Missing Shots....

... seeing as I am in a sentimental mood tonight, I feel like sharing.... and since I have nothing to talk about except the old re-runs of Sanford and Son I've been watching, I guess I'll throw y'all a picture.... sure, I could tell you about the awesome nachos I had for lunch, but it seems pointless now... after all, those nachos are history.. and one should never look back... and even though I have nothing much to write about, I am don't feel the least bit guilty....

... anyway, here is yours truly and my Brother from Another Mother, Biker Steve.... taken last summer during a quiet moment of high drama... (before the whole knife-wound incident, of course)... but just a random Wednesday Night shot....

xedited_pool_small.jpg

... and by the way, Steve was grinning because I had just missed.... hey, it happens to us all... drama can be found in many, many places, people.... it's always good to remember that.....

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Envy...

... I stopped in front of the living room window this morning, with coffee in hand, and surveyed the spring morning... and as I viewed my domain, it suddenly hit me.... damn, I do so hate my neighbors...

... well, perhaps hate' is too coarse.... maybe despise' is better... after all, the great poets and philosophers have said through the ages that the seeds of a passionate hatred are often planted by envy or greed.. so I suppose I shouldn't really be surprised by the coffee-coated angst I felt this morning...

.. not that they are bad people, no... not at all... they are fine people... upstanding, quiet, courteous, friendly... and the Mother of the House is quite fetching as she tends her flowers occasionally... so some of you may wonder why I harbor such malice with them while gazing towards their idyllic familial home this morning...

... in short, well, they have my topsoil... all of it....

... lookit.. Hell's Half Acre is positioned on a gentle slope at the very back of a small subdivision... my lawn is bordered on three sides by woodland... and my front yard meanders gently down towards the road... falling fifteen feet in the 150 or so it takes to reach the mailbox.. the powers that be cleared all of the lots five years ago ala' bulldozer... low spots were filled... high spots were knocked down...

... this resulted in my beloved grass being forced to eek out a living on raw, hard, red clay ceramic.. front and back....

... my neighbor?... his grass looks like someone hand-painted each blade with the Brush of Health and Vitality... his lawn practically vibrates with youthful exuberance.. mine is brown....

... he dropped by the other day while I was slinging horse shit across my barren landscape... and he had the nerve to tell me that his contractors had an awful' time digging his home's foundation... it seems that the topsoil was almost three feet deep!..

... bastard... I hope his septic tank backs up when the rains hit....

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Bobbing....

... well, there you go.... I zip up to Knoxville for a day of loafing and leisurely lunching... and I return home to find that Dax has jumped ship and is now bobbing right beside me in the Sea of Idleness...

...well, ladies and gentlemen, it's good to have some more company... and don't worry about us, the water is fine....

... but you know, I am beginning to see a trend here... the list of bloggers I read who actually have GAINFUL employ is getting shorter and shorter... and I am flummoxed as to the meaning behind it all...

... so be warned, rubberneckers... reading blogs, actually blogging, or even just thinking about blogging/reading blogs will probably cause you to cease to be a functioning member of society... but hey, you guys are all grown-ups.... so choose wisely... and y'all probably weren't very high up on the Productive Member of Society scale anyways....

... maybe it is a kind of depression.. or maybe it is a lust for the life you can't have (like mine)... but something, something will cause the cosmic hand to be played in your life after you've been dealt the bloghand... and you'll end up jobless... it is salient... like Velveeta cheese, children.. it just is....

.. and I'm not making this up... just look, read, and listen... I'm merely commentating on the social decline of my teensy circle of blogfriends... and hey, just between you guys and me?... well, I'll bet Velociman is next...

.. but as I said, it's all good... the water is fine... jump on in...

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By Hand...

.... I live a quiet, simple little life, you know... filled with contemplative reading and meditation... smiling meekly at the passing whimsies of life... and today's passing whimsy, well, it comes from The Philadelphia Inquirer... check it out..

According to Cornell University researcher Rachel Maines, the first vibrator was invented in 1883 as a medical device. Doctors used it to give their patients "pelvic massages" to produce "hysterical paroxysm" as a cure for a disease they called hysteria. The device was designed to mechanize a job that doctors had been doing - believe it or not - by hand.

Maines chronicled her findings in the 1999 book The Technology of Orgasm. The real bombshell, she said, was that doctors had been giving women orgasms as a so-called medical treatment since the time of Hippocrates.

By the late 19th century, hysteria was hitting epidemic proportions, with women complaining of paralyzed limbs, sudden inability to speak, and other bizarre symptoms magically relieved by their doctor's touch.

But some doctors complained the technique was difficult to learn. According to one biographer, Sigmund Freud tried to learn it, Maines says, but never got the hang of it.

Vibrators made the job much easier, though some early ones ran on steam, she says, requiring the doctors to shovel in coal. They often had cumbersome but impressive power sources, and the business end looked like a ball or some other non-phallic shape.

Doctors charged about $2 to $3 per treatment, she says.

.... wow... Just Damn!... I'm off to go quietly contemplate life as a Victorian doctor with a line of hysterical, paralyzed, speaking-impaired hotties.... cheerfully providing a service for three bucks a pop...

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Grass....

... it's an incredibly beautiful day here today.... warm and sunny... and the grass that I planted in October is up just enough to give the back part of Hell's Half Acre a cheery green glint...

... so I'm off to sit on the patio, listen to the wind chimes, and watch the grass grow... shirt off, G&T in hand, smoking a fine cigar, and thinking deep thoughts...

... I've taken a big trip down memory lane this afternoon and I need to recharge.... I'd say reflect' too, but I'd be lying... reflection' conjures images of shiny things... and I ain't feeling shiny today.... but hey, everything happens for a reason... right?.... well, so they tell me...

.. see you guys on the flipside...

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More fun with dialogue...

Where were you?
Huh? When?
Just now, when you had your eyes closed.
Nowhere, really. I was just resting my mind.
Ok. I was wondering what you were thinking. I was watching you.
I wasn't thinking, not really, I was just resting my eyes. Today has been a long day.
So you were blank? No thoughts at all?
Yes.
I'm never like that, totally blank. I can't even do it when I try.
I know, and that is why you are sad sometimes. Like just now when you were watching me, you were sad.

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Lunchtime reading...

.... I drove into town around noon today and picked myself up a Chinese carry-out... the restaurant is a recent addition to my neck of the woods, and it is quite refreshing... we're kind of hard-up for ethnic foods in these parts... sure, living in a hole-in-the-wall that is tucked away in the backwoods comes with a price, and one normally pays with their taste buds...

... but I digress... so yes, we now have a local Chinese eatery... and even as suspect a Chinese restaurant may be in a land overpopulated with possums and raccoons, I still take the plunge now and again... their stir-fried noodles do so rock....

... anyway, as I sat at the kitchen table slurping on my noodles with my head buried in a reference book, I was struck by the story of Ganymede... hey, it pays to brush up on your mythology at every opportunity... and today did not disappoint....

... people, I had no idea Zeus batted for both teams... I really didn't... I mean, sure, it's understandable... him being the Top Dog and all... so it goes without saying that if he saw something he desired, he'd just swoop down and seduce it... be it man, woman, or beast.... but the tale of Ganymede just blew me away.. in ole Gany's situation, Zeus turned himself into a giant eagle and snatched him up to be his lover and cup-bearer up on Mt. Olympus...

.. and after ravishing him, making him immortal, and having him become water-boy for the Gods, Zeus eventually turned his affectionate and lustful eyes towards another victim and started the whole thing over again... leaving poor old Ganymede standing there holding the jug...

... I mean, come on... even for Zeus that is pretty harsh.... talk about getting booted to the curb once the deed is done...

... present day, of course, Ganymede is viewed as the archetypal catamite... you know, just in case you were wondering...

... ouch.. sorry, folks, I have a headache now.... I'm going to lie down...

Update: .... upon further reflection, I bet Zeus was one helluva lay... I mean, just think about it... not that I'd particularly enjoy that kind of lovin'... but for the ladies he sexed up?.. I'd have to imagine that being ravished by the King of the Gods would be a life-changing experience... then again, I bet old Ganymede was probably sore afterward too... just a thought...

.. those Greeks, ladies and gentlemen, they were one wildbunch...

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Rings...

... after much soul-searching, my better half finally decided on what she would like as an anniversary present.. yeah, yeah, we didn't exchange gifts yet this year..... but hey, it isn't my fault... she couldn't make up her mind..

... anyway, on our last visit to Scotland her parents bought her a silver necklace and bracelet from a small jewelrysmith in Montrose... well, you may toss up a guess as to what she wants this year... yep, a handmade replacement engagement ring....

... and I'm totally down with that.. I think it is a great idea... especially since our house was fleeced back in 1997 by some methadone clinic reject who lifted her original engagement ring.... she's only had the wedding band ever since....

... well, we'll be in Scotland on vacation for three weeks in May... visiting family and friends and just kicking back... and now, of course, being fitted for a custom ring.. it makes for something different, I suppose.... and different is always good...

... I think I'll ask for a pinky ring from the same guy... and then never wear it... you know, just to be fair...

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Screamin'...

.... I have a fairly large collection of CDs... and, hey, like most people, I must admit that I tend to put one or two on repeat for months at a time.... but today as I was puttering around the backroads in my rental car, the stereo suddenly spat out "Mannish Boy" by Muddy Waters.... hey, have a listen...and pay attention to the white guy flipping out in the background....

... mercy.... I really had forgotten how whacked out Johnny Winters sounds during that song.... I described it once here.... but today it all came flooding back... ole Johnny was WAY too excited... I think he'd probably had too much tea that afternoon or something....

... but anyway, the question remains... what WAS that boy thinking?... and how in the great, living Hell did Muddy keep from laughing his ass off every time Johnny "I'm The Whitest Man on Earth" screeched?... I mean, c'mon... even I could stand in the background and yell "YEAH!!"... or "WHEEAAGGHHHH!!!" every once in a while if Muddy was getting down on guitar.... especially if I had imbibed a few beforehand.... but, you know, you'd expect a little more creativity from a professional musician...

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Skirts....

... never have I been more pegged in my life, people... guilty as charged.... what can I say?... I haven't changed a bit....

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Stick Shift....

.. wow.... I'm just back from dropping the Wife's ride off at the dealership for some maintenance... and I just have to say this... that car is obscene... 100% totally out of control...

... the growl of the engine is enough to give anyone goosebumps... even ME.... 400hp.. mercy... look, I am a slow driver... for the most part I do the speed limit... a law-abiding citizen to my very core....

.. but that beast that she drives is pure evil... sitting at a red-light and listening to the motor idle, it almost seems to chant to you... breakthelaw... breakthelaw... makemepurr... makemepurrlouder... LOUDER... youknowIwantit... Iwantyoutogiveittome... makemepurr....

... and I noticed that by the second intersection... well, I actually had an erection....

... I want my Audi back, dammit... that Cadillac is going to kill me... it's pretty damn hard to drive a stick shift when you're in that state...

... and I want my boring car back.... I am not nearly man enough to drive that CTSV every day....

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12 Years...

... cheers, my baby... it's been quite a party....

wedding_small.jpg

.. how you've put up with me, God only knows.... but I'm glad you have... 12 years, fifty pounds, receding hairline and all... thanks, babe...

... now, what's for dinner??...

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by Eric | Permalink | Bullshit(32) | TrackBack (2) | SWG Stories
» Drunken Wisdom links with: Git...
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My Mailbox....

... the latest issue of Smithsonian is adorned with a lemur on the front cover... and it really is a good photo... happy little lemur hopping around.... hey, I like lemurs...

... but upon checking the mailbox and finding the current magazine, I began giggling... and by the time I had made the ninety feet up from the road to the house, I was laughing out loud... I do so love lemurs...

.. when I saw that little lemur face smiling at me, well, I couldn't help but remember a "nature" video that I once watched.... the subject was on animals who had succumbed to drug addiction... chimps who chain-smoked... baboons who would nick the Singapore Sling right out of your hand when you turned your head... etc..

... the tone of the film was serious though... it's quite a problem in some resort areas, I guess... I mean, you really don't want to take vacation on an exotic beach somewhere... only to have your cold beers stolen by a gang of snarling primates... well, maybe you do, but I sure wouldn't... besides, I wouldn't give up my scotch without a fight.. and can you just imagine how embarrassing it would be to get beaten up by a bunch of monkeys?...

... anyway, the lemurs in the video really stole the show... not only for creativity, but for pure stoned abandon... I mean, seeing a drunk monkey passed out under a picnic table is pretty funny... but seeing a lemur drool, go cross-eyed, and slump in a stupor against a palm tree is just hilarious....

... and hey, like I said, the lemurs had style.... they didn't go for drinks or smokes... nope, they went straight for the top-shelf hardcore... the crackpipe of the animal world... millipede juice...

.. see, evidently there is a species of big, red millipede that live in Madagascar... and when they get agitated they secrete a poisonous slime.... well, the lemurs had figured out that if they caught themselves a big, red millipede and crunched it a few times, it would start oozing toxins... and then if they licked that crap up, they'd get a buzz...

... have you ever seen a lemur that was stoned stiff on millipede secretions?... just trust me... it's hilarious...

... anyway, that was what I was thinking about after I checked my mail today...

UPDATE!! UPDATE!!.. here is a video of a lemur getting stoned and rubbing himself with a big, red millipede!....

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That time again...

... charcoal suit... kilted knee... leather-soled shoes... bad haircut.... tumbler of scotch... leather sofa... pints of ale... cigars from the bar... cufflinks.... baby blue shirt... Jazz Night at The Links... Montrose, Scotland... dazed and confused.... half-Windsor knot... tab collars... strangers taking photos... feet up.... late at night... beyond fun.... where's my jacket?.. and my scarf?... it's freezing out side.... it'll happen again in May...

xme_and_duncans_knee_small.jpg

... if you want a bigger version... well, here you go...

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Fog...

... driving into town this morning, Starr's Mountain was barely visible through a thick layer of fog that hung high from the clouds... creating the appearance that each of the peaks was flattened or sawn off level with the peak next door... the ridgeline was only a mile or two away, and the budding leaves of the hardwoods gave the slopes a faint glimmer of the green leaves to come...

.. pretty soon that whole range will be as vibrant as of Panamanian jungle... but not yet... not just yet... today the remnants of Winter are hanging around just enough to give the buds a thing or two to think about... don't rush forward too fast... take your time...

.. I picked up a ham and some potatoes at the grocer... so it looks like I'm set for dinner.... baked ham and mashed potatoes.. some garlic biscuits and maybe a salad...

... and to think.. tonight is Friday night.... heh... I guess my days of whooping it up are coming to a close... these days I'm just too domesticated... and this is me at 33... I'll really be one boring old fart by the time I'm sixty.... maybe I should follow the advice of the Winter.. don't hurry... not too fast anyway.... and just take my time...

.. then again, maybe I'm just lazy...

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Wisdom....

... I do so love me some wisdom on an overcast Friday... and Bejus delivers, people... yeah...

... and sure, I've met Mr. D... but I really, really want to meet Bejus...

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Penetration....

... well, that was fun.. a night spent being spied upon via infra-red camera... aided by 28 sensors that were taped, glued, and spackled to my frail frame... a microphone taped to my neck... and another one dangling over the bed.. and of course, a three pronged thingamabob that was magically secured just between my nose and upper lip.. it was the worst... as two of the appendages twisted their way up into each nostril... and the other coiled outwards - bending slightly - and then coming to a stop just beyond the reach of my extended tongue... "air-flow censors", I was told...

... ever try to sleep with two thin wires caressing the delicate hairs that lie inside your nostrils?... it's damned difficult, I tell you... those puppies do nothing but continually harass your sneeze reflex... almost to the point of madness...

... of course, I did take the time to examine last night for blog-worthy material... and I did come up with something totally unexpected... see, of all the various orifices that I own, I never EVER would have thought that my nostrils would be the most arguable when it comes to penetration by a foreign object...

.. hey, you live and learn every day.... self-exploration, people.. it's an amazing thing...

... anyway, no CPAP for me... maybe next time... and I'm actually looking forward to the next visit... after dealing with the Spindly Nostril Ticklers all night, that Darth Vader mask will be a piece of cake...

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Sleeping with Strangers...

.... busy day today, rubberneckers, busy day... I've got to run into town and secure my flights to Scotland in May... perform some menial errands... and mentally prepare myself for the coming torture of the night...

... yeah, I've heard the horror stories... the ominous Darth Vader apparatus... the wires and cables... the claustrophobic awakenings.... I'm not really looking forward to it... but hey, if it manages to do some good then it is worth enduring...

.. I do enough damage on myself daily as it is.. the last thing I need is for my beautifully deviated septum to send me the Great Hereafter at an earlier than planned on time....

... also, the heavily accented woman who called last night to remind me of my impending appointment must have said "Now, be SURE to wear pajama pants and a tee-shirt to sleep in... be SURE to now, ya heah?".... wow... kinda makes you wonder what most patients show up to sleep in, doesn't it?.... I mean, I sleep as I was born, like most people... but I'd not dare show up at a hospital and plan on sleeping starkers... goodness... some of you people must really have no shame...

.. in any case, it looks like me and Sponge Bob will be off to a technology-enhanced slumber party tonight... so if I ain't around, that's where I'll be... attempting to snore on-command for a bunch of total strangers...

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Crazy....

... wow... some mornings the news really just blows my mind....

... speechless... that's what I am... totally speechless...

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Woodpeckered....

... you know, woodpeckers impress the hell out of me... they have some incredible skills, children... see, normal birdies fly along dipping and diving and then alight on a branch and check everything out... but not the woodpecker.. no, sir.... he flies directly at a tree at warp speed... and then - just in the nick of time - pulls himself up from his collision course and lands perfectly on a vertical surface....

.. amazing... one false move... or even the slightest misjudgment of distance and he crashes head-first into a tree....

... other birds?... please... they've got it easy... but a woodpecker has it going on.... a master of self-control..

... you could almost use the term in conversation... of course, no one would know what you were talking about, but you could... I'm thinking you could use it as an adverb/verb... woodpeckered.. as in the conversation below....

"we were at the bar and Jimmy was hitting on this girl... he was going full-tilt, too... and the next thing you know, her boyfriend returned with her drink and gave Jimmy the evil eye... boy, you should have seen him woodpecker!"...

.. man, I really need more coffee this morning...

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Music....

... I don't know what it is, but I have been seriously craving old cowboy songs for the past few days... I'm talking real Gene Autry kinda stuff... hey, while doing the laundry yesterday I caught myself humming "Home on the Range"... and while cooking dinner my mind wandered into a saloon and spat "Tumbling Tumbleweeds" into the spittoon of my mind... and even last night as I lay down to sleep, all I kept getting was Bing Crosby mewling "Don't Fence Me In"...

.. and just now this morning, I woke up to "She'll Be Coming Around the Mountain"...

... I know that I am as open to spiritual callings as anyone else, but I sure wish the ghost of Gaby Hayes would leave me alone... this is getting ridiculous... next thing you know, I'll find myself sitting on the back porch cradling my Winchester and watching for rustlers... good God...

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G'night.....

.... I am lost, people.... lost... in the Buffalo Grass....

.. "and soon I will follow them home.." ... mercy .... what a line.... and so, I am off....

... bless, y'all..... this has been one long week..

... and bring on the Spring.... it is time.... and Clay, you are the man....

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High Noon...

... Gary Cooper was on the tube a few days ago.. some ancient interview where he was talking about his performance in "High Noon"... he was blethering on about the Strength of the Individual, The Defeat of Communism, and how hot Grace Kelley was... even though she did deserve a spanking by the time the movie was over...

... anyway, as I was watching him hem and haw while the interviewer stroked his ego, I remembered the time that my Father attacked a nest of bumblebees with only a long-sleeved shirt and a ping pong paddle... one of the bravest acts I have ever witnessed...

... I remember it like it was yesterday... he had this old antique cabinet that sat against one side of the main room of the barn... it was chocked full of old bottles, bits of stripped copper and brass... and bags of nuts and bolts... well, someone (probably me) had haphazardly dropped a half-bale of hay in front of it a few months before and no one had bothered to move it... well, a family of bumblebees found it and nested there....

... now the normal way of getting rid of bees around our home was the tried and true method of dousing the nest with a flammable liquid and then setting it alight.. sure, not the safest way to murder bees, but it was Tennessee... we were happy to take what little entertainment we could find... and nothing says fun like watching flaming bumblebees or wasps whirl like Zeros over Midway... besides, it was better than watching re-runs of Hee Haw...

... well, as you can imagine, we couldn't exactly go tossing a can of gasoline into the barn and setting it alight... so another method was decided upon... hand to hand combat... why he didn't just go into town and buy a can of Raid, I'll never know... maybe he thought it an opportunity for an Adventure... a Man against Beast thing... who knows... all I do remember is him putting on a big hat, gloves, and buttoning up a long-sleeved denim shirt... a form of armor, I guess... and kicking that bale of bumblebees... and what happened next was a truly awe-inspiring sight... he standing there while one bee at a time crawled forth and attacked him... it was like the ending sequence in Jeremiah Johnson, you know, where the Indians would only send one brave at a time to hunt down and do battle with Jeremiah... well, those bees did the same thing...

... he was nimble, my Dad... I'll give him that... and I'll never forget the almighty *thwack!* that reverberated off the tin roof when he finally tagged one of those bees with that ping pong paddle... he'd take a short breather after his victory and within seconds, another fat bumblebee would appear....

... the whole thing probably took a good hour and a half... he was worn out by the end of it... but unscathed, too... nary a sting... just a big pile of dead bees next to the wall where he'd knocked them... it was pretty impressive, when you think about it.. I mean, he killed a whole nest of bees one at a time in hand to hand combat...

... anyway, I know it really doesn't pertain to much, my little story... except that I wanted to say that Gary Cooper may have been a good actor.. and High Noon may be a classic... but I'll be willing to bet that he never battled a nest of bumblebees before...

.. everything is relative, people... everything... and in my mind, Gary Cooper was a wuss....

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Rubbed Out...

... on top of all my other worldly woes, today has just gotten that wee bit sadder.... I'm broke up, people...

... sitting here at the blogdesk typing away, I happened a casual glance at my crotch.. you know, as you do... just to check that the boys are alright... and I'll be damned... my favorite jeans are on their last legs....

... behold..

xcrotch.jpg

... ladies and gentlemen, I put great stock in the simple pleasures of life... clothes that fit.. comfortable shoes.. they're almost like old friends after a while...

... these jeans have been with me for five years now... a beat-up pair of Wranglers, they have served me very well... and now?... while their knees remain sturdy and their beltloops buxom, the crotch has given up the ghost... a victim of one too many Commando raids, I suppose... I knew I should have been wearing underwear all this time... if I had, I might have gotten another couple of years out of these loyal britches...

... damn, I am depressed... I sure hate to see these jeans go... I really, really do... anyone know if they sell crotch-mending kits at Walmart?..

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Good Morning!..

... I woke up this morning unable to open my left eye.... at first, I was confused... and then, well, I was kinda horrified.... but as I lay there reclining upon my softly cushioned bed, I was more curious than anything else... I mean, it is always kinda interesting to wake up to find a body part not working... right?..

... I rose gingerly and slipped on my Sponge Bob pajama bottoms... feeling my way towards the head for a pre-dawn eye inspection...

... and wow... what I found was pretty impressive even if I do say so myself... see, it would appear that my infected lungs bubbled over sometime during the night.. percolating upwards to fill nasal cavities... and actually bursting forth from a tear duct... hardening slowly with the aid of time and central heating.. and gluing my left eye shut with a thick layer of Key Lime Pie colored mucus...

... anyway, a dash or two of hot water loosened the lashes and my eye fluttered back to freedom.... so rest easy, everyone... we be cool...

.... but I tell you, if things get much more exciting around here, I just don't know what I'll have to write about....

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Crying.....

.. for Velociman....

... you know.... I feel kinda dirty in writing this post.. after all, I have always reserved this little Dean Martin ditty for the female bloggers who've leaned in towards blogicide.... but now?.... well, behold.... bear witness to the first time this song has been dedicated for a Male blogger..... well, at least I think he's male.....

... oh sure, I've met him before... and he looked like a man.... but one really never knows what lies under those shirts or beneath those butter-cutter short-pants.... and he pitches a half-rubber like a menstruating girl scout... perhaps he has overly developed nipple sensitivity?.... and it has shook him to his foundations.... maybe it was work stress?.... maybe it was just pure callousness.... Hell, he never liked us anyways.... and no man ever knows the workings of another man's heart...... but just bugging out seems pretty fucking cowardly to me.. but, hey... that's just me....

....and so.... Here you go, bro.... enjoy.....

.. hurry back, dickhead.... and do not go the way of Anna of The Primal Purge... the mass suicides that would result would make both of you ashamed..... excited, sure... but still ashamed in the end... so just don't do it... if we're here, then so are you, you bastard..

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Rain...

... today is cool and rainy here in Tennessee... the light seeping through the clouds is a dull white... the view from the blogroom window reveals the gray and brown skeletonized outlines of the leafless trees.. the only other colors to be seen are that of the birds as they flitter around the limbs.... a few minutes ago it was a red flash of a cardinal... and now a red-breasted robin is on a dogwood perch... oops... he's gone... still, another bird will come by shortly...

... they're just doing their thing.... and they don't mind the rain... or the stark trees... or the cloudy sky... just another day of life... rain or shine...

... hunting bugs and worms, building homes, and searching for lovers... I wonder if they feel the cold chill of the raindrops... of if it doesn't even register in their tiny minds..

... us?... hell, we're just too damn complicated... that's what our problem is....

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Lies!...

... as you rubberneckers know, I am very picky about the news stories I point you guys to... most of the crap I read in the news is either over my head or makes me angry... so I keep it off the blog... today, however, is different...

... I have a bone to pick with Reuters over this article....

... the quote?... "Married people wouldn't probably do anything like this."

... not only is it totally false, but it is a slap in the face to married people everywhere... once more, the Mainstream Media fails to provide us with the truth... and I cannot stand idly by on this issue...

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Grooming....

... last week, my Mother asked me if I could polish a pair of black leather boots for her... she had neither polish nor buffing brush, and knew that I did.... so I said "sure"... as you do...

... and this morning I spent three hours polishing and buffing all of the black shoes in the house... my combat boots... my Danner Ft. Lewis boots.. my wingtips... Mom's boots... and a banged up pair of ankle-high slip-ons that the Wife sometimes wears....

... it was quite relaxing, really... I took a cup of coffee and some handkerchiefs out to the deck... and just sat there coughing, drinking java, and polishing shoes... zoning out on the Sudafed and keeping my rhythm.... the weather was nice, too... warm and sunny with a slight breeze.... the air was full of birds heckling each other over mating grounds, nesting sites, and feeding grounds... and other than the noise they were making, it was quite peaceful...

... but after two hours, I started thinking... polishing boots must be swiftly becoming a thing of the past... hell, even the Marines are going to those drab canvas and suede boots now.... and dress shoes?... how many businessmen actually put some elbow grease into their shoes before the big meeting?... sure, they make those little oily-wipe type things that give your leather a quick dust-off... but it's nothing close to a real shine-job...

... and for that matter, handkerchiefs... who carries a real linen handkerchief nowadays?... who knows how to tie a bowtie or orders their dress shirts with tab collars instead of button-downs just because tabs highlight your half-Windsor better?... and what about tie clasps?...

... sure, I know that I live in a subtle form of vacuum here... cradled to the bosom of jeans and pajama bottoms... and my days of suit-wearing are probably over... but it still begs the question...

... are we losing these archaic grooming traits?... tab collars, tie clasps, cufflinks, and freshly polished wingtips?... I don't have the answer... but I really hope that we are not losing them...

.. .but still, the fact remains... I'm the only one in the family who owns a tin of Kiwi and a buffing brush...

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by Eric | Permalink | Bullshit(12) | TrackBack (3) | SWG Stories
» basil's blog links with: Picnic 2006-03-20
» Tammi's World links with: Well, That's It Then....
» Bad Example links with: FOR STRAIGHT WHITE ERIC

Tonsils....

... some sort of infection is throwing a bong-party in my body.... with sombreros, tiki music, and strippers... I can hear them in there and they are really whooping it up....

.... Sudafed only serves to heighten the noise of their little germy feet as they conga-line through my lungs... the little bastards.... in short, I have been coughing up copious amounts of lime-green party sludge.. the proof of their corporeal kegger.... but at least I'm not sneezing... I hate sneezing...

... anyway, do tonsils grow back?.. I had mine out when I was ten or so... but now I have two sore lumps where they used to be... that just seems weird... I mean, if you cut off a part of your body it is supposed to stay cut off... stuff that can grow back just freaks me out...

... oh, and my ISP un-hiccupped itself... so here I is... I'm sure y'all missed me...

... I'm off to town to get lunch now... and once I'm back, I'm wrapping myself in a blanket and taking a nap.... I hate being sick... but at least I'm not sneezing...

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Broke

I'll be damned. Over yonder in the Tennessee hills, that new fangled contraption... The Internet... has broke down. My good buddy Eric dialed my digits to let me let everyone know his Internet thingy is broke. Kinda like when the party line went down back in the day. Anyway, Eric and somebody named ISP got out the bailin' wire, duct tape, chewin' gum, and a couple of band-aids. They should have it fixed after while. Until Uncle Eric's Internet is fixed I guess you could mosey on down that Blogroll thing-a-ma-jig.

Just Damn!

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Staying Home...

... scalloped potatoes... medium rare filet steak... and a hand-tossed garden salad... hey, it's what's for dinner... maybe even a nice bottle of Rioja Reserva to wash it all down...

... hey, it's Saturday... why not?...

... and I'm going to do it all while happily barefoot... Hillbilly Deluxe, rubberneckers.. hell, yeah...

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Warehoused....

.... I just spent just over two hours watching Gene Hackman act as Gene Garrison in "I Never Sang for My Father"... holy shit.... have any of you people ever seen that movie?... I was ready to slit my wrists by the end of it.... it was beyond depressing... almost reaching the infamous "Just Shoot Me Now" level....

... but hey, I'm not knocking the acting at all... they all delivered moving performances... but the subject matter?... whoa.... I think the Wife and I made a mutual pact a few minutes ago.. (I can't really recall 100% since I was too teary-eyed to notice what I was signing)... but I'm pretty sure it was some sort of suicide deal... goodness... and all instigated by Gene Hackman's portrayal.... the genius bastard....

.. see, having no children, well, if I fall upon hard times in the future and kick the bucket.... she'll off herself once she becomes decrepit... me?... well, even though the idea of reneging on the deal is somewhat appealing.... I suppose I'd have to stick to the contract.... If she pops her clogs before me, well, that means that no one is left around to take care of my wizened ass.... and therein lies the question...

... do you let yourself fall into State warehousing?... being spoon-fed by total strangers just so you can jiggle and quiver your way to the next drug-induced sunrise?.. or do you just eat a bullet and be done with it?.... hey, it'd save the money and resources.... think about it.. you would not have to deal with the whole Loss of Dignity thing that most un-loved elderly deal with.... sure, if I had a passel of Grandkids to take care of me, that'd be cool.... but I won't... it'll just be she and I... or she alone and I alone...

... damn, maybe I should adopt a Filipino or something.... or maybe one of those Chinese kids... otherwise, damn, I'm screwed.... I'll be popping a cap in my ass at 60...

... that said, congrats go out to Marcus of On The Patio... today is his birthday.... keep on trucking, killer... and posting more fishing pictures.... hey, I'm all about ending a post on a happy note... heh heh....

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Higher....

... I was reminded today via email of the infamous Scottish Flag Pole Climbing Incident of 1998... good Lord... I had completely forgotten about it, actually...

... but the guy on the other end of the email reported that he had found video evidence of the climb... and according to him, I was the first of our group to try... and the only one to actually get to the top of the 40ft pole and back down without breaking any bones...

.. my first thought?... holy shit, I must have been hammered... 2nd thought?... you really can't make this crap up....

... but you know, I hate it when people tell me stuff like that out of the blue... I really, really do.... I mean, why bring it up all these years later?... at the time, climbing that flagpole just seemed like the right thing to do... and hey, it wasn't just me either... everyone ELSE thought it was a good idea too... mercy....

... I always get blamed for everything.... dammit... and now there is a video of it all....

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Knights....

... way back in the day, a friend of mine once introduced me to a poetic drinking game.... simply known as "In Days of Olde when Knights were Bold"... and oh, the fun we did have... especially as the nights wore on....

.. the basic premise of said game is to offer a toast between rounds.... with each partier trying to best the previous toast... and each toast beginning the same way.... so as today is St. Patrick's Day and everyone is pretending they are Irish for a day... I offer you a simple toast...

"In days of olde when knights were bold, and women wore white lace....

We'd tie them up in silken bonds and make them sit on our face"....

.. heh heh... cheers, people... and happy St. Patrick's Day... hey, even I am wearing green today... see?... and I ain't even a smidgen Irish...

green.jpg

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Live and let Live...

... good morning, gentle readers... I trust you are all getting just what you deserve this fine sunrise...

.. as for me, well, rolling right along... chocked full of strangeness as usual.... to wit, the following conversation just took place as the Missus was munching on a banana and preparing for her workday...

Me: (.. standing with coffee in hand and wistfully gazing out the front room window.. ) ..."babe... I have gotta do something about these azaleas... just look at them.... half of them are dead.. and the rest are retarded-looking... why, that one right there is ten inches tall and five feet wide" ..

Missus: "yeah... they look pretty bad.. maybe you should go to Lowes and pick out some new plants on Sunday."

Me: ... "maybe some kind of rhododendron... or something that is harder to kill... but, you know, I thought azaleas were a hardy plant"..

Missus: "so... when you replace them, where are you going to replant them?"

Me: .... "huh?.... RE-plant them?... they aren't going to be replanted anywhere... they're going to be chucked onto the burn pile"...

Missus: "oh NO!... you can't do that to our brave little azaleas!... they deserve to live their retarded little lives somewhere!... you can't just BURN them!"

Me: ... (laughing at the statement of brave little azaleas') ..."hey, baby... that's the way it goes... that's life... if you don't put out, sooner or later you end up being tossed onto the Great Burnpile of Life by the Mighty Landscaper of Justice"...

Missus: ".... well, THAT very well may be, darling... but YOU are going to re-plant those azaleas.... It's not THEIR fault that they are retarded... the Mighty Landscaper of Justice forgot to give them enough plant food before Winter set in.." ....

... good Lord... she caught a spider a few days ago too and released it outside so that it could frolic with it's other spidery friends.... I'm sensing a trend here... just between you and me, well, I think she is turning into a hippie.... and a hippie that drives a 400-horsepower, gas-guzzling, stick-shift Cadillac is just wrong....

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Old Gossip...

... I was in town this morning collecting the various bits and pieces needed for tonight's meal, when I decided I needed a haircut... a quick phone call later, and I was set...

... see, the woman who cuts my hair only works three days a week...

... Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday... and she is very choosy about her clientele... probably because her license expired twenty or so years ago... but then again, maybe she's so picky simply because she has reached the age and experience level where she no longer has to deal with irritating customers... if she doesn't like you, she'll tell you politely over the phone that she is too busy.. if she does like you, she will invite over to chat with the old hens until your turn in the chair arrives...

... her name is Eva... and she's cut my hair since I was a child...

... so I arrived around noon today, placed myself in a corner and just soaked it up... ancient women in curlers under hooded dryers laughed at jokes they couldn't have heard above the hum... Eva clipping wildly and laughing... still a beautiful woman now in her late fifties... smiling always... glancing over at me with a wink and including me in the discussion of who died last week, who is getting married to whom and whether it'll work out... who got smacked in the back of the head at the church social last weekend...

... the un-maliced gossip of people who have reached the age of ceasing to judge... sure, they still see the entertainment in the crazy lives of the people that surround them, of course... but they are casually indifferent and yet still paying attention... it really is pretty cool to watch them work a story...

... twenty years ago I'll bet they were tigers... ripping to shreds the loose women and philanderers of the neightborhood.... but now they are like hoot owls... watching from high above all of the ruckus... softly hooting to each other and doing little else...

... anyway, I sat there until I received my hair cut... an almost-in-regulation 0 to 1.5 fade.... and it only cost me three bucks... and believe it or not, she is one of the best barbers in town... the other guy does a lesser job and charges me twelve dollars... and hey, I'd rather be hanging with those old ladies.... even if Eva charged me twenty bucks... because, well, some things are just worth paying for...

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Music....

... I have been sitting here quietly concentrating on my two latest CD purchases as they play.... Warren Zevon's "Learning to Flinch"... a collection of live recordings of some select songs... sampled from performances played in Ohio, Virginia, New Zealand, Germany, Boston, New Orleans, New York, London, Norway, Australia, and Chicago.... and Townes Van Zandt's "Live at The Old Quarter, Houston, Texas".... a live recording from a crowded, un-airconditioned, beer-filled room.. just him and his guitar...

... and wow, people... Townes is incredible... it's like Robert Frost said about "way leading on to way".. it all started with Nanci Griffith... then to Prine... and now on to Townes... this is one hella deep vein I have found, and I am loving it... incredible lyricists and fingerpickers... songwriters and storytellers... I just can't believe it has taken me so long to find them....

... and speaking of musicians, I heard too that Acidman is laid low at the moment and is in the hospital... best of luck to the Old Cracker... I hope he makes a speedy recovery...

... I remember asking Rob to play "Please Come to Boston" in Jekyll last year... it was amazing... I know I have recounted how much I liked it to Dax and Kim before.... Rob and his brother played and sang and it together... and one helluva heartbreaker, it was... it almost jerked a tear from my cynical, bloodshot eye...

... anyway, I am seriously digging Townes right now... I really am.. and there is something that I have noticed in listening to his album this morning.... something that I really can't put my finger on... maybe it is a humanity or a humor... or a sadness or a kind of irreverence... I can't pin it down.. but I do so love it....

... so there you go, rubberneckers... the SWG musical recommendation of the day... buy yourself a Van Zandt album... it'll soothe your soul... you won't understand why, of course, but it just will....

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Big Mac...

... I really am continually amazed by where I am today.. incredibly so, in fact... especially today...

... if somewhere in my shady past you told me that I would be here, I would never have believed you.... and yet I am contented with the way my average life continues to whirl daily.... spinning me in directions I never thought possible... quietly amazed by the wonders that I am allowed to see... full of little treasures and gifts... nightmares, dreams, and choices.. all fading together to weave themselves into the path that I see in front of me....

... ever have someone tell you, "hey, man, just go with the flow!"... and then, in the very next breath, they cheerfully beam, "hang in there, buddy!"... well, which is it?!?.. hang tough or slide along with everyone else?... make up your damn mind!...

... it's almost like standing in the surf and letting waves pound on your body... feeling the water swirl and retreat past your legs... down the sand and away.... sliding backwards to rejoin the next incoming wave... continual motion... constant movement....

... they say every seventh one is the largest, but I don't know about that... I've not been to the beach enough to know those intricacies... but they each do have a different kind of power, I suppose, the waves... I know enough of the sea to know that... and they each strike, swish, and flow away with different sensations... one no bigger than the next... or stronger... just different... each one offering a unique battering... a unique massage... slowly coaxing your feet from the sand and your knees towards them... folding your legs slightly... and then a bit more... begging to release you from your grip on the world....

... until finally you are swept away.... and it is glorious.. not a fearful thing at all... but a feeling of floating on the surface as the strength of the next oncoming wave passes beneath you.... and you're no longer an obstacle in the Way of Life, but drifting along with the foam instead... above it... ungrounded and at peace.. going with the flow.... no longer "hanging in there"...

... but what are you, really?... are we somehow weaker because of the letting go?.... or are we stronger people because of our newly found freedom?... and what have we really become?....

.... hey, let's face it, people... when you boil it all down, we're just bait.... for anything that floats in the surf dreaming dreams of blissful wonderment is about to get munched.... right?... right... we've all seen those programs on the Discovery Channel... and sharks have sharp teeth... so be careful.... because once you let go and start to float, well, you're just a slow-moving top-water buzz-bait in the Great Scheme of Life...

... dreamers dream, sure... but floaters get eaten... so the next time someone tells you to go with the flow, smack them upside the head...

... anyway, I'm hungry... I'm off to town to buy a Big Mac....

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Jonah was a pervert....

... as I was reminiscing over breakfast with my guest this morning, our conversation somehow drifted to the subject of vomiting... strange, I know... but perhaps I was a bit overzealous with the parmesan cheese while scrambling the eggs or something... whatever the reason, though, the subject did come up...

.. now, as far as I can recollect through the distant hazy pages of time, I have only ever retched on someone once.... not counting baby stuff when you evacuate both ends without cognizant thought... I'm talking about hurling your guts once you are an adult... I've only ever done that once..

... of course, I have puked on myself many, many times... that, of course, goes without saying... sea-sickness, intestinal bugs, or drunkenness... it's no big deal... be it a burp that plops a chunk on your lap... or a splatter pattern on your suedes while bent at the waist outside the nightclub.. hey, we've all been there...

... but I will never forget the one time I actually imposed my gut-liquid upon another human being... and let me tell you, it was a tense moment... the victim was Drill Instructor Sgt. Day from platoon 3072... our Senior DI's right-hand man...

... a shorter man than myself, I hit him with a hot stream of freshly-tasted tap water in the area between his left ear and his chevrons as he glided past... splash, people, splash... he had just come to a full stop right in front of me as the last of my canteen emptied itself into my neck... and as it rose back up, I totally soaked his Charlie-shirt with three pints of water and chewed bits of lettuce... it was quite disgusting...

... I distinctly remember that he was walking by me in shark-mode too, right to left... and I still can see the dangling plant particles clinging to his three rows of ribbons... it was a real sight, people... I thought I was dead...

... why he didn't knock me back between the bunks and beat the hell out of me, I'll never know.. but for those final three weeks of boot, every one of us puked.... every evening... just like clockwork on those August nights... get on-line.. and chug three canteens of water in under two minutes... it was a doubtless thing.. an unquestioning thing... you did as you were told... an undeniable thing... and no one's body can hold three canteens in two minutes... it just isn't possible...

... hell, maybe that was why he didn't flail on me... it was all just part of the training regimen... and getting hit by some flying vomit was just par for the course... a hazard of being a 3rd BN DI maybe... who knows.... either way, I suppose part of him was impressed that we were all so scared shitless that we'd drink water until we hurled just because he told us to...

... anyway, this is what we talked about at breakfast this morning... charming stuff, to be sure.... and hey, how many people have stories about upchucking onto other people?... much less someone who you think will kill you if you do?...

... see?... never a dull moment around here... not even at a boring breakfast of scrambled eggs and jammed toast...

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He's Gone again...

... you know, in the great scheme of things, I suppose I'm not much of a host... I mean, compared to Boudicca and her blueberry waffles?... or Army Wife Toddler Mom and her fabulous rib-joint?... RSM and his quaint cabinly existence?... well, I definitely pale in comparison...

...... things are pretty simple around these parts...

... see, T1G arrived early yesterday afternoon and I drove him to a little 1950's style diner in town.. and there we supped heartily upon grilled cheese sandwiches and hot bowls of chili... exciting stuff, eh?...

... then back to the house for drinks, pool shooting, talking, movie watching, and music.. hey, no heavy-lifting around here...

... later in the evening a call was made to Domino's for a large pizza...

... in a few minutes he gets dry toast, scrambled eggs, and a glass of water... and ibuprofen..

.... homemade blueberry waffles, gourmet ribs, and Emersonian reflection, indeed.... none of that stuff here, people.. life at my house is of the brown paper sack variety...

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by Eric | Permalink | Bullshit(10) | TrackBack (1) | Blogging
» Drunken Wisdom links with: On Tour, Pt 3

Celebrate....

... good morning, rubberneckers... and may ye all be of good cheer... not only has today dawned with baby blue skies and radiant sunlight... but today is also a bonafide holiday...

... that's right, boys and girls... according to this site, today is National Steak and Blowjob Day... and it is most excellent news..

... and with that, I wish you all the best... may your bacon be extra crispy... your steak medium rare... and the saliva puddling, people..

... that is all... carry on...

UPDATE:... many hearty thanks to Richmond for the lovely poem in honor of the day.... heh heh..

More steak for today,

There is beauty in all meat!

A shot in the dark...


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Dry....

... I am drained... sucked dry... spent... and, hell, it's only 11:00... ever have those days when you're leveled by eleven?... nuked by noon?... done by one?... well, that's me today... mercy...

... today is the kind of day where you're left feeling that the sap of life - once a deep and vibrant pool - has been bled away at half-hour intervals... like the steady dripping of a broken faucet...

... it's all good though... it's a refreshing kind of dry...

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Back....

... well, that was fun... Nashville, I mean.... what a very pleasant town....

... Saturday afternoon I sat myself at the bar of the Big River Grill and placed my order... thirty seconds later I see an old mate of mine at the OTHER end of the bar with his wench crawling all over him... him lost in the dying throes of the Kentucky/South Carolina game... and her completely adrift in his manly manliness...

... needless to say, we hooked up... and spent the next eight hours drinking toasts to the fact that we had parted ways over a year ago.. well, that and he was lamenting the nail-biter Kentucky had lost .... hey, it is always good when you can meet up with an old friend and drink together about how happy you've both been after a year of NOT seeing each other!....

... anyway, the result of our happy reunion nearly got me whipped by a fairly large cowboy-type... and him crucified by his doting date... it was an evening just as it should have been... near misses and lucky breaks...

... still, I really can't complain... it was good to see him again... and it was good to be crawling back up Broadway again...

... oh, and to the Dentist from Selma, Alabama who bought me the Scotch... thanks, killer... you started the Ball of Oblivion rolling... in short, Ed, old buddy, you are the man... it was a true pleasure letting you bum cigarettes off of me.... and I enjoyed our conversation immensely.... next time I'm down in Selma, you owe me a carton of Camels... and a free cleaning....

... and to the big cowboy at The Stage on Broadway?... terribly sorry, big guy... I was out of line... and it had been a hard week.. and a lot of bridges (and water under them).... so I trust all is forgiven.... I really am a saint most of the time... honest.... Peace, brother...

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Away....

... well, boys and girls.... I'm off to Nashville for the weekend... a two-day get-a-way, so to speak... a change of scenery... Boddington's on tap...

... see, the Wife has a seminar to attend on Saturday and Sunday and I have been forced asked to tag along... this will, of course, result in me being left to mine own devices in a major metropolis from 7am to 6pm... two days straight.... and it should be interesting....

... but don't fret, gentle readers.... even though I will be wandering around town looking for adventures and pub-crawling... I will be missing you guys... some of you more than others, of course, that's a given... because, well, some of you are assholes...

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Self-portrait...

.... I spent an hour or so this morning at play with Helga the Nordic Trak... and I have to say, it really wasn't much fun... she takes evil to a whole new zenith... and pain to new and interesting heights.... oh, and she hates me...

... anyway, as I am in a sharing mood today and just gorged myself on Taco Bell's finest, I figured I'd toss up a self-portrait... enjoy, rubberneckers..... this is me after one month of fondling Helga... up from 185 to 190lbs..

selfportrait.jpg

... not sure what to title it though... maybe "Brown Tee-shirt and Jeans"... or "Self-Portrait in Bathroom"... I can't decide... or maybe "Helga's Victim"...

... but there is still work to do, of course... I mean, I don't look like this yet... maybe I need to speak with Bejus Donnie about scoring some steroids...

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Social Decline....

.... for the past six weeks, there has been very little activity in the Eagle Glen Social Club.... instead of the guys dropping by en masse at the appointed hour on a Wednesday, they have trickled in one at a time throughout the week... begging off shooting pool and cracking a beer.. or just calling in to touch base... this Winter has seen the club members ride the scary Rollercoaster of Life with lots of white knuckles and quite a few smiles... but the result is still the same... Wednesdays have become sleepy evenings here at the casa..

... the reasons for the change are quite diverse... overwork, sickness, extra responsibilities... even falling in love... hey, it's good to see my buds having their ups and downs....

... but last night though, the club was reopened... that's right... the Guy in the Witness Protection Plan showed up with his family in tow and graced us for a few hours... my pool shooting has certainly gone downhill, people... he AND his son wiped the table with my sorry self... it was bad...

.... Ahh... it's all good, I guess.... but I can see the writing on the wall... I've watched us over these past two years... how we have slowly changed every Wednesday... bit by bit... from fierce competition in the beginning.. to camaraderie.. to friendship... and then to casually dropping by just whenever... like Wednesday has expanded to include each day of the week... anytime, day or night....

... in a way, it is the end.... and soon I suppose the Social Club will be disbanded... after all, it was created to add structure to our fun.. and now, well, I guess you can't shoehorn friendship into an allocated slot of time... it is a constant thing... a continual thing... and it really doesn't matter if it is Wednesday night or not...

... but hey, it is kinda sad though... Hell, I was just about to get tee-shirts printed up and draw us up a charter...

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Vivaldi's Birthday....

... this past Saturday saw the birthday of one of my soul brothers.... a fellow redhead... a musician, artist, and a man of the cloth.... and a guy who was known to teach little orphan girls their way around stroking a bow or two... Antonio Vivaldi.... Born on the fourth of March, 1678....

... I wrote once about how much I enjoyed him... not that most of you paid any attention... but still, he is my favorite classical composer.... sure, I'm no expert on the finer aspects of highbrow entertainment, but on occasion, well, I do clean up quite nice... and I do enjoy the strings... especially the cellos..

... anyway, I was reading about him today whilst trying to ground my feeble existence to something other than a penchant for boozed-up miscreants, when I found something interesting.... a tie that binds, so to speak.... see, Antonio died broke.. penniless.. and was buried in an unmarked pauper's grave in Vienna in 1741... having sold many of his manuscripts to street merchants for his daily bread...

... when I first read that, I was shocked... and then I was incredulous.... and after further thought, I was appalled... I mean, just imagine for a minute.... the music of Vivaldi slipping through the cracks of time..... never heard.. never enjoyed.... Hell, had it not been for a guy named Alfredo Casella none of us would have ever heard of Vivaldi... back in 1939, Alfred organized a "Vivaldi Week" in appreciation of Antonio's music... and with the help of the likes of Ezra Pound, Vivaldi's music took flight.... and is enjoyed by millions to this day....

... but can you imagine?.. think about it for a minute.... that a composer the caliber of Vivaldi can die busted and alone in 1741 and find himself tossed into an unmarked grave... and have his music disregarded and forgotten for two hundred years... Jesus, two HUNDRED years... it is almost unthinkable...

.... And what about the millions of other treasures we have lost in the same way?.. the novels, literature, music, and prose?... the statues, jewelry, architecture, and inventions.... the unwritten, unpublished, unappreciated, and unknowns?....

... I must admit, people.. it frightens me a little... and saddens me a lot... just to think of all the wondrous things that have slipped into eternity having never been enjoyed or appreciated....

... so, Happy Birthday, Antonio.... I wish you'd died fat and happy and hanging with a buxom orphan, big man... but it just wasn't in the stars... but if you ARE up in heaven, Tony... be sure to look up Mr. Casella... you owe him one.... and we all do...

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Changes....

.... today will find me driving Miss Daisy up to Knoxville again... and it should be her last visit for a long time... the last of the stitches come out and the last of the prescriptions will be jotted down... and then it will finally be over... kinda...

... see, in a way, this whole thing is just beginning... I swooped by her house a few days ago and found her smiling and chatting with another old widow lady in the kitchen while a family friend flitted about the living room hammering nails into the walls and hanging pictures... meanwhile, the two ladies pointed and commanded... "hang that big painting there, sonny!... no, the OTHER one!... yeah, that's it... "... good Lord... re-decoration of a room by remote control...

... so as I sipped my coke and watched the scene, I got this: "Eric, dear, what do you think of my new haircut?"... much swishing and flicking of the hair ensued.. and then, "I had it cut and colored yesterday.. isn't it nice?!"...

... of course, I complied... "yes, ma'am... it's very nice.. I like the color..." ...

... but the real kicker came as I stood up to leave... approaching the door, she calls through to me... ".. Eric, dear... when you are next in a music shop, could you find me a CD of some Middle Eastern music?.. I was remembering that stuff they played at the church Christmas play and I really liked it... it would be nice to play that stuff in the house... it sounds happy and was kinda fast... they played it at the part where the camels carrying the three Wise Men were walking on stage.."...

... I said I would, and made my exit... and as I slid the key into the Audi, it all suddenly became clear..

... I lit up the engine, touched the button on the stereo to turn Waits on, and put the car in reverse... checked my mirror and backed out into the road... and with a disbelieving shake of my head, I said out loud to Tom as I pulled away...

... "Damn, my brother... my Mother just asked me to buy her some belly-dancing music...that is just not right.." ...

... listen up, rubberneckers.... I never knew a tit-job could have such an effect on a woman... I really didn't... and I have a feeling that this is only the tip of the proverbial iceberg... which is a good thing... and it sure is going to be entertaining to watch...

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Research....

... I read a very interesting little nugget over at rotten.com today and I was completely blown away... see, I was quietly doing some research on the noted Gangster, Murderer, Gambler, Rapist, and All-Around Sociopath, Benjamin "Bugsy" Seigel when I stumbled upon something that could have changed the course of history...

... did you guys know what a complete bastard Bugsy was?... mercy... just look at him sideways and you were done... he'd cut you, stick you, shoot you, or rape you... it all depended on the mood he was in... burn down your house, kick your dog, cuss at your Mother, the whole nine yards.... he was a real monster... a man who killed with very little provocation... and rode roughshod over any person who got in the way of his debased desires.... in short, one violent little man...

... anyway, what lodged in my grape as I was reading about him was this: he actually met Hermann Goering and Joseph Goebbels at a dinner party in Italy back in 1939... and being a Jew himself, once he realized who they were, he was ready to show them some good, old-fashioned Brooklyn primitivism... of the ice-pick in the chest variety...and off the bastards right there in the chalet....

... but the hostess could sense his bile rising and quickly separated him from their Nazi presence and begged him not to kill her "guests"...

... isn't that amazing?.. shit, it would have been the only redeeming act of his entire dreadful, bloody life... (other than bringing gambling to Las Vegas, that is..) ... but still!... imagine if he'd been able to slake his bloodlust back in '39?!?...

... gouging an ice-pick into Goebbel's monocle and giving a .38 caliber gut-shot to Goering... man, that would have been sweet...

... but no.. be it fate, karma, or some other unseen hand, it didn't happen... one high-class white woman screwed it all up by begging him to be nice...

.. Bugsy, Hermann, and Joseph all in the same room pre-WWII... and no one got stabbed... I'm sorry, but that is just wrong...

.. isn't the Internet just wonderful?...

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Dancing...

... stumbling blindly through to the living room this morning, I hit the button on the remote control... the television came to life as I rounded the corner towards the coffee pot... upon arriving back in the living room, I was instantly mesmerized...

... evidently the Missus had been watching the Lifetime Network before hitting the hay last night... so I was dosed pretty hard with a high-octane half-hour of Denise Austin shaking her ass in those black spandex shorts somewhere along the beach-line of St. Thomas..

... she kept distracting me from my coffee though.. continually squealing through her beaming smile.... "keep it up!"... "you can do it!"... "WORK that body!"...

... aerobics, people... what a way to wake up... she sure was enjoying herself... of course, eventually I turned the channel over to the news... but not after getting an eye-full of Denise... hey, say what you will, but she has some great legs....

... anyway, I'm safe now... at least for the moment... the steady wash of news is gradually scrubbing the memory of early-morning aerobics from my tired mind....

... I think I'll take up ballroom dancing, though.... sure, I have all the grace of a crackhead weeble-wobble that's been on a bender, but I'm still willing to give it a shot... I hear that there is a dancing school up in Knoxville... so who knows.... after watching Denise grind herself into the sand this morning, well, I don't want to get fit... but I do have an overwhelming desire to learn the Cha-cha....

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Serial Singing....

... by the way, gentle people... I just posted over here... and it really, REALLY isn't pretty.... trust me... don't follow that link.... please...

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Pensacola...

... I received a call from an old buddy the other day that made my year... he and I had served together in Scotland but we'd lost touch over time... he'd even been the last man in the cordon at my wedding and had smacked my Wife in the ass with the sword yelling, "Welcome to the Marine Corps, Mrs. SWG!"... she never has forgiven him for that, by the way....

... but yeah, we ended up going our separate ways... me?... I de-mobbed and slipped quietly into the Scottish countryside and blended with the rest of the peasantry... him?... off to Drill Instructor School and then a few tours as a 3rd Battalion heavy at Parris Island...

... what a hoot it was catching up with him after all these years... and what a nightmare it was imagining him with the power of a Drill Instructor.... talk about making your blood run cold, good God... I know the man and what he is capable of as a mere squad leader... but wearing a Montana Peak and a green belt?... he'd make the Marquis de Sade look like a choirboy...

... people, you should have heard the evil that resided in his cackle as he regaled me with his Parris Island exploits... it was funny and shocking at the same time..

... anyway, our conversation started me down a road this morning... something he had said bubbled back to the surface as I sat here reading.... "Eric," says he with a voice full of seriousness, "It is the best job in the World, and truly, there is nothing like being a Living God to 70 motivated Marine recruits."...

... and he has a point... I remember messing with the heads of the newbies once they arrived at crypto school in Pensacola... fresh from training, they would always get to their room and crash.. thinking they could finally rest.. so one of the gang that had nearly completed school would don the Smokey Bear and go pay them a visit... and let me tell you, it was a LOT of fun to scare the hell out of those guys for a few minutes..

... but sure, after a while, we'd let them in on the joke... hey, what's a little hazing among Brothers in Arms?... heh heh... I have to admit though.. I normally didn't get picked to go on DI detail... I just wasn't mean enough to pull off the act properly... plus, I was a scrawny little cuss and didn't look much older than 14... so it was hard for me to put the fear of God into anyone....

... but, happily for the sake of posterity, a photograph does exist of me in breach of about thirty regulations... it was taken just after I had dug a poor little Pvt nearly to death on the rug in his room... check it out...

di_small.jpg

... here's the bigger version...

.... good times, people.. good times.... notice that the wall-locker is opened?... I have a feeling I had just performed a random "inspection"...

... hey, a little bit of power in the wrong hands can be a bad, bad thing... fortunately, I've always enjoyed being such a tender-hearted guy... otherwise I could have been dangerous....

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Quote of the Day...

... I can't put my finger on it this morning... but there is something about this photo that just makes me very, very happy...

... and thanks to Cowboy Blob for the quote of the day...

... "Methinx those heels are out of regs."...

.. indeed, Blob... indeed...

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Mr. Seigal...

... want to know where I was last night?... on that fine Saturday night with lasagna in the oven?.... well, wonder no more... for I was contentedly sipping Scotch and happily knee-deep in my latest musical purchase... the album "Heartattack and Vine".... and I found a real gem, boys and girls... check this out....

You got to tell me brave captain why are the wicked so strong? How do the angels get to sleep when the Devil leaves his porch light on?

.. good God, I do so love Tom Waits.... "Mr. Seigal", indeed.... follow that link to sing along, children....

Oh, well Willard's knocked out on a bottle of heat, drivin' dangerous curves across the dirty sheets. He said: when the bitch is wound up, and her parents are gone. Man you ought to hear her with the siren on.

... heh heh.. "with the siren on"... I like that... truly excellent stuff.... and the opening lines about the Mexican whorehouse are priceless.... not sure about the whole "Fremont Street" line though...

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Blogsitting....

.. happy weekend, gentle people... I trust that each of you is getting exactly what they deserve..

... as for me, yeah, well.... I have been asked to guest post over here and here this weekend... and hey, it should be fun... it'll give me a chance to track mud onto someone else's doorstep for a change....

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Hits...

.. since I am in a rarified state of non-alcohol induced Zen-like relaxation, I feel giving... that said, click here at your leisure and help the girl out...

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Sole Treatment...

... a strange notion popped into my head this morning as I was sending an email to Jimbo... it involved something, which to me, is deeply Southern.. and basic... and natural.. and deeply, deeply satisfying.... the simple act of sitting on your porch without your shoes...

... I did so yesterday after I finished my lawn work.. I took off the old combat boots that were caked with dirt and rolled my socks off as I sat on the steps of the deck... originally just focusing on not tracking dirt onto the kitchen floor, I sat out there for fifteen minutes or so and just enjoyed the feeling... I walked over the stone path out to the patio and smoked a cigarette, propping my feet up onto the chair opposite me... 73 degrees and the wind chimes going like church bells... sweaty shirt drying on my back in the breeze... it was incredibly relaxing...

... I recall tales told by my relatives of depression era times where kids spent all summer sans footwear... heels hardened enough to allow them to run full tilt down dusty gravel roads with nary a wince... impressive stuff... but hey, that ain't me... I'm 100% tenderfoot... but the I wanna go barefoot gene is still there...

... and in writing that email to Jim, I suddenly remembered a line from Prine's "Mexican Home" and it struck a chord...

... "I sat on the porch without my shoes and I watched the cars roll by..
... as the headlights raced to the corner of the kitchen wall"..

... maybe it isn't just a Southern thing... after all, Prine was hatched out in Illinois... so maybe it is just a redneck thing... this desire to curl your toes into the cool grass or rest your soles on a nice flat rock on the patio...

... incidentally, Prine is playing the Tennessee Theatre in Knoxville tonight.. and I'm planning on enjoying the show with Johnny Oh... so if I'm not around tonight, that's where I'll be...

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by Eric | Permalink | Bullshit(12) | TrackBack (1) | Psycho Rants
» Closet Extremist links with: Vanilla

Dirt...

... spring is creeping forward around these parts... ever so slowly... but she's on her way...

... my teacup magnolia is showing the first signs of the pink blooms to come... and the fescue I planted in October is beginning to peek through the red clay... and before I know it everything will be bouncing to life...

... and so, today finds me slated to play gardener... not my finest occupation, I assure you... but I'll be scattering the remainder of the seeds that have sat in my garage all winter... clearing the fallen limbs from the backside of Hell's Half Acre and burning them... dousing the rhododendrons and azaleas with plant feed with the hopes that they'll rouse themselves from their Winter deaths...

.. makes for a nice change, really... being able to get outside and get my hands dirty instead of staying in here with you people and getting my mind dirty...

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Dead Gentlemen...

... working my way through traffic up to Knoxville today my Mother chatted continuously.... and at first, it was all about how she felt... where she hurt... how the tape itched... how her meds made her feel... how she was nervous about having her stitches taken out...

... I just let it slide... hey, it's all cool..... she is worried about herself.... been there and done that myself, actually... but I said nothing... just letting her talk as I drove.. quietly listening to my Johnny Cash CD and letting her words imprint me with only a nod and a distracted "uh huh"....

... but then she said something which drew my attention away from Cash's version of "Big River" that I was securely entrenched in... she paused for a moment in her complaining... and simply said, "You know, my Dad has been dead for 19 years now.. I really miss him.. not so much my Mother... but him..."... I was gob-smacked.... it was new ground to be sure..... hell, I talk about Grandpa twice as much as she does.....

... and it is true, what she said.... Grandpa died back about 1986... and it seems strange to type that... damn, almost twenty years... and she is still pining for him.... I suppose I shouldn't really be surprised... he was a cad after all, but a very lovable cad....

...anyway, I kept on driving and pulled into a Macdonald's for breakfast a few minutes later... we went through the drive-thru... and goodness... life is so simple when you boil it all down to the basics.... fast food and CDs in the car stereo and drowning out the thoughts of your Mother..... how easily we have learned to escape....

... she ate her sandwich and I drank my coffee for nearly half an hour in total silence as I dodged traffic.... it was almost as if she felt she had crossed some unwritten line.... exposing herself more than she was comfortable with... I just drove and drank my coffee...

... but when she did speak, she started it with a laugh..... it was odd.. she began quietly as I sipped my coffee at the red-light in Maryville.... "I dreamed that the phone was ringing last night and it was your Dad... I said Hello, hon! I was waiting to hear how your day went!'... and then the receiver went dead and he was gone."...

.. Great Holy Jesus... what do you say to that?...

... so, I bucked up.. I could feel that I was being chided into action... first Grandpa and now Dad?.... it was all too much...

... so I placed my coffee back into the holder as the light changed. looked over at her and gave her a wink... "it's alright, Mom.. he was just going to talk about welding... it would have been a welding story, sweetheart.... nothing too exciting... ".... she laughed and smacked me in the back of my head as I eyed the traffic in the rearview mirror....

.... but I think she'd have liked to have heard it.. even if it was just a welding story....

... hey, guys.... after today, well, there is nothing like being removed from the one that you love forever... finally... and completely.... and just let me tell you this..... in all honesty, dealing with sick women is going to be the end of me... it really, really is... they just don't see my sense of humor... and I certainly see their pain..

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by Eric | Permalink | Bullshit(5) | TrackBack (1) | SWG Stories
» ArmyWifeToddlerMom links with: Winter's end

Soul...

.. in response to this, let me follow suit... for as we all know, blogs and sidebar photos are mirrors of the soul.... right?....

.. and to put a little contextual spin on it, here's a hint for you rubberneckers...

..." aww lawdy lawd!.. hep me!.. hep me!.. do whut he say!.. do whut he saaaaayyyy!"

... "oh, my!... isn't anyone gonna HELP that poor man?!"...

... heh heh.... and with that, I'm off to Knoxville for the afternoon.... y'all be nice....

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