Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Butterbean Pix

Went to Chattanooga Sunday thru Tuesday. Had me some much needed Bean time. Had a wunnerful time, here's a couple of pix.

Saturday, December 26, 2009

Christmas '09

Well Christmas day, 2009 has come and gone for another year. It has been a fast and hectic year for many, if not all. For most of you, now you will only wait a week and wish the New Year in. Not me! I still have another Christmas to go! I am headed for Choo choo town tomorrow to get me a couple of days of Butterbean time in before the new year. I'm going to bounce my newest Grandboy, Steven Nolan Bayles AKA "The Butterbean" on my knee for a while. Can't wait. See yall later.

Friday, December 4, 2009

Read and Weep!

PLEASE - Everyone needs to read this if they VOTE!
Although this is political, it is totally bipartisan so I believe each of us should read it. Over the last 100 years both democrats and republicans have ruled, yet look at the fix we are in. Please consider how each voter can help. It isn't a matter of party, but rather principle and ethics.
We need to vote out all 536 and start all over. This email should be passed on all over the USA . Elections start next year, let us get them out!
536 vs 300,000,000
Charley Reese has been a journalist for 49 years.
By Charlie Reese
Politicians are the only people in the world who create problems and then campaign against them.
Have you ever wondered, if both the Democrats and the Republicans are against deficits, WHY do we have deficits?
Have you ever wondered, if all the politicians are against inflation and high taxes, WHY do we have inflation and high taxes?
You and I don't propose a federal budget. The president does.
You and I don't have the Constitutional authority to vote on appropriations. The House of Representatives does.
You and I don't write the tax code, Congress does.
You and I don't set fiscal policy, Congress does.
You and I don't control monetary policy, the Federal Reserve Bank does.
One hundred senators, 435 congressmen, one president equates to 536 human beings out of the 300 million who are directly, legally, morally, and individually responsible for the domestic problems that plague this country.
I excluded the members of the Federal Reserve Board because that problem was created by the Congress. In 1913, Congress delegated its Constitutional duty to provide a sound currency to a federally chartered, but private, central bank.
I excluded all the special interests and lobbyists for a sound reason.. They have no legal authority. They have no ability to coerce a senator, a congressman, or a president to do one cotton-picking thing. I don't care if they offer a politician $1 million dollars in cash. The politician has the power to accept or reject it. No matter what the lobbyist promises, it is the legislator's responsibility to determine how he votes.
Those 536 human beings spend much of their energy convincing you that what they did is not their fault. They cooperate in this common con regardless of party.
What separates a politician from a normal human being is an excessive amount of gall. No normal human being would have the gall of a Speaker, who stood up and criticized the President for creating deficits. The president can only propose a budget. He cannot force the Congress to accept it.
The Constitution, which is the supreme law of the land, gives sole responsibility to the House of Representatives for originating and approving appropriations and taxes. Who is the speaker of the House? Nancy Pelosi. She is the leader of the majority party. She and fellow House members, not the president, can approve any budget they want. If the president vetoes it, they can pass it over his veto if they agree to.
It seems inconceivable to me that a nation of 300 million can not replace 536 people who stand convicted -- by present facts -- of incompetence and irresponsibility. I can't think of a single domestic problem that is not traceable directly to those 536 people. When you fully grasp the plain truth that 545 people exercise the power of the federal government, then it must follow that what exists is what they want to exist.
If the tax code is unfair, it's because they want it unfair.
If the budget is in the red, it's because they want it in the red ..
If the Army & Marines are in IRAQ , it's because they want them in IRAQ
If they do not receive social security but are on an elite retirement plan not available to the people, it's because they want it that way.
There are no insoluble government problems.
Do not let these 536 people shift the blame to bureaucrats, whom they hire and whose jobs they can abolish; to lobbyists, whose gifts and advice they can reject; to regulators, to whom they give the power to regulate and from whom they can take this power. Above all, do not let them con you into the belief that there exists disembodied mystical forces like "the economy," "inflation," or "politics" that prevent them from doing what they take an oath to do.
Those 536 people, and they alone, are responsible.
They, and they alone, have the power.
They, and they alone, should be held accountable by the people who are their bosses.
Provided the voters have the gumption to manage their own employees.
We should vote all of them out of office and clean up their mess!
Charlie Reese is a former columnist of the Orlando Sentinel Newspaper.
This might be funny if it weren't so darned true.
Be sure to read all the way to the end:
Tax his land,
Tax his bed,
Tax the table
At which he's fed.
Tax his tractor,
Tax his mule,
Teach him taxes
Are the rule.
Tax his work,
Tax his pay,
He works for peanuts
Tax his cow,
Tax his goat,
Tax his pants,
Tax his coat.
Tax his ties,
Tax his shirt,
Tax his work,
Tax his dirt.
Tax his tobacco,
Tax his drink,
Tax him if he
Tries to think.
Tax his cigars,
Tax his beers,
If he cries
Tax his tears.
Tax his car,
Tax his gas,
Find other ways
To tax his ---.
Tax all he has
Then let him know
That you won't be done
Till he has no dough.
When he screams and hollers;
Then tax him some more,
Tax him till
He's good and sore.
Then tax his coffin,
Tax his grave,
Tax the sod in
Which he's laid.
Put these words
Upon his tomb,
Taxes drove me
to my doom...'
When he's gone,
Do not relax,
Its time to apply
The inheritance tax.
Accounts Receivable Tax
Building Permit Tax
CDL license Tax
Cigarette Tax
Corporate Income Tax
Dog License Tax
Excise Taxes
Federal Income Tax
Federal Unemployment Tax (FUTA)
Fishing License Tax
Food License Tax
Fuel Permit Tax
Gasoline Tax (currently 44.75 cents per gallon)
Gross Receipts Tax
Hunting License Tax
Inheritance Tax
Inventory Tax
IRS Interest Charges IRS Penalties (tax on top of tax)
Liquor Tax
Luxury Taxes
Marriage License Tax
Medicare Tax
Personal Property Tax
Property Tax
Real Estate Tax
Service Charge Tax
Social Security Tax
Road Usage Tax
Sales Tax
Recreational Vehicle Tax
School Tax
State Income Tax
State Unemployment Tax (SUTA)
Telephone Federal Excise Tax
Telephone Federal Universal Ser vice FeeTax
Telephone Federal, State and Local Surcharge Taxes
Telephone Minimum Usage Surcharge=2 0Tax
Telephone Recurring and Non-recurring Charges Tax
Telephone State and Local Tax
Telephone Usage Charge Tax
Utility Taxes
Vehicle License Registration Tax
Vehicle Sales Tax
Watercraft Registration Tax
Well Permit Tax
Workers Compensation Tax

STILL THINK THIS IS FUNNY? Not one of these taxes existed 100 years ago, and our nation was the most prosperous in the world. We had absolutely no national debt, had the largest middle class in the world, and Mom stayed home to raise the kids.
What has happened? Can you spell 'politicians?'
And I still have to 'press 1' for English!?

Tuesday, December 1, 2009


Ladies, Gentlemen, I implore you, PLEASE WATCH this video! Granted, I may not be the sharpest knife in the drawer, but I do know big wood from brush! Please, in 2010, consider voting OUT, from the rank of dogcatcher up, ANY INCUMBENT! PLEASE!

Thursday, November 26, 2009

Saturday, November 21, 2009

My New Grandboy!!!!

Tis with great gusto and pride that I announce the birth, as of last Monday Morning, Nov. 16, 2009, od Steven Nolan "Butterbean" Bayles. My FIRST HOMEMADE Grandchild! I already have 8 step grandchilluns, but Butterbean is mah FUST HOMMADE!
Pix will flow freely!

Wednesday, November 11, 2009

Veteran's Day

Run, don't walk, out and personally thank every Veteran you can find. We'd be in a sorryful state if not for the Veterans of the American Armed Forces.

Friday, October 23, 2009

One From My Brother! Good, read it all!

Subject: Legal vs Illegal

You have two families: "Joe Legal" and "Jose Illegal". Both families
have two parents, two children, and live in California .

Joe Legal works in construction, has a Social Security Number and makes $25.00 per hour with taxes deducted.

Jose Illegal also works in construction, has NO Social Security Number, and gets paid $15.00 cash "under the table".

Ready? Now pay attention...

Joe Legal: $25.00 per hour x 40 hours = $1000.00 per week, or $52,000.00 per year. Now take 30% away for state and federal tax; Joe Legal now has $31,231.00.

Jose Illegal: $15.00 per hour x 40 hours = $600.00 per week, or $31,200.00 per year. Jose Illegal pays no taxes. Jose Illegal now has $31,200.00.

Joe Legal pays medical and dental insurance with limited coverage for his family at $600.00 per month, or $7,200.00 per year. Joe Legal now has $24,031.00.

Jose Illegal has full medical and dental coverage through the state and local clinics at a cost of $0.00 per year. Jose Illegal still has $31,200.00.

Joe Legal makes too much money and is not eligible for food stamps or welfare. Joe Legal pays $500.00 per month for food, or $6,000.00 per year. Joe Legal now has $18,031.00.

Jose Illegal has no documented income and is eligible for food stamps and welfare. Jose Illegal still has $31,200.00.

Joe Legal pays rent of $1,200.00 per month, or $14,400.00 per year. Joe Legal now has $9,631.00.

Jose Illegal receives a $500.00 per month federal rent subsidy. Jose Illegal pays $500.00 per month, or $6,000.00 per year. Jose Illegal still has $ 31,200.00.

Joe Legal pays $200.00 per month, or $2,400..00 for insurance. Joe Legal now has $7,231.00.

Jose Illegal says, "We don't need no stinkin' insurance!" and still has $31,200.00.

Joe Legal has to make his $7,231.00 stretch to pay utilities, gasoline, etc.

Jose Illegal has to make his $31,200.00 stretch to pay utilities, gasoline, and what he sends out of the country every month.

Joe Legal now works overtime on Saturdays or gets a part time job after work.

Jose Illegal has nights and weekends off to enjoy with his family.

Joe Legal's and Jose Illegal's children both attend the same school.. Joe Legal pays for his children's lunches while Jose Illegal's children get a government sponsored lunch. Jose Illegal's children have an after school ESL program. Joe Legal's children go home.

Joe Legal and Jose Illegal both enjoy the same police and fire services, but Joe paid for them and Jose did not pay.

Do you get it, now?

If you vote for or support any politician that supports illegal aliens...You are part of the problem!

It's way PAST time to take a stand for America and Americans!

Monday, October 19, 2009

Southern Living, 12th Grade!

Well, faithful reader, as Stephen King says, yall have stuck with me thru a while of schools and homes. Now it is the fall of 1964. I am beginning the 12th grade, senior year! Dang, it seemed then like I'd been in school all my life. Acutally had been in school almost 2/3 of it. Anyhow, I am still working for Jack Rowe on tv's, still in band, still driving the Willys. What I don't have this year is my ever faithful(?) girlfriend. Something happened, I honestly don't remember what, and we parted company. Oh well, her loss.
Now, yall remember my arch nemesis, Coach Carl Grubb? Well, this year, he went from teaching social studies to teaching Physical Science as well as Driver's Ed. Damn! After three long years, I knew I had him behind the 8 ball this year. I signed up for both his classes, even tho' I'd had my drivers license two years. Didn't matter, I was OUT FOR REVENGE! And REVENGE I GOT! I kept him so confused all year in science, that I believed he would've quit teaching if they haden't closed the school a year later anyhow.
The first thing I started in on him was, he stood and said one day that "Perpetual Motion is Impossible!" Well, to a Junior Rocket Scientist like me, a slap in the face! I took exception to this and told him and the entire class so. He told me to prove him wrong. I have never done as much research in my life as I did that year. Every week I would bring in this article or that clipping proving my point! Finally about a couple of weeks before the end of the school year, he admitted in front of the class that he was wrong, Perpetual Motion "Might" be possible. Hmmmm, you don't suppose he was smart enough to use that as a ploy to get me to study, do you? Nah, I wasn't a Foosball player, he didn't give a shit if I studied or not! Nuff for tonite, be back later....

Friday, October 9, 2009

Southern Living, 11th Grade, Part 2

Let's get me outta the 11th grade. Not much more to tell. I am studying 11th grade English, health, and so forth. One thing I haven't mentioned! CHEMISTRY!
Chemistry WHUPPED MY ARSE! I thought I would like high school chemistry! I did not! I muddeled my way thru it! I did win the state science fair that year with my chemistry science fair project. Unfortunately, it was an ELECTRONIC project! Don't remember exactly what it was, seems like it was an electronic solar powered alarm clock, or some such!
Anyhow, Mr. Pope was the instructor and tried hard to give me an education in chemistry, even while I was making Nitro-Glycerin during class. We finally came to an agreement, I would cease making high explosives, and I would pass chemistry! Seemed a rightous trade to me!
Still with Helen Smith, still driving the Willys, still shooting pool, still fixing tv's and learning electronics from Jack Rowe and Karl Rushing!
Both myself and Moorhead actually survived my 11th grade year! No small accomplishment, I must say!
Tune in later for Southern Living, My 12th grade year!

Sunday, September 27, 2009

Southern Living, 11th Grade

Now we're coming into the time of my life I really enjoyed. 11th grade! Lessee, I had WHEELS! A hundred dollar 1952 Willys car! If you've never seen one, look it up on the innernet. You "might" find a picture. It was a six cylinder little car that looked a lot like a '50 Ford, but it had little stubs of tailfins. It wasn't much, but it beat the scooter. I had it rigged out with a Gonset Short Wave converter for the radio, had a CB in it with TWO 102" whips on it. One fer the converter and one fer the CB! Thunk I was big Crap! Was still living in the MDJC electronics lab in every spare moment, learning as I went. Still in band, going to two damned foosball games a week! Well, not too damned, still rode the bus with the cheerleaders, har! Had now begun to repair TV's for the populace. Now I repaired TV's, sold scrap iron and cut yards. I gave up the paper route bout halfway thru the 11th. While I am on the topic of paper routes, let me mention Baird, Ms. A little, very little town to the west of Moorhead by about 5 miles. The only draw to Baird was a store that had a "SLOT MACHINE"! If you've been keeping up, you know I had an affinity for them in my formative years. I would always order a couple of extra papers, they sold for a nickle back then. I'd peddle them, and haul arse to Baird to put my dime or fifteen cents into the slot machine. NEVER DID HIT SQUAT!
Anyhow, still had the same girl, Helen, still doing pretty much the same all over.
John Kennedy got kilt my Junior Year. A dreary November day it was. Still remember getting the word between classes right after lunch!
Still had my nemesis, Coach Carl Grubb! What a DoDo. He taught social studies, which I hated with a passion! But, my time is coming, wait til next year!
Biology was taught by a college coach! Never learned squat! All we ever did was watch the films from last Saturday's game! What a waste of education. NEVER ask me why I HATE COACHES AND FOOSBALL, unless you've got an hour to listen to me rant!
Got a job as a tv repairman in Indianola, Ms. Bout seven miles to the west. Working for Mr. Jack Rowe. A true gentleman and one of the finest people I ever knew! He took me under his wing and REALLY TAUGHT me how to fix TV's. I `could go on for hours bragging on Jack! I love him to this day!
Well, my cut thumb is back to bleeding, so I am going to quit. I will either take back up in the 11th, or move to the 12th next blog. See Ya!

Thursday, September 24, 2009

Obama's Escapades. How Long Can it Continue?

We have a very deceptive
President -- deceptive and dangerous.
You just spent $20,000,000 to move members/supporters of
Hamas, a terrorist organization, to the United States; housing, food, the whole enchilada.


Whether you are an Obama fan, or not, EVERYONE IN THE U. S. needs to

Something happened.... H.R. 1388 was
passed, behind our backs. You may want to read about
it.. It wasn't mentioned on the news... just went by
on the ticker tape at the bottom of the CNN screen.

Obama funds $20M in tax payer
dollars to immigrate Hamas Refugees to the USA. This is the news that didn't make the

By executive order, President Barack Obama has ordered the expenditure of $20.3 million in "migration assistance" to the Palestinian refugees and
"conflict victims" in Gaza.

The "presidential determination", which allows
hundreds of thousands of Palestinians with ties to Hamas
to resettle in the United States, was signed and appeares in the Federal

Few on Capitol Hill, or in the media,
took note that the order provides a free ticket replete
with housing and food allowances to individuals who have
displayed their overwhelming support to the Islamic
Resistance Movement (Hamas) in the parliamentary
election of January 2006.

Let's review....itemized list of some of Barack Obama's most
recent actions since his inauguration:

His first
call to any head of state, as president, was to Mahmoud
Abbas, leader of Fatah party in the Palestinian

His first one-on-one television
interview with any news organization was with Al Arabia

His first executive order was to fund/facilitate abortion(s) not just here within the
U.S.., but within the world, using payer funds.

He ordered Guantanamo Bay closed and all military trials of detainees

He ordered overseas CIA interrogation centers closed.

He withdrew all charges against the masterminds behind the USS Cole and the "terror
attack" on 9/11.

Now we learn that he is allowing hundreds of thousands of Palestinian refuges to move to, and live in, the US at American taxpayer expense.

These important,
and insightful, issues are being "lost" in the blinding
bail-outs and "stimulation" packages.

To verify this for yourself:

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

No Wonder the US is going to hell!

My friend, The Grouch put out a post today on Pimple Faced Wannabees. I spent the day from Hell today on a similar type situation.
At my place of employment we have 4 hydraulic barricades that raise up and lower upon command to stop unauthorized traffic. We have had these things since 2003. They occasionally give trouble, and up until today, I would call the company who makes them and order the proper replacement part. Usually overpriced, but nevertheless, I would get them. NOT TODAY!
I called to order a spring for one. Now this is a BIG spring! Something like you would find under the front end of an older car, except BIGGER!
Called the company, got customer service, and was told,"I'm sorry Mr. Sheffield, but I can no longer sell parts to you!"
"Why not!", I calmly asked. ""Because Seimens has the service contract on all the barricades, and THEY have to sell you the parts!"
Well, to do away with much useless banter and quotes, I worked my way thru 4 levels of bullshit from the barricade company, and after threatning to sell all the barricades for scrap, I got to a Seimens person. "Why do you feel that the spring is causing you problems?", this genius asked. "BECAUSE THE DAMNED THING IS BROKEN IN HALF!", I not so calmly replied! "Oh" said he. Well I guess we need to send you one!"
By now, my BP was off the map. Anyhow, after starting this exercise in futility at about 0800, now it is 0100, I told him to ship the spring the fastest way, that I needed it.
Sounds good?, no not to be. I got a call from a man in Huntsville, who told me that it was going to cost $400 to send me this $600 spring overnite! By now, we had already African Engineered the barricade back into working. I told him, calmly, to strap the @#$%&Spring to the back of a *&%$#@Snail and send the SOB to me at the cheapest price, that I was right before taking a bulldozer to all the @^%$#**&Barricades and selling them all for scrap iron!
In the middle of all this, all the electric power went off. I am working like a dawg to find out why. My phone is ringing constantly with people telling me their power is off, they're out of toilet paper, they need somebody to go get their lunch and a hundred other miniscule petty complaints until I finally blow up and tell em all to get $$#*@ked!
Damn! What a day!
Anyhow, Siemens. Not an American company, German as a matter of fact, has a contract with the U.S. Army to provide barricades and God knows whatever else to the Army!
There are people out of work all across this great land, but some bunch of sons of bitches that got paid who knows what under the table have put the security of this country in the hands of 1.Idiots, 2. NAZIs , 3. Communists, 4. People who don't really give a shit if I ever get a spring or not!
Anyhow, Grouch, I sympathize wit ya!

Monday, September 21, 2009

Southern Living, 10th Grade

Well, I am sorry that there is NOTHING noteworthy to report from the 10th grade. It was pretty much a blah year. I got my drivers license, but had no car. I did get rid of my Sears Moped and got a Sears motorscooter. Still had the same girlfriend, Helen Smith. Was friends with the same bunch. L.C.Wakham, Frankie Hickman, Kenneth Horne. Made no new enemies, that I can recall. Still hung out at the electronics lab at the Jr. College, still learning and perfecting my lifelong love of electronics, still shot a mean game of pool. That's about it! Algebra 2, good class, world history - sux, English, ok, Health- taught by Coach Jimmy Bellapanni, the ONLY COACH/Teacher that I ever knew who was worth a SHIT! He actually, can ya believe it, tried to TEACH A CLASS!
Anyhow, that's it for the 10th grade!
It was ok, but nothing to write home about!
We will move on to the 11th, next blog. (assuming I don't go off on some other tangent)

Friday, September 11, 2009

Southern Living, 9th Grade Continued

OK, I'm back to the 9th grade. Life was good. I was an outcast from the jocks group, somewhat, but I fit in kinda well with the brainiacs group. I actually had more friends with the brains than the jocks. Remembering, I actually had friends in both groups. I discovered early on in the 9th grade that I could take my books home and study and make straight A's, but I could do my homework in study hall and make B's and C's. Guess what I did? Yup, made B's and C's. Shot a lot of pool, cut a lot of classes.
Anyhow, in the 9th grade, I met my Elmer(s). Now, for you non ham radio folks, an Elmer is a person who takes a fledgling Ham Wannabee under his wing and coaches him into ham radio. I actually had 3 Elmers. Number one was a gentleman named Karl Rushing. He was a college electronics instructor. I can't remember his call at the moment. My number two Elmer was a second year college student named Keith Worrel. Damned if I can remember his call either. And my third Elmer was a freshman college student named Steve ********, my memory fails. Anyhow, these three Elmers coached me into a Ham Radio novice license. WN5KHJ! I had a HAM LICENSE in 1960! I was poor and couldn't afford a real ham rig, so I used an old Zenith trans-oceanic receiver and a homemade transmitter putting out 15 watts. I actually made quite a few contacts. Enjoyed the hell out of it!
Back to the 9th. I studied Algebra, loved it, social studies, hated it, english, liked it, and health, what can ya say?
I still had a steady girlfriend, Helen Smith, shot a MEAN game of pool, still cut grass, sold scrap metal, delivered papers to make spending money.
The 9th grade was pretty fine, I remember nothing bad to report about the 9th.
Was learning electronics from a College instructor, still was riding my Sears Motorscooter, making pretty decent money for my age from my many enterprises, and as always, was generally Happy!
Lets move on to the 10th be continued.....
BTW, I did forget to mention that I did have access at anytime to the Ham Shack in the Electronics Technology Department at MDJC. I could run REAL radios from there if I chose, but still enjoyed my little homemade station to the fullest. There's something to be said for contacting a distant station using a transmitter you have built with your own hands from an old TV set!

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Southern Living, 8th Grade Addendum

I must reserve the right to exercise my selective memory. Namely, I remembered something I forgot about my 8th grade year. In the 8th grade, I began to discover my DNA rooted LOVE for ELECTRONICS and all things electric. If you will remember, on the back of every comic book was an ad. Mostly to sell seeds, magazines, miracle salve or what have you. But one that caught my eye was an ad from The American Basic Science Club. Now the premise/promise of this was that every month you would send them $2.00 American and they would send you a kit of parts that would eventually end up as a working radio receiver! I BIT, hook, line and sinker. Every month I would cut grass, deliver papers or WHATEVER it took to come up with two bucks!
Well, as I remember the first month, they sent me a cheap compass, some hook-up wire, a magnet and instructions on how to wind the wire around the compass and pass the magnet thru the wire, to demonstrate a rudimentary generator! HOOKED, I was. I learned the basics of electrical generation, went to the library and checked out what books I could find on the subject and spent many happy hours playing with my compass and magnet!
Well, the next month, I got a cardboard chassis with a masonite top, some terminal strips, and more hookup wire, along with a soldering iron. Instructions attempted to teach me how to solder. I remember sitting at a table and using the soldering iron to melt and drip solder onto the wires.
My Mama came along and said to me,"You aren't doing that right!"
In my youthful wisdom, I looked at my Mama and said,"Just WHAT do you know about soldering?"
She said,"Move your butt over, and I'll SHOW you what I know about it!"
So, I did, she sat down and made one of the prettiest solder connections you ever saw!
In a more subdued voice, I asked, respectfully,"How'd you know how to do that?"
Well, as it turned out, in Greenwood, you remember where that is, after WW2, my Mama worked at a place there called Supreme Electronics. Later to be bought out by Hicok. Anyhow, my Mama's job was to solder wires onto tube sockets when they would come down the assembly line. Every once in a while, one of the sockets would be put in wrong. Mama went back up the line to see who the idiot was putting in the tube sockets wrong, and met my Daddy! Well, one thing led to another, and in July of 1947, along came lil old ME!
I have often thought about the fact that my Mama and Daddy were both working in electronics, got married and moved to other occupations, gave birth to me, who had had a torrid love affair with electronics ever since! Weird!
Anyhow, I continued with the American Basic Science Club all the way thru the 8th into the 9th grades. My radio DID work, first rattle outta the box, and if anybody ever got their money's worth out of the back of a comic book ad, I did!
Now, back to the 9th grade, I just wanted you to know how I fell in love with the electron!

Tuesday, September 8, 2009

Southern Living, Pt.9th GRADE. High Skool!

Damn, a lot happened tween the last of the 8th grade and the beginning of the 9th! Namely, all, well MOST of the girls grew TITTIES! GOD bless the female anatomy! I started the 9th grade in AWE! DAMN, all them little bitty girls had spread OUT! I loved it!
Anyhow, gitting control of my memories, I started the 9th grade! I done had me a baby brother. Had done quitted foosball. Had outgrew all them juvinile, elementary skool thangs. HELL! I was a high skooler! Unfortunately, in them days, we had what was called "Freshman day!" This was a day from hell, I tell ya, HELL! Course, for those amongst ya to really know me, it didn't REALLY matter a bit! My job in "freshman day was to #1, Wear a diaper, #2, ride my moped across the campus singing at the top of my lungs,"I'm a back door man!", and nummer 3, sip from a baby bottle during the parade!
Big deal! I happened upon a IV bottle, you member these? It held about a quart. I stretched onna my baby brudder's nipples acrost the mouff of it and drank "TEA" from it all day! Ran my moped all over the campus and sang at the top of my little voice changing lungs!
I was STILL in the High Skool Band, Still in the college band! And as horney a little a bastard as ANYBODY could STAND!!!
Nuff said fer tonite. Hang in LIMBO, I WILL BE BACK!!!!!!

Friday, September 4, 2009

Southern Living, Part 8th Grade.

Well, folks let me tell ya, as far as I am concerned, the 8th grade sucked stump water!
"Coach Billy Hood", my cousin was gone. In his place, we had "Coach Bailey"! The sorriest scum of the earth as far as I was and still am (assuming he is still living)concerned. I didn't like him! He didn't like me! We got along all year as well as fire and gasoline! Still had Mrs. Woods, bless her heart for science and Mrs. Ryals for English.
Let me diverge a moment to talk a bit about my Elementary School Principal. Mr. Perrin Bishop. Mr. Bishop was a fine Southern gentleman. He was as fair and unbiased as anyone could ever ask. I really liked and respected him. A fine man and principal!
Back to the rest of 8th grade hell. I have probably blocked most memories of the 8th out of my mind. I really did not enjoy any part of this year with two exceptions.
I was dating, such as it was, my first true love, Helen Smith. She enjoys a warm spot in my heart to this day!
Secondly, this, 1960, was the year I became a BROTHER! My baby brother, Louie Paul Sheffield was born on October 20th. A fat, wiggly little squirt he was. (and still is, har!)
Back in those days, you didn't know what sex your baby was going to be. Anybody's guess. Mom and Dad had the name Susan Marie Sheffield picked out for a girl, and Louie (my Dad's first name) Paul Sheffield picked out for a boy. Anyhow, L.P.Sheffield popped out, after much labor.
A word about the delivery, Doctor Sandifer was the Doctor who delivered both me and my brother. Momma had been in the labor room for about 2 days when Doc. Sandifer came in with a pillowcase. Mom asked him what was in the sack. "Chicken feathers!" he responded. ""If you burn dominecker chicken feathers, it will induce labor!"
Thereupon, he poured out that pillowcase full of feathers on the floor of the hospital and made out like he was about to set them afire!
My Mama, shy and receeding as she was, told him to "Get his ass and his feathers outta her room", that she would deliver the baby when she was "Damn well ready!"
And she did, the next morning.
Nuff said, lets leave the 8th grade and move to High School.
Bye Now!

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Sorry for the Interruption, I got a couple I need to share!

A Republican in a wheelchair entered a restaurant one afternoon and asked the waitress for a cup of coffee. The Republican looked across the restaurant and asked, "Is that Jesus sitting over there?"

The waitress nodded "yes," so the Republican requested that she give Jesus a cup of coffee, on him.

The next patron to come in was a Libertarian with a hunched back. He shuffled over to a booth, painfully sat down, and asked the waitress for a cup of hot tea. He also glanced across the restaurant and asked, "Is that Jesus over there?"

The waitress nodded, so the Libertarian asked her to give Jesus a cup of hot tea, "My treat."

The third patron to come into the restaurant was a Democrat on crutches.

He hobbled over to a booth, sat down and hollered, "Hey there, honey! How's about getting' me a cold glass of Miller Light?"

He, too, looked across the restaurant and asked, "Is that God's boy over there?"

The waitress once more nodded, so the Democrat directed her to give Jesus a cold glass of beer. "On my bill," he said.

As Jesus got up to leave, he passed by the Republican, touched him and said, "For your kindness, you are healed." The Republican felt the strength come back into his legs, got up, and danced a jig out the door.

Jesus also passed by the Libertarian, touched him and said, "For your kindness, you are healed." The Libertarian felt his back straightening up, and he raised his hands, praised the Lord and did a series of back flips out the door.

Then Jesus walked towards the Democrat. The Democrat jumped up and yelled, "Don't touch me, I'm collecting disability!!!"

Southern Living, 7th Grade Continued

Well, last time I got started in the 7th grade. I quit the blog after my cousin, Billy Hood got his comeuppance from my Dad. That was really bad. I didn't mean any harm to Billy, as I said, me and Freddie had us a contest going.
Anyhow, my football career started and ended in the 7th grade. Went out for PeeWee football as they called it in those days. Now I was and am and have been since the age of 5, a big old boy. I played right guard and tackle. I really did enjoy playing. BUT!!! In practice, one of the things we practiced was to line up and let the opposing lineman hit you and knock you down. Now, I really wasn't built that way. My reflexes MADE me knock him down when he charged me. I just couldn't help it. Anyhow, "Coach Hood" gave me down the river and rode me hard cause I wouldn't stand there and let somebody knock the shit outta me. After the 15th or 20th time of getting my young ass chewed out for blocking the opposing lineman in practice, I told him to stick it. I QUIT! Course I caught hell over that from my teammates. The coach put em all up to calling me a quitter and so forth. The usual childish bullshit. But I stayed quit.
Anyhow, continuing with the 7th grade, let me talk a bit about Mrs. Woods. As I have said, Mrs. Woods taught science. I'm sorry, but Mrs. Woods did not know shit about science. I, on the other hand was quite a junior scientist in those days. Science has ALWAYS been my forte'.
Anyhow, once upon a time she told us to all build a science project for class. Putting my devious little mind to it, I took a coffee can and wrapped about 15 feet of bare copper wire around it, put a plug and switch on it and took it to class and told her I had made a toaster!
Well, she didn't know any better, and I didn't tell her any different, SHE PLUGGED IT IN! A DEAD SHORT! Put most of the Moorhead Elementary School in the dark for about a half hour! I laughed my young ass off! After the lights got fixed she asked me what was wrong with my toaster and I told her that it was "Really designed to run off 220 volts, that 110 just wasn't powerful enough to run it!" I got an A+ on the project!
Anyhow, as you can tell, I bullshat my way thru science class. English was a different matter.
Mrs.Ryals was the English teacher. Bless her heart, she was an old woman. She seriously wanted us to learn to speak and write proper English! Heathens that we were, we managed to actually give her a nervous breakdown time we got to the 8th grade. Oh Well, Nobody ever said the job would be easy!
I am still going to the High School and College and playing in their bands, so I am now leaving the 7th grade! Stay tuned for the 8th grade, a year that will live in infamy! Unfortunately, to me!

Wednesday, September 2, 2009

Southern Living, 7th Grade

Hey Gang, I'm back. Wednesday, September 2nd.
Been a busy weekend and week. I am taking a vacation day Thursday to cut grass and get ready for my oldest daughter Sam's baby shower to be held at La Haciendado De La Sheffield this weekend. If ye haven't heard, Samantha is carrying my very first homemade grandboy, name TBD, who is due in December. I am cooking a shoulder and if youse want some gowood bar-b-cue, show up Sardee afternoon wif an appropriate gift fer mah new granbaby!
Anyhow, it is now 1959. I am in the seventh grade. My first experience with multiple teachers. In the past, I have only had one teacher at a time.
Now I have Billy Hood (who is my first cousin) teaching homeroom, Mrs. Woods teaching science and Mrs. Ryals teaching English ( a thankless job in the South!)
Anyhow, as I said, Billy, my teacher and cousin is also Freddie Matthews Brother-in-law! As you remember, Freddie was onna my good friends.
One interesting thing about the seventh grade was that Billy, in order to show the world that he was impartial, would beat the shit out of me and Freddie every chance he got! No matter who did what to who, either me or Freddie would get a whuppin. After a while, since we both survived the whuppin, it became a contest between the two of us to see just who could get the MOST whuppins that year. I remember well, about Jan. or Feb. of 1960, me and Fred were neck in neck. We both were at about 20 something whuppins each. One day George Scroggins and Barbara Aldrige (two of my classmates) got into a scuffle at the water fountain after lunch was over. I patiently waited til the fight was over in order to get a drink of water. Well, along came Billy, AKA "Coach Hood"! He jerked both them up and looked at me and said "Come with me!"
So, I went along, thinking he wanted me for a witness. Nope! He whupped George and Barbara for fighting and whupped me for watching! Go figger!
Anyhow, no big deal! Put me one up in front of Freddie in the ass beating contest!
BUT! Now here's something from the past that's one of the problems today! At supper. In the good old days, everybody in the family was at the supper table. Mama, Daddy and whoever! It was a Capitol Offense to not be at the supper table! I am not shitting you! You WERE THERE!!! Nowadays there is no supper table. There aint no daddy, mama is strung out, brother is in jail, whatever! If famblies could still congregate at the supper table, the world would be a better place! No kidding!
Anyhow, that night at the supper table, while eating some of my Momma's fabulous biscuits, she said,"How was your day?" Looking at me. Thinking NOTHING at all about it, I simply said,"Nothing special, a usual day. Got my butt whupped by Billy for watching George and Barbara fight." I seriously didn't think a thing about it!
But, my Mama said,"What!" So I repeated it, still seeing no big deal.
Mama looked at Daddy, saying nary a word, and my Daddy got up from the supper table, an unheard of event, walked out the front door and down the street to Billy Hood's house. He lived about a block down the street.
Stupid me asked,"Where's Daddy going?"
"To get to the bottom of this!", my Mama replied.
Oh shit, I stirred up something. Not deliberately, just making supper conversation.
Not worrying a lot about it, I ate a few more biscuits, a few more helpings of peas and okra and some of my Mama's world famous butter roll, and Daddy came back into the house, sat back down, looked at me and said,"This whuppin shit is OVER! Do you understand?"
Hell, I was petrified! I never seen my Daddy mad at anyone but me! I said, "But Daddy, I didn't set out to get a whuppin!"
Then I realized, Daddy wasn't mad at me, he had been down to give Billy Hood a whuppin, cussin, thrashing or whatever grown folks did.
Daddy said"This shit is over! If Billy ever whups you again, I damn well better know about it! DO YOU UNDERSTAND!?"
"Yessir!", what more could I say? That ended the contest. Freddie won by default. Billy never did even THINK about paddling my fat ass no more! Dammit!
Anyhow, a lot more of the 7th grade to go! Gonna quit now with this admonition! Look at what I have written. Listen to my words. At the time, it didn't phaze me, but in retrospect, I sincerely hope and pray that I was the EXACT SAME KIND OF DADDY THAT MY DADDY WAS!
End of story.....

Friday, August 28, 2009

Here's where I stand!

I am basically a conservative! I HAVE "SOME" LIBERAL LEANINGS.
I am NOT an Obama supporter. I was NOT a Bush supporter. As I have said before, I am an agnostic! I doubt the existence of an honest politician!
However, I do feel that Barrack Hussein Obama is a Muslim, NOT an American and a shyster, crooked, son of a bitch! However, I also felt that George W was a crooked, election stealing son of a bitch! Actually all the way back to Dwight D. I think they have ALL BEEN CROOKED SOB's.
Dwight D. probably was too, but I was too young to know better.
Anyhow, I am not happy with Barry's political dealings! I was NOT happy with George W's political dealings. I damned sure wasn't happy with the peanut man's dealings. Actually, I liked both Reagan's and Clinton's presidencies.
Weird, aint it? Go figger!
Reagan was a great American! Clinton was a redneck who could get on TV and make ya think everything was OK!
I have never claimed to be a rocket scientist!
BTW, I never voted for Clinton, but I damned sure would today!!!

Southern Living, 6th Grade

Well, it is now 1958. I am an oldster, in the 6th grade. Not a helluva lot happened to me in the 6th grade. I had a brief and torrid love affair with Carolyn Wallace, a Methodist Preacher's daughter. She dumped me and I met the love of my young life, Helen Smith. A beauty with flaming red hair. I actually dated Helen for 5, countem, 5 years. All the way thru the 11th grade. But alas, it wasn't meant to be. She finally married a preacher wannabe named Higgenbotham! Alas!
Anyhow. Mrs. Donald was my 6th grade teacher. She was a peach! She had a son, who's name was Billy and a foster son who's name escapes me at the moment. I will think of it eventually. Anyhow, Billy was in the band with me, and kept me fairly well posted on what was coming down the 6th grade pike! Billy, wherever you are, I still think of ya occasionally!
Mrs. Donald's foster son is Joe Acree. Another fine Southern gentleman that I still count as a Friend.
I also met the MOST UNIQUE individual of my entire life!
Preacher Campbell! Preacher ran the service station right across the bayou gong to town. He had a father-in-law named Judge Rush and a black employee named Luck Bridges.
I don't know where to start to describe these three individuals. I learned so much from them that 10 years of college couldn't have begun to touch it!
Preacher, who got his name because his daddy was a preacher, was an entrepreneur of the finest kind. He ran the service station, and it WAS a SERVICE STATION. Luck would come out, pump your gas, check your oil and even sometimes wash your windshield!
Let me back up a little. The reason I came to know them so well is that I had a paper route. The Jackson Daily News! My papers would be dropped off at Preacher's station by the Greyhound bus every afternoon. I would pick them up there and deliver them on my Sears Roebuck Moped.
Course before I left on the paper route, I would indulge in a Mr. Cola and a Po Boy. A po Boy was a spice cake with raisins that sold for a nickle. A Mr. Cola was 7 cents. 12 cents got you well filled. At least well enough to go and deliver papers.
Most times, after I ran the paper route, I would stop in for another round of each, just to sustain me enough to get home to supper!
I will elaborate more on Preacher, Judge and Luck as time goes on. They are all passed on now, but wherever they are, I hope they know that they were truly loved by a Mississippi Delta Youngster!

Thursday, August 27, 2009

A Redneck History of the United States!

1492, Columbus sailed the ocean blue!
Pilgrims landed!
Established a colony in the New World.
Things were good. (or better I suppose)
Indians showed up! (Actual native Americans)
They were nice to us. Showed us how to plant corn, etc!
We kicked their asses and took the country away from them!
British showed up!
We kicked their asses and took their country away from them!
Spanish showed up!
We kicked their asses and took their country away from them!
French showed up!
Never mind!
Folks, we, the American are NOT NOTED FOR BEING NICE GUYS!
Why pretend otherwise?
The American people, as a rule, are the misfits from England, Germany, France, Russia, Ireland, Scotland (I have a special interest there), Italy and any damned wherever they wanted to come from to try and get a better deal, showed up and simply said,"Give me a chance!"
NOW, with the ACLU, PETA, Democrats we are trying to pretend that"Oh! We have been nice guys all along!"
As an American, I grew up KNOWING that we were the biggest, baddest, MEANEST Sons of Bitches that ever existed!
I am ASHAMED right now that our fearless leader bows down to a buncha ragheads. I am ashamed that we cower from the likes of Afghanastan, Iraq, Korea yea even Mexico!
Shit folks, look at your heritage!
Please STAND UP! TAKE YOUR COUNTRY BACK from the sorry sob's that WE have elected to represent us and run this sorry place!

Monday, August 24, 2009

Another Tidbit!

What More Can I SAY????

Just a Tidbit!

and your taxes and your freedoms.

Friday, August 21, 2009

Southern Living, Pt.8 - Moving to Moorhead

Well, after a brief hiatus, I am continuing with my Southern Living blogs.
It is now December, 1957. We are moving from Greenwood to someplace called Moorhead.
Moorhead is a small MS town about 20 miles west of Greenwood on Hwy 82. It at that time had a population of about 1200 on a busy Saturday night. Moorhead's claim to fame is that it is where the Southern crosses the Yellow Dog. A true 90 degree railroad crossing. The Illinois Central ran north and south and the C&G ran east and west. C&G stands for Columbus and Greenville if there are any RR buffs reading.
Moorhead is also the birthplace and childhood home of the late Johnny Russell. (A Grand Ole Opry performer, if ye hadn't heard of him) Course, when I was a kid, Johnny hadn't made it yet, and the old folks always told you "Don't smoke cigarettes, drink and play the geetar, like that Russell boy, you won't ever mount to nothing." After he made it to the Opry, they put up a huge billboard proclaiming Moorhead to be the Home of Johnny Russell!
Anyhow, 1957. Halfway thru the 5th grade. The Wonder Years as they say.
I settled into the second semester of the 5th grade. Made some fine new friends. Kenneth Horne (passed away), Freddie Matthews, Frankie Hickman (also passed) and several more. I also got drafted into playing trombone in the High School as well as the Jr.College Band. Seems they didn't have anybody who could blow a 'bone. They'd send a truck over to the Grammar School every afternoon and pick me up and carry me to band practice! I thought I was a big shit! Course, I was the ONLY trombone player in the band for several years. I enjoyed it and I hated it! I had to go to a High School Foosball game every Friday Nite and a College game every Saturday Nite! Got soon SICK TO DEATH of foosball! Still refuse to watch a game. On the other hand, riding the bus with the cheerleaders to all away games DID HAVE IT'S REWARDS!
I think I will leave it here til next time, getting about time for a little SSTV. Be back soon...

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

New Blog. Nuttin about Obama nor my Chilehood

As you should know by now, I am a Ham Radio Operator and have been for the past 49 years. I love the hobby. It has changed a bit since the early days, but I adapt and overcome as the saying goes.
Anyhow, we have "Hamfests". Which is nothing more than a get=together for hams, a flea market and an excuse to get rid of old junque and get NEW junque.
We had the most recent Huntsville, AL. hamfest this past weekend, and I enjoyed it more than any of the 25+ other Huntsville hamfests that I have attended. Had a great time seeing a lot of my SSTV (Slow Scan TV) buddies and had a good time at the flea market.
Our buddy Jim, WB8NNJ from Ohio flew down, usually don't get to see him but at Dayton Hamfest.
One of our SSTV newcomers,Tim, KK5H lives in Huntsville and had us all over Saturday nite for a Bar-be-cue.
Had a wonderful time. Ate much BBQ, drank much beer and told plenty of lies.
Bought the VERY FIRST new HF rig I have ever owned from Gigaparts and I am enjoying playing with it.
I am attaching a couple of pix from the fest.......
By the way, if you had any doubts, the fine looking gentleman on the right , in the bottom picture is yours truly!

Tuesday, August 11, 2009

Enough FOO FOO, Here's the Facts!

I am sitting here after having text chatting with my oldest Grandson for a while! He is 19 years old. I was trying to get him to take a little interest in what is happening. No matter WHAT I said to him, his response was "LOL" (laughing out loud), or "lmao, (laughing my ass off). This boy has been exposed to me and my beliefs since he was six years old! He is a stepgrandson.
BUT! I have three children. I have raised them since they were first hatched and 2/3 of them are NO BETTER! Two of my children are liberal and the third aint interested! I LOVE MY CHILDREN and my Grandchildren! Why in Hell can't they SEE what we have in the Whitehouse? Don't they see that Obama is selling us out by the day? Apologizing for America! AMERICANS DO NOT APOLOGIZE! We took this country from the Indians, We TOOK this country from the British. Face it folks, we have not been pussies for 200 years, but we are becoming one now! He is selling us out into Socialism, Communism, Indebitedness for the next 100 years? Am I alone in my fear that the Gestapho may knock down my door any minute? Take my computers? Take my radios. Take my guns? Yea, take away my freedom as an American?
Hell, Abraham Lincoln whipped our southern asses back in 1865, but he did not take away our liberty. Why? Because even he had a birth certificate, was an American and to boot, HAD READ THE CONSTITUTION!
Folks, I am SCARED! Obama wants, by virtue of his "FREE HEALTHCARE", to be able to access my bank account, my financial records and ANYTHING ELSE HE DAMN WELL PLEASES!
He is already advocating Americans SPYING on other Americans. He wants to give a "Death Pill" to us older Americans! Jesus Christ, people, look at what's happening around you! PLEASE, please JUST THINK ABOUT IT!
I have enjoyed being a FREE AMERICAN, being able to voice my opinion, vote as I please, own a gun, work my ass off to buy groceries, pay mt bills, speak freely both in person and over the airwaves for 62 years. This is not about to change, IT IS CHANGING RIGHT NOW!!! WAKE UP AMERICA, because Obama is "lol'ing" and "lmao'ing" RIGHT NOW!!!

One More from Email, and I Love it!

My new front yard sign:

Here's a Quick, Stolen, Blog. More of a Comment

This is probably the best e-mail I've seen in a long, long time. The following has been attributed to State Representative Mitchell Kaye from GA. This guy should run for President one day...

"We the sensible people of the United States, in an attempt to help everyone get along, restore some semblance of justice, avoid more riots, keep our nation safe, promote positive behavior, and secure the blessings of debt-free liberty to ourselves and our great-great-great-grandchildren, hereby try one more time to ordain and establish some common sense guidelines for the terminally whiny, guilt ridden, delusional, and other liberal bed-wetters. We hold these truths to be self evident: that a whole lot of people are confused by the Bill of Rights and are so dim they require a Bill of NON-Rights."

ARTICLE I: You do not have the right to a new car, big screen TV, or any other form of wealth. More power to you if you can legally acquire them, but no one is guaranteeing anything.

ARTICLE II: You do not have the right to never be offended. This country is based on freedom, and that means freedom for everyone -- not just you! You may leave the room, turn the channel, express a different opinion, etc; but the world is full of idiots, and probably always will be.

ARTICLE III: You do not have the right to be free from harm. If you stick a screwdriver in your eye, learn to be more careful; do not expect the tool manufacturer to make you and all your relatives independently wealthy.

ARTICLE IV: You do not have the right to free food and housing. Americans are the most charitable people to be found, and will gladly help anyone in need, but we are quickly growing weary of subsidizing generation after generation of professional couch potatoes who achieve nothing more than the creation of another generation of professional couch potatoes ..

ARTICLE V: You do not have the right to free health care. That would be nice, but from the looks of public housing, we're just not interested in public health care.

ARTICLE VI: You do not have the right to physically harm other people. If you kidnap, rape, intentionally maim, or kill someone, don't be surprised if the rest of us want to see you fry in the electric chair.

ARTICLE VII: You do not have the right to the possessions of others. If you rob, cheat, or coerce away the goods or services of other citizens, don't be surprised if the rest of us get together and lock you away in a place where you still won't have the right to a big screen color TV or a life of leisure.

ARTICLE VIII: You do not have the right to a job. All of us sure want you to have a job, and will gladly help you along in hard times, but we expect you to take advantage of the opportunities of education and vocational training laid before you to make yourself useful. (AMEN!)

ARTICLE IX: You do not have the right to happiness. Being an American means that you have the right to PURSUE happiness, which by the way, is a lot easier if you are unencumbered by an over abundance of idiotic laws created by those of you who were confused by the Bill of Rights.

ARTICLE X: This is an English speaking country. We don't care where you are from, English is our language. Learn it or go back to wherever you came from! (Lastly....)

ARTICLE XI: You do not have the right to change our country's history or heritage. This country was founded on the belief in one true God. And yet, you are given the freedom to believe in any religion, any faith, or no faith at all; with no fear of persecution. The phrase IN GOD WE TRUST is part of our heritage and history, and if you are uncomfortable with it, TOUGH!

I only wish I'd have said it first, but I applaud the author, whoever it was.

Saturday, August 8, 2009

This says it ALL!

My friend the Grouch has outdone himself with his latest post. Check it out, if you dare!
The Grouch at Right Truth!

Thursday, August 6, 2009

Sorry, But I GOTTA Take Another Poke at Obama!

Bad press, including major mockery of the plan by comedian Jon Stewart, led to President Obama abandoning his proposal to require veterans carry private health insurance to cover the estimated $540 million annual cost to the federal government of treatment for injuries to military personnel received during their tours on active duty. The President admitted that he was puzzled by the magnitude of the opposition to his proposal.
"Look, it's an all volunteer force, "Obama complained.
"Nobody made these guys go to war. They had to have known and accepted the risks. Now they whine about bearing the costs of their choice? It doesn't compute.... I thought these were people who were proud to sacrifice for their country," Obama continued, "I wasn't asking for blood, just money. With the country facing the worst financial crisis in its history, I'd have thought that the patriotic thing to do would be to try to help reduce the nation's deficit. I guess I underestimated the selfishness of some of my fellow Americans.

REMEMBER THIS STATEMENT... "Nobody made these guys go to war. They had to have known and accepted the risks. Now they whine about bearing the costs of their choice!
Is there any doubt that this man is a joke? An ego in an empty pair of pants, supported by those who despise free enterprise and all that it has created. All the civil jobs and pensions it has enabled are easily forgotten, and all they can say is GIMMIE!
I wish him no physical harm, only because we don't need a phony martyr, modeled after a phony president. My greatest desire is that he be exposed and properly disgraced for what he is -- an America hater!
Now! My Daddy was on a destroyer during WW2. Fortunately, he wasn't injured, traumatized or brain damaged as a result of HIS SERVICE TO HIS COUNTRY! He quit High School in the 11th grade to go fight Japs. Now, my daddy didn't quit school and risk his life so that we could play mamby pamby, pussy foot with the Japanese. He quit school and went to fight the Japs, cause THEY JUMPED INTO OUR SHIT!
Yep, the same ones we buy cars from now! But nevertheless, and THINK ABOUT IT, would Franklin Roosevelt would have ever even dreamed of saying,"Hell, let em insure themselves!" I don't think so!
What depths have we as an American people stooped to to have such a POMPUS, BIGOTED ASSHOLE as a President? Americans, hang your heads in ABJECT SHAME! We have become SHIT and not worthy of the rest of the world to wipe their feet on.
I have the GREATEST of respect for ANYONE who has made the supreme sacrifice and has served their country. That doesn't mean that I subscribe to the bullshit of Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome or some such. But, If YOU'RE a Veteran of a FOREIGN WAR, you done GOWOOD and I salute you!!!

Monday, August 3, 2009

Southern Living, Pt 7 9/16. Mamas Will LIE to you!

Another thing, or a couple that I want to put into print. I told this story to my brother today.
When I was a wee lad, I learned a song, "I won't go huntin with you Jake, but I'll go chasin women". Now this is kind of a bawdy type song, but I learned it at the age of 3 or 4. I sang it morning, noon and nite. My Mama soon tired of it and my Daddy said not to worry, that he'd teach me a new song. So he did. He taught me the words to "Did you ever go a'swimmin, wiff a buncha nekkid wemmin, when the water was way down low?" If you might want all the words to this, juss lemmee know! Anyhow, my Mama wasn't too pleased wiff my Daddy, but I was. I now knew 2 songs!
Anyhow, at 5 years old, I needed my tonsils took out. We went to the horsepistol and my dear, sweet, sainted Mama told me that I was fixing to go smell "Some Mickey Mouse Perfume!"
I can't say any more! She LIED! They clamped that mask ober my face and turned on the ether and it wasn't anything like Mickey Mouse would've had anythin to do with!
Anyhow, i regained consciousness, got my bowl of ice cream, and went home the same day!
I got her back tho'. When she wasn't lookin that same day, I slipped into the kitchen and made me a bolony sammich. Sho was good too. Kids juss aint as tuff today!
I KNOW my children could have NEVER survived the childhood that I did.
BULL! You can survive whatever you need to. PERIOD! The American people are SURVIVORS!

Southern Living, Pt. 7 1/2, More About Alvin

Before I move along, let me tell you a little more about my uncle, Alvin Storey.
He was a great American. He fought in WW2 and more important, he liked my lil nappy ass.
Alvin, I neber called my uncles by anythin but their first names, was without a doubt, my favorite grown man in the world.
He was talented. He could make ANYTHING out of wood, and taught me some of it, he could make ANY machine work, and was in general, a GREAT GUY!.
My Mama and Daddy and Alvin and Mary , his wife, would play domino's when I was small. That's where I learned to count, playing in the boneyard! If I'd get sumpin wrong, it was Alvin that showed me where I screwed up.
I remember when I was 5, he took me out riding with him one Saturday afternoon. Now Alvin was a beer drinker. He bought hisseff a Pabst Blue Ribbon in a longneck and bought one fer me too! I drank mine all by myseff too! He finally took me home and I went in and pissed on the kitchen wall! My Mama looked at me, looked at Alvin and said "You shitass!". I didn't get to go riding with Alvin for quite a while! Broke me from pissing on the kitchen wall too!
But Alvin did show me a lot about woodworking, he gave me a bandsaw that me and Daddy used a lot while we lived in Louisiana. Now don't even think about getting me wrong. My Daddy was without a doubt, the smartest, greatest, most understanding man who ever lived, but Alvin was a CLOSE SECOND! Alvin also taught me a lot about life along the way that a Daddy couldn't!
Alvin even owned a '57 Edsel for a while and made Me understand why that was one of Ford's best cars ever. Even if it did look like it had been eating persimmons.
He and his wife, Mary never had any children. Mary had an assortment of Chihuahua dogs that were mean as snakes. But I was Alvin's favorite nephew just as he was my favorite uncle. Very few days pass, even today, that I don't remember him fondly for some reason or the other. I always loved him and I always will! I only wish that EVERYBODY had an uncle as great as Alvin Storey!

Friday, July 31, 2009

Southern Living, Pt 7, Back to the Flatlands

Well, this will be a brief blog, cause my time back in Greenwood was brief.
As I entered the 5th grade, we moved back to our old house in Greenwood,Ms.
I started the 5th grade at W.C.Williams Elementary School. My teacher was Mrs. McCain.
There wasn't a lot to talk about and I won't talk a lot about it!
As I said, we moved back into our old house, which was a 1 bedroom shotgun style house. No bedroom for me, we all shared one bedroom.
We couldn't get anything on our shiny Philco black and white tv, cause the nearest stations were either in Jackson, Ms., or Memphis ,Tn.
The only things worth speaking of were the time I spent with my most favorite uncle, Alvin Storey. He was a postman at the time, and I would walk with him on his mail delivery rounds. I learned a lot from Uncle Alvin, both good and not so good. But if he can see this blog from heaven, he will know that I really loved him.
The 7 months we spent there were completely unmemorable, but stay tuned for part 8, We Move to Moorhead.
There, my life got infinitely more interesting and exciting!

Monday, July 27, 2009

Southern Living, Pt.6, My Last Year as a Coonass

OK, I'm back.
My last year as a Coonass was the 4th grade. I've told ya almost all the fun I had in Southern La., except fer a few memorable moments.
Lessee, I went into band in the 4th grade down there. I learned to play the trombone. This was mostly brought about by two friends of the family. Buster and Etta Nelmes. They were foster children of the Fosters. I always thought it was weird, people named Foster having "foster" children. Anyhow, Buster was a trombone player and looking at him as a Big Brother figure, I took up the trombone. Learnt to play it pretty well, I think. By the way, if anybody reading this happens to know Buster or Etta, I surely would like to communicate with them. They're bound to be in their late 60's or 70 by now!
Anyhow, I loved 'em dearly!
Lets see, we had a helluva hurricane that year! I don't remember the name of it. Might have been BECKY! We holed up in the General Store/Post Office where my Mama was working. My cousin Pete was visiting that summer. I remember getting back in the room where they kept bags of feed and such and building us a fort of sorts outta feed sacks. You could watch the walls of that old building rippling like water in the high winds. No crap, they rippled just like waves! It was a SCARY time. I member Pete needing to go to the privy, (toilet, outside) for you non initiated. I LOCKED him inside fer a while, til Mama made me let him out. Anyhow, after the storm, water was coming into the building, it was about 3 feet off the ground! Lots of rain fell. If any of you remember, that hurricane about wiped out Cameron, La. About 20 miles away. Killed about 50 people. But the water was up to my little scrawny neck down at ground level. Probably why they built the houses so high off the ground!
Nudder thang I remember was coming home from church one Sunday Night. We went to church at Big Cane Baptist Church. Must have been 10 or 15 miles from home. Anyhow we were going home after church one Sunday nite when my Daddy saw a guy walking along the road that he thought worked at the sawmill. He stopped to pick him up. As it turned out, this wasn't anybody Daddy knew, and he was as drunk as Cooter Brown! He told Daddy where he wanted to go and Dad said he'd take him. My Mama made me get in the front seat, and this old drunk leaned against the back of the front seat and commenced to talking and blowing his inebriated breath all over the front. Well, we had to pass our house in order to get where we were taking him and I remember my Mama telling Daddy to stop at the house for a minute. She went in for about 30 seconds and got back in the car. Back on the road, drunk against the back of the front seat, and Mama stuck the barrel of that ole .45 right up his nose! Told him to "Sit back in his seat, and we'd take him where he wanted to go!"
INSTANT SOBRIETY! This guy said,"Juss lemmee out lady and I'll walk from here!" "Nope", my Mama said , "You're in for the ride"
When we finally got to where that guy wanted to go, he SPRUNG from the back and LEAPED over a split rail fence! Funniest thing I have ever seen, bar none!
The Good Ole Days, no doubt!
Another thing I remember was swimming in the Mill Pond. That's where the water for the steam boilers came from. Anyhow, we'd go swimming in the mill pond. I usta wear a life vest when I got in. One Sunday afternoon, we weren't going swimming, but were walking around the pond, there was a little black girl out there swimming. Daddy said to me, "When are you gonna learn to swim?" I said, "I can swim now Daddy, watch!" I instantly stripped off and jumped in the pond! Nekkid as a jaybird!! Last time I wore the life jacket!
Unless I remember some old Louisiana stories, stay tuned for, "Southern Living, Pt. 7, Back to the Flatlands"
BTW, Sam, Alison and Casey, Yo Grandmaw never took crap off'n ANYBODY!!! So don't any of yall start!

Friday, July 24, 2009

Southern Living, Pt.5, Pre Coonass

Let me drop back a couple of years to my time in Rosedale, Ms.
Now these were interesting and fun years to me. I moved to Rosedale halfway thru the second grade. I remember quite a bit from my year there. First thing I remember is meeting my oldest, and longlastingest friend, Charles Simmons. He lived next door to me in the final house we came to rest in. We actually lived in 3 houses the first couple of months. He is a year younger than me, which will put him at about 61 now. Anyhow, both our houses backed up to the Miss. River Levee. We spent many happy hours exploring, walking the levee, and most of all taking turns in rolling each other down the levee while rolled up in an old tire. You would get in the tire and your partner would roll you down the levee. After you got thru staggering around for a while, you'd repeat it with your friend in the tire. Great fun. Dangerous, probably. Your parents approve? Hell no! But fun? HAIL YEA!!! If I saw my kids doing that I would Shit a Squealing Worm! (What is a squealing worm, anyhow?)
I also learned to ride a bike using Charles's sisters bike. I member that well.
I think his daddy worked for Kroger or somethin like that.
Anyhow, at Rosedale, I had my VERY FIRST girlfriend. I remember taking her to see THOUSAND LEAGUES UNDER THE SEA at the local pitcher show. She was sho nuff sweet, I sometimes remember her and wonder what ever happened to her.
I also remember going to the sawmill where my daddy worked and playing in the sawdust pile with the little black kids. We were really biased and bigoted in those days. Shit! Any playmate you could find was a good one. We really didn't know or care what color we were, we just had a good time. That's the way it SHOULD STILL BE!
Anyhow, let me get back to Charles. We moved from Rosedale to La. halfway thru the third grade and I never saw Chas. again til about 1966 or 67. I was wandering the halls of Stanton Hall, a boys dorm at MDJC. I heard a voice and tracked it down and INSTANTLY recognized my old friend Charles, some years later. He was somewhat larger and older, but the same friend I knew in Rosedale. We have kept somewhat in contact ever since. Anyhow, there are a lot more Rosedale stories I will tell someday, but in midwinter of 1954 (I think) we moved to LeMoyen Louisiana, where I will eventually rejoin my blog of MY Life as a Coonass.
73 fer now

Sunday, July 19, 2009

Southern Living, Pt.4, My Life as a Coonass

to continue this series, we jump to the ripe old age of 8 and a half. Halfway thru the third grade in Rosedale, my Daddy took a job in LeMoyne La. I haven't said much about Rosedale, but I may go back to it someday.
Now LeMoyne consisted of a sawmill, 3 houses for the employees, a combination general store and post office and the quarters. The quarters was where all the black and mixed folk lived. It is located on hwy 71 about 20 miles south of Bunkie, La.
I went to school in Morrow, about 5 miles north.
Southern Louisiana is literally the BEST place in the world for an 8 year old boy to grow up in. We had a two bedroom shotgun house with electricity and indoor water (sort of). A fireplace for heat in the winter sufficed. It don't get bad cold down there elsewise we'd probably have froze to death.
Lets talk about the indoor water first. The water came from a big tank mounted beside the house which caught water from the roof when it rained. And it rains often. But in late July and August, the water would have wiggletails in it when you drew a glass to drink. So, you kept a sock by the tap to strain out the wigglers. Worked just fine and as you all know, I didn't die from it. We eventually got a well, but that comes later.
As I said, southern La., is a boys paradise. Across the road from my house was a railroad track and beyond that was a bayou. In the mornings, the yard would be full of crawfish mounds. You needed only a piece of string and a small piece of bacon to get all the fish bait you needed. Tie the bacon to the end of the string and drop it down the hole. When ya felt the crawfish grab it, pull him out and drop him into a pail. After you caught a few, you got your pole, went across the highway and fished with crawdaddy tails til you got all you wanted. Carry em home and the family had fish fer supper.
The people of southern La, are without a doubt, the friendliest folks I ever met. I NEVER met a stranger down there. They liked me cause I talked funny and I liked them cause they liked me. After a short while, we all got to be able to understand each other.
I made lots of friends thruout the third and fourth grade, Tommy Stevens and Richard (pronounced Reeshard)SOMETHING ending with Deaux, were my two best buddies. I also had a girlfriend named (DAMN, OLD AGE IS HELL!).
On weekends, Momma and Daddy would take me fishing at another bayou. The water was crystal clear and you could pick out the fish you wanted from the bank. Find him, drop a hook in front of him and several seconds later, Momma would have him in the frying pan that was over the fire Daddy had built. This was living!
About a year after we moved there, Daddy bought our first tv. 1956, what a GREAT year! The tv was a 19", black and white Philco. We got about 3 or 4 stations from Lafayette and Opolusas. Sky King, Bilko, Hennessy, Highway Patrol and the Rifleman to name a few. Momma always liked Queen for a DAY! Entertainment at its best. No hidden agendas from the networks, no politics, just entertainment.
Well, none of my blogs are complete without an amusing part, so here are a couple
Now, I was 8 or 9, so my Momma was 28 or 29, it was always easy to member my Mommas age since she was almost 20 years older than me. Anyhow, one day a truckload of Redbones pulled up and drove behind the house. A Redbone, for you undereducated, is a mixture of black and creole. Anyhow, Momma went to the back porch and asked them what they wanted. They looked at her a minute and went back to jabbering amongst themselves. She asked again what they wanted. Same thing. She said in a loud and clear voice, "I BET BY GOD YOU TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT!", whereupon she went into the house and came back out with the good old .45 revolver! (yes, it is the one you have now Sam) You never seen such a sight as a half dozen Redbones LEAPING over a truck and ducking down! After she kept them a cowering about 10 minutes, the foreman drove up and told Mama (he spoke english, they didn't) that they were there to drill us a well.
Shoot, this is getting long, I will continue it later.....Stay tuned for My Life as a Coonass, pt2.

Saturday, July 18, 2009

Southern living, Pt.3, Living in the Sticks

As some of you know, I was born in Greenwood Mississippi. The house we lived in when I was born and until I got out of the first grade was a simple little one bedroom shotgun house. It did have inside plumbing, electricity and so forth. Seemed good to me.
However, when I got out of school from the first grade, my daddy took a job in Rosedale, Ms, and we couldn't find a house to live in, so my momma and me went to live with my grandparents, in Coila, Ms., while Daddy roomed in Rosedale.
Now, as I have blogged, my grandparents were simple cotton farmers. No electricity, no indoor plumbing. There was a cistern (well) in the front of the house that ya dropped a bucket down into to get your water. Coal oil lamps sufficed after dark, the outhouse was about 75 feet out back. On Saturday afternoon, momma would pull up enough water to fill up a washtub on the front porch, the sun would warm it up and you'd get your bath for the week about 4 PM Saddy evenin! Now, horrible as it may sound, I didn't know any better. There was a roof over my head, I never missed a meal, I was never neglected nor abused, and I HAD A BALL!
I had no less than 8 cousins within a quarter mile, 3 of them were close to my age, and we played cowboy, soldier and so forth from morning til dark. Pete Floyd, one of my favorite cousins, was only a few months older than me and we were inseparable! Our favorite thing in the summer was to go down to the crick (creek for you that don't speak southern), and swim. Course the crick was only about 10" deep, but we'd waller out a hole in the sand and enjoy the heck out of it!
One of the things I remember from those days was on cold autumn nites, there was a panther that would run up the road screaming. It was a horrible sound. I would scrootch down in my feather mattress and try to literally wrap myself up in it. There were always 4 or 5 dogs around, but when that panther went a'screaming, they were ALL under the house moaning and whimpering. Wasn't a one of em that was up to chasing THAT cat! I sometimes wonder if any of that cat's ancestors are still around there.
Grandaddy would make molasses from sugar cane, I'd ride the old mule turning the sorghum mill and shoot all kinds of wild indians from his back. would milk a cow in the morning, churn butter, and bring in kindling and stovewood.
In the morning, my granny would ALWAYS bake a pan of biscuits, fry up some bacon and eggs. Course my favorite thing was buttering em with my hard churned butter.
Anyway, time went on, we found a house in Rosedale and left the grandparents. Spent a year and a half there before moving to southern Louisiana.
Stay tuned for pt 4, "My Life as a COONASS!"

Perrier or Pump?

I blogged the other day about the cost of beer as opposed to the cost of bottled water.
My friend, The Grouch kindly commented and got me thinking about water.
I will share with you some of my findings.
First, I drink pump water. I am not on a municipal water system. I have a 120 ft. well. The only treatment my water gets is that it is run thru a whole house particulate filter. I put this in only a couple of months ago as a result of my pump impeller going bad and sending up some plastic shavings. I replaced the pump but kept the filter.
I like the taste of my water and did several years ago have it tested as to its purity. It passed with wonderfully flying colors. I don't like the taste of chlorine, am not in favor of flouride or any other chemicals being added to my water.
At work, I drink bottled water that comes from a company who freely tells me that their water is simply re-filtered municipal water. Tastes alright and is wet.
Below, I am going to put a table in that I got off the internet.

Kind of scary, aint it?
I am not urging you to change your habits, I just want you to decide if a one cent glass of tap water tastes better or worse than a $1.00 plus bottle of store bought water. If you are going to be traveling, get you a couple of water bottles and freeze them. Time you get thirsty, it will have changed from ice back to water.

Thursday, July 16, 2009

Southern Living, Pt.2, Gittin Yo Ass Beat!

Told ya I'd find it. Above are Alphea and George Washington Storey. Two GREAT Americans and Grandparents!
What I was looking for is a picture of my maternal Grandfather. His name was George Washington Storey. He was and remains to me today a great American and an ideal role model, especially for a kid growing up in the 50's. Now my grandaddy was a largely uneducated, poor, white farmer, residing in the Miss. Delta. He and my grandmother, Alphea, birthed and raised 11 children of which my mother was the youngest. So, as you might guess, Grandaddy was pretty old by the time I came along. I grew up with a busload of cousins, some of which were older than my momma. But, nevertheless, he always had time for me, until the day he died.
What I am about to tell you is the very first time I ever got my ass beat tho'. I was 5 years old, so it was 1952. My Grandaddy was out plowing behind a mule. I was sitting on an old, rusty crosscut saw he had to cut up kindling with. Everytime he would come to my end of the row, he would tell me to git off that saw before I cut myself, and I would in turn, throw a clod of dirt at the mule. About the 15th time he told me to get off the saw, and about the 15th time I threw a clod at the mule, I made the fatal mistake of calling him an "old shitass".
Well, he laid the reins to the mule down, walked slowly over to me, and gave me an ass whuppin that I remember to this day. He give me a whuppin that was a great, righteous kinda whuppin. I promise you, I never ever even considered calling him an old shitass again.
Didn't love him any less, but he gained a lifetime of respect in about a minute. Well, you say, that is child abuse! He should have explained proper etiquette! Believe me, he did.
Nowadays, you cannot spank a child. teachers in school cannot spank a child. Corporal punishment is taboo and forbidden. CRAP! It worked on me, my parents, grandparents and also on my children.
A good, well deserved ass whuppin has and always will work, despite what any bleeding hearts may want ya to believe.
Otherwise, how else would I remember, 57 years later, not to call my Grandaddy an old shitass.
BTW, I think my daddy taught me that phrase, just to set me up!
Stay tuned for the next installment, "7 Years Old, and Living in the Sticks"

Wednesday, July 15, 2009

New Link

I have just put a new link up.
Please check this guy, Jim Ferrell out. He is a clear thinking individual.

Friday, July 10, 2009

Sorry but I LIKED THIS! If you don't, tuff Shit!

Sermon from a church in Virginia recently. Gen 47: 13-27

Good morning, brothers and sisters; it's always a delight to see the pews
crowded on Sunday morning, and so eager to get into God's Word. Turn with
me in your Bibles, if you will, to the 47th chapter of Genesis; we'll begin
our reading at verse 13, and go through verse 27.

Brother Ray, would you stand and read that great passage for us?.... Thank
you for that fine reading, Brother Ray.. So we see that economic hard
times fell upon Egypt, and the people turned to the government of Pharaoh to
deal with this for them. And Pharaoh nationalized the grain harvest, and placed the grain in great storehouses that he had built. So the people brought their money to Pharaoh, like a great tax increase, and gave it all to him willingly in return for grain. And this went on until their money ran out, and they were hungry again.

So when they went to Pharaoh after that, they brought their livestock - their cattle, their horses, their sheep, and their donkey - to barter for grain, and verse 17 says that only took them through the end of that year.

But the famine wasn't over, was it?

So the next year, the people came before Pharaoh and admitted they had
nothing left, except their land and their own lives. "There is nothing left
in the sight of my lord but our bodies and our land. Why should we die
before your eyes, both we and our land? Buy us and our land for food, and
we with our land will be servants to Pharaoh." So they surrendered their
homes, their land, and their real estate to Pharaoh's government, and
then sold themselves into slavery to him, in return for grain.

What can we learn from this, brothers and sisters?

That turning to the government instead of to God to be our provider in
hard times only leads to slavery? Yes. That the only reason government
wants to be our provider is to also become our master? Yes.

But look how that passage ends, brothers and sisters! Thus Israel
settled in the land of Egypt , in the land of Goshen . And they gained possessions in it, and were fruitful and multiplied greatly." God provided for
His people, just as He always has! They didn't end up giving all their possessions to the government, no, it says they gained possessions!

But I also tell you a great truth today, and an ominous one. We see the
same thing happening today - the government today wants to "share the
wealth" once again, to take it from us and redistribute it back to us. It wants to take control of healthcare, just as it has taken control of education, and ration it back to us, and when government rations it, then government decides who gets it, and how much, and what kind.

And if we go along with it, and do it willingly, then we will wind up no differently than the people of Egypt did four thousand years ago - as slaves to the government, and as slaves to our leaders.

What Mr. Obama's government is doing now is no different from what Pharaoh's government did then, and it will end the same.. And a lot of people like to call Mr. Obama a "Messiah," don't they? Is he a Messiah? A savior? Didn't the Egyptians say, after Pharaoh made them his slaves, "You have saved our lives; may it please my lord, we will be servants to Pharaoh"?

Well, I tell you this - I know the Messiah; the Messiah is a friend of mine; and Mr. Obama is no Messiah! No, brothers and sisters, if Mr. Obama is a character from the Bible, then he is Pharaoh..

Bow with me in prayer, if you will.

Lord, You alone are worthy to be served, and we rely on You, and You alone. We confess that the government is not our deliverer, and never rightly will be. We read in the eighth chapter of 1 Samuel, when Samuel warned the people of what a ruler would do, where it says "And in that day you will cry out because of your king, whom you have chosen for yourselves, but the LORD will not answer you in that day." And Lord, we acknowledge that day has come. We cry out to you because of the ruler that we have chosen for ourselves as a nation..Lord, we pray for this nation. We pray for revival, and we pray for deliverance from those who would be our masters.

Give us hearts to seek You and hands to serve You, and protect Your people from the atrocities of Pharaoh's government.

In God we Trust

Southern Living, Part 1

My good friend, the Grouch, has started a series of blogs on Midway, and his adventures therein. I enjoy reading them and as I was cutting the yard a while ago, or whilago, as we say in the south, got to thinking about writing a blog on BEING A SOUTHERNER.
So, here we go.
I am a southerner by heritage and birth and choice, in that order. I was born in the south, my folks were born in the south, and their folks were all born in the south.
Being a white southerner is also akin to being a Redneck! I am one of them too! I like it!
Now, for my first, Life as a Southerner Blog, I'm gonna tell yall about cuttin grass.
This is something that I personally enjoy. I have a Troy built, Bronco, riding mower. It has 18.5 horsepower and is a wimpy thang by true Redneck lawn mowing devices. But it does exactly what I want it to do. Today, I cranked the mower, as it was warming up, went into the ham shack and got me a big, cold brew, aired up the right front tire,(gotta fix that someday) and finally got straddled of it.
I spent about an hour and a half, cutting the front yard and drinking my beer. Every time a car passed, I waved at the occupants and they waved back. Did I know any of them? No! Did I really want to know them? Probably not! (except for one sweet looking young thing, neber mind) Nevertheless, they were coming down the road, lookin at me sweatin on he mower, so I WAVED!
But waving, drinking beer and enjoying cutting grass is a southern thing. I have NEVER seen a yankee cutting grass while drinking a beer and I promise you AINT NEVER BEEN YANKEE WAVED AT, while he was cuttin grass. They all seem to hate it more than a finger wave from the grouch!
Cuttin grass gives me time to reflect, plan, plot as well as time to compose a blog while I am trying to cut all the fescue stalks to an even height!
Anyhow, I got thru cuttin the grass and am now enjoying another cold one while writing this blog.
I enjoyed the yard work! Will enjoy some more fore the weekend is over.
Am I crazy? Probably! Do I care? HELL NAW!
Stay tuned for the next installment, "Gitting Yo Ass BEAT!"

A Non-Political, Non-Healthcare Blog

Here's one for ya.
I just came in from my run to Big Tim's for a beer restock.
A 24 ounce beer in a can cost's 99 cents. A 16 ounce bottle of water, in plastic, costs $1.29.
Now, I aint a rocket scientist, but I do know that more than 16 oz. of water is involved in making 24 oz. of beer.
Who'd have ever thought that we'ed be BUYING water by the bottle and secondly, a plastic bottle is cheap and somewhat recyclable whereas a can is EASILY recyclable.
Aluminum seemingly has NO health adverse type problems but plastic has some chemical in it that leeches out into the contents which DOES have some health adversities.
Think about it!

Tuesday, July 7, 2009

Obamanopoly Anyone?

When does a game become serious? How about NOW?

Monday, July 6, 2009

A Short Ramble

I had to go back to work today after a GLORIOUS 10 day hiatus. It weren't too bad. Had 4 employees who extended their vacations by an extra day. Didn't hurt operations any. We made it thru the day just fine.
One of my friends, who is a Guard Captain told me today that he is retiring the last of the month. I asked him his age and he is a mere month older than me. It got me to thinking. I will be 62 in a couple of weeks and therefore "COULD" retire if I chose. I don't believe I will for a while tho'. I've made it working for a long time. I have a job, paying decent wages, I don't work overly hard most of the time, they give me more vacation time than I ever choose to take and I really enjoy my work most of the time. Even in the times I don't really enjoy it, I revel in the knowledge that nobody could do what I do with more pnash or gusto that I do and I HOPE I would be missed. Besides, I've come to the point in life that I really don't care if I have to hurt your feelings. If I say I can't get it done, be confident that all the whining you do is only going to delay actually getting it done by that much more time!
That all being said, if I did retire, I would still have to find something to provide health insurance for me so, I think I will let well enough alone.
Besides, 10 days, except one, convinced me that not having a good reason to get up, would be pretty damn boring. I really need motivation, like eating, being able to pay my bills, having at least some loose change in my pockets.
Milan Arsenal, you are stuck wiff my nappy ass for a few more years to come, I hope.