITH A SCOOP SHOVEL, AT LEAST IT WAS NOT A PITCH FORK. ONE NICE BIG PILE OF DOGS, THEY GET TOP PRIORITY THOUGH. THE BACK-HOE PUSHES THEM RIGHT INTO THE WHOLE AND COVERS THEM UP. DID I MENTION THAT THEY WERE STILL MOVING AND THAT THEIR EYES WERE STILL OPEN? I GUESS THAT IT WOULD BE AN INCONVIENIANCE TO WAIT UNTIL THEY WERE COMPLETELY DEAD. I FOR ONE WILL CONTINUE TO REFER TO THEM AS “THE POUND", HUMANE SOCIETY DOES NOT SEEM TO FIT SOMEHOW. ANYWAY I ALSO NOTICED THAT YOU MENTIONED IN YOUR NOTE THAT "THEY" HAD DUG HOLES IN YOUR YARD AND THAT I NEED TO KEEP "THEM" OUT OF YOUR YARD, ONCE AGAIN, MY APPOLOGIES. YOU HAVE CATS DON'T YOU. OVER THE YEARS, HOW MANY PAW PRINTS WOULD YOU SAY I'VE HAD ON MY TRUCKS? OR MY FRIENDS AND FAMILIES CARS, OR HOW MANY TIMES HAVE THEY GOTTEN INTO MY TRUCK AND PISSED? DID I MENTION IT OR WRITE A NOTE. I DON'T LEAVE MY WINDOWS DOWN ANYMORE UNLESS I FORGET, NOT EVEN ON DAYS WHEN IT'S HOT. ONE TIME A CAT GOT INTO MY HOUSE, NO, I TAKE THAT BACK, MANY TIMES A CAT HAS GOTTEN INTO MY HOUSE, BUT ONE TIME I DID NOT NOTICE IT AND I WENT OUT OF TOWN FOR A WEEK, IT WAS LOCKED IN MY HOUSE FOR THAT WEEK, AND OH YES IT HAD TO PISS AND SHIT FOR THAT WEEK, SEVERAL TIMES INFACT. I REMEMBER SOME CURTAINS BEING TORN DOWN ALSO, DID I MENTION IT OR WRITE A NOTE, MUST HAVE SLIPPED MY MIND. ALSO NOT TO MENTION THAT IT MUST HAVE NOT WANTED TO BE HERE BECAUSE IT RIPPED A NICE CHUNK OF CARPET UP TRYING TO DIG IT'S WAY OUT FROM UNDER THE DOOR. STILL NO WORD, NO NOTE.
A FEW YEARS AGO A CAT DIED UNDER MY HOUSE, OF COURSE I DID NOT NOTICE IT UNTIL THE STINCH WAS BAD ENOUGH THAT I HAD TO GET A HOTEL ROOM FOR TWO NIGHTS, I WOULD HAVE STAYED A LOT LONGER BUT TWO NIGHTS WAS ALL I COULD AFFORD. IT DID NOT COST ME ANYTHING TO REMOVE THE CAT THOUGH, MY LITTLE BROTHER CRAWLED UNDER THE HOUSE AND GOT IT OUT FOR ME, HE THREW UP SOME AND CUT HIS ARM UNDER THERE, BUT IT WAS NOT SERIOUS. I DID NOT THROW IT IN THE TRASH OR HAUL IT TO THE DUMP, I BURRIED IT IN MY BACK YARD, THERE IS AT LEAST TWO OTHER CATS BURRIED BACK THERE, ALONG WITH TWO OF MY DOGS THAT WERE POISONED A FEW YEARS EARLIER. THERE IS EVEN AN IGUANA, YEP TWO DOGS, THREE CATS, A LIZARD, A TURTLES AND A FEW BIRDS. BUT I DON'T EVEN REMEMBER OWNING A CAT, BUT I MUST LIKE THEM BECAUSE I LET THEM LIVE IN MY GARAGE, RUINING EVERYTHING IN THERE, AT LEAST IT GIVES THEM A PLACE TO SHIT AND PISS WHEN THE WEATHER IS BAD, BUT SURELY I HAVE MENTIONED IT BEFORE. A COUPLE OF WEEKS AGO YOU SAID THAT THE MAIL MAN WAS GOING TO HAVE TO PEPPER SPRAY THE LITTLE ONE, THAT MUST BE REWARDING, A MAIL MAN THAT HAS TO PUT UP WITH DOGS, GO FIGURE, I DON'T EXPECT HE KNEW ABOUT DOGS BEFORE HE APPLIED FOR THE JOB. ALSO YOU SAID THAT THE DOGS WOKE YOU UP AT 6:00AM, I CAN'T IMAGINE, BEING THAT I WORK NIGHTS AND TRY TO SLEEP DURING THE DAY, BUT IT'S KIND OF HARD SOMETIMES WITH ALL THE MOWING AND WEED EATING AND HOUSE REPAIRS AND VISITERS AND TALKING AND LITTLE YAPPING DOGS AND MY DOG BARKING AT CATS IN MY YARD AND PRETTY BLUE FORD COBRAS WITH LOUD EXHAUST THAT PEOPLE LIKE TO REV UP WHILE THEY ARE WARMING THEM UP AND DRIVING THEM AWAY, BUT I UNDERSTAND THAT NOT EVERYONE HAS TO WORK AND THAT IS JUST THE PRICE OF LIVING IN TOWN AND HAVING NEIGHBORS. ONE TIME ON ONE OF MY NIGHTS OFF, AND I REMIND YOU THAT THIS WAS SOME TIME BACK, FOUR PISSED OFF COPS SHOWED UP AT MY DOOR BECAUSE I WAS LISTENING TO MY TV TOO LOUD. I DID NOT HEAR THEM AT FIRST BECAUSE OF THE TV AND ALL, BUT MAINLY BECAUSE OF THE DOUBLE EAR INFECTION I HAD, I COULD NOT HEAR FOR MONTHS. I COULD NOT FIGURE OUT WHY THEY WERE SO PISSED OFF OVER A LOUD TV, TRUE IT WAS AFTER 2:00 AM BUT THEY THREATENED ME IF THEY HAD TO COME BACK OR IF I RETALIATED IN ANY WAY AGAINST MY NEIGHBORS FOR CALLING. MAKES ME WONDER WHAT THEY WERE TOLD. ANYWAY THEY'VE BEEN CALLED ON ME FOR MANY OTHER THINGS AND I ALLWAYS SURVIVE. I GUESS YOU SHOULD TRY TO BE QUIET WHEN FOLKS ARE TRYING TO SLEEP. IT'S JUST THE NEIGHBORLY THING TO DO. THAT'S THE WAY I WAS RAISED, IF YOU DON'T WANT TO BE A NEIGHBOR DON'T BOTHER TO LIVE NEXT DOOR. I NORMALY KEEP MY MOUTH SHUT ABOUT SUCH THINGS AND TRY TO BE TOLLERANT OF OTHERS AND I EXPECT THE SAME, MAYBE I'M WRONG. I HOPE THIS DOES NOT MEAN WE ARE GOING TO BECOME ENEMIES NOW BUT MAYBE THAT WE CAN BOTH LOOK AT THINGS FROM THE OTHER SIDE OF THE FENCE. I DO APPOLOGIES FOR MY ACTIONS, MY DOGS, AND MY WORDS AND EVEN MY SPELLING, I COULD NOT FIGURE OUT HOW TO USE THE SPELL-CHECK ON THIS THING, IT'S A NEW PROGRAM FOR ME AND I'M STILL WORKING OUT THE BUGS. HEY WHAT DO YOU KNOW, MY FIRST NOTE TO A NEIGHBOR.

RESPECTFULLY YOURS,
CHARLIE (SHE CALLS ME CHARLIE AND I HATE IT)

P.S. I HOPE YOU DO NOT THINK THIS LETTER INFORMAL OF ME, IT'S JUST THE BEST WAY I EXPRESS MYSELF WITHOUT YELLING. GOOD DAY.

*~ When we were Indians ~

When I was a young boy in the 70’s there would be an announcement at school for any children with Indian blood to come to the auditorium for an assembly. I thought cool, anything to get out of class. In the assembly there was a lot of white people I thought. There were also black people (My Bad, African-American), red headed people, blue eyes, green eyes. I myself don’t look Indian except for my cheek bones and my large nose, and my eyes are blue, everyone in my family has blue eyes. The Indian councilor’s name was Mr. Dukes, he had short hair but he looked Indian. He would pass a clipboard around and have us all sign a paper. He said it was an enrollment for students with Indian blood, so the school could be eligible for certain programs (“Indian Money“) the more Indians the more funding. We all signed and did not ask any questions. We were told there would be money for school supplies and other equipment. Seems like about twice a year they would call us down to the auditorium and have us sign something. I went to school for 12 years give or take a few days. I never saw one penny of any “Indian Money” I never saw any supplies or other equipment. I take that back in the 7th grade there was an Indian Art Contest, I won first place in one of the categories. I got a blue ribbon and a zerox copied certificate that I had to fill in my own name. That must have been where all of that “Indian Money” went. Years later my brother dated a girl who really looked Indian and her family was pretty well off. She told me that at the beginning of each school year they would go to the office and pick up their free supplies, folders, pencils, and paper. I said Damn Girl! What school did you go to? You got my free stuff, give it back.
I was always proud I was Indian. I never got mad when we played “Cowboys and Indians” and I got, not had, to be the Indian. I heard of some kids playing “Indians and those-Land Stealing-Tee-pee Burning-Women and Children Killing-Forked Tongued-Treaty Breakin’-White Bastards”. I’m just kidding, they were kids, they weren’t aloud to say the word “Bastards”. Did you know that the term “Indian Giver” is not a slam on Indians? It came about when the white man would make deals with Indians, trade with them or even sign Treaties and then take it all back. The term was started by white people. If an Indian had started it, it would be more like “Wah shi tsu Taker”.
I also never personally knew any Indians that took offense at being called an Indian, nor did I ever know anyone that thought the name of the teams, Atlanta Braves or the Washington Red Skins were disrespectful. I went to Alice Robertson Jr. High, I thought it was cool to be an “A.R. Warrior“. My Daughter goes there now and they are affiliated with the High School so no more Warriors, now they are “Roughers” their mascot is a Bulldog with a hardhat. I wonder if my dog is pissed off about that. Why ain‘t the ASPCA getting on someone’s ass about that?
“Native-American” or “American-Indian” I just don’t care for those terms myself. Who would ever want to play “European-Anglo-Invaders and Native-Americans?” I liked it better when I was a kid and could be a plain old Indian, just don’t call me (or us) a Blanket Ass or Prairie Nigger and we’ll be fine. I am lucky enough to live about 6 blocks from the “Five Civilized Tribes Museum”. Choctaw, Chickasaw, Cherokee, Creek (Muscogee) and Seminole. When the leaves are down I can see it from my front porch. It’s on top of Agency Hill next to the Veteran’s Hospital at the entrance to Honor Heights Park in Muskogee Ok, visit it sometime and take a child with you. You can even go on line at http://www.fivetribes.org/www_fivetribes_com.html or at http://www.fivetribes.org/ Check it out. By the way I am Cherokee, Creek, French, and Black Dutch on my Mom’s side I guess that makes me American-American. Good day.

I must have gotten ahold of some bad pork...

Tuesday, April 11th, 8:24 in the PM, The chicken I ordered has arrived, was paid for and the delivery chic has left. 8:26 PM setting on toilet, feet straight out rocketing hot chocolaty Yoo-Hoo out of my ass. 8:46 PM flush toilet. 8:48 PM flush toilet again, grab plunger just in case, nope... false alarm the tide recedes. 8:50 PM setting on side of bed, cramp once, cramp twice, back to the shitter. 8:58 PM after several brushes with death, flush toilet, "Code Red", all hands on plunger and plunge, and plunge, stop, check, and plunge again, flush once more, clean up splatter off side of sink and back to the bed. 9:04 PM, Damn near shit myself before I decided I needed to be back on the crapper, 9:04:24 PM almost had to clean hallway and one small dog. 9:06 PM hot ass chowder flowing copiously like from my corn hole consisting of mostly hot liquid, followed by small chunks (feels like grape nuts) and several air pockets, I'm glad no one is within earshot or noseshot, smells like something from the X-Files, I go ahead and take my shorts off and plan on staying a while. I set back and prop my feet up on the trash can and kill time reading the Scope bottle and petting the dog. After about three more bouts with Hell I decide the worst has got to be over, get out a second roll of butt-wipe do the paperwork, flush and pray everything goes well, it does and I exit the bathroom. 9:25 PM, You Have Got To Be Kidding Me !! Call 9*1*1, Big Cramp with sounds of gurgling, back to the hopper. Constipated Diarrhea, What the Hell is Up with That ? Oh My Gawd !!... my ass feels like I was sodomized with a 2x4 filled with rusty nails, my first shit was brown followed by green, then yellow now it's orange and white with flecks of blue. I have to wet the butt wipe with cold water and kind of daub at my butt hole gently. 9:45 PM, One hour and twenty one minutes later, I'm finally setting in the living room buck-assed naked watching "Everyone Loves Raymond" and eating my chicken. Stay away from "Sum Ting Wong's House of Pork Sushi" Good day

~ Reading, It Expands the Mind ~

My Mother use to read to me as a young child. I think that is where I get my love of a story that you can close your eyes to and become a part of. I remember her reading “Black Beauty” when I was about six years old. She had a voice and a way of speaking that made the book come alive. I would rather listen to her read than watch TV (I still loved going to the movies though). She is the reason I wanted to learn to read. I would get in trouble in grade school during reading class because when the teacher would have us take turns reading out loud I would be pages ahead when it was my turn. She just thought I wasn’t paying attention but it drove me nuts to have to wait and follow along at a speed that did not allow my mind to get lost in the words. My favorite thing in school was when we got to order books from a handout. Mom and Dad couldn’t say no to a book. They did however have to limit me to two or three. Anything about the West, horses, or some type of animal, and sometimes maybe an art book. Of course the first book I ordered and read on my own was "Black Beauty". I couldn’t wait for them to come in, and when they did I was in such a hurry to read them that it seemed an awful long wait until I could order some more. As I grew older my interests changed or expanded some. I went from reading about “Benji” a little beagle and “Old Bones” an unwanted race horse, to Biographies on sports greats like Johnny Unitas, Roger Staubach, or Hank Aaron. I would stay up all night in my room reading, then my Mom would get mad because I did not want to get up and go to school. That’s probably where I got the habit of staying up all night and sleeping all day when I could. That still plagues me to this day. After high school and a short stint at working at a grocery store, I bummed around for a while. One of the brief periods that I did not have a job and did not work for my Dad laying carpet. I would read anything I could get my hands on except my Mom’s Romance novels (Ok, I read one once, it‘s a sad day when you find out that your Mom‘s a freak). My Dad had a book in his hands all the time, I mean all the time. Anytime he had a break at work he would read, he would read at home, in a store parking lot, he would even sit in his truck in the driveway and read. He said it was the only place quiet enough when you had five kids. Always Westerns, Louis L’amour, Max Brand, Zane Grey. Louis L’amour was always the best and he wrote a few that were made into Movies, like one of my favorites “Hondo” with non other than, John Wayne. My Mom would read westerns too. My dad would trade paper backs with “Bill’s Barber Shop and Book Store” he cut my Dads hair and had used books for sail or trade. My Dad would have gone broke at the rate he and my Mom read buying new books. It was the only luxury my parents allowed themselves. Anyway it meant that I always had an endless supply of books. Eventually it caught up with me and I started to get headaches. They came more and more as I read. Still I would read all night and fight a headache all day. Reading glasses did not help, better lighting did not help, reading for shorter periods of time was just infuriating. So in time my reading fell to the way side and I found other ways of passing the time. Turned more toward TV and movies, they did not seem to bother my head. We didn’t have cable and my Dad was as bad as I am about keeping up with the times. I was probably 20 before we get a VCR and even then we never had movies for it. Regular TV was so much better back then. Most stations had a movie of the week or a Saturday Movie. That’s where me and Dad would watch our Westerns, or maybe a late night movie would come on. Disney was always good for a pretty good movie. I really liked the ones about animals that were narrated by Rex Allen. He also would announce the National Finals Rodeo back when it was sponsored by Massey Ferguson Tractor. We would even watch “Hee Haw” together. Man that would kill kids now days. I would still pick up a book now and then but as the years went by, it became less and less. Now that I’m trying to catch up with the rest of the world with computers (at forty one) I get headaches again but now I eat a bunch of Excedrin Migraines and seem to do better. There is a whole lot more to look at on a computer than there is on TV. If you can think of it you can most likely click on it somewhere. Thinking about this has sure got me in the mood for a Louis L’amour book, I wonder if Bill’s is still open, Hell he’s probably been dead 20 years now. I guess I’ll have to just click on Amazon dot com. Good Day.

~ My Heroes Have Always Been Cowboys ~

My dad wasn’t really a cowboy, we had a few cows when we were kids, and when we lived in the country we always had a horse or two, maybe some chickens. My Grandpa traded horses for a living. My dad always said he had never in his life been thrown by a horse, the first time I even remember my dad getting on a horse he must have been about 48 or 49 and weighed 320 at the time. It was a green broke 2 year old Bay colt my Grandpa had, too much for me, tossed me on my butt before I even got started and I was a hoss myself at 15 and thought myself quite the horseman. My dad got up on him with ease for a man of his size, rode him around for a few minutes against several tries by the colt to unseat him, they finally got into a pretty big swarm, the horse bucked, jumped a few times and then stood straight up on it’s hind legs, my Dad’s feet must have been about 6 feet off the ground when he came loose, but he landed both feet firmly on the ground right beside the horse looked at me, said “Good, my record still stands” walked to the house and got himself a glass of ice tea.

The first movie I ever went to was in1969, “True Grit”. It was playing at the 64 Drive-In in Muskogee Oklahoma. John Wayne, Glen Campbell, Kim Darby, and Robert Duvall. I believe it won the Oscar that year for Best Picture. I went of course with my family in my Dad’s old White Ford Station Wagon. I remember when he sold that car, he bought a Green Ford Station Wagon. A 1971 Ford Country Squire LTD, Olive Green with wood grain trim. It had a fold down back seat and rear storage compartment way in the back. Held 37 people… well, maybe it held 8, but it was a big-ass car. First car I ever drove. Man, my Mom really freaked out that day, I don’t know but maybe I should have waited until my dad got home from work. That was the worst whipping I ever got, but hey, I was 12 and I had places to go. I’m just kidding, it wasn’t really the worst whipping I ever Got. It would be hard to pin point the worst. Anyway back to the movie. To save money we stopped on the way at Haley’s Dog House on 6th and Elgin and loaded up on chili dogs and sodas. Chili dogs were 10 cents a piece so we could afford to get enough to even take some home after the show. I can remember the price because 10 years later you could still see on the sign where Haley marked out 10 cents, then 15, and then marked in 25 cents. You could still afford to buy a box full. I can also remember how big I thought that picture screen was, it was huge. Of course I don’t remember much about the movie at that time, I was only 5, but I remember John Wayne and I can remember the sound that you can only get at a drive-in. I probably fell asleep before it was even over. Since then I’ve seen it several times I even own it now. I use to watch a lot of John Wayne movies with my Dad along with a lot of other childhood Heroes, like Jimmy Stewart, Gary Cooper, Randolph Scott, Robert Mitchum, Henry Fonda, Glen Ford, Kirk Douglas, Charlton Heston, Walter Brennan, Ward Bond, Clint Eastwood, and even my mom’s favorite, Victor Mature. Westerns were a big part of my childhood, Hell I even had a Gunsmoke lunch box. But I would have to say that John Wayne has always been my second biggest Hero, he was tough and straight like my Dad, you could light a wooden match on either one of their cheeks. They had the same smile. It was more in their eyes than it was their mouths. I miss my Dad, truth be known he was tougher than John Wayne, hardest working man there ever was, bar none. If I was half the man he was… well that’s all I can say about that now. I miss my Mom Too. I sure would like to see them again someday. Damn Good People, I was truly blessed to have them. I hope my Brothers and Sister remember them as I do, I hope my Daughter remembers me with fondness. I would like to thank my friend Barbara for making me think of writing about my Dad, she wrote a piece on her Dad, I tip my hat to you Mickey. And I would like to thank my friend Jay for sending me a picture of John Wayne today, came at a good time. I would like to thank John Wayne also, many times he has taken me with him on rides and shootouts, if not for only in my dreams.

“TOMORROW IS THE MOST IMPORTANT THING IN LIFE,
COMES INTO US AT MIDNIGHT VERY CLEAN,
IT’S PERFECT WHEN IT ARRIVES AND IT PUTS ITSELF IN OUR HANDS,
IT HOPES WE’VE LEARNED SOMETHING FROM YESTERDAY.”
JOHN WAYNE
1907 - 1979