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 |  My second blog. What you get are pieces of me; my humor, my memories: be welcome. |
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MY BOOK! http://www.lulu.com/davidmac73 This picture was in the header of my first blog and I wanted to bring it back. Me and my sweetie on our wedding day....it is my favorite picture. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** This is my second Blog on WDC. The first Blog, Random Thoughts, is finished and done and I loved almost every minute I spent doing it. This blog will be somewhat different than the first because I want to use this space for my humor and my memories. The humor may sometimes fall flat and the memories may, at times be boring, but isn't that the way it is with life. Please join me here and partake in these pieces of me and if sometimes you find the jokes unfunny or the memories dull, then please come back another day and maybe you will find something to your liking. After all, like my daddy always said: "Some days you get the bear, some days the bear gets you." Thank you, vivacious   for this neat new logo for my blog! Yup, this about says it all, I think!** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** I thought that Independence Day was the appropriate day to put this great new siggy in my blog....Thank you sultry ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Please check out Scarlett's Newsletter for Bloggers: The Blogville News
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Thank you, Startiara  for this lovely Siggy!! ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| There is a movie out now about the battle of Thermopylae . The movie opened on March 7, 2007 and quickly took over the top spot in the box office winners for that week, amassing over 42 million dollars the opening weekend. Now I had heard talk of this movie for over a year and as a lover of history, especially ancient military history, I was fairly chomping at the bits to see the film. I knew that with our know-how in special effects that Hollywood would finally be able to really capture the real essence of this epic battle. When will I ever learn? As usual, my middle son, Patrick managed to see the movie before me. Now Pat inherited my love of military and ancient history and he too was looking forward to seeing this film. He lost no time in calling me and reporting his findings and gloating that he had beat the old man to the punch and watched it before me….the brat! He said he loved the movie. It was beautifully shot and the cinematography was wonderful….but…..there were a few small problems with the film. “WHAT?†Well it seemed that, in the film the Persians deployed massed Calvary. “What the hell? The Greeks chose Thermopylae as their battle- ground mainly because it was a narrow strip of land between the mountains and the sea that kept the Persians from using their cavalry forces…..THERE WAS NO CAVALRY AT THERMOPYLAE!†By now I was fairly yelling into the phone. “Well there were a couple of other sore spots.†He was actually laughing now. :â€Like what?†“Hum…uh…the Persians had Battle Rhinos but don’t worry, the Greeks were shown killing them with a simple toss of a spear.†He continues to chuckle. “BATTLE RHINOS? MOTHER OF GOD!†By this time the large vein in my temple was pounding like a kettle drum. “What drug-induced dream did they conjure that piece of idiocy from?†“Uh, maybe you should put the phone down and take a moment†Pat said. “You sound like your blood pressure is peaking.†I took a deep breath and counted to ten. “Okay, I’m all better now. What else did the Idiot, Hollywood, mushroom-heads do to the story?†“Well there is the small matter of Spartans wearing Speedos. Oh and did I mention the naked Oracle of Delphi?†“I’ll call you back,†I told him weakly. “I need to go take a pill and lay down.†Like I said: When will I ever learn? Hollywood is not to be trusted! I had waited for over a year for the arrival of this movie. I thought that finally Hollywood would make a true and correct reenactment of one of the most famous battles in history but noooo. Instead they made a comic book version of the battle. Now why should that come as a surprise, after all it was a comic book story which they chose to follow in bringing the movie to the screen. That’s right, the movie was first a damn comic book. What, they couldn’t get enough details from history books? IDIOTS! This is one story Hollywood did not have to embellish in order to make it more heroic or noble; the facts themselves do that. For those of you who are not familiar with the details of that particular battle let me give you a few facts. Warning: there will be no battle rhinos in this version. An alliance of Greek city states opposed the vast army of King Xerxes. Thermopylae was chosen as the place to fight because it was such a narrow strip of land that Xerxes would be unable to employ his cavalry and could only bring a small portion of his other troops to bear on the defenders at a time. The Persian army has been estimated to have numbered somewhere around 250 to 400 thousand men. Opposing this army at Thermopylae was a force of 300 Spartans led by King Leonidas along with some 7,000 troops from different city states. The Spartans and their allies held out for three days and inflicted heavy losses upon the Persian army. Finally, though the Persians discovered a trail over the mountains to a position behind the Greeks. Thus cut off and surrounded, Leonidas orded his allies to retreat to safety before the Persians could seal them up and then he and his 300 Spartans along with about 1000 thespians stood off the massive Persian army long enough to allow their friends to escape. They knew if they stayed and fought on, they would die, but they chose to do so and allow their friends a chance to get away. Every man died where they stood and none tried to surrunder. Now I ask you…Is this a story that needs exaggeration? This is a story that showcases everything that is good and noble about the cult of the warrior and it has been passed down over twenty-five hundred years as an example of courage and sacrifice that every soldier hopes he can live up to if it is ever needed. So what did Hollywood give us? Damned Battle Rhinos and naked Oracles! Oh I’m still going to see the damn thing when it shows here. I will go if for no other reason than to be able to THROW THINGS AT THE SCREEN! And the moral of this blog entry today is a simple one: HOLLYWOOD SUCKS! Thank you. |
| I believe that another "Mongo" story is in order this morning for your reading enjoyment. Read that as: Hell, I can't think of anything else to write about! As I have said in prior entries, Mongo, my little brother has long been my adversary in the Practical Joke Wars and one of the first salvos of this war was fired way back in the day when I was 15 and he was 10 years old. As was our custom back then, the fourth of July was spent exploding large amounts of fireworks. On this particular Fourth Mongo and I made our way down to the nearby creek, each of us carrying a large bag of firecrackers, roman candles and other large and small explosive items. It was around five in the afternoon and we planned on spending the evening locked in “war†with our toy soldiers, using the fireworks as ammo that would lend our play a more realistic feel. We set right to work and I am proud to announce that I bested him in three out of five mock battle scenarios we set up. The secret being, I had more roman candles than he did and I was able to take out his tanks rather quickly then flank him….after that it was only a matter of time before he succumbed to my sterling generalship. Thus it was that we managed to pass a delightful summer afternoon. All too soon the sun set and as darkness fell, we both heard mom when she stepped out the back door and called for us to come home. Well, I wasn’t quite ready for all the fun to stop so I hatched a spur-of-the-moment plan. I chose the moment with care and, when Mongo was busy gathering up the last of his toy soldiers, I dropped my lighted punk into his large paper bag, which still held quite a few fireworks! Now for those of you unfamiliar with the exploding of personal fireworks, the “punk†is a very slow burning rod that you use to ignite your firecrackers. They look a lot like those incense sticks some people like to burn in their house. Well Mongo didn’t notice this move and he finished gathering up his toy soldiers, then grabbed his bag of fireworks and started to walk toward the house; blissfully ignorant of the explosive surprise that was only seconds from overtaking him. I didn’t try to follow him. Rather, I stood still and just watched his back as he walked away. It was dark and I could not really see him but I could see the soft glow which emanated from his bag. It gave off a sort of throbbing pulse of light as the fire from the punk began to contact various fuses in the sack. I did a silent count-down from ten and by the time I hit “twoâ€, it happened….BAM! POW! The explosions happened in rapid-fire and with each explosion Mongo’s body was illuminated in a halo of light and with each flash I was treated to the hilarious sight of Mongo in a different pose. Hands thrown up, body contorted. Limbs akimbo, shirt smoldering….think of those old cartoon characters like Wile Coyote caught in one of his own traps. I couldn’t help myself, I collapsed on the side of the road, my body racked in gales of laughter. Mongo’s high-pitched squealing as he ran in jerky jumps and starts toward the safety of home was almost as funny as his attempts to swat at the exploding firecrackers! I swear the whole episode was one of the funniest things I have ever witnessed to this very day and it was well worth the massive ass-whuping I got when I finally made it home…still snickering. Looking back on it now, I believe that this prank marked the beginnings of a Practical Joke war that has raged, almost non-stop for the next forty years. Even today, remembering the event, I still laugh…it was just that good. As for Mongo, well he still gets peeved, even today when I bring up that little episode but his kids never tire of having me retell the story. So from these humble beginnings, the Great War has raged over the decades. Who has won? Hell, I don’t think it will ever end until one of us is taking a dirt nap so you will have to wait awhile before a final judging of who is the victor. I guess we will just leave that to future historians…we are too busy plotting our next move. |
| Today is your lucky day…I am dry. I really have absolutely nothing to say that would be of any interest to anyone. Of course that has never stopped me from taking up space in here before but today is different. Today, if you are looking for something meaningful to read then you should make a mad dash over to PlannerDan ’s blog and read his latest entry, "Invalid Entry"  . Dan has hit one out of the park with this entry and I see by his comments that he has touched upon a subject that has meaning to a lot of people in here…me included. Well done, Dan.As for me, well I am going to try to coax Mel out of bed and if she feels up to it, I think I will take her to the lake. Maybe we can set up a couple of lawn chairs on the bank and spend a few hours watching our corks bob on the smooth surface of the water. She needs this time away and I think I do too. Perhaps it will take her mind off her illness. Either way, at least we will have some quiet time together…that, in the end, is enough to make this a good day. |
| I love jokes that can be called: Groaners. You know the one’s I’m talking about; the ones that after you hear them you can’t help but laugh just because they are so dang bad! Well, I decided to give you three “groaners†today in lieu of trying to write anything remotely funny in this blog space. You see I am on another nine days of vacation starting today and I am feeling really lazy….besides, Mel left me a “honey do†list from hell and I really need to get started on the thing! So here, without further ado, is three jokes that will make you groan….and I hope chuckle just a little.  *************************** A man is waiting for his wife to give birth. The doctor comes in and informs the dad that his son was born without torso, arms or legs. The son is just a head! But the dad loves his son and raises him as well as he can, with love and compassion. After 18 years, the son is now old enough for his first drink. Dad takes him to the bar, tearfully tells the son he is proud of him and orders up the biggest, strongest drink for his boy. With all the bar patrons looking on curiously and the bartender shaking his head in disbelief, the boy takes his first sip of alcohol. Swoooosh! Plop!! A torso pops out! The bar is dead silent, then bursts into whoops of joy. The father, shocked, begs his son to drink again. The patrons chant "Take another drink!" The bartender continues to shake his head in dismay. Swoooosh! Plip! Plop!! Two arms pop out. The bar goes wild. The father, crying and wailing, begs his son to drink again. The patrons chant, "Take another drink! Take another drink!!" The bartender ignores the whole affair and goes back to polishing glasses, shaking his head, clearly unimpressed by the amazing scenes. By now the boy is getting tipsy, but with his new hands he reaches down, grabs his drink and guzzles the last of it. Plop! Plip!! Two legs pop out. The bar is in chaos. The father falls to his knees and tearfully thanks God. The boy stands up on his new legs and stumbles to the left then staggers to the right through the front door, into the street, where a truck runs over him and kills him instantly The bar falls silent. The father moans in grief. The bartender sighs and says, â€He should have quit while he was ahead!†**************************************** A blonde woman was speeding down the road in her little red sports car and was pulled over by a woman police officer who was also a blonde. The blonde cop asked to see the blonde driver's license. She dug through her purse and was getting progressively more agitated. †What does it look like?" she finally asked. The policewoman replied, "It's square and it has your picture on it." The driver finally found a square mirror in her purse, looked at it, and handed it to the policewoman. "Here it is," she said. The blonde officer looked at the mirror, then handed it back saying, "Okay , you can go. I didn't realize you were a cop"  ********************************************************** Three Arkansas surgeons were playing golf together and discussing surgeries they had performed. One of them said, "I'm the best surgeon in Arkansas. In my favorite case, a concert pianist lost seven fingers in an accident, I reattached them, and 8 months later he performed a private concert for the Queen of England.†The second surgeon said. "That's nothing. A young man lost an arm and both legs in an accident, I reattached them, and 2 years later he won a gold medal in track and field events in the Olympics." The third surgeon said, "You guys are amateurs. Several years ago a woman was high on cocaine and marijuana and she rode a horse head-on into a train traveling 80 miles an hour. All I had left to work with was the woman's blonde hair and the horse's ass. I was able to put them together and now she's a senator from New York!†|
| This is not a Rant. I do not seek to debate the issue raised here. If you have a strong differing opinion then use your own blog space and go at it. All I am doing is calmly stating my own opinion on this subject. *********************************** Tuesday, March 6, 2007 Spc. Agustin Aguayo, 35, was convicted of desertion. He said he refused to return to Iraq because he believes war is immoral. “I respect everyone’s views and your decision, I understand that people don’t understand me,†he testified. “I tried my best, but I couldn’t bear weapons and I could never point weapons at someone.†Aguayo joined the army in 2002, when the war was already being fought in Afganastan. He served as a combat medic in Iraq in 2004. Only after that did he try to be classified as a conscientious objector; a request which was denied by the Army. While in Germany, awaiting a return to Iraq, Aguayo jumped out of his barracks window and went AWOL. He made it home to California where he was arrested. Here is my problem with Agustin Aguayo and people like him.... The man had the gall to claim that he believed war was immoral, that killing was wrong...AFTER he had served one hitch in Iraq. He joined the army, he said, to earn money for his education. At the time he joined did he think that maybe they had somehow changed the job description of a soldier and had made killing and war something the army didn't have to indulge in if they didn't want to? The whole time he was in boot camp learning survival taticts and how to shoot a rifle and hand to hand combat did it not cross his mind that he might actually be asked to fullfill his part of the bargain? Is there a person on the planet who does not know that it is a soldier's job is to serve as an extention of his country's political policy through force of arms? This is what Armies do; it is what soldiers do...they fight, they kill, and they die. This is not rocket science! This is not like Vietnam when, because of the draft, young men were forced into service against their will. Aguayo had a choice. Aguayo made the decision to take the Army's money for school believing he would never have to actually fullfill his part of the contract....silly boy. If Aguayo is a conscientious objector then I am a jet airplane pilot and trust me....you do not want to fly in a plane I try to fly. Had he truely held moral issue with killing he would have spoken up when he first joined....you do get the chance to do that. No, he remained silent and even went to Iraq for one tour. I am sure that his moral delima came as a result of that first tour....He was scared to return. Simple as that. He got to the point where he would do or say anything to keep from going back into the meatgrinder of war again. Now had he said that; had he admited to being simply afraid of dying, then I could have understood that and even applauded him for being honest in stating aloud what everyone in war feels...raw fear...24/7. Instead he chose to cloak himself in a higher moral standing by proclaiming to be a conscientious objector; bullshit! I knew a real live conscientious objector who was drafted in Vietnam. He did not flee to Canada, instead he reported to duty, told them he could never carry a weapon or kill another human then he VOLENTEERED to be a combat medic. He served his tour and never carried a gun. Now that is a man with the courage of his convictions. This was a man to respect....not Mr. Aguayo. Mr. Aguayo is simply a man looking for a way out and for that he deserves no respect. Look, don't get me wrong here; being afraid is no sin. Anyone who has ever been in combat and said they were not afraid is either a liar or just plain crazy. You are afraid all the time. You want nothing more than to be somewhere, anywhere, else rather than in a combat zone. The difference is, most men control that fear and do their duty. Mr. Aguayo seems intent on doing and saying anything to get his ass out of the fire. And it worked. He was found guilty and will serve a mere eight months brig time and then will be free to come back home while someone else takes his place and serves in spite of his own fear, to do his sworn duty. |
| You know, in my last entry I told you about the Death Clock thing. Well, it would seem that I was remiss in not doing the deathclock for my computer...IT DIED! Night before last, thankfully after I finished all my WDC stuffage, the damn thing began to do a really great impersonation of a boat anchor. It just sat there on my desk and did nothing. No matter how many times I hit the "on" button-which is the extent of my computer know-how- nothing would turn on. So yesterday morning, after Mel was able to pry my hands off the tower (you have any idea how hard it is to strangle a computer tower?) she bundled my sobbing, ranting, hulk into the car to go to work and she took the computer to the Computer Hospital. Within moments of her arrival at the computer place the geek who ran the shop gave his learned opinion: "This piece of crap has gone to computer heaven", he told her. Now upon hearing this heart-rending news Mel knew she had only a couple of options open to her. 1. Divorce me and move into the witness protection program. 2. Shoot me and call it a mercy killing. No jury in the world would have convicted her. 3. Get another computer in the house as soon as humanly possible. Thankfully she opted for choice #3. Now the computer geek was very interested in what killed my computer so he did the Geek version of CSI with a complete computer autopsy of the dead machine. It didn't take him long to come back with the results of his sluething. "Have you or your Husband either one ever recieved an email from ccstring?" Mel nodded her head sadly. "Yes, as a matter of fact he and my husband are friends." The geek folded his arms and gave Mel a hard look. "CC has no friends," he told her gravely. "The man is the internet version of Typhoid Mary". He destroys computers right and left. He uses what we in the business call: The Atomic Bomb of Stupid Virus! The first thing to go is your spell check...for obvious reasons...then the rest of the computer crashes." SO ALL YOU FOLKS...WATCH OUT FOR THE STUPID BOMB!!!! So now I have a new...well "like new" computer and I will probably spend the next week or so just trying to figure out how to access my MSN Hotmail. Ain't life grand! Long story, short....well kinda....I'm back! I know some of you were hoping for a longer absence but...TOUGH COOKIES! Now I got a ton of blogs to catch up on...this may take days! |
| Public service annoucement: If any of you get an email from ccstring DO NOT OPEN IT! He sent me one yesterday which had something in it. Whatever it was immediately attacked my computer and killed my spell-check program! I did a little research and found out it was a new virus called: The CC Atomic Bomb of Stupid! It is truely horrible and he sent it to me on purpose. HE'S TRYING TO TAKE OVER WDC!!! Now, on a brighter note....A couple of days ago I made a monumentous discovery. I found out that I am going to die on April 8, 2016! At first, I have to admit; I panicked. I ran around the house screaming; "THE SKY IS FALLING! THE SKY IS FALLING!" Then I figured out that I had the wrong fairy tale and the sky wasn't falling afterall, just my little part of it. Anyway, after I calmed down and thought about it, I discovered that knowing the exact day, month and year of one's own death was sort of liberating. Now I can make plans....granted I can't make any plans which might take over eight years, eleven months to come to fruitation, but hey, beggars can't be chosers. I started to think about what I wanted to do in these next eight years before I check out and I came up with a little list. 1. I want to finally get up to Montana and visit that other sissy, bunny-boy, partyof5dj just so he can brag to his grandkids, when they come visit him in the home for the feeble, that he did in fact get to meet a real macho, he-man, Texas Cowboy once upon a time. 2. I want to kidnap CC, lock him in a round room and watch him beat himself to death against the walls when I tell him to "Go to the corner". 3. I want to carry off the world's largest bank robbery and get away with it. I will use this money to realize #4 and #5. 4. I want to sail across the Alantic on a Cruise ship with Mel, accompanied by Nada and Hubby and visit Sarah over in Turkey. What a treat it would be to have the five of us sitting around a table and swapping tales! 5. We would all then set sail again and head out to England where we would hook up with Scarlett and tour Merry ole England. Not a bad list of five if I do say so myself! Now of course I take information like that with a HUGE grain of salt. I found it on a site called: Death Clock and it was mildly entertaining to say the least. What I did find interesting about this date they pulled out of thin air was that if it were true, then I would die at the age of 67. What is interesting about that is the fact that very few male members of the McClain family ever live past the age of 67, in fact my father and uncle were that age when they died. But then again, just to show you how weak their death argument is, I fed in my height and weight and they told me I was OBESE! I am six foot one inch tall and weigh 225. You guys have seen my picture...is that obese? SHADDUP CC AND PARTY!! If I ever got down to the weight they say is good then I WOULD die....of starvation....within a month! In fact I weighted 210 when I was eighteen and in the military. Of course, if I DO fall over dead on April 8, 2016 will one of you guys please put: "HEY, STUPID, THEY WERE RIGHT" on my tombstone. |
| As many of you may know by now....ccstring is back in da house! Yes, he left a blog entry today which will clutter up the blog page for hours before it is finally down to page two. Well I waited for him to make an entry today before doing one of my own cause I want to keep that pervert in FRONT of me at all times...just in case he tries something underhanded. Man I am glad I waited. He came back in here and started trying to get folks to call me names! The ingrate. He does something underhanded even though it was ME who bailed him out of jail so he could come back to Blogville. He was in jail due to an unfortunate incident which took place a couple of weeks ago, around midnight, at a sheep farm down the road from where CC lives. The farmer was not a happy camper...neither were the sheep that got violated. Anyway, now that I know he is back to his old tricks, I don't mind posting a couple of stories about him that I had promised him I would never tell you folks. WEll all bets are off!! Enjoy the read...LOL! *********************** partyof5dj decided to go skiing with his buddy, ccstring. So they loaded up Party's minivan and headed north. After driving for a few hours, they got caught in a terrible blizzard. So they pulled into a nearby farm and asked the attractive lady who answered the door if they could spend the night. "I realize it's terrible weather out there and I have this huge house all to myself, but I'm recently widowed," she explained. "I'm afraid the neighbors will talk if I let you stay in my house." "Don't worry," Party said. "We'll be happy to sleep in the barn. And if the weather breaks, we'll be gone at first light." The lady agreed, and the two men found their way to the barn and settled in for the night. Come morning, the weather had cleared, and they got on their way. They enjoyed a great weekend of skiing.! But about nine months later, Party got an unexpected letter from an attorney. It took him a few minutes to figure it out, but he finally determined that it was from the attorney of that attractive widow he had met on the ski weekend. He dropped in on his friend CC and asked, "CC, do you remember that good-looking widow from the farm we stayed at on our ski holiday up north about 9 months ago?" "Yes, I do." said CC "Did you, er, happen to get up in the middle of the night, go up to the house and pay her a visit?" "Well, um, yes," CC said, a little embarrassed about being found out, "I have to admit that I did." "And did you happen to give her my name instead of telling her your name?" CC's face turned beet red and he said, "Yeah, look, I'm sorry, buddy.! I'm afraid I did." "Why do you ask?" "She just died and left me everything." (And you thought the ending would be different, didn't you?.. ********************************* CC liked to frequent the old swimming hole but was never able to attract the girls. He decided to ask his friend Tor for advice. "It's those big baggy swimming trunks that make you look like an old fool... They're years outta style. Your best bet is to grab yourself a pair of Speedos-about two sizes too little and drop a fist-sized tater down inside them. I'm telling ya man...you'll have all the babes you want!" The following weekend, CC hits the swimming hole with his spanking new tight Speedos, and his fist-sized potato. Everybody at the swimming hole was disgusted as he walked by, covering their faces, turning away, laughing, looking sick! CC went back to his good friend Tor and asked him, "What's wrong now?" Lard-Almighty CC!" said Tor, "the tater goes in the front!" **************************************** |
| There are certain movies that I will watch over and over and they never lose their power to entertain or move me on some level. "Legends of the Fall" is one of those movies as is "Troy". It just so happens that these are the only two Brad Pitt movies I have ever really cared for. He seems to have found, in these two movies, characters that fit him and it shows in his performance on the screen. It was Legends which first awakened my love for the Montana landscape; the wide open spaces, the mountains and the FREEDOM. It planted within me an itch which will only be healed by actually seeing that country for myself one day. The movie also brought out how a man can carry the demons of war with him through out his whole life without ever placing them to rest. "Troy" was a powerful movie for me on two different levels. First, as a lover of ancient military history, I really loved the way the film maker got it right. The portraial of the actual single combat actually used tactics taught to Greek soldiers in ancient armies. The movie also highlights the struggle of a man who, though he lives by the sword, still yearns for peace and love...in the end THAT was his only weakness...his Achilles heel. For me these two movies illustrate what we as writers try to achieve with our words; we strive to move others, to touch their souls and evoke their emotions. I think THAT is what I love about both these movies the most...they move me everytime I watch them. Wouldn't it be wonderful if our own words were able to do that...to move just one person powerfully each time they read them. So we keep writing...and hoping. |
| Ever so often, here in my blog space, I like to just set aside all the stories of my youth, the rants, the blatant opinion pieces, and just tell you about someone else you may not be aware of here in Blogville...Today is one of those days. One of the best kept secrets here in Blogville and in fact, on WDC as a whole is the author, Rasputin  . Joe has a blog: "Bloggin' Umholtz" . If for whatever reason you have not given this blog a read...GO AND DO IT! For those of you who enjoy humor of the downhome varity and the voice of the common man, you will love this blog. Now, while you are at it, you also need to check out Joe's portfolio. If you want to spend one day laughing your butt off or maybe just smiling a lot as your own memories are triggered by his well written stories then you need to check out:
Joe has collected 31 short stories here Little Jim and the rest of his offbeat buddies that will keep you in stitches. So grab a bag of Pork Skins, a bottle of Yoo Hoo and be prepared to be entertained! ************************ Speaking of humor, have all of you read PlannerDan 's latest entry about his foray into the game of Golf yet? Well "Invalid Entry" is a "must" read. His entry reminded me of the time me and Mongo took up the game of Golf...it was not a pretty sight and I may have to blog about that subject at a future date.Okay, so there you have it; my favorite kind of entry to do. I love writing about my much more talented friends instead of stuff about me. NOW GET OUTTA HERE AND READ THESE TWO GUYS...THEY ARE DA BOMB!!! |
| Off Subject: All right, who did it? Come on, fess up...don't make me get the rubber hose out! What did you do? Well someone out there, one of you who are probably reading this right now, gave me the surprise of my life! Yesterday I discovered that two of my stories: "Invalid Item" and "Invalid Item" , were sponsered...dang! I saw them show up on the left of my page under: Sponsered Items and about fell out of my chair! Whoever did this, I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart...that was such a nice thing to do. ************************* Yesterday I stated that I believed that Blogs need to be rated and reviewed just like any other genre here on WDC and it's true. You see I get tired of reading where someone thinks that blog writing isn't REAL writing, not like short stories or poetry or novels. Well bull hockey! Those bloggers who take pride in the product they create and put their best effort into writing their blog entries produce an item that is every bit as informative, funny, or educational as any article or column you will ever find in any magizine or newspaper. Blogging is a genre just like any other you see listed in those OFFICAL newsletters. It is my opinion that it takes even more effort and talent to catch and hold a group of reader's fancy over a long period of time with a blog, than it takes to write a short story or poem which they may or may not read just once then move on. Yes, I am aware that there is a large group who blog who consider it no more than an online diary or journal and they give little or no thought as to the product they put out for the public. Those people have no interest in improving their blog writing skills; their interest lies with other genres...what they do is more social than anything. That's okay if it is what they want but many writers here want more from their blog efforts. They want to be as good at their genre of interest as they can be. So they deserve ratings and reviews in order to know whether or not they are getting it right. If you don't think blogs are a serious genre, then look at how many times newspapers and televison news shows quote different blog writers. Blogs have become an alternative to the TV and print media as a source of information and entertainment. So why, considering all of that, can not the powers that be on WDC see their way clear to create an OFFICAL newsletter for bloggers. If not that, then why can't they offer some help and advice to our own Scarlett in her struggle in getting The Blogville News seen by ALL bloggers.What can we do to help Scarlett get the word out about this most exelent newsletter? 1. We can ALL put a link to the newsletter in out blog intro. Hell, it's not hard and it won't cost you a damn penny. 2. We can ALL find a way to mention...once a week or so...the Newsletter in our blogs and provide a link. 3. We can ALL welcome new bloggers and steer them ALL toward the Newsletter in our first welcome comment to their blogs. 4. We can ALL become seriously involved and not let Scarlett do all the work herself. Come on, and don't give me that whole "It's an evil Clique" bullshit. EVERY DANG PERSON WHO DOES A BLOG IS WELCOME IN THAT NEWSLETTER. If you don't believe that then the problem, most likly lies with you, not the newsletter. 5. We can start a new contest: Blog entry of the Month with the winners being highlighted in the Newsletter. Okay, that's five. Anyone else got any ideas please drop Scarlett a email and tell her what you think. I know she will apprecieate any input you can bring to her attention. |
| Boy are you folks ever lucky! No more goofy stories from me today, instead I am going to be reviewing and rating a lot of blogs. I have noticed, over the past few days that a number of blogs which I thought I had already rated and reviewed showed no rating from me. I am not sure what happened but I am going to go back today and remedy the situation. GONNA DO ME SOME REVIEWING!!! One little note here: Blogs need reviews too. All you great reviewers out there be sure and turn your attention to all the exelent blogs we have on WDC. Okay.....I'm off to review. Many of you will be hearing from me today! |
| My father never missed a chance to teach me little "life-lessons" and when I was fifteen he taught me a really important one and in the process, he gave me the opportunity to outrun a guy who had been the state champion in the 100 yard dash the year before. Now this story begins when My Uncle Frank, dad's older brother, talked him into going in with him and buying a small herd of cows. At the time the price of beef was way up in the marketplace and Frank figured the two of them could take this herd, fatten them up and sell the whole bunch in the spring for a tidy profit. As it happens, Frank had already spotted the cows he wanted to invest in and they were for sell...dirt cheap. Well there was a reason this particular herd was so damn cheap. The man who had owned the herd had died....a year and half prior and these cows were a part of his estate. The estate was being contested by two sons and as a result those cows had spent over a year living wild in the woods with no human contact. Oh, did I mention the cows in question were Brahmas? Now under ideal circumstances this is about the meanest, most ornery creature God ever put on the earth, but you let them run wild for a year and they get downright anti-social! The time came for us to go out and find the cows who were living on the back side of about 5,000 acres of forest and drive them up to the cattle pens. What should have been about a three or four hour drive with six men on horseback and some good cow-dogs ended up taking 10 hours. That is ten hours of hard riding, chasing cows and calves through thickets, dodging enraged mama's who were dead set on goring our horses and stomping our dogs. We had started before six in the morning and it was almost four in the afternoon before we finally fought the herd up to the cattle pens. Once the animals were safely locked inside the large feed lot we collapsed off our horses and our dogs crawled into some shade; we were all exhausted! It was then that Dad and uncle Frank explained that we were not quite through yet. Dad calmly told us that the cows had to be "nudged" through another gate and into a smaller pen which adjoined a squeeze chute. We were supposed to let them spend the night there and come back in the morning and put each animal into the chute so they could be branded and vaccinated....oh joy. When I saw that he wanted me and another boy, Richard D. to do the "nudging", I went over and started to mount my horse. "No, no," Dad said. "It's too close in there, you might get your horse hurt. You have to do this on foot." Well I looked in that pen and those cows and calves, plus one big bull were all standing in a circle....calves in the center, and all the others with their heads, and horns pointing in a defensive ring. This was not going to be a cake-walk. But dad seemed to think it was no big deal. He and uncle Frank took axes and cut me and Richard a couple of long saplings, shaved off the branches and handed them to us to use to prod the irate animals into the small pen. Now you have to understand something here. If my daddy told me to go into the next room and slap the devil upside the head, well that old son-of-a-gun was about to get knuckle-bumps. That's just the way I was raised and it was just my temperament. I always did what my daddy told me to do...or tried. Something else you need to know, just to set the scene, so to speak. Richard was about three years older than me and he had been the state champion in the 100 yard dash the year before. He was what they call a "Big man on Campus", not only as a state winner of that particular race, but also all-state in Football. He just had the misfortune to of needed some spending money and hired out to dad and uncle Frank to do this job. Now he was cocky, to say the least, and I have to admit, I was pretty cocky myself. I worked on a ranch and I was use to working cows and there wasn't no big, dumb cow going to get the best of me, not even a whole herd of them. So anyway, me and Richard grabbed our poles and we climbed the six foot board fence that surrounded the feed lot. We dropped into the lot and the herd of still angry cows turned their baleful eyes on us. I noticed that all the grown-ups had climbed up on a section of the fence to watch the show and they were all grinning....did they know something I didn't know? Okay, so I had never worked with Brahmas before but I had heard of them. My experience had all been with the more docile Hereford or white-faced cow. Not to be deterred by our ignorance, Richard and I stalked across the feed lot and to within poking distance of the cows. Without any hesitation at all we began to poke at the flanks of the nearest cows and that's when it happened..... That damned herd exploded on us! They came charging straight at me and Richard and we both dropped our poles and ran like our lives depended upon reaching that fence ahead of the angry cows...it did. Richard was about four strides ahead of me since he was the fastest guy in the damn state and he was quickly pulling away. That was when I felt a sharp tug at the tail of my shirt. I risked a quick look back without slowing my pace and to my horror there was one cow right on me and it had been her horn that I had felt tugging at my shirt tail! I am not even sure of how it happened; everything sort of became a blur about then. But somehow I BEAT RICHARD TO THE FENCE! I went up and over the fence and fell in a heap on the other side. Richard landed right next to me seconds later. We could both hear howls of laughter coming from the watching men...all of them seasoned ranchers and cowhands. When we finally got our breath back Richard looked at me in shock: "How the hell did you do that?" He asked. "Do what?" I gasped. "You passed me like I was standing still and I don't think your feet touched the fence on the way over it." Well I was at a loss cause no way did I have the normal speed to stay even close to this guy in a race. I was mulling over this miracle when dad and uncle Frank sauntered up real causal like. "Let that be a lesson to you boy," he drawled. "Don't ever go among a bunch of big, dumb creatures...man or beast and poke em and not expect to get your ass whipped." "But YOU TOLD US TO." I protested. "Let that be a second lesson for you," he told me. "Don't do something stupid just because someone tells you too...use your head." So while Richard and I lay there on the ground with our mouths hanging open, Dad and my uncle brought out some hay and some cobs of corn, threw them into the smaller pen then opened the gate and waited..... Within a few minutes all the dang cows walked calmly into the pen and started to eat. Dad then closed the gate. "See," he said. "You gotta learn to use your head." Lesson given. Point taken. I never forgot that one. |
| The devil's horse; a four inch long top water bait studded with three treble hooks arcs through the air, driven by the powerful overhand cast of the fishing rod. The bait lands with a soft "kerplop" square in the middle of a small, ten inch opening of clear water at the base of a partially submerged tree trunk. For almost a full minute the fisherman lets the bait lay on the surface of the water, bobbing gently...waiting. "Seven pound cast!" Mongo yells out to me. I am standing fifty feet down the bank, working another likly spot with my own bait. "More like five pounds or nothing" I retort. Mongo gives me the one finger salute then slowly takes the slack out of his line and twitches the end of his rod, making the bait quiver and move. The water around the bait explodes as a big bass rises from the depths and hits it full force. The fight is on! After a few minutes of fight, Mongo reels in a very nice bass. He reaches down and grabs the fish by the mouth and hoists him up for me to see...yup, at least seven pounds and closer to nine...DAMN! He struts over to where his stringer is tied off to a stick stuck in the lake bank. Bending down, Mongo pulls the stringer's end out of the water to expose four other nice fish he has already caught. He adds his latest catch to the stringer then straightening up, he calls to me once again. "Uh that's five keepers for me. How many you got so far?" He knows damn well my stringer, a few feet from where I stand holds only two medium sized fish...the fishing Gods have not been kind to me this day. Only one thing to do... As Mongo makes his way back along the lake bank, looking for the next likly casting spot, I ease my way closer to where his stringer is tied off. It takes me awhile to reach the spot. I have to stop ever so often and pretend to fish....but finally I am standing next to the stick he has his fish tied off to. With a subtle kick, I loosen the mud's grip of the stick and it lists over toward the water. The fish on the stringer, begin to pull and before I know it, they have the stick completely free and they are swimming away...though still on the stringer. Mongo is not looking at me and I move quickly away from the spot of the foul deed. "Hey stupid," I yell at him. "That looks like your stringer and stick floating away over there." I point to the aforementioned stick which is now leaving a wake in the water cause the bass are pulling it so hard in their effort to gain freedom. "OH MY GOD!" Mongo howls. "How the hell did that happen?" "Well looks to me like you forgot to push the stick back in the bank deep enough you dufus." Mongo hangs his head in sorrow as the bass move out of sight into the flooded timber of the lake. "Well it don't matter, I still beat you. I had five fish and you don't have but two." "Five fish?" I smile evilly, "I don't see no stinking five fish. All I see is a lot of nothing and MY TWO FISH!" ********************** What I have just related is a true account of one of the many fishing trips my brother and I have gone on in our lives. You see no matter whether it is fishing, hunting, playing cards, or just taking a damn walk, me and Mongo alway compete, and fair play has no place in our world when we are competing against each other. The dirtier the trick, the better...we actually give points for underhandedness. I once hooked a bass that had to have gone over 12 pounds. During the battle which seemed to last for hours but I am sure was only minutes, I managed to get the monster to the top once and got a look at him. He was the biggest black bass I had ever hooked! Mongo and I were fishing from a boat that day and when I had finally got the huge fish up to the side of the boat I heard Mongo: "HANG ON BRO!" He shouted from the bow of the boat. "I GOT THE NET. LET ME NET HIM FOR YOU!" I should have known better. I chalk it up to the shock of seeing such a large fish on my line. Whatever the reason, my mind failed to register that this was Mongo offering to help....the alarm bells failed to go off as programed. Before I knew it Mongo had scrambled to my side. He leaned over with the large fishing net as if he was going to actually net the big fish. At the last moment he rared back and with a mighty overhand swing, he brought the metal edge of the net down upon the head of the startled bass, dislodging him from the hook that had been hanging onto his mouth. My line when slack, which dumped me in the bottom of the boat on my arse, the bass thanked his lucky stars and swam hurriedly back to the depths of the lake, and Mongo collapsed into gales of laughter! All I could do was to stutter: "Oh God, did....did..you...see..it? It was a monster bass." "What bass?" Mongo asked calmly. Yup, with me and Mongo...ALL'S FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR. And war is anytime we get together. |
| A note to readers: Sometime tonight or tomorrow this new blog will reach 10,000 views. I want to thank each and every person who reads this blog, you have no idea what your participation means to me. Thank you so very much, you keep me writing...and one day I will get it right! ************************* My brother, Mongo, always had a dream. Ever since high school, all he ever wanted to do was to be a high school coach and teacher. Back in high school Mongo was a star athlete. Captain of the Football team, he also played Basketball, baseball, and was on the Track & Field team. Mongo's Junior year he was being scouted by dang near every major college in Texas and a few of them dang yankee schools as well. His senior year, in the very first scrimmage (practice) game of the season playing football, he took a really hard, nasty hit to his knee. The resulting injury took him out of any college contention...he was finished. A scholarship was the only way he was going to go to college and his bad knee sealed his fate. After graduation my brother went to work. End of story? No. Mongo quietly worked and in his off-time he volunteered as a coach for Little League Baseball, Basketball and girl's softball. Looking back on it, I think he was coaching SOMETHING, all year long. I always thought what a shame it was that he never got to live his dream and all he could do was "play" at that dream by coaching the little kids for free. Then, just before his 40th birthday, Mongo made an annoucement: He was going to college! He had his wife, Linda, had discussed it and they had decided that it was now or never for him. He cut back to part-time at his job and Linda went to work full time. He took classes in spurts...stopping to work more when needed. Some classes he took by corrospondance and some semesters he only managed to take a course or two...but he kept going forward. Then, five years ago, he finished. He now coaches and teaches at a small high school in North East Texas! He kept at it until he finally realized his dream. You have no idea how proud I am of my little brother. He could have given up at anytime along the way. He could have lived his life with the regret of not having achieved his dreams. He could have blamed all his trouble on an old football injury and just sunk into depression....he chose to pursue his dreams instead. I tell you this story to illustrate the fact that it truely never is too late to chase your dreams. How many of us here on this site toil everyday at a job we hate and dream of our dreams of writing for a living? It really does not matter how old you are...the dream is still out there and waiting only for you to grab hold of it. I have my own dreams. I dream of living comfortably by writing....simple as that. I have never wanted the fame and fortune; I would be happy to sell a book every now and then and between books, to sell short stories. If I make enough to simply live in comfort with my wife, in a small cabin in the mountains....that's enough for me. Maybe I could write a column for a small newspaper between books...hell if they only paid me what I make at Wal-Mart I would be a happy camper. So we all have our dreams and many of us are on WDC chasing those dreams....I hope each and every one of you catch yours and catch it soon. |
| Do you ever find yourself envying the talent or achievements of others? I do and quite often too. I envy writers like King, Mitchner, and Hemingway and the talent they exude with their works. My envy even includes many here on the blog page of WDC. Oh how I wish I could paint a word picture like zwisis when she writes about her African homeland. I sometimes can only shake my head in wonder as I read her entries which draw me almost phyically into the African countryside and let me get such a personal glimpse into the lives of people a half a world away. When it comes to humor on this site there are two people who stand head and shoulders above the rest of us. partyof5dj and emmyloo write, day in and day out, some of the funniest entries to be found anywhere online. Their humor seems to flow so smooth and easy and their topics vary widely each day that I stand in awe of them. I wish I had half their talent. There are three other guys whom I envy. These men write very deep philosophical entries. Each of their blog entries are well ordered, learned and well written with liberal refrences to history, science and literature. They are PlannerDan , Carolina Blue , and Budroe .These three men have a talent which far outstrips my own and whose writings are like a deep drink of cool water on a hot, dry day. They make us think and that my friends is a rare talent. I may not always agree with them, but I never cease to be amazed by their talent. Yes, I envy all these people I have listed and more besides. Like my friend, Nada , this lady has more strength of character than almost any man or woman I have ever known and it shows throughout her writing on this site. Scarlett is another friend who I envy. Her wry humor and her talent at writing in the horror genre is something I have always wished I had.Like I said...these are just a few of the people on this site I envy; there are many more...most of them reside in that list to the left of this page. To envy others is okay...up to a point. It is alright for me to try to be more like each of these writers in an effort to improve what I do but at some point I have to admit that I am not them and never will be. Then I have to simply do what I do and let that be enough. It is okay to mimic those you respect but don't do it so much that you lose what is uniquely YOU. Now, if you really want a treat after reading through this clap-trap, go to Alabama 's port and read a REALLY talented writer...who just happens to be another one I really envy. |
| Note to readers: I dearly hate that little flashing cursor marker. You know what I mean; that little flashing line that just sits there on a blank page and ridicules you and calls you names when you sit down to try to put a blog entry together. I hate that damn thing because it constantly jeers at me because the words are coming harder and harder each time I try to do a blog. After two years and two blogs, I think I may be running out of things to say...Wow, now that is NEWS! Well anyway, for better or worse, here is my entry...dredged, pulled, dragged, kicking and screaming in protest from my almost dry well of useless words. ************************* It was the summer of my fourteenth year when my good buddy, Johnny Marsh and I pitted ourselves against "pequeño diablo", or Little Devil. More about this spawn of Hell in a moment. What is it about a boy's fourteenth year that causes him to get into so much crap. I mean, yeah, I have read all the experts who say at that age a boy is trying to break out and become an individual; to gain an identity apart from that of "Son of....", but why does it have to include some painful 'life lessons". It was Mid-July; a golden time for any child living in the backwoods of Texas, especally so for Johnny and I who were both fourteen that year and were close buddies. We did dang near everything together. We both insisted upon testing the limits of our independance that year and it was only natural that we begin by bearding the monster in his den and taking on the dreaded Little Devil in a hand-to-hand struggle. As our story unfolds, Johnny and I find out that his parents were planning a weekend trip out of town to visit his aunt and uncle. Of course Johnny would have gleefully crawled through a field of broken glass in order to miss that trip to his Aunty's house so he volunteered to stay behind and take care of the family livestock. His daddy agreed to the arrangment and Johnny asked him if he could have me over for the weekend to help him with the chores on the farm. That too was agreeable with Mr. Marsh so the stage was set! Two days before the family trip Johnny broke into his older brother's room. Said Brother was away in the army at the time so Johnny figured whatever was in the room was fair game...kinda like the maritime salvage laws or something. Well Johnny hit the Mother Lode! Under his brother's mattress he found a half-full bottle of "Old Crow" whisky and a large collection of girly magazines. Now for two boys who, until then had only been able to access old issues of National Geographic for their Sex education/titalation this was indeed a gold mine of a find. Friday finally rolled around and I rode my horse over to Johnny's house...about a five mile trip...and we saw his parents off with barely disguised glee. After the elder Marsh's had taken to the road, Johnny and I wasted no time at all introducing ourselves to Mr. Crow and the magazines. Now for those of you who have not had the pleasure of inbibing this particular brand of poison, Old Crow is what you would call "Rot-Gut" whisky...cheap and powerful stuff. I am not even sure if they still sell this for human consumption though I am sure that it is around in some form, maybe disguised as Paint Thinner or Enbalming Fluid. We settled down in the living room and each of us had a large glass of the stuff along with some of the magazines. You know, I can still almost taste that first drink. It burned a swath all the way down my throat and hit my stomach where it set about happily eating my small intestine. I thought I was going to die! Funny thing is though, that second drink wasn't nearly as bad and the fourth drink slid down as smooth as satin. It was sometime after that all important fourth drink that the three "Johnnys" sitting across from me on the couch, first mentioned the dreaded "Pequeño Diablo" who was standing out in the corral minding his own business. "You know," All the Johnnies said, "we ought to go on out there and ride that Bastard." I can only chalk it up to the fact that my brain, by then, was swimming in Embalming fluid right then, that I found this statement to be perfectly reasonable. You see, Pequeño Diablo, or Little Devil just happened to be a Mexican Burro which Johnny's dad had picked up, God knows where and had installed him on the farm as the community Oddity. The scruffy little burro was of undeterminate age and most foul disposition. No one, man, woman, or child of any age had, to date, been able to ride this demon...thus his name. He stood maybe a shade over four feet tall, he was a dirty gray color, and had those almost ridiculously long ears the breed is known for. Johnny and I had both tried many times to "break" this creature and each time ended the same way....with us on the ground nursing bruises and contusions of various degrees of severity. Well not this time! Nope, me and all those other Johnnies were gonna break and ride that demon from a Mexican Hell if it was the last thing we ever did...it almost was. We made our way, very unsteadily, out to the corral where the Burro was standing and contentedly munching on some hay. We opened the gate and walked closer to the beast who, at this point, turned and gave us a baleful look as if to say: "Yeah, come on; Make my damn day!" We slowly circled the beast, easing in closer and closer. I had a rope which I was holding behind my back and as Johnny got his attention with a sharp whistle, I threw the rope around the Burro's neck. THE DAMN THING JUST STOOD THERE QUIETLY! Well we weren't sure what to do, we expected a bit more of a fight. I took up the slack slowly and walked up to the creature's head. I put one arm around his neck and a hand over his muzzle and told Johnny to mount up. As soon as his rump landed on the Burro's back...THE THING JUST EXPLODED! I mean he was going everywhich way at once. Johnny went flying off and hit the ground with a resounding "THUD". I was stil hanging onto his neck so I employeed an old indian trick; I reached up and one of those long ears in my mouth and bit down hard. Now this is supposed to cause a horse to freeze in his tracks until a rider can mount him. Well little Devil just calmly reached down and returned the favor by taking a chunk out of my leg! I let out a howl and turned loose of the beast just as Johnny got remounted. The Burro EXPLODED again. This time though I was staggering backward from him while trying to see how much of my leg was missing. It was just then that one of his hooves landed a killing blow to my groin. I let out a girly squeel and hit the ground like a sack of potatoes. As a result of this blow I never actually SAW Johnny fly off the Burro's back and THROUGH the plank fence of the corral, though I did hear the meaty "chunk" his face made when it impacted the thick boards and broke through them. When the dust settled,Pequeño Diablo was standing once more in the center of the corral, munching hay. Johnny was lying half in and half out of the same corral and bleeding from a broken nose and a number of other cuts on his face and shoulders and arms. I was lying in the dust of the corral curled into the fetal position and trying to take a mental inventory of my private parts....just to see what was there and what might be missing. Both of us were in a deep fog of pain but that fog was suddenly blasted away by a sound that we dreaded above all others....the sound of a car in the drive way. Mr. Marsh had developed car trouble during the trip and had decided to call off the visit and return home. He found us laying in his busted up corral...he found the whisky...he found the magazines. We just thought we were in pain...the pain was about to desend upon us in full force. The rest, as they say, you can imagine for yourself. |
| Why? Do you ever ask yourself that simple question; I do, almost every dang day. For instance: Why, if we are a nation that belives in helping the downtrodden and the oppressed, are we not fighting all over the continent of Africa? Why haven't we alrady stormed in there and kicked people like Mugabe out on his arse? Could it possibly be that Africa had the extreme misfortune of not having any vast oil fields under its surface? You can bet the farm that any time the countries of the West ride to the military rescue of any oppressed people and anytime they put their armies on the ground it is because, at some point, somewhere, it means there is money to be had. This is not news. Nations have been doing this ever since the first armies were formed. I don't believe there was ever a war fought that did not have its roots in economics. Why does it take the whole village to raise a child? Does that mean parents are no longer needed? We don't need the whole village to raise a child, what we need are parents who belive in being parents and not buddies. Hello! News flash for you: You will not emotionally scar your child for life if you MAKE them do their homework. Suck it up; be unpopular and make your children adhere to soically acceptable behavior. You know there really ought to be a test given and a licence required before some people are allowed to reproduce. Why do we seem to like reality shows so much? And YES, the majority of people LIKE this garbage or they wouldn't be showing on every channel on almost every night, in one form or another. Could it be that we have become such a nation/world of voyeurs that we can not live without peeking in at a safe distance and watching someone else make a total fool of themselves. Personally I think we watch those shows for the personal validation we get. We can sit back and laugh and say: "Well hell, at least I'm not that big of an idiot!" I got news for you...Yes you are. Those people you are making fun of on the Television are at least making money or winning prizes acting like an idiot...the rest of us do it for free! Why are people so prone to second-guessing? I mean we second guess everything and everybody. We second guess our leaders, our bosses, our spouses...you name it and we second guess it. Why can't we guess right the first time and not have to rely on second guesses? Maybe that's why they call it "Guesses". Now I'm wondering WHY I came up with this topic today...I'm beginning to second guess myself....maybe I should have written about the price of tea in China. Okay, I need to check with the VILLAGE for some help here.....see you guys tomorrow. |
| Some of you might remember that about a month ago I mentioned that I was going to grow a beard. Well I did it! Well I was almost ready to shave it back off the other day but Mel made the mistake of mentioning that the beard made me look like my hero; Ernest Hemingway!!! Well that did it...the beard stays on now! I may not be able to write like him but looking similar ain't bad at all...at least not for this country boy. Now when I said something about posting a picture of me and my new facial hair, Mel came up with the idea of striking a pose just like the one done by Hemingway in a very famous picture. Me being me, jumped at the chance to mimic the great man. I have to do this I guess: Disclaimer: The posting of these next two pictures in no way means I consider myself on a par with the great writer. It is merely done in fun and more to poke fun at myself than anything else Here is the picture of Ernest Hemingway: ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Now here I am with my new beard and striking the same pose as Mr. Hemingway and I have taken Nada's advice and made the picture black and white. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Now the funny part of this story...aside for how funny I look with a beard....When I was looking for a writing tablet to use in the picture I came across an old tablet I used to jot down notes and character developments for my novel which was written back in '93! It was very interesting to reread those long ago notes that developed into a full-fledged novel. I noticed that there were some characters in there that never made it to the novel. That was because the story wouldn't let them in. Does that sound funny? Well maybe it is funny but when I write a story it tends to have a life of its own and the story let's me know what it needs and does not need. There were even some sub-plots that never made it into the story. It was really an eye opener to look back at these old notes and then to look at what developed from them though. Now, what's that sound I hear? Is that CC firing up his Photoshop program? IT BETTER NOT BE! |
| For those of you who are suffering withdrawals due to a lack of blog activity from ccstring I have decided to give you an update. Having grown conserned over his absence of late, I gave the dufus a call...AND IT TOOK HIM TWO DAYS TO ANSWER THE PHONE! So, what has CC been up to of late? Here is a quick rundown which he spent a half hour blabbering about on the phone: 1. Due to latest bad weather, the dufus lost power at home for two and a half days. This resulted in damage to his house when he tried to convert his microwave oven to propane gas power. 2. On his way home from work he hit a deer with his company truck. Because of this he got a ticket for using a mortally wounded animal as a hood ornament. 3. His ugly dog, Peedy dissappeared for a couple of days. Come to find out that the mutt was dogknapped by two bungling crooks who returned the dog without collecting any ransom. They then sued CC for owning such a UGLY dog and letting him out of the house to be dogknapped in the first place. "Cruel and Unusual Punishment" had already been achieved so no charges were filed. 4. CC spent some of his down time due to the weather going online and applying for a job as Paris Hilton's stunt double. He was rejected because his rib cage could not be seen through his skin. I told him he should have doctored those photos he sent to them first. 5. And finally, CC has spent the last two days improving his blogging skills while he was SUPPOSED to be at work on the car lot. He has spent everyday at work logged into WDC and reading all MY back blog entries....studying at the feet of the Master so to speak! Of course this hasn't really helped him as you will see when he finally DOES get back in here to blog. What it did do though was give me enough views to FINALLY PASS HIM IN THE STATS WITH MY SECOND BLOG!!!! I will write about that at a future date....LOL LOL! So there you have it; you now are up to date on what has been happening in the weird, wacky, world of ccstring Are you happy now??? |
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