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 |  They say:"Third time's a charm". We shall see. Welcome to my third blog on WDC, |
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** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** The above picture has graced both my other blogs and of course I had to have it here...Me and my sweetie. This is my third blog here on WDC. This is, in effect, my house. So please come on in and make yourself at home. Please don't mind the mess because this part is still under construction and I will be adding stuff in the next few weeks until I get it the way I want it. About the Title: "Tor's House"....Well in a way, this is what a blog is to many of us. It is our way of inviting the world into our personal space. Just like in real life, I will endeavor to be the best host to my guests that I can be, but you must understand...in my house I tend to speak my mind. I apologize in advance for any who may feel uncomfortable. What will you find here? Oh that's easy....Humor, strong opinion, and even some philosophical musings....or what passes for that with a dumb ole country boy. So I welcome everyone...come in and let's sit and chew the fat awhile. Let's talk about stuff and see if we can figure out the answers to the world's problems....or what to make for lunch...whichever. |
| The Internet is a wonderful thing, is it not. It is so much more than just a innocent little tool used for the gathering of information and that, dear reader is where the problem arises. This magic box we have sitting on our desks is like a teleporting machine. It can take us into worlds we have never imagined and show us sights we have only dreamed of seeing. That, too, is a problem. The magic box sends us into a world that is outside of reality, or at least it can be outside if one so chooses. Nowhere else can a middle-aged man or woman instantly transform themselves into a twenty-something, step into that persona, and live the life...in the box. In the magic box you can be and say and do all the things you would never dream of doing in the real world. A zero can become a hero, a plain, mousy woman can become a beautiful and alluring creature. A man who had always been afraid to voice his opinions in real world, can hold sway over unseen readers. The magic box is a place where people with issues can come and set about their own agendas with never a thought to who gets hurt in the process. Now don't get me wrong; the magic box can also be a wonderful place for people who decide at the outset of their journey to be honest. Honesty is so important in the Internet world because all we have to judge people we meet here are their words and words can be used to mislead and manipulate. Honesty is the restraint that must be present in order for good people not to be hurt. You see, no matter how wonderful your little Internet world is, it is in the final analysis, an illusion. It is when we lose track of what is real and what is illusion, that we fall into the Internet trap. The trap can take many forms. It may consist of scam artists who, if you fall for their stories, will bilk you out of your money. It may be the trap of emotional involvement. Oh yes, that last one can be a bitch. Now before you waste time trying figure out if I am talking about someone you know...don't bother. I am my own best example. Long time ago I fell into that trap, or should I say my ego fell into it, for ego is the downfall of many of us. Now there is only one cure for the traps set inside the magic box. There is only one way to navigate the minefield of this imaginary world. You have to realize that there is the Real World and there is the Illusionary world of the Internet. You have to then chose which world you want to live within. Years ago I had to ask myself the question: Do I want what I have in the real world or do I want to try to capture an illusion which is only a collection of empty words and space? For me, it was a no-brainer. I wanted real love, a real life, and a real world where the ego isn't stroked everyday and where things don't always go my way....but everything is real. I would like to close on a positive note though. If you travel in the magic box and down the Information highway, you will also meet people who are good and people who are real. If you stay honest with them and with yourselves you will develop life-long friendships and you will be able to use the imaginary world of the Internet to further dreams you have had in the real world. Just remember what is real and what is Illusion. |
| What is a person but the sum total of his actions. That thought came to me yesterday as I walked around Almosta Ranch with my son; telling him of all our hopes and dreams we had for this place. I spoke of the fencing we needed to do and the barn we needed to raise. I wove a picture of horses grazing in one pasture and a few cows in another one. I told him how the goats would have that back pasture with the woods and underbrush to graze upon. I introduced him to the new stallion upon which we plan on starting a paying breeding program. In the middle of my story, I knelt down and took up a hand full of rich, dark loam and let it filter through my spread fingers. "This is what it is all about." I told my son. "This land is more than just dirt and trees, this land is mine. This land will be known as our land long after I am dead and gone...it is our legacy to the future. This can not be taken away from us." We walked along in silence for awhile. I began to tire...I do that easily now...and I had to sit down on an old stump. Something else occurred to me as I sat there and stared out over the ranch. "You know something, Rick," I spoke softly as he sat on the ground next to me. "It's not just owning the land that is important. After all, the legacy a man leaves behind is more than just material things like land. Our legacy is how we are remembered." He nodded silently as he looked down at the ground. "What will be your legacy to the future generations? Do you want to be known as the man you are today, or do you want more for yourself? You have to answer those questions for yourself....no one can do it for you." Today I was thinking about that conversation and I wondered....what was my legacy going to be. I will be known by my actions like all men, and like all other men, I am at best...flawed. I have tried to do what was right and not what was expedient, all my life. I wonder if I did enough. I have tried to be true as a friend, as a parent, and as a husband. Did I do enough? Others will have to make that determination after I am gone. I have tried to be true to my promises and my vows. Did I try hard enough? I guess, when you get right down to it, a man can own 10,000 acres and did not stay true to his moral code then he will have left a poor legacy for those who come after him won't he. What about you, my friend, what kind of legacy will you leave for the children of your Grandchildren...will they be proud? I do wonder about these things now. |
I have been seriously considering the suggestions some of you have made about putting some of the stories of my childhood into book form. I had already started a project some time ago:"Letters to the Future"  that I had planned on just printing out and saving for the generations of my family not yet born. Now I may incorporate them into a group of stories for publication. The following is one of those entries...Tell me what you think. My grandfather was born in 1876, his name was Sep Yuree McClain. He was the youngest of six children, all boys. He grew up in an age we today have only read about in books. His temperament and personality was forged by the times in which he lived. Grandpa McClain saddled his horse on or about 1896 and rode from Trinity County, Texas to Polk County; a trip of about fifty miles. It is said, in family lore, that all six brothers left about the same time, due to health reasons....a blood feud with another, very powerful family at the time. He was followed, sometime later by his young wife who drove a wagon with all their worldly possessions in the back and their baby daughter riding up on the plank seat next to her. Grandpa eked out a meager living deep in the East Texas woods, farming, working for a logging company and following the cotton crop as a migrant picker during the season. Their house was a converted boxcar with no amenities other than a roof to keep out the rain. By 1900 Grandpa's family had grown to three children, one of who was my Uncle Earl whom I will write about later. It was then that grandpa's wife, Ida took sick and died. Grandpa was left to care for three young children and try to scratch out a living for the whole bunch of them. He did not hesitate- he saddled his horse and rode back to Trinity county to the home of his father-in-law, Ben Moore who lived in a great looping bend of the Neches River called "Cracker's Bend". What had he ridden all that way alone for? He had gone back to fetch his dead wife's younger sister, Mary. He talked old man Moore into letting him marry Mary and she agreed. With his new wife riding behind him, Grandpa left Trinity County once again within the week. Sep Yuree and Mary remained married the rest of their lives, though the term "happily married" could not really be applied mainly because I don't think grandpa ever knew what "happy" was supposed to entail. He and his second wife, my grandmother, had four children, the youngest being my father. Now I have told you all this history in order that you might understand the kind of grandfather I grew up knowing. He was a dour man; strict even to the point of being mean, a sad excuse for a man. His life had been shaped by a different century, a time when men still wore guns, rode horses and whose value system was based on ideals that had, for the most part, died with their century. I never got to know him very well, he died when I was about eleven years old; he was close to ninety years old. The strongest personal memory I have was of him sitting in a chair in our living room on one of his rare visits to our home. He had this big walking stick hand carved out of oak and anytime my older brother or me would have the misfortune to come within reach of him he would swing at us with his cane. Grandpa was a firm believer that children should rarely be seen and NEVER heard. I don't mind telling you that he scared the hell out of us kids. Around my father and uncles, grandpa's word was law and he ruled his space like a petty tyrant, it was the young wives who were left to step in and put him in his place when he got onto any of us kids...mom was great at that. My sweet little mom was small and soft- spoken but I can still remember her jerking grandpa's walking stick away from him and threatening to beat him to death with it if he ever hit one of us again.....funny, that was the only time I ever saw my grandpa smile. It was also his last visit to our home. He left, telling my dad: "You got a damn good wife there, son, just keep her the hell away from me." Grandpa died shortly after my eleventh birthday and at his funeral I got another shock. This was the one and only time I ever saw any of his brothers, my Great Uncles. There were three of them left alive; all very old but unbent with age. All three were over 6'3" tall with full heads of snow white hair. Their faces were hard and stern, much like my grandpa's had been. Dressed all in black, with wide-brimmed black hats on, there was an air of danger about them and their eyes were piercing, like the eyes of hawks on the hunt. They stood always together, talked little, mainly to my dad and his brothers and sisters. I remember running up to my father's side as he stood talking quietly to the brothers. They scared me and I didn't want my dad talking to them. One of the men reached out and placed one great big hand on my head as I stood there next to dad and that hand felt like a giant rock with no sense of softness in it. He ruffled my hair and smiled at me, then turned back to continue talking to my dad. They left shortly after the funeral and I never saw them again though I did make it my task to learn all I could about these strange men and my grandpa. Over the years I soaked up all the stories my dad and uncles were willing to share with me and some of the stories were truly amazing. Of late, the memory of these men has returned to me strongly, thus I decided to share some of their story here with you, my future progeny. These men have marched back from the mists of my childhood memories and, like them or not, these rough, hard men are partly responsible for me being who I am today. Their legend and their lives shaped me even beyond the grave. They were my past, as they are yours. They are the the tap-root of our family tree. Your Ancestor, David McClain |
| If there was one thing my father loved doing more than anything else, it was messing with his kid's minds, he was a master at it. As is so often the case when my own life seems in turmoil and I question what I am to do next, I find myself remembering him. Maybe I am just trying to channel his ghost and glean what I can from his wisdom, who knows. Whatever the reasons, I find myself thinking of dad today and remembering how he use to get such pleasure from yanking the chains of his poor sons. Once, after I was grown and with sons of my own, I asked dad why he use to mess with us the way he did and he just smiled and said: "Because it was just so damn easy." I had to laugh....he was right, it was easy and to be honest, I use to do the same things to my own children. I guess mom was right when she told me that the older I got, the more like my father I became. But, no matter how like him I become, the fact remains that he was the master. For example, I remember when I was about ten years old and dad would take me out with him to his favorite fishing lake. We would cruise around the lake looking for a promising spot to cast our lines in search of the Large Mouth Bass. We would be tooling along in the boat and suddenly dad would cut the motor and, as we coasted to a stop, he would point excitedly to a large stump sticking about three feet out of the water. "Look at that, boy," his voice almost a whisper as he pointed to the gnarly old stump from some long rotted tree sticking above the water. "That stump has Bass Bark on it." "Bass Bark"? "Yup, anytime you see that kind of bark on a tree or stump in the water, there is a bass under it...never fails!" I looked as hard as I could but I could not see any difference between the bark on that stump and any of the hundreds of other stumps and trees in the lake. But, being young and understanding that I knew nothing compared to the outdoor wisdom of my father, I accepted his word as fact. To prove his point, dad quickly picked up his rod and launched his bait toward the stump. The bait landed with a soft plop at the base of the stump. He let is sit still for a moment as he reeled in all the slack from his line and then, as I watched intently, every nerve tense, he gently flicked the end of his rod causing the bait to wiggle on the surface. The water around the bait fairly exploded and I almost jumped out of my skin, as a bass weighing about five pounds struck. With a big grin on his face, dad happily reeled in his fish. "See, I told you....bass bark." He started the boat motor again. "That bass bark is small." He told me. " That means there was only one bass there." So we started to cruise the lake again. After only a few minutes, he cut the engine again. Standing up in the stern of the boat, he made a big show of sniffing the air. "What?" I asked him. "Don't you smell that?" His voice urgent. "Smell what?" I sniffed as hard as my little ten-year old nose could sniff. "I smell bass." He told me. SMELL BASS? I was flabbergasted...how did he smell something under water? Ignoring my skeptic look, dad directed me to cast my bait toward the shore to a spot where a large willow tree over-hung the bank. "The smell is coming from there, I think." he said. Having absolute trust in my father, I eagerly cast my bait toward the target and sure enough....I caught a bass weighing about three pounds right there! Well that cinched it, I was a believer. I spent the rest of the day sniffing the air and closely examining the bark on every tree, stump, and log in the giant lake. Dad settled back in his seat at the rear of the boat with this big old grin on his face. When we returned to the launch area we were met by my Uncle Frank and his son who had been out on the other side of the lake. We compared catches and talked about the day's fishing and when I excitedly began telling my cousin about bass bark and smelling bass, my uncle and my dad burst out laughing. I had been had. I knew I had been had but neither man would explain it to me. It was not until years later after I had become a proficient fisherman and a guide that I understood what dad had done. You see when you catch and release a bass he doesn't move but will remain fairly close to where you first caught him. The lake we were fishing on was dad's favorite lake and he spent many days alone...catching bass and releasing them so he could come back and catch them again. He knew the exact location of every damn bass in that lake! There was no such thing as bass bark or smelling the fish...he had just caught those fish many times in those same spots...hell it's a wonder he didn't have them named! Oh yeah....he got me. And, years later when my oldest son was about ten....I GOT HIM THE SAME WAY! I think of dad often these days....and I smile. |
| What is a father's responsibility to his child? That is a question that has burned in my brain for a couple of days now. By modern day standards, I was and am, a hard father, not as hard as my own father, but hard nonetheless. I always believed that it is a father's responsibility to raise his children up teaching them discipline and a work ethic, to give them an example by your own life, how they should live theirs. I also always believed in showing a child he or she is loved, which is why now, anytime I talk to one of my children on the phone I always end the conversation with: "I love you." At what point though, does a father's responsibility end? That question is now being put to the test in the form of my youngest son, Rick. Almost four years ago, it became quite apparent to me that 'Rick was so out of control that he could no longer live under my roof. His lying, stealing, disrespect and drug use had made him into a stranger that I no longer knew. So, after one really bad episode where he stole my car and stayed gone all night, things came to a head. When I confronted him upon his return home...still high...he made his last mistake; He cursed me then swung at me. After he picked himself up off the ground he accused me of trying to kill him. I calmly explained to him that had I wanted him dead, he never would have gotten to his feet. We then had a calm, rational discussion about his future and we both agreed that he could no longer live under my roof and that getting out of Texas was the best thing for him. He agreed that he needed to get completely away from his druggy friends if he was ever going to have a chance to rebuild his life. So I scratched together the money and bought him a plane ticket to Washington state where his older brother lived. I took him to the airport, gave him a warm hug, and sent him to build a new life. All went well at first. I got glowing reports from both him and his brother...he was doing good. Then, about a year ago, things begin to go sour. His brother accused Rick of stealing from him. Rick then called to say he had lost his job....then nothing. For the past four months no one knew where Rick was, if he was alive or dead. I knew that if he was alive, he was back into the drug culture. Two days after my stroke the phone rang, it was Rick. He was crying hysterically. He had been in jail and was now in a homeless shelter and he was crying for my help. What is a father's responsibility? I talked it over with Mel and once again I scrapped together money. This time it took all I had that I was planning to use for bills and food, but I found enough to send him for a bus ticket to Mo. I told him I would take him in one more time but this was his last chance...I have nothing left for him if he messes this up. So where does my responsibility end? I fear that question shall be answered soon, and in the fullness of time....I hope I can live with the answer. |
| I really hate this "Brain Fog" I find myself suffering from now. Because of it I Just lost my blog entry. *Sigh* Oh well, the entry was about Ms. Susan Boyle and her performance on Britain's Got Talent the other night. http://www.guardian.co.uk/media/2009/apr/16/susan-boyle-britains-got-talent Just go to that link and listen to it. The thousand words I wrote can not compare with what you will see there and seeing it, you will experience far better, the amazing thing that took place and you will do it far better than any of my weak words could convey anyway. So now I have to write another entry on a different subject because once I write something, it is gone and I can never reproduce it the way it was. Next subject....gawd. Yesterday I made a comment in a friend's blog and I told her to remember a certain commercial which aired in the late '60s and early '70s. She wrote me back and very kindly and diplomatically reminded me that she was unable to remember that commercial because she was a baby during that time. Okay, way to go David, you just insulted a lady inadvertently....I seem to be doing a lot of that lately. I guess it is inevitable that I fall into that sort of trap, after all, so much of my life has now been cosigned to the history books it would seem. Things I have seen and things I have done are now considered ancient history What I have left is memories which are, for me, as fresh as yesterday. I have thought a lot about my personal history the past few days as I try to come to grips with my own mortality. One thing that I keep remembering is my own unique and sometimes stormy relationship with the Big Guy. It may surprise many of you to know that at one time I was encouraged to join the Ministry and it almost happened. I won't ask how many remember 1965,,,I've learned my lesson. Let me just say that in that year I was a sixteen year old kid who had been introduced to religion in a big way. Yeah, me and God were friends from the very beginning. Back in 65 there was actually two movements underway. There was the "God is Dead" movement and at the same time there was a great Youth Revival which started in small towns and rural areas across this wonderful nation of ours. During this time our church...the largest Baptist church in our town, had a Youth Director who was very charismatic and a powerful voice for his God. It was under his influence that I first came to know God. A funny thing happened then. I discovered something that I was good at and was comfortable doing...working in my church. I even organized Christians on our school campus and we would meet each morning at the school's flag pole to hold a short prayer service before the school day would begin. On a side note, this practice is still going on today and is called "Meet at the Pole". No one remembers who or when it started....LOL...go figure. Anyway there finally came a day when our Youth Director came to me and told me that the church pastor and the Deacons had agreed to allow one member of the Youth Group to bring the sermon on the next Sunday morning and he, the Youth Director, wanted ME to deliver that message. I was shocked that they would ask me to do that but I was also elated to get the opportunity to practice what I had about made up my mind to do with the rest of my life. So I prepared a message. Understand....I was a young kid and like most youth, there was no gray in my life...only black or white...right or wrong and my message that Sunday morning was a simple one. I asked the congregation a simple question: "If Jesus was your preacher today instead of me and a black man walked into the church, would Jesus welcome him? If a dirty, ragged, homeless man walked in the door and wanted to worship with us would Jesus welcome him? Do we follow Jesus in name only or in deed?" I then read a few scriptures dealing with Jesus' different sermons. The other young people loved the message but the older members were visibly upset by what I said. The next day I was informed by the pastor that members of the youth group would no longer be allowed to speak unless their message was first read by him. He then told me it would be best if I apologized to the members for embarrassing them with my sermon. I politely declined to apologize and I walked away from that church....and from organized religion....and from God. I told God that if he wanted to speak to me again, he could find me on my horse, working cattle and as far away from Church as I could get. the years passed and I went to a place that was as far from God as you could get. The funny thing is, out there on a distant battlefield, and in the last place you would expect to find God......he looked me up again. We had a talk. 'We came to an understanding then. I would believe in him, he could believe in me, but never again would I ever trust any large group of his believers. I kept my belief close to my heart and private and He and I were comfortable with each other. Now, today, I still speak with him from time to time. I believe in Him and He believes in me. This past week I was reminded of that old history He and I have for you see, there was a few moments during this illness when I was convinced that I was about to meet Him face to face. A sobering thought. I discovered that in some ways I am still that young man....just older and hopefully wiser. I still have nothing to do with Churches, but I understand them a little better now. Yes, I have so much of my life that is now history and now I seem to be thinking more and more about that history. |
| Good afternoon Ladies and Gentlemen, I am back now from my little hospital experience. I would like to express my deep thanks to those of you who have called and checked on me and Mel, and for those of you who have filled my inbox with well wishes and expressions of love and concern...You people are just the very best and I am forever in your debt for your thoughts and prayers. As for my physical shape at the moment, well I am left with weakness on my left side including my leg and arm and my left eye. I still have some residual 'slowness' in my brain function such as not being able to find the right words when I need them. As a result of this, I speak even slower than a normal Texan drawl...I know, scary ain't it. I am not sure if this slowness of mind has effected how I write words as well as speak them, thus I am in here today to test the waters, so to speak. Consider this entry a test, if you will. I want to find out if I will be able to put anything down on paper in the future that will still make any sense at all and how hard it is to do this. Of course there are those among you who don't think I have ever made sense so you guys should see no difference in my entries.  So now, on with the test..... Let me, at my own peril, step for a moment into my friend Carolina Blue  's home territory and speak a bit about something from our history. The Liberty Tree was a famous Elm tree on or near the Boston Common during the days leading up to the Revolutionary War. The tree was a rallying point to those who were protesting the actions of the English Crown against the American colonies. Protesters would nail "Broadsides" to the tree. These were essays written by the likes of Samuel Adams, Paul Revere and others and the essays served to keep the citizens informed as to what was going on. I bring up the Liberty Tree because in the prevailing climate of this country today, where more and more, any man or woman of conscience who disagrees with the liberal Democratic administration are being labeled "Right Wing Extremist" a mere step short of actually calling them terrorist, there is once more the need for a "Liberty Tree." A place is needed where the common man can come and read a different opinion than those espoused by the elitist, liberal goose-steppers. I believe that the Internet is that new Liberty Tree and that Blogs by everyday people serve as the "Broadsides" from Revolutionary times. My Broadside today has to do with Janet Napolitano, the director of Homeland Security. Here, my friends, is a woman who wants to replace the term "Terrorist Act" with ‘man-caused disasters’ . Of course, being the sarcastic, smart-ass that I am, I have to wonder....if a female suicide bomber explodes a bomb do we still call it a man-caused disaster? That does seem Sexist in the extreme does it not. Now keeping in mind that this idiot refuses to use the term terrorist to describe Islamic radicals, because that would be somehow demeaning to every other Islamic in the world, then why is it that she has on numerous occasions referred to Conservative extremist as Terrorist? Could it be that the good lady, at the behest of her handlers in the White House, would like to see anyone who is conservative or anyone who disagrees with the Liberal politicians, to be thought of as Terrorist? It came as no surprise to me that Napolitano came out and stated that some returning veterans are a risk to join Right-wing Terror organisations. She had no problem with the word "Terrorist" did she, and with that one statement this waste of skin just pissed on every man and woman who ever wore the uniform of the United States Military. Where was the outrage? Why is she still holding that office? Easy....no one really cares. I saw this same sentiment many years ago. Back then they spoke of those mad-dog, drug-crazed ex-soldiers who would go berserk at the drop of a hat. I thought we had gotten past all that...obviously not. How can any man or woman of any consensence defend Napolitano? You can't, that's the simple answer. If you defend her, then in my book you are no better than she is. So let's take stock a moment shall we....I am a Conservative. I am a Veteran. I am against Big Government and Big Government restrictions. I am against paying higher taxes on everything I use in order to fund Entitlement programs. So....Am I a Terrorist? Call me what you will, I care not at all. My Broadside shall remained nailed to this "Liberty Tree" Whether you read it and agree or you read it and disagree, is up to you....this is still a free country.....right? |
| Hey everyone... this is Mel again. Just wanted to let you know that David is home. He is doing great, just tired and exhausted from spending the night in a busy small town hospital. His doctor decided that he didn't need to be transferred to the Bluff as all his symptoms caused by the semi-mini stroke had gone away. Dr. Mansoor said that the event he had was slightly more that a TIA but not a full blown stroke. TIA's usually last a matter of 10 or 15 minutes. David's episode lasted about 24 hours before complete recovery was achieved. They put him on an aspirin a day regiment and he has a doctors appointment tomorrow morning for a few more test. I just about put him back in the hospital... the dang stubborn mule. The doctor finally came in around noon time and after looking over all his test results and talking to us, said that he could go home. Well, they were right in the middle of serving lunch, and as I said before... this is a 'small' town hospital. It has a total of 30 beds, and everyone was busy taking care of patients. David, being the impatient one that he is, was VERY antsy and kept interrupting everyone that walked by, to see if they would unhook him from the heart monitor and take his IV line out. They kept telling him that someone would be there in a bit. Well, 1/2 hour later, what does David do..... HE TAKES THE HEART MONITOR STUFF OFF HIS CHEST AND PULLS OUT THE IV !!! Then he got dressed and walked outside to work on the car. The transmission had been growling, and I picked up some fluid to put in it. I was going to put it in, but STUBBORN decided he would do it himself. When the nurse came in with his discharge papers, stuff to take the IV out and heart monitor off and a wheel chair to wheel him out with, she was shocked... to put it mildly. She was double shocked to see him outside under the hood of the car. She just shook her head as she handed me the papers to sign, and defeatly said that she guessed she didn't need the wheel chair after all. He sure was happy to get home. Thank you again for all your well wishes and prayers.... they were geatly appreciated. |
| This is Mel. It is 10:30 and I just got home from the hospital. David is doing good. I know this because he is mad at me for making him go to the doctor this afternoon. I should have dragged him in last night, but he refused to go. They think he had a TIA... which is a mini stroke that usually corrects itself. They have done several test this afternoon and everything looks good. They are going to transfer him to a larger hospital in the Bluff and do a MRI and some other test to make sure that there is nothing else going on. He hasn't been feeling good for the last few days. When he woke up yesterday morning he was really feeling bad but refused to stay home from work. With Wal-Mart penalizing you for every day you miss no matter what the reason, he hates to miss work now. He was to work the 3 to 11 shift, but around 7:30 last night, he came home. I don't for the life of me know how he managed to drive the 30 miles home. He stumbled in the door and I had to catch him and lead him to his chair. He was just exhausted and he was having a hard time telling me how he felt as his speech was messed up and somewhat slurred. Right away I though of stroke, but he would not let me take him to the hospital. You see,he has had these episodes before.... in fact for the last 5 or so years. He had a bad episode around 4 years ago and I talked him into going in to be checked out. His doctor did all kinds of test and sent him in for a cat scan, a MRI, a stress test, a nuclear stress test, then to a neurologist and I don't remember who all else, but he went through the whole system. When all the results came back, he was told that he was as healthy as a horse and there was nothing wrong with him. This cost us quite a bit out of pocket, as his insurance only covers so much. He swore then that he would NEVER go back to the doctor because of these episodes. He has them every so often, sometimes once or twice a month and sometimes he may go 3 or 4 months before having another one or two. So that was why he insisted that he was NOT going to the hospital last night. Well, I had had enough when he woke up this morning still feeling like shit. His speech was a lot better, but still not right and I noticed a slight dragging of his left leg and a slight drooping of his left eyelid. I called and made an appointment and had him in to the doctors right after lunch. So far they have run an EKG and it was good. The cat scan has showed nothing and all the blood work has come back fine. If the MRI is clean and they can find nothing wrong.... I AM GOING TO SCREAM !! There is something making him have these episodes. The dizziness, the headaches, the chest pains and the total exhaustion.... they are not just a figment of his imagination.... which is what he starts to believe when the doctors tell him that there is nothing wrong with him. This is the first time he has had outward noticeable signs.... the slurred speech, and left side weakness, and it really worried me. He told me today that last night, when he was watching television, that he couldn't understand what they were saying, that it sounded like they were talking a foreign language to him. That he could only catch a word or two out of a sentence. I have mixed feelings.... I hope they don't find anything, yet at the same time I hope they do so they can finally tell us what is going on. If they don't find anything on the MRI, they will probably release him tomorrow. If they decide to keep him another night, they had better have a extra heavy set of chains to chain him down to his bed as he swears he is NOT going to spend another night in the hospital. He's going to look awful funny hitchhiking down the highway in an open backed hospital gown !!!!!!! Thank you for all your prayers and well wishes. I will keep you updated on any further news. Melinda |
| Forgive a personal entry today...I try not to do many of these but today I felt it necessary. First of all, I need to apologize to those bloggers whose blog I usually comment to for not doing comments yesterday. I went to work late yesterday but was forced to come home before the end of my shift due to health concerns. As usual, my blood pressure was high, but this time my heart rate had escalated to 140. I had chest pains and dizzy spells along with the elevated heart rate and blurred speech. Even driving home was an "adventure". This has been going on for a week now. Let me just say...I hate doctors. I went through a spell like this a couple of years ago and against my better judgement, I went to the doctor. I ended up jumping through all the medical hoops...taking all the tests...and they found nothing wrong. Fine, so nothing was wrong, so I just went back home and said, to hell with it. Well the symptoms never really went away and now...two years later...they are back again even stronger. Once again, against my better judgement, I gave in to Mel's pestering and I agreed to go to the doctor on Thursday, if I still felt this bad. She immediately jumped on the phone to make the appointment. When she came back into the living room I asked her what time Thursday she made the appointment for and warned her that if I felt better, I wasn't going. That was when she told me she had not made the appointment for Thursday, but FOR TODAY! DAMN! Okay, so I wasn't going to go to work today anyway, but that's not the point. The point was that by Thursday, I am sure I would have been feeling better and thus, not have to keep the damn appointment. Now she has forced my hand...I have to go. She did that on purpose...I know her. So I am sorry I haven't been around your blogs the past day or so but I assure you, when this mess has passed, I will be back to commenting like I should. I don't really hold out any hope of this new doctor finding anything, but I'm going damnit. But...I refuse to go through another stress test, nuclear stress test, or MRI....been there, done that, and nothing was found. I'll let you know how it goes. I'll be lucky to keep my job after missing two days in a row...now that's enough to keep the damn heart rate jumping! It is just that I feel stupid, with all of my friends out there in Blogville who are suffering from REAL illness, to come in here and complain about this piddling crap that is bothering me...my apologies once again. |
| In the true spirit of Media Overstatement, TV talking heads are now referring to the rescue of Capt. Phillips from armed pirates as: "Mission Impossible." People, when you have four armed pirates in a twenty-eight foot lifeboat against TWO American destroyers and a SEAL unit it should be referred to as "Mission Inevitable", or "Mission DUH". Now had the pirates been successful, THAT would have been something worth talking about. Of course we haven't gotten the full story of how the rescue was carried out but it is being said that the three pirates put down by the SEAL team was shot at a distance of thirty meters. Thirty meters? Folks, these are men who can put five rounds inside a three inch ring at 1200 meters. Inevitable. This was just another day at the office for these soldiers. I have a problem with such over-the-top celebration after such a small engagement; hell you would have thought it was VJ day the way everyone was cheering. Now, of course, we are arguing and obsessing over what to do with the one surviving pirate. Uh...pardon me...the surviving, ALLEGED pirate...nothing has been proven in a court of law yet. Oh my, he is a teenager, what do we do? It has even been suggested that we return him to Somalia due to his tender age. My idea? Well hell, everyone knows how slippery and dangerous the decks of those ships get in high seas...what a tragedy...we were going to return him home and this big wave came along....we searched the water after he went overboard, but were unable to find him....go figure. My thoughts? Let us not celebrate half-measures. Instead let us hold the celebration until the Navy hunts down all the Mother Ships out there from whence these pirates operate, sinks them with shell fire and let's the survivors do the back-stroke back to Somalia. Which brings me to the International Maritime Laws which make it illegal for merchant ships to arm their sailors. Bullshit. If we send men into harm's way, then by God arm them. Did you know that Capt. Phillips' ship had been under attack for a week before the pirates managed to board her? Yes. The crew had kept the pirates held off with fire hoses for days before the boat was finally boarded. Those twenty men, firing M-16s would have been a bit more effective than massed fire from water hoses. My thoughts? Let the rest of the world bend over for pirates, but arm our own sailors to the teeth so they can protect themselves. Against International Law....I don't care, let the other countries do whatever they want to do, but let us take care of our own. Now I hear that the Pirates of Somalia have named America Enemy #1. My thoughts? Well get in line Bucko! Do to us whatever you feel big enough to do, but don't be surprised when you get bitch-slapped into the last century. Look, we got all this unused Navy ordinance so let's get rid of it. Let's "Go Green" and dump a load of it....on Pirates.  |
| I believe that writers are given a gift from God. That gift is a finite number of words that we can use to create verbal pictures on a paper canvas. We arrange and rearrange those words to fit the landscape we want to produce for others to read but, in the end, those words are used up. That is where I find myself of late; rattling an empty barrel where my words were once stored. Just like I have done for many days now, I took a seat at my computer this morning and tried to write an entry commiserate with Easter. Like the days before, I sat at my desk and stared at a blank screen but nothing would come. This morning though, instead of merely walking away from the computer when the words would not come, I did something different. I took my coffee and I walked out on the back porch. I stood and sipped my coffee and stared out over the back pasture of Almosta Ranch. I watched the goats frolic in the tall grass. I felt the cool breeze blow across my skin and raise goose-bumps and I noticed, for the first time, the small green buds which have begun to cover the naked limbs of the trees. I stood rooted to the spot and let my five senses absorb the world. The touch of the warm coffee mug, the smell and taste of the morning air, the sound of the animals moving about their daily business and it came to me...."Be still, and know Me." In that moment God spoke to me. He does that to me so much that I should be use to it by now, but I am always surprised when it happens. He forces me to be still, empty my mind, and LISTEN with my heart. His message to me? Well that is a private matter and I am sure he gives each of you your own private messages from time to time. The thing is...along with that message....he threw me a few extra words to put in my own word barrel so that I could visit here today and write about the wonder and the power of God. The power of God? Yes, He does have power. He has the power to come upon our spirit and fill us with wonder and hope for life in this world and the next. Like a quiet spring morning, He covers us and lifts us up. He gives us respite after a long, hard, winter of tribulations in our lives....He renews us so that we might press onward. His love is truly a wonder. He loves us in silence, without demands. He believes in us even when we don't believe in Him and he stands ready to forgive us even when we can not forgive ourselves. That is a love that is truly wondrous, don't you agree. Yes...Power and Wonder. On this day we celebrate his victory over death and His promise of life for us all. I have no idea what that has to do with Easter eggs, bunny rabbits, or chocolate but I know what means to me. I guess the term; "Happy Easter" is appropriate because we can all be happy today....we stand renewed by His victory and safe in the shelter of His love. Happy Easter, my dear good friends....may you all find solace, hope and renewal on this day. |
| I am proud of the fact that I am NOT eco-friendly....hell, I'm not even friendly. I am sick to death of all these New Age, Proto-Hippies and Limousine Liberals screaming at me from the TV, magazines, and my computer to GO GREEN! Do I look like a freaking frog to you? The only green I want to increase is the vanishing green in my wallet. I got a news flash for you. If tomorrow, we were to do away with all usage of fossil fuels and every damn one of us did absolutely everything "green" we could possibly do.....it wouldn't change a damn thing. The world is going to change no matter what we do. The Earth is constantly in a state of change people. Hell, 12,000 years ago there was no Niagara Falls. Forty thousand years ago 90% of America was covered in an ice-sheet a mile thick. Western Europe experienced a general cooling of the climate between the years 1150 and 1460 and a very cold climate between 1560 and 1850, generally called "Little Ice Age." These things happen NATURALLY people, no matter what we do. If this Earth has a problem it is that it suffers an infestation of Humans and just like some big dog, one day the Earth will give itself a good "shaking" and rid itself of a large portion of them. So, if you really are serious about saving the Ozone, not to mention the short-tailed Horny-Snail, do the Earth a favor and throw yourself off a cliff. I gotta tell you, I am so sick of these damn "One-World-Society", Sit-around-the-campfire-and-sing-Kumbaya, attitude I could just puke. I am sick of a President who feels the need to apologize to Europeans for Americans. I am sick of people tramping past me, at work...cell phones plastered to their ears and completely oblivious to the world around them. I am sick to death of the ever growing list of businesses lining up for a Bailout...now it's the Insurance industry. Eleven million dollars of "Stimulus" money is going to Microsoft to build a road to connect their North and South Campuses? What...Bill Gates can't afford to build his own roads and bridges? I am sick of that crap too. Most of all I am sick of not sleeping at night. I am sick of the vivid nightmares. I am sick to death of the side-effects of Chantex. 20 days cigarette free....my last nerve has been stomped on people. |
| "Outrage is mounting over North Korea's launching of a missile last night which flew over Japan and landed in the Pacific."....Network News this morning. Oh grow up! Here is what happened; A sovereign nation fired a missile up in the air and it landed in the ocean. They have just as much right to play with their toys as we do; they aren't a part of our country nor or they subject to our laws. I could understand if Texas fired off one of those things and it landed in Lake Erie, then the United States could get upset. So now today we have leaders of the Western Nations screaming threats at North Korea. So what. North Korea knows good and well that the threats are empty. The US and her allies are going to go running to the UN and demand....what...sanctions? Good luck with that. The UN is the prototypical Paper Tiger; they have no real power and even if they did, they would lack the stomach to use it. And our Prez wants us to be a member of a "One World Society"...spare me. So now WE...the United States...comes off looking like ineffectual whiners who can do nothing more than throw about empty threats. Thank you Obama and Sec. of State Clinton. This whole thing points up something my ole daddy use to tell me all the time: "Never threaten a man unless you're ready to back up the threats." Personally, I believe that we should have never said a word about this missile launch in public. We should have sent a quiet word to that country's leaders and told them to play if they want to, but the moment they made us believe that they are a direct threat to us, we would crush them. Then, we should have just shut up and let them play with their toys. If, at some future time, they directly attacked the US or our allies, then we do exactly what we told them we would do...crush them. "But, but....that would just be a mean ole thing for us to do." I hear you saying it right now. You know what....I don't care. I would rather be seen as mean than being considered the world's door mat. Here is something to think about. The World Stage operates just like life here on Almosta Ranch. That means that in the world, just like around here, there can be only one top dog. Around here that top dog is Mollie..she rules the roost and keeps the peace. In the world right now there are TWO big dogs; China and America. Now, only one of those dogs is willing to fight so which one do you think is gonna be top dog before long. So, if I had a message for Clinton and Obama it would be: "Shut the hell up with all the empty threats, you're just making us look worse and besides...the other big dog ain't impressed." |
| It doesn't happen often but today is one of those days...this is a second blog entry. What brought about this second entry? Easy....Binghamton, New York and the shooting there is what brought on a second entry. Fourteen dead and four wounded was the last count I heard and as always with things like this, I am struck by how random and needless this whole thing was. My heart goes out to the families effected by this one, obviously deranged, gunman. When we read about these things or see reports on TV it always raises some philosophical questions. The main question in my mind is: Why? If a person is so miserable, so angry, so hopeless, how can they come to the conclusion that killing strangers would make it better? Is it just me, or does it feel like human life seem to be worth less these days than it use to? Yeah, we all have questions, but who has the answers? |
| For some people six o'clock in the morning is a lovely time of day. If, for instance, you happen to be a vampire, you have made your day and now you are relaxing with a hot cup of blood before retiring to your crypt to sleep. If on the other hand, you are a normal human being who didn't get off work until late and didn't go to bed until after midnight....this time sucks bog-water! It's that damn Chantix that is to blame. They warn you that one of the side effects are vivid dreams...they were not lying. Now before Chantix I was considered somewhat an expert in the matter of bothersome dreams. I have spent the last forty years dealing with those pesky occurrence and have gone from having them every night, to only having them once a month or so. In their natural state, these dreams are enough to make most people wake up screaming...indeed I have done that many times...but when the dreams are ramped up by the chemicals present in Chantix then what you get is truly something to behold. Think of the difference between regular TV and HDTV, or the difference between a regular movie and IMAX. Got the picture now? All five senses are involved in the dreams and there is absolutely no difference in what I see in these dreams and what I see and experience in real life. Even after awaking the dream is not over....it reels out in your mind. You lay awake and your brain is going in overdrive....silly damn drug. Anyway....I'm up and it's my day off. The non-smoking project is going great guns...nothing since Mar. 20th. Aside from the whole dreams issue though, there are a few side-effects that I was not prepared to experience. For example, since I have stopped smoking, my sense of smell seems to have returned. I gotta tell you, after years of not smelling anything much, I now find it aggravating in the extreme to have my nose assaulted daily by all these different odors. Oh and let's not even get into those smells generated by customers coming through the front door.....TAKE A BATH PEOPLE! Hell, I'll buy you a bar of soap. Along with the return of Smell, comes the return of my taste buds. Suddenly everything I eat and drink now tastes differently. Even the stuff I have loved for years, I now find taste different. Did I mention I hate change....even taste change. Something else that has returned is appetite.....I could eat a horse if it would just hold still long enough. I swear, in another two months I'm going to look like a Macy's Day parade float. And finally there is my sunny disposition. Say what you will about the evils of smoking, but that little tube of tobacco enables me to suffer idiots much easier. Now that filter is gone; there is nothing between me and them but cold reality....the results are not pretty. Just the other day I am standing at the door watching it rain. A large thunderstorm is dumping about three inches of rain on the parking lot. In walks this idiot and the first thing he says is: "Hey, all your shopping carts are wet." WELL DUH! Before I could stop myself I answered him: "Your grasp of the obvious is awe inspiring." Woman right behind him says: "Where do we have to go to get a dry cart?" "Nebraska. IT'S RAINING PEOPLE, EVERYTHING IS WET, GET A GRIP!" The CSM came hurrying over, noticing the crowd gathering. "Please excuse the greeter, he stopped smoking." The crowd dispersed, some making the sign of the cross.....IDIOTS! You know what really gripes me? We have this little dispenser of those wet wipe things you can wipe off surfaces with...like the handles of your shopping cart. Well it is really irksome when some hillbilly comes staggering out of the foothills for his monthly sojourn to Walmart. He is wearing clothes he put on a week ago and smelling like the bottom of a gut wagon, yet he stops to wipe down his shopping cart....LIKE IT IS GOING TO MATTER WHAT HE TOUCHES? This happened yesterday and I told the guy. "Feel free to take as many as you like sir." I figured, what could it hurt, he might even clean his hands. Yes, the final victim of this particular life-style change has been my patience....I got none. To be honest, I never had a whole lot to begin with and now what I had is down the drain. I can no longer listen to idiots, or read idiots then sit back, light up a smoke, and let their words roll off me like water off a duck's back. No, now I tend to react and that is not always a good thing...LOL. So there you have it...two weeks without a smoke and everything is going just swimmingly, thanks for asking. It's getting easier every day. The cravings have receded somewhat and I find myself going for hours at a time without even thinking of a cigarette. Yes, it's getting easier for me but I'm not sure how easy it is for those around me, but then again, I don't care....they wanted me to quit so they deserve what they get! |
| I know how my buddies Ken, Eric, and CC love to poke fun at Southerners, though to be truthful, Eric has to do it quietly to keep from Debie hearing him and pounding the crap outta him. I decided today to beat them to the punch and post these little examples of how "Special" we are down here in the South. Hope you enjoy them as much as I did the first time I read them..... Tennessee The owner of a golf course was confused about paying an invoice, so he decided to ask his secretary for some mathematical help. He called her into his office and said, 'You graduated from the University of Tennessee and I need some help. If I were to give you $20,000, minus 14%, how much would you take off?' The secretary thought a moment, and then replied, 'Everything but my earrings.' Alabama A group of Alabama friends went deer hunting and paired off in twos for the day. That night, one of the hunters returned alone, staggering under the weight of an eight-point buck. 'Where's Henry?' the others asked. 'Henry had a stroke of some kind. He's a couple of miles back up the trail,' the successful hunter replied. 'You left Henry laying out there and carried the deer back?' they inquired. 'A tough call,' nodded the hunter. 'But I figured no one is going to steal Henry!' Texas The Sheriff pulled up next to the guy unloading garbage out of his pick-up into the ditch. The Sheriff asked, 'Why are you dumping garbage in the ditch? Don't you see that sign right over your head'. 'Yep', he replied. 'That's why I dumpin it here, cause it says: 'Fine For Dumping Garbage'. Louisiana A senior at LSU was overheard saying.... 'When the end of the world comes, I hope to be in Louisiana ..' When asked why, he replied he'd rather be in Louisiana because everything happens in Louisiana 20 years later than in the rest of the civilized world. Mississippi The young man from Mississippi came running into the store and said to his buddy, 'Bubba, somebody just stole your pickup truck from the parking lot!' Bubba replied, 'Did you see who it was?' The young man answered, 'I couldn't tell, but I got his license number' Georgia A Georgia State trooper pulled over a pickup on I- 75. The trooper asked, 'Got any I. D. ?' The driver replied, 'Bout whut?' North Carolina A man in North Carolina had a flat tire, pulled off on the side of the road, and proceeded to put a bouquet of flowers in front of the car and one behind it. Then he got back in the car to wait. A passerby studied the scene as he drove by and was so curious he turned around and went back. He asked the fellow what the problem was. The man replied, 'I have a flat tire.' The passerby asked, 'But what's with the flowers?' The man responded, 'When you break down they tell you to put flares in the front and flares in the back. Hey, it don't make no sense to me neither.' And this from South Carolina 'You can say what you want about the South, but I ain't never heard of anyone wanting to retire to the North! |
| As I type this I have to wonder...when will it end? Yes, ladies and gentlemen, another half-starved, abandoned and freezing baby puppy..no more than three months old...has won the great Animal Lottery. This lucky dog drew the winning numbers in the lottery by collapsing in the middle of the road and being found by my Sister-in-Law yesterday. You guessed it; instead of taking the ragged little flea-bag to her house, she hurried it over to OUR house and presented it to Mel for her to save. Of course Mel took one look at the thing and she went into Super hero, save-the-puppy mode. By the time I got home last night I was greeted with the sight of this scrawny little Jack Russel Terrier. Her hair was matted and all her ribs were visible. She could barely lift her head to look at me when I came through the door. I am happy to report that today she is already showing signs of improvement. Her coat looks better, her eyes are brighter, and her ribs are starting to not show so much. Oh yeah, and she is happily answering to the name of "Sadie" now. Oh well, I guess it could have been worse. It could have been a half-starved and abandoned bear her sister found. Don't laugh....it'll happen; it's just a matter of time...and my luck. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Sadie.... |
| I have some questions for you. You may choose to answer them in the comments section, or you may just answer them to yourselves and keep your answers private....it matters only that you answer. If you had the choice of living 25 years miserable, or 10 years completely happy....which would you choose? For me, I would choose the ten happy years every time. What good is the extra time if you only spend it miserable? If God offered to give you everything you needed, or everything you WANTED....which would you choose? I would choose that I get everything I needed. After all, if he gave me everything I wanted, then where would be the incentive for me to strive to improve my life. No, I got what I need, now it's up to me to get any extra. We all love the natural beauty of the country don't we. Now, my question to you is this: Since you love Nature's beauty, would you rather live in a wild, natural setting where you had to live off the land and kill for your food, or would you rather live in a town or city where you could go to the store and get your meat that was killed by someone else? Easy one for me; I would rather live the natural life...without cities, or towns. Even Mel, as much as she loves animals, agrees with me. She just said that she would demand that I do the killing of our meat out of her sight....she would be happy to cook the end product! Now let's move along to a somewhat less philosophical set of questions, shall we. Why do you write a blog? For me, I write a blog because it is an easy way to keep what little talent I might have sharpened so that when I get the chance, I might be able to apply that little talent toward a bit larger project. What do you like to read in a blog? Now this question can be a bit of a stickler. Look, we all know that there is no right or wrong way to write a blog; you write the way you want to. Whither or not people read it is another matter. Personally, I love to read blogs with variety. I enjoy being surprised when I open one of these blogs up and discover what the topic of the day is going to be. I enjoy reading blogs that are intelligently written, no matter what the subject and one that does not overly use profanity. A few "hells" and "damns" is okay, but anything other than that just gets tedious. Is Blogging addictive to you? Oh hell YES! For me, it is definitely addictive to the point where I rarely work on any other writing anymore. It would seem that if I can stop smoking, I can at least bring this other addictive behaviour under control. Oh and this is Day 10 with no cigarettes....so far so good. So what about you? Want to share your answers, or just answer them to yourself....would love to hear what you think. |
| For those of you out there who read the previous entry and felt sorry for poor Debi....please, save your sympathy. You see on Tuesday she got reinforcements. ccstring showed up. Now there are probably four or five of you who read CC's slanderous account of the meeting, well I am here to set the record straight. Yes, I did call CC to check on his whereabouts and if he was coming that morning. After all, this is the same man who gets lost in his front yard, so I called him. He was, in fact, just outside the house when I called him. I know this because I saw him drive past as he futilely tried to find the house. I watched him pass the house about five times before Debi finally had mercy on him and ran out and flagged him down. So it was that CC made his appearance at Casa Wharton. If you have never seen CC enter a room, it is a thing to behold. He doesn't so much, enter a room as he EXPLODES into it like a massive, atomic Stupid Bomb. Brain cells die at an alarming rate in a five mile radius of him. Eric was the perfect host, even to CC. Eric met him at the door, plastered an "Obama for King" bumper-sticker on his forehead, and quickly ushered him to the back patio. This was a stroke of genius on Eric's part and was instrumental in saving his living room carpet from some ugly stains.....CC had been driving awhile, you know. What followed was a wonderful day of fellowship, fun, and frolic. A good time was had by all, that's for sure. CC got right in the spirit of the meeting by agreeing to hold the dart board for us while me and Eric played a rousing game of Darts, using Gurkha Throwing knifes instead of darts. I also added the rule that the first one to draw blood from the dart board got an extra fifty points. We didn't forget the ladies either. Mel and Debi got some quality bonding time while shopping for bandages and band aids for CC after the dart game......he's such a damn cry-baby. Now as I said at the very first....Debi's reinforcements came in the form of the eternal Suck-Up, CC. He came armed with his digital camera and he and Debi spent most of their time sneaking around taking candid shots of me. All the while, CC was regaling everyone with what he was going to do with those pictures and his Photo-Shop program....the man is an evil genius with that thing. I am sure that in the days and weeks to come you will all be bombarded by his OBVIOUSLY DOCTORED pictures from our get together. I can't believe the man would stoop so low and after I came to his rescue and defended him to Carolina Blue the next day.Ken: "Hey Tor, is it true what I heard about CC?" Me: "I don't know Ken, what have you heard?" Ken: "Well I was told the man eats Turd Sammichs!" Me: "I am shocked that you would repeat such an obvious falsehood, Ken. I know CC personally and I can say without a shadow of a doubt that HE NEVER EATS BREAD!" Okay, Monkey-Boy, bring on your fake photos....I'm yore Huckleberry! |
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Sad to see you go, but glad to have kept up with you via OS. 
