…. The Missus and I drove up to my Aunt’s ‘house warming” party this afternoon and spent the better part of two hours peeling slow-boiled shrimp & munching on them in the shade of a few trees…… lots of cousins and their children were around to keep everything interesting – as only children can do…. so splinters, skinned-elbows, and multi-colored Band-Aids were the menu-of-the-day….. along with the rest of the goodies in the slow-boiled pot…..
…. The weather was beautiful…. a cloudless day with a deep, blue sky that almost made you dizzy as you stared up at it…. limitless almost….. Autumn is definitely here now and the lack of humidity makes everything seem clearer and more vibrant….. cleaner, I suppose…
…. The first day of fleece-weather….. cool in the mornings and evenings…. And just warm enough in the afternoons to still flash you with a quick sunburn if you aren’t careful….
…. And my giant, freckled forehead is sporting just that courtesy of a slow drive home in the convertible….
…. driving the backroads out to my Aunt’s new house brought back a lot of old memories….. years and years ago, my Grandparents lived back near there…. the last house at the very end of a dead-end road….. and after they died and the house was sold, there really was no point in going out that direction again….. but now, FOUR of my family members live on that same road just ˝ a mile from the old homeplace……
… it is funny now to drive those roads in my own car all these years later…. I cant help but picture me and my little brother arguing in the back seat of an old Impala…. fake leather seats, no seat belts, and a young couple with their whole lives ahead of them sitting together in the front seat….. Mom scrooched over all the way across the seat so that Dad could drive with one hand while his other arm slipped over her shoulder…. gravel roads that are now paved….. old fence-lines covered with honeysuckle and blackberry briars….
…. I am kinda glad that they’ve moved back out there….. I hadn’t realized that I’d missed that little stretch of road quite as much as I did…. now I just need some aloe for my sizzled noggin…..
Did you have red taters, smoked sausage, and corn on the cob with the shrimp? That's what is on the menu for next Friday here in Indiana. Fleece weather is my favorite time of year. I didn't do the convertible thing but I did don my pith helmet this morning and hike through some prairie reclamation sites for an ecology class. A good pith helmet prevents the need for aloe application to an ever expanding forehead.
Hell raised by Rey B on September 30, 2007 05:26 PM
A much better day than yesterday. Very nice.
Hell raised by Jean on September 30, 2007 06:35 PM
Sizzled noggin happens - especially with those of us who are Translucent Americans.
You can sit by me...
Hell raised by Richmond on September 30, 2007 06:38 PM
Sunblock, Eric, sunblock.
I mean, *you* get enreddened by going out of doors at night during a full moon. If you're going to set foot outside in actual daylight, start wearing sunblock...or broad-brimmed hats. Jeez.
Hell raised by Elisson on October 1, 2007 11:58 AM
I also have such places in my life that make me recall my childhood and my young parents…
...... as much as I totally fucking hate Zombies, this clip still appealed to me today so very, very much today.....
... listen and learn, gentle rubberneckers........
..... for today, equally, I hate everyone..... absolutely everyone.... you, and you, and you...... and you in the corner..... and even you over there in the funny hat..... and you.... and you...... and me..... and you on the television..... and you over on ESPN scoring the touchdown.....
.... oh, and you too......
.... tomorrow will be better though.... just trust me...... I'm having a bad day......
Och, laddy...Here's a Health to the Company
Hell raised by LauraB on September 30, 2007 11:10 AM
Dog... the guy in the video resembles you. I see he's totin' a two by four instead of a shovel. That threw me off a little bit, since we all know you're shovelized. I suppose you get what you get when you go to the YouTube well. If you need a swingin' length two by four, I can arrange it. I'll just go punch the wall and pull one out. There's so many in there, is one really gonna make a difference?
I hate you too man.
Feell better now?
Mimbo Jimbo...? I thought it was mumbo jumbo.
Hell raised by RedNeck on September 30, 2007 02:16 PM
Oh, one thing I forgot... Nobody hates barbecue sauce... He's flat out lyin'.
Hell raised by RedNeck on September 30, 2007 02:18 PM
I am pretty sure that I have had a day or two like that recently...
Peace be with you - if nothing else, Gin and chocolate. It's all good....
Hell raised by Richmond on September 30, 2007 06:33 PM
Hey darlin...hope your days have been better since this one. I'm still trying to catch up and have a quick read around the 'sphere these days though school doesn't leave me much time.
Hell raised by Chickie on October 3, 2007 08:36 PM
… you guys ever watch “House” with Hugh Laurie?.... good stuff, no?..... yeah, he may be a bit fleabitten, but he has character out the ying-yang……
…. how about the second, third, and fourth seasons of “Blackadder”?..... ever seen those pieces of brilliance?.... (you are exempt, Jimbo…. I know that you’ve seen a season or two already on DVD)….
….. well, tonight has been spent watching one of the DVD collections that I received for Christmas… “Jeeves and Wooster” ala P.G. Wodehouse….. cunning, cunning stuff….. I suggest that any fan of the now infamous “House” go out, forthwith, and buy “Blackadder” AND “Jeeves and Wooster”…..
…. oh, and speaking of Hugh Laurie, one must also mention his co-star in "Blackadder" and “Jeeves and Wooster”, Stephen Fry… you might remember him as the actor who also played Oscar Wilde in the film “Wilde”…. Anyway, I bring him up only in passing… and to mention that The Missus advised me the other day that one of our new lifegoals is to spend the night here…. in room 16....
…. As for me, I’m not totally downtown with the idea of hoisting my dusty bones into the same rack that some guy popped his clogs in, no matter HOW famous he is/was…… yeah, call me strange, but I prefer my choice places to bed-down to be virginal when it comes to death…..
… but I do have to admit, the whole thing is pretty damn intriguing…..
… so, what do y’all think?.... should my next adventure be to plod off - bedroll in hand - towards a hotel in Paris where ole Oscar met his ‘maker’?.....
… or would the fact that a straight, white guy from the backwoods of Tennessee was fouling those immortal linens by his heterosexual presence totally skew the juju of the joint and deny myriads of other rubberneckers the pleasure of feeling the prickly, ghostly presence of Mr. Wilde in those darkest Parisian nights?......
….. after all, while I would hate to be awakened from a vacation-snooze by a ghostly visit from Oscar Wilde, I most certainly don’t want to be the gargantuan kill-joy who would mess it up eternally for the REST of the hammerheads who wanted to visit……
…. So, thoughts?..... yes or no?....
…. Then again, with enough liberal application of Scotch before bedtime, perhaps I could scare a publishable conversation out of the old haint while The Missus snoozed…..
…. It’s definitely something to chew on, folks….. pros and cons, and all that……
As with all matters involving "juju", it's best to consult your personal fortune teller. You know him as "Break Left" Yabu. Personally, I'd find no joy in gettin' into a dead bead. Hell, if I knew I was gettin' into mine before I did... I'd stay up all night.
Hell raised by RedNeck on September 28, 2007 08:16 PM
.... thank you, Redneck... I will take your view under consideration.....
Hell raised by Eric on September 28, 2007 08:19 PM
You know you want to. And the Missus wants to. Just be sure to apply Scotch liberally or else the Wilde ghost wouldn't dare mess with you.
Hell raised by Lolly on September 28, 2007 08:29 PM
As one who deals in ghost stories, and ghost hunting, let me just assure you, ghosts are wusses.
well, if you did "see a ghost"
Discovery Channel or TLC will pay you a bloody fortune to make a show about you.
Hell raised by holder on September 28, 2007 09:18 PM
Just make sure they've sanitized the thing. Literary Legend or no, I'd prefer to have all evidence the post-mortem evacuation bleached from existence.
Unless you want to tell everybody that's how you got pink eye.
Hell raised by Tommy on September 28, 2007 11:57 PM
I'd listen to Tommy if I were you, he writes about ghosties and things that go bump in the night. *grin*
About Wodehouse - I thought the Jeeves and Wooster series was pretty good, but to really appreciate Wodehouse, one must read him. (the man was a comic genius in writing). I first picked up the book Wodehouse on Crime - a compilation of various short stories some with Jeeves and Wooster others with other characters he created over time (Mr. Mulliner, Clarence - the ninth Earl of Emsworth, etc) his genius is in description which can't be translated to television. (Steven Fry mentioned that when I heard an interview with him a long time ago).
Hell raised by Teresa on September 29, 2007 12:29 AM
LOVE House, just love him. Watched the finale of last season and the premiere of this season in the last two weeks and cracked up for both shows. "Dr. Buffer" almost killed me when I saw him. I've seen enough mediocre doctors to appreciate him I guess.
Blackadder? I vaguely remember the series being on TV but didn't catch it. Jeeves and Wooster flew underneath my TV radar completely.
I had a good laugh a few weeks ago about old House. I was watching Stuart Little with my daughter and *bing* on went the recognition lightbulb- Stuart Little's dad in all of the mouse movies is Hugh Laurie! Now there's a switch in character. From doctor-god to mouse-support.
Visiting Oscar's bed? No glory for me to sleep where he has, with _or_ without him in bed with me. I wouldn't refuse him a nightcap or three if his ownself or the ectoplasmal verisimili-dude version popped by to chat though.
I don't watch House. I like Scrubs, have the hots for Dr. Elliot (she's a girl).
Also, do you think Hank Hill is stuck in Nebraska?
Hell raised by Cappy on September 29, 2007 03:11 PM
Well I perused the hotel and I noticed they don't exactly advertise room 16. Good luck with that one. I think... I'd pass. I'm sure it is not unusual to sleep in a room where someone died... people surely die in hotels/motels all the time, but to do so knowingly? Creeps me out a bit. Then again, I'm not known to really live on the edge much.
Good Lord Eric! Only you would debate the pros and cons of spending a night in a possibly haunted room or Paris... ::roll of eyes:: Neither, dude! Instead, if you need that kind of excitement for you and the missus, might I suggest HERE?
Hell raised by Lemon Stand on September 29, 2007 04:37 PM
Love "House". Adore "Blackadder"
As to staying where Oscar shuffled off his mortal coil.... if you feel soft, warm hands on Big Jim and the Twins in the night, do NOT question if they are the Missus'. Just roll with it.
Adventure (and warm soft hands) are good for the soul.
Hell raised by LeeAnn on September 30, 2007 07:06 AM
Last night I watched a programme where Steven Fry traced his ancestors and found that half of his family were from Austria and Hungary and that many of them were murdered at Auschwitz. His father's side of the family lived in poor houses in England, which Fry found most interesting, given that two generations later he himself graduated from Cambridge - quite a leap in class in less than 75 years!
Hell raised by Mark on September 30, 2007 07:08 AM
….. the Missus awoke this morning with “adventure” on her mind… and her idea of “adventure” was a day-trip up to a 3-star restaurant, lunch, and then a slow drive south to a museum…. The Sequoyah Museum, to be precise……
…. And initially, the plan flowed pretty smoothly… we lunched, strolled up and down the quaint street afterwards to assist with proper digestion, and then jumped in the buggy and launched ourselves southwards……
…. As we neared the museum, I suggested that we might also stop off to visit the Tellico Blockhouse as it was “on the way”…. she agreed and I immediately turned Sylvia off of the main road and down towards where I thought the colonial blockhouse to be……
…. Fifteen miles after turning off, I realized that I had made a wrong turn…. But instead of turning around, I was told, “well, we’ve never been on this road before…. let’s see where it comes out…”
…. Well, 50 miles later and we’re in Robbinsville, North Carolina…. And the road that I’d just successfully navigated to get there?.... the infamous Highway 129 and “The Dragon”… or “The Tail of The Dragon”…. did I mention that it was raining as well?..... no?.... well, it most certainly was…. 318 curves in 11 miles, folks…. It is billed as “America’s number 1 motorcycle and sports car road”…. and coming back, we had no choice but to go down America’s #2 road…. the Cheohala Skyway – another 50 miles of wilderness….. Sylvia’s svelte Audi frame handled the curves just fine and she only squealed her tires twice….. the VW Jetta in front of me barked non-stop at nearly every hairpin…..
…. so, adventure, rubberneckers?...... according to the graphic showing the Tail of The Dragon/Cherohala Skyway Loop, it is 118 Miles of Adventure…..
… but now?.... I am one tired fella, let me tell you…… once upon a time, I was hard…… now a little adventure wears my ass out……
Them's just curves. You gotta take a shot at Rt. 22 or Rt. 280 at rush hour. Now that's some serious drivin'.
Hell raised by Jimbo - PRS on September 27, 2007 06:27 PM
If you had made the trip yesterday, you could have waved at me when you passed the Cheoah Ranger Station's new building at the western end of the Cherohala Skyway. You would have had a lot less fun following my shop van up the "Dragon" though.
Hell raised by Johnny - Oh on September 27, 2007 06:32 PM
Adventure, bro, is two teenaged white girls walking through Bed-Stuy, unarmed, during the Dinkins Administration. I had to have the balls I grew that day surgically removed, as it just does not become a lady.
Hell raised by Erica on September 27, 2007 07:13 PM
You rode (sorry, drove) The Dragon by accident?? Damn. I know folks who ride clear from Canada for the single purpose of riding that puppy. I've seen a few fun YouTube vids of people enjoying themselves on that little bit of road. Consider me jealous, but also consider me discontented if I had to remain stuck behind a *cough*VW*cough* for the whole way.
Erica, I don't know that particular stretch firsthand but I can guess that the balls you grew weren't the only ones that volunteered to be implanted. Hopefully you had a knife to remove any others that were troublesome.
I don't mind the adventure. It's the drama that'll kill ya every time!
Hell raised by Cappy on September 27, 2007 08:29 PM
Like the drama from our friggin' sys adminis whenever I try to upgrade our DBMS to within 5 years of where it should be!
Hell raised by Cappy on September 27, 2007 08:31 PM
Truly, you are the hardest shirking man in the blogosphere.
Hell raised by zonker on September 28, 2007 11:32 AM
I rode the dragon years ago. A group of us made a side trip on the way back from Road Atlanta. It's fun, but I prefer to take that kind of riding to the track. There's cars out there, brah.
Hell raised by bitterman on September 28, 2007 12:49 PM
"once upon a time, I was hard..."
Aw, you braggart, you.
Hell raised by Elisson on September 28, 2007 01:56 PM
Still sounds fabulous...
Hell raised by Richmond on September 28, 2007 03:47 PM
Glad you wandered over to God's country, even if you did so by mistake. They got some wicked hella curvy roads over there. Ol' Black Betty gave me a thrill the last time I twisted her down 52 from Fancy Gap to the Carolina line, but her whiskers made it through the gap, and so did her ass... and mine.
Buy a truck Bitterman.
Hell raised by RedNeck on September 28, 2007 07:58 PM
…. This morning I drank coffee and watched the squirrels – which seem to be much more active lately – play a dangerous game of tag with both of the cats…I wonder if they can sense that the time for nut-gathering is creeping closer and closer as each day passes…. (the cats, I mean, not the squirrels….)
… I suspect that they can, those cats….. and the idea of catching something as big as a tree-rat must be the kitty equivalent of a welfare Mom scoring a boon on Georgia Lottery day…… indeed, most of the squirrels are almost as big as young Bob…. Them sitting up in the tree swishing their flea-bitten tails and scrawny little Bob fidgeting his OWN little predator-tail at the base of the tree…….it is funny to watch, really….. hell, I bet one of those souped-up little rats would kick his ass if he ever managed to finally pounce on one… but there he sits anyway…. Waiting and wishing……
… I wonder if he’d be happy if he ever had the chance to grip what he desired…. If somehow, through the battle that would ensue, he’d find some odd kind of kitty-validation…. like Elisson wishing for his roadster….. or Oom Keesie setting his sights on a distant water buffalo….. or me dreaming of subduing the perfect Reuben sandwich….
.... I definitely need more coffee..... good grief....
Ah rats with bushy tails. They are delicious however you cook em, but I imagine if one of our dogs ever catches one there would not be a chance to cook em. Our mutt Sprocket used to bound out of the side door into our back yard trying to catch one of the little boogers that she sensed was there even before getting out the door. She did that with all the power of youth, but alas that power has been replaced by the arthritis of her golden years. Our mini-dachshund Hexi never shows much interest in them. Our latest edition - Pepe, a mini Chihuahua now gives chase to both bushy tails and biords. If he ever caught hold of a squirrel, the squirrel would probably carry him up into our oak tree, or tear into him pretty badly; so thank mother nature that squirrel are mostly on the lookout for predators instead of acting the part of predator. As for the birds, if Pepe ever grabbed one of them, they still might be able to take flight, and he would get a new view of our house from above! Still though, there seems to be little chance of to deter his youthful bursts of energy and glee tha come with the chase. Even though the chases only last about 2 seconds each, he sure seems happy.
All the best,
Hell raised by Glenn B on September 27, 2007 10:19 AM
Tree rats don't last long at my place. The four Westhighland terrier's have learned to tag team them. One westie will hide behind the tree and when the tree rat descends the others bark and get tree rats attention. Mr Tree Rat not paying attention never see's the lurking westie until its too late. Sadly the Westies don't leave much in the way of tree rat to cook after they get through playing tug of war.
I spend more money on food for the tree rats than I do for dawg food..and I have two dawgs.
I do it because there is not much more relaxing for me than to sit on the porch early morning and watch the day break and those critters start to scurry about...horny little dudes though.
I keep them fat and if the time comes and need be I still remember how to fix tree rat dumplins..
Hell raised by GUYK on September 27, 2007 01:30 PM
I gotcha covered on that Reuben sammitch.
Hell raised by Elisson on September 27, 2007 04:16 PM
I've always wondered what squirrel stew tasted like (something like Bob I imagine- not his actual taste, but what HE is imagining squirrel stew to taste like...), but one thing I don't wonder about is the perfect Reuben sandwich. Well, if not perfect, it is certainly simultaneously the best and largest Reuben I've ever had the pleasure to consume. Voila- Jerry's Famous Deli in South Beach, Florida: http://www.frommers.com/destinations/miami/D41280.html
Then again water buffalo in stew, steak, sirloin whatever needs special care in the prep unless you want to lose some molars.
Very very tasty and rich, but tends to be tough. Nowadays with refridgeration we can hang it for a couple of days to age. Voila, perfect meat.
Hell raised by kesskennis on September 27, 2007 11:19 PM
…. today has been spent running in & out of various hospital-type places scattered all over Bradley County… the goal of which was to allow my Sainted Mother to be 100% ready for her upcoming knee replacement surgery…. So, as you might guess, we’ve all been absolutely awash in a steady, all-day-long progression of shots, scans, jabs, x-rays, questionnaires, consultancies, red-tape, telephone calls, insurance, and elevator music….. and the waiting room of the first appointment (to which the doctor was 1.5 HOURS late for, incidentally) was pumped full of old reruns of ‘Green Acres’ and ‘The Munsters’ playing back to back from two different television sets…. so let me just tell y’all right now – for the record – that once you’ve watched Eva Gabor in a cocktail dress peel carrots at a kitchen sink in STEREO, well, you don’t truly know what mind-numbing really is, folks……
… ole Mamma, though, she’s doing just fine……she’s one tough old bird, and that’s a fact…. the doctor kept telling her that he’d only do a full replacement if what he found once he opened her leg up was bad enough for a full one….. and she kept right at him telling something like, ‘fix it all… I don’t care about the pain and/or the recovery time, I just want it all fixed!.... I don’t want to have to come back here in five years…”….
… she’s got a point, though….. but hey, since I am highly allergic to any form of pain, I suspect that I’d have opted for the ‘partial’ approach vice the ‘complete’ deal…. but hey, that’s just me….
… on the upside of the day, I did managed to wolf down two incredible meals courtesy of local roadhouse throughout my adventure…… and not counting the large tumbler of Bushmills that I am cradling right now, my day’s consumption has included about nine species of animals, a few cups of pasta, about seven different cheeses, and enough green vegetables to choke a proverbial horse…..
…. Also, after dinner, it was requested that we take Sylvia’s top off and enjoy the late evening sunshine for the trip home…. And you know what?.... it’s hard NOT to have fun in a convertible when the sun is setting and most of the fields on the way home have been freshly mown for their hay….. the warm breeze and the sweet, sticky smell of the laying hay can be one potent balm for a heavy soul, rubberneckers…… just trust me….. personally, I cannot recommend it highly enough…
… as of now, she goes under the knife on the 2nd of October….. one week from today……
…. Oh, and now that I am thinking of it (and on a completely different note..), has anyone else been roped into watching that ‘Week of Hitchcock” on DirecTv for the past few days like I have?..... I swear, ‘Marnie” just deeply, deeply disturbs me on levels that I really don’t want to talk about in this public forum….. it is just fucking dire…… and the only saving grace – in my world – is the fact that Bruce Dern’s character gets beaten to death with a fireplace poker….. that is always good to watch….. I’ve despised every character he’s ever played since he shot John Wayne in “The Cowboys”…… but, anyway…..
…. And don’t even get me started on ‘Vertigo’….. Jimmy Stewart is just plain creepy in that role…. And the ending of the flick?.... Hitch deserves to be dug up by a herd of trained chipmunks and then have his corpse publicly attacked by a large group of slightly-sexy blondes wielding industrial staplers and wearing bad tweed suits….. but hey, maybe that’s just me……
…. ‘Rear Window’ rocked, though, I will give him that…… and even though blondes aren’t my bag, both Grace Kelly AND Tippi Hedren definitely knew how to bring on the sexy…… Hitchcock may or may not have been a great director….. but he definitely knew how to pick a leading lady…..
I love Hitchcock... except for "The Birds" which I dislike intensely. "To Catch a Thief"... outstanding! "North by Northwest"... wonderful! "Notorious"... excellent. Although my very favorites are "The Lady Vanishes" and "The 39 Steps" - from the 1930's and not so well known.
In "The Lady Vanishes" there is an argument over whether to fight it out or surrender and it could come straight from today's news.
In "The 39 Steps" there is excellent footage of the moors of Scotland from the 1930's - and I must say this is the Hitchcock movie that really makes me laugh.
Hell raised by Teresa on September 25, 2007 08:59 PM
Nope, I am not a Hitchcock fan and I think the digging up idea has merit. :o)
My own sainted Mother just went through double knee replacement surgery last September and looks like she will be doing the double hip replacement next month.
It is definitely not an easy post surgical time, but it sure made a world of difference! Wishing your Mom a speedy recovery.
Hell raised by Lemon Stand on September 25, 2007 09:44 PM
My sister had the same Hitchcock movie marathon going on this weekend. I caught the last 10 minutes of Psycho. Her son-in-law (age 39), had only seen the recent remake of Psycho and had never seen the original. Blasphemy! I had a great Hitchcock book years ago and lost it in one of my many moves. It gave some great insight into the production of these flicks. I think I've seen all the Hitchcock movies.
Good luck to your Mom!
Hell raised by Jerry on September 25, 2007 11:58 PM
I'll keep your Mom in my prayers. My Mothership is doing much better after her double knee replacement 4-5 years ago. Incidentally, she would probably throttle the next person to ever suggest having both done at once.
I'm a Hitchcock fan - North by Northwest & Notorious, baby...
Hell raised by LadyGunn on September 26, 2007 04:55 AM
Good luck to your mom witht he knee op. My mom had the same thing done, right after two hip replacements (same hip - the first time did not take). Right after that the othyer hip went, needed replacing too, but they could not do it because of the artificial knee on that side. So they wired it together, gave her some wonder drug for osteoporosous (spelling?) and sent her rollerblading down the highway of life. She gets around kind of okay after all that, the knee being the least of her problems.
Hell raised by Glenn B on September 26, 2007 07:43 AM
Before I reluctantly concur with you on your warranted tirade again Hitchcock, allow me to wish your Sainted Mother the best of luck for a mostly, if not entirely, pain-free, complete recovery, and greater mobility after her surgery. I've heard such nice things about her.
About Hitchcock: WTF was up with that creepy stalker shit in Vertigo? Maybe Teresa knows the answer to that. I sure don't. Oh, and Bruce Dern...FEH! No like-ee. I recommend "Rope," an under-rated masterpiece.
Hell raised by Erica on September 26, 2007 08:04 AM
My favourite Hitchcock film is North by North west followed by Rear Window, the Birds and The Man Who Knew Too Much.
I'm sure that your Sainted Mother's Knee replacemant will go well . Just think Eric that once she makes a full recovery she will probably Be able to catch you in a foot race
Hell raised by DanToom on September 26, 2007 12:13 PM
I'll be keeping your mom and her recovery in my thoughts. I hope it all goes just swimmingly - and Hitchcock free...
Hell raised by Richmond on September 26, 2007 03:04 PM
I'm sure her surgery will go just fine. It's the recovery that's so hard with that...they want you to get up and walk on those things almost as soon as you wake-up. Sounds like you had a really busy day.
Yeah...Moon Pie Man needs a really big moon pie monument. They have a large, tasteful family stone...but just that little bit with the moon pie information on it.
Hell raised by rosie on September 26, 2007 11:23 PM
Would you say that was a screaming horde of slightly-sexy blondes wielding industrial staplers and wearing bad tweed suits?
Take good care of your ma, dude.
Hell raised by zonker on September 27, 2007 07:27 AM
This video just has it all: Brian Johnson in a bathtub, and swear to Zeejus, that was Orville Redenbacher, however the heck you spell it, in the apothecary.
Hell raised by Erica on September 24, 2007 07:45 PM
Blasphemous. If there's no Bon Scott, there is no AC/DC.
Hell raised by bitterman on September 24, 2007 10:03 PM
Good Lord if that didn't bring back memories. The pot heads on the school bus in high school had control of the 8 track (did I just age myself?) and we listened to AC/DC pretty much only when this album came out. We listened to it so much, our Salutatorian, who is this wonderfully brilliant quiet and unassuming man with his Phd in Nuclear Engineering, told me at our 20 year class reunion that they the pot heads had the greatest influence on him musically than anyone. I think this is still his favorite album. Cracked me up.
That says the attack was unprovoked...but another version said the guy was making really annoying grunting noises and sucking his teeth or something. But hey...that's what ipods are for. To drown out the annoying grunting noises.
Hell raised by rosie on September 26, 2007 11:16 PM
I've came back by 3 or 4 times just to watch this video. I know exactly what you mean by "it speaks to me." I feel the same about alot of the music from this era and before (Bread). Good stuff!
Hell raised by Dawn on September 27, 2007 09:21 AM
She ain't called "SuperGurl" for nuttin'. And can you please translate that thing that looks like a Deutsch Code of Hammurabi? Is it some kind of a memorial to the men who died in WW's I & II? My German is so shoddy.
Hell raised by Erica on September 23, 2007 05:34 PM
Do they have a monument to those Americans that died brining them freedom? They better!
Hell raised by Cappy on September 23, 2007 06:49 PM
.... Erica, that is a list of that town's dead from WWI and WWII..... both in the church on the wooden tablet and on the stone cross outside....
... and no, Cappy..... there was no mention of anything there except the monuments to their own dead... which is understandable.... but still sad....
... I will go back again.....
Hell raised by Eric on September 23, 2007 08:19 PM
Hell raised by That 1 Guy on September 23, 2007 10:20 PM
You do VERY good pictures Sir.
Thanks for sharing. Not QUITE as good as being there but very cool none the less.....
Hell raised by Tammi on September 24, 2007 07:40 AM
They really knew how to build churches back in the old days... just beautiful! Now days when they build a church, it looks like a friggin' auditorium.
I'm glad you had a chance to go see it.
Hell raised by Teresa on September 24, 2007 10:43 AM
I'll be damned. Only 22 kilometers to Prum. My father in law, Lt Bill Flett, along with his squad, was trying to sniff out the scope of German lines near there in February of '45.
Germany was on its collective heels after the pushback from the Bulge. Supposedly, elements from 4ID, 22nd Infantry were among the first to cross over the Maginot line and into Germany.
He caught a chunk of 37mm shell in the head. Friendly fire, it was, from the barrel of a Stewart light tank. Not sure of the circumstances. Still waiting on the after action reports from the National Archives and the archives of the 22nd Infantry.
He survived, however. Spent several months in an English hospital and then made his way home on the Queen Mary.
Sacred ground as far as I'm concerned. I'm sure Bill would have appreciated the picture.
Hell raised by bitterman on September 24, 2007 04:36 PM
Those are lovely pictures, Eric. That church looks, well, heavenly. My church is one of the auditorium ones & the only stained glass is a piece up in front of the baptism-pool-thingy. :-[
Hell raised by LadyGUnn on September 25, 2007 05:42 AM
wow. beautiful. and as luck would have it, fitting to be your fifteen thousandth comment.
thanks for the pics!
Hell raised by supergurl on September 26, 2007 06:50 AM
Pardon the interruption to your discussion.
Please email me, I have a book whch mentions a Lt. Bill Flett, I believe is your father in law. It is written by a medic who served aboard the Queen Mary during WWII and attended to Mr. Flett on the voyage back to the States.
Hell raised by brooke on November 6, 2007 06:56 AM
…. during the course of my latest travels, I visited many beautiful and intriguing places…. but really & truthfully I only had one true mission for this trip…. and that was to visit a tiny German village that sits just across the border from Luxemburg where my Grandfather was captured on December 16th, 1944…. Actually, it was the whole reason that we visited the Ardennes & Low Countries instead of doing like we usually do and just hitting Scotland…….
…. So after a restful day and night in Bastogne, the whole family, sans the Mother-in-Law, daytripped out in Duncan’s Mercedes to try and find Winterspelt…. with me navigating in the front passenger seat…..
… the Michelin map that I had was a bit old, and it wasn’t long before I realized that the easiest way to the dot on the map was by taking B-roads instead of the looping, interchanging, dull-as-hell motorways…….
…. And it did make for a more interesting journey – taking those roads less traveled….. and we spent the better part of two hours speeding through the rolling countryside of Luxemburg dodging cows, tractors, and logging trucks….. at one point, we took a right instead of a left and ended up winding down a steep gravel road through thick forest and crossing a wooden bridge at the bottom of the hill that spanned a small stream…. which, as luck would have it, that little creek represented the border….
…. and as we slowly climbed out of the creek-bed & rattled across the rickety bridge, we were then in Germany….. and Winterspelt sat half a mile away on the top of the nearest ridge…..
… there wasn’t much there, really…. a row of farm houses, a catholic church, a hotel, a pub & restaurant, a pre-school…… not even a gas station…… there was a roadsign though… pointing the way towards St. Vith…… I took a photo….
…. My Grandpa’s name was Carl Hull and he was 20 years old when he was captured… he died in 1988 and I only remember a few of the stories that he told me when I was a kid….but I always remembered the name of the towns where he’d been when he was overseas….. I guess that I was just curious about the war and tried to pry the history out of him…. But either way, I always remembered what he’d told me…. each little story stuck in its own little way…..
…. He told me that he was captured at daybreak on the 16th of December by a group from the Volksgrenadiers…. All between the ages of 16 & 17…. He claimed that their ages were the only thing that saved him and the rest of his mortar team….. that if they’d not been ‘children’, they’d have killed them instead of taking them prisoner……. Looking at the facts now, it seems hard to imagine that a 20-year old is much more or less of a child than someone of 16, but those were the words he said…… and he was there….. I have a much longer lens to see things from, I guess…… and truly, I can’t even imagine what it must have been like to be there…….
…. He said that he’d been wounded in the foot by shrapnel just before the daylight of his capture… no blood, just a smashing wound that broke the arch of his right foot…. And that they were marched 90km eastward to the small town of Limburg, Germany and held at Stalag 12…. And there they remained until the Russians liberated them in April of 45……he said that he’d used an M-1 rifle with the bolt taken out as a crutch while he marched through the snow……. he said that when he landed in France he weighed 196lbs…… and when he made it back to Great Britain he weighed 98lbs……
… it was strange to visit there……
…. We parked and headed our separate ways once we’d arrived…… I made a bee-line straight to the church and snapped a few more photographs…..
….. he’d said that they’d been hit first during the initial push and had fallen back into the village from their pickets….. and later they were forced to evacuate from there as well…… and were captured after running out of ammo and mortar rounds in a ditch on the outskirts of the village…..
…. The church intrigued me more than any other building, actually…. It was built from the huge stone blocks that are typical of the mid 1880’s style, and it was pockmarked high and low by shrapnel-scars….. even though every other building was newly-spackled, newly-painted, or newly-built, it was obvious from the tears and abrasions on the church that this little village had seen serious shelling once upon a time….…… there were few people on the streets as I walked around, but I found the church’s door to be unlocked…. A catholic thing, evidently, leaving the church doors unlocked at all hours so that wandering people could meander in and pray….. so I walked in and sat down at a pew….
… everything everywhere was calm, serene, clean, and quiet…….from the pews to the Saints…. to the flowers at the lecturn….. it was a typical country-church that one might find in a thousand villages throughout Europe…. And yet it mesmerized me more than any of the grand cathedrals that I had visited before…… a simple place where – no doubt – my young Grandpa had been long, long ago…. scared, angry, and resolute…. more scared than anything, I suspect.....
…. my goodness…… I could write more, I guess, but I don’t feel like it…… my inspiration has been silenced for the night……… but it’ll be back in the morning…..
…. But I will post the photos of Winterspelt tomorrow….. with no words…… there is no need for words, really….. it is just a place…. A church with a few buildings surrounding it…. but I was there….. and I will show you guys what I saw……
To be where he was, wounded and scared, all those years ago... must have stirred some mighty emotions and plied your imagination.
Looking forward to the photos.
Hell raised by Jean on September 23, 2007 06:17 AM
incredible story, eric, and beautifully told, as usual. can not wait for the photos. Winterspelt has a newfound place in my heart as well.
Hell raised by supergurl on September 23, 2007 02:04 PM
I saw a lot of things in Europe that fascinated me..my favorite bar and eating place was a gasthaus near Hahn Germany. It was in a building that was 1100 years old. It had been run by the same family for over 500 years..and the solid hard wood tables were the original tables and still in use. Museum pieces in my mind but just a common sight in Germany. Most of the buildings in all of the villages showed signs of repair from war damage..and some had just not been repaired.
I also traveled the back roads most of the time when I was sight seeing. The autobahns are great if you want to get there in a hurry but trying to keep from getting run over by a white Mercedes didn't leave much time for sight seeing. The back roads were narrow with lots of one way bridges but they took us in to what I considered the real parts of Europe, away from the tourist traps and souvineer joints.
But of course we saw the tourist trap areas also. Played golf on some courses that were more like nature paths with a green and took the electric boat trip to a Ludwic castle in the middle of a lake. I slid down the slide in a saltmine in Bavaria and drove across some bridges that spanned some of the deepest gorges I had ever seen in Austria.
But it was like San Francisco..good place to visit but I wouldn't want to live there.
Hell raised by GUYK on September 24, 2007 05:03 AM
That is so cool that you all took the time, made the point to see where your grandfather had served and was taken. I don't think many people have done that.
My grandfather served off a small island in the Pacific. I think we'd not be able to find it and if we could, it is probably still not inhabited, but a craggily forgotten rock where much blood was shed. I hope that if he had served in Europe, that my family and I would take the time to retrace his steps and see what he had seen, except in peace time.
…. Whilst self-educating myself on the patio this afternoon, I happened upon a wonderful little tidbit of useless information and I feel like sharing….. ready?.... ok… fish have two sets of nostrils….. that’s right, boys and girls….. two sets of nostrils!!….. one set is forward-facing to suck in water…and the second set is rearward-facing and, you guessed it, that’s where the water that the fish just ‘breathed’ gets evacuated….. marvelous stuff, to be sure, but here’s the bit that I found most entertaining……
… since human beings evolved from fishies, we also have two sets of nostrils!... we’ve got the set that everyone knows about, of course…. but then there are another set (the rearward-facing ones) that attach back to the rear of our necks….. pretty groovy, no?..... and if – for some reason – that second set of nostrils don’t attach correctly then we’re left with a cleft palate!....
… so there, my mission here is done…. Y’all are now armed with one helluva fine piece of information about your own bodies that I bet you didn’t even know…. so go forth and bask in the knowledge of your new nostrils….. get to know them.......
.... I’m off to swizzle myself a gin & tonic…. Teaching definitely takes a lot out of me….
Hell raised by Eric on September 21, 2007 08:48 PM
For bullshit I need more than Gin Tonic WTFO. Any good junior frogman can give a better, at the very least more engaging lesson than that. Shit I feel good.
The senior Chief is popping a cold beer and hoisting to you Eric. No bullshit. Let the bullshit commence.
Juvenile delinquents should be sentenced to bootcamp
Hell raised by banged boat on January 23, 2008 10:39 PM
Lâinteret du forum est precisement de susciter un debat parmi les citoyens pour que le budget et les choix quâil sous-tend soient places au c?ur du debat public. Un budget, ce sont des choix. Des choix supposent des priorites.
http://a-pills.coolpage.biz/abilify/whatisthemedicationabilifyusedfor.html what is the medication abilify used for
http://a-pills.coolpage.biz/abilify/injectableabilify.html injectable abilify
http://a-pills.coolpage.biz/abilify/abilifyweightloss.html abilify weight loss
meu site... queria que avaliassem e dessem opinioes!
…. the Black Widow that hunted in my backyard most of the summer has gone on to the Great Spider Web in the Sky….. winter seems to be just around the corner these days…..
… I walked out this morning in the cool, autumn air to check on her and found her little nook empty…. well, empty except for an egg-sack about the size of a grape with two or three fire ants slowly peeling away the layers of silk that encased it……a long-ago wound that had healed haphazardly at the base of a sweet gum tree had been her home for many months…..
… I went to the garage and found my Amdro and sprinkled it around the base of the tree where the genocide was taking place…. It’ll take care of the ants in a few days, I suppose…. but the damage to The Next Generation was done…. you can’t take stuff like that back… once a nest is cracked, it is finished……
…. It was a bit depressing, really, finding her gone…. and then to see the foragers robbing her nest…. secreting the embryos down the scaly bark towards the ant-burrow….
… that’s just the way it goes, though….. life is a struggle…. sometimes you eat the bear… sometimes the bear eats you…. sometimes you’re the windshield…. sometimes you’re the bug…. sometimes all you can do is the very BEST that you can do and then let the chips fall where they may….. etc, etc….. y’all get the point….
…. It is as one of Anne Rice’s vampires once said, I guess….. “we go into legend… or into the fire..” ……. Fuck….
…. I heard today that an old workmate of mine – from years ago – took a nosedive off of a Scottish cliff a few weeks back and ended her young life…. intentionally…... leaving behind a husband and a son….. and lots of heartbroken friends…..
….. sitting here now, I cannot help hearing the same phrase run through my mind…. again and again and again…. like waves hurling themselves at the hull of an anchored boat… connected to Earth by a tether but still rocking and bobbing with each new assault…..
…. “I love life…. I adore life…. I will never let go… no matter how horrible everything becomes, I will hold…. I will claw…. I will live…. I will try….. I will rage…. I will struggle…. I WANT to live…I lust after the marrow that every new day brings… I want to feel, to eat, to drink, to breathe, to touch, to kiss, to find, to reach, to search, to create…. “ …..
…. but I guess that life isn’t really like that…… no matter how hard some of us struggle to survive & provide….. with enough time and pressure, that whole old “diamond” analogy just doesn’t pan out, does it?…… with enough time and pressure, we become diamonds?..... I am torn….
… some days I believe it… and some days I don’t…. but one thing is for certain – and that is this……. I will never give up….. no matter how shitty this whole stinking world can get sometimes, I know that if I look hard enough, and long enough, I will find beauty….. if not inside me, then from some other source……. but it will always be there…. waiting….. I just have to choose to see it…… to find it….. to want it…..
That's good to hear. You can put me out of my misery, if I don't get out of Indiana pretty damn soon!
Hell raised by Jerry on September 20, 2007 10:04 PM
Sounds like you need to wear the mullet again for a bit.
Hell raised by zonker on September 21, 2007 07:05 AM
And so you know....that DESIRE to find the beauty? The goodness? That's a gift, Sir. And one I'm glad you have.
Hell raised by Tammi on September 21, 2007 07:38 AM
Your outlook is absolutely inspirational and it is something that I strive for every day. I've been in the dark dark place, and not a day goes by that I'm not thankful that I was finally able to see the good in most situations, and not just the bad.
…. As many of you may know, one of my most favoritest things to do while drinking beer and schlepping through the Ardennes (and the rest of Europe) is to find ancient castles and storm them in a fit of mock-bezerker rage and then claim them for the Great State of Tennessee….. it’s quite fun, let me tell ya….. and to date, I have successfully stormed about fifteen castles, towers, monasteries, and other minor fortifications throughout Holland, England, Scotland, Belgium, France, Germany, and Luxemburg…. many while armed with only a rolled-up newspaper & a fierce grimace, I might add….. but hey, I am a conqueror at heart….. and you’d be surprised just how well a heavy slap from a copy of the Times of London works in subduing a bookish, be-spectacled castle tour guide….
… anyhoo, in my most recent expedition, I managed to capture the fortress of one Godfrey de Bouillon…. Some of you may recognize the name there, of course, as he was eminently involved in the First Crusade and later became the first “king” of Jerusalem… or “defender of The Holy Sepulcher” if you’d rather… either way, despite his fame & legend, I had very little trouble wresting his mountain-top castle away from his dilapidated minions and making it my own….
… of course, the way was made a wee bit easier by the fact that he died in Jerusalem in 1100, but that is not really the point….. hey, a castle is a castle….. and they’re made for stormin’….
…. This trip I even managed to convince my dear ole Father-in-Law to assist me during two particularly daring day-time assaults…. Indeed, there was even a ‘war correspondent’ there to document our bravery….. see?...
.. oh yeah, we kicked ass…. That was he and I boldly rushing the gates of the monastery in Clervaux, Luxemburg…. here’s a better shot of it……
…. those trappist-addled meditating monks never stood a chance, people…… I even shot a few German tourists in the chest with my finger-gun just for good measure and to instill that extra little-bit of fear that you need to conjure when taking a walled city by force…..
… but the true jewel in the day’s crown was the assault on ole Godfrey’s pad……
… here’s a shot of my Father-in-Law and I about to clasp each other in celebration of our victory like real men….. Godfrey's castle was ours!...
.... trust me, folks... my life would kill most people.....
Chocolate and coffee... now you know why I hit Starbucks daily for my triple shot soy mocha. (although I'm betting they would do it better over there since the chocolate would be better) I'm trying to figure out what to do when I hit the wilds and can't get my morning drinky... probably my head will explode. *grin*
Hell raised by Teresa on September 18, 2007 08:51 PM
Sounds quite nice... :) Glad you are home!
Hell raised by Richmond on September 18, 2007 10:08 PM
I'm with Joan. I may live in the wrong frickin' country. Chocolate for breakfast. Whoda thunk that all these years I was just being European?
…. during the course of my beatific explorations I experienced many pleasant things and spied many lustrous wonders of great beauty…. most of which I will not show you hammerheads here, however, but that is another matter all together….
…. Instead, I hope that you’ll enjoy a small clip of a very interesting Belgian that I happened upon near a street corner in deepest, darkest, Brussels…… I managed to get him to quiet down long enough for me to officially invite him to the upcoming blogmeet in Helen, GA, but I don’t think he’ll be able to attend…. Something about having too much ‘merde’ to do that weekend or something….
…. Oh yeah, and old Johnny Cash songs never sounded so good….. but that might have just been all the shots of schnapps I’d been downing…..
... "doop doop diddly dee doop!"..... Belgium, friends and neighbors, it isn't just all about the waffles......
…. Well, boys and girls, I survived my European vacation…. I know that y’all were worried – I could feel the disturbance in The Force from time to time…. and actually, ‘survived’ is probably not the best description of my past-week’s station…. Indeed, I managed to cuddle most of the seven deadly sins close to my bosom for the better part of two weeks… Lust and Anger remained elusive – as always – but the other five and I had quite a high ole time…..
… I had a particularly enjoyable ride with Gluttony and Sloth through Luxemburg & bits of Germany… but hey, they have always been my great go-to pals…..
…. So, yes, I am back…… and thanks to all of thefinegentlemenwhodroppedin to keep both of you entertained while I was marinating in trappist beer through The Low Countries….
…. And later?.... video of dancing Harlequins in Brussels!!.... I just know that you guys are literally bursting with excitement…
Welcome back - glad you had such a great time. I got sidetracked with work last week so the disturbance in the force was me bending my mind to figuring out how to get more time online... didn't work. heh.
Hell raised by Teresa on September 17, 2007 01:48 PM
Ummmmmm. How did I miss you going on a European vaca? I have REALLY gotta get better with checking in on my blogroll. Good grief.
Hell raised by Jean on September 17, 2007 06:06 PM
Oh, I could hug you -- so glad you're back. Thunderman posted the most awful photo, a nightmarish thing...please tell me it was the best Photoshop ever and that you never actually wore that horrible wig. And then there was all this talk about you pinching peoples' nipples. I kept thinking you had arranged it that all your hits would re-direct to Velociworld...the whole thing was confusing, really. Just promise me it won't happen again. I'm scarred enough as it is.
Hell raised by Erica on September 17, 2007 06:29 PM
Welcome back, wanderer...
Hell raised by That 1 Guy on September 17, 2007 08:52 PM
Very glad to see you back!
Hell raised by Nancy on September 18, 2007 02:34 AM
Welcome back. Glad to see you had a safe trip. Looking forward to hearing some stories and seeing more pictures. You did take pictures, right? Not too much imbibery and not enough point and click?
Hell raised by Dawn on September 18, 2007 06:21 AM
Wow. Perhaps if I'd thought to get substitutes my blog wouldn't have been so lonely this past, well...year. ;) Glad you back, hon. As long as I'm re-engaging, re-aquainting with the loop and all, is Thunderman and Zonk one and the same? And, if so, why is he posting here and not there? Get me up to speed... :D
57 responses in about 36 hours. Not exactly rocking the vote, folks, but we're all painfully aware of how many hits this site gets from people searching for stuff like "squirrel sex", aren't we? So let's just skip over that and dwell for a minute on the fact that apparently only two voters felt that public humiliation of bloggers is wrong. Not too surprising to me. It certainly explains the never-ending photos/photoshops of me that appear on the net. And the fact that a photoshopped image of me graces a t-shirt. Oh, well...it's not like any potential employers in the IT field ever use the internet and are therefore likely to stumble across my picture, right? Besides, it'll make for a lovely way to break up those occasional lulls in the interview process.
Okay, back to the main topic here. It seems to me like an awful lot of you want some payback. Very well. Without further ado, I am proud to present to you a most strange beastie discovered in the mountain wilderness of north Georgia...
Truth is stranger than friction. Or anything you could *possibly* photoshop.
I should've known there had to be a Mulleted White Guy shot lurking out there somewhere.
Hell raised by Elisson on September 14, 2007 09:07 PM
Hell raised by Cappy on September 15, 2007 10:57 AM
Damn - who would have guessed that Eric is cuter as a girl than *I* am....
Hell raised by Richmond on September 15, 2007 07:29 PM
Isn't he purty?!
Hell raised by Maeve on September 15, 2007 09:55 PM
Gee. Maeve, I was just about to say that. He is a purty one, ain't he?
too bad I'm gonna miss the meet....
Hell raisin' in Helen would be quite interesting.
Hell raised by Nancy on September 15, 2007 10:50 PM
Amazing, with his masculine wiles, that he could make Fabio look like some dumb pocket protector geek. I'll really have to seriously restrain myself when I see him next, if that's become his usual blogmeet getup.
Hell raised by Erica on September 16, 2007 04:08 PM
Aww, Erica, that's just Eric doing an impersonation of Zonker. Too bad you can't see the tats.
Hell raised by Elisson on September 16, 2007 08:33 PM
.... good GOD.... just you wait, Thunderdaddy..... I've got quite a collection of you, old boy.....
Hell raised by Eric on September 16, 2007 09:32 PM
this has satisfied my vote for amusement. thank you kindly. eric, i am sorry to be entertained by your humiliation, but it is so very amusing indeed!
Hell raised by Kimmy on September 20, 2007 08:45 AM
September 17th is coming fast so if anyone's gonna trash this place, time's running out. Originally I thought of trying to solicit photoshops of Eric but sometimes....just sometimes...reality is stranger than fiction.
You see, I've got this picture of Eric from about two years ago. Actually, I have a few pictures of Eric from about two years ago but I'm thinking of one in particular. No photoshopping is needed. It's awesome and yet horrible. I've been meaning to post it for ages now. But would it be tacky to post it here while I'm a guest on Eric's site? Tell me, dear reader, what should I do?
ps: don't forget to encourage your friends to exercise their right to vote!
Yeah! I even live in Europe, and he refused to take me along! Let justice be served!
Hell raised by Rube on September 13, 2007 01:52 PM
So far by my estimate it's 25% no, 75% yes. And most of the "no"s were because he's got guns. Guns don't work over the net the last I checked, so that makes it 96% yes after we explain this fact to the chickens, so let 'er rip! (er... post)
Well, it was six years ago today, huh? Anyone else look at a calendar this morning and wince? Any of you folks out there spend your September 11th's in a daze? Am I the only one who gets through this day on auto-pilot; letting routine take over as I think about the thousands people who were murdered on 9/11? Somehow I don't think so.
And now what? It's been six years. My anger has cooled somewhat and I no longer feel the fiery blood lust that I felt on that autumn morning. What do we do now? How best to honor the men, women and children slaughtered by Muslim fanatics? Six long years have passed and a lot of water has flowed under the metaphorical bridge. I'm not quite ready for a candle-lit prayer vigil, though. I am thinking it'd be nice if we tossed a dozen or so Tomahawks into Riyadh. Just key in the coordinates for random minarets within the city and press the big, shiny red button. Not so much destruction that we flatten the entire place but enough to make them look to the sky with apprehension. We need to let them know that we're not done just yet. We need to let them know that we haven't forgotten.
Hell raised by zonker on September 11, 2007 08:03 AM
Neither has mine. Not at all.
Hell raised by Jimbo - PRS on September 11, 2007 08:31 AM
My anger hasn't cooled down either. In fact, I say we load up some hot pork fat along with some cut up pork chops and let it rain down upon Mecca, just for good measure and for a "We haven't forgotten" message, too.
Hell raised by Braden on September 11, 2007 09:52 AM
Well said, ThunderMan.
Hell raised by Elisson on September 11, 2007 09:56 AM
Anger and sadness and resolve. And a little despair that we've not yet been able to hang Osama upside down over a pig pen.
And I'm a pretty mild person.
Except where this is concerned.
Hell raised by Nancy on September 11, 2007 01:59 PM
I just realized that I had sausage and bacon for lunch today. I think everyone should eat pork on Sept. 11.
Hell raised by Jerry on September 11, 2007 11:47 PM
Listen up b*tch, you have know right to say that muslims did this, alright? Stop bullshitting yourselves, open you eye and ask Bush why did he did he so? Of course he did all this for himself. I though you would be aware of this. You know what? you are insulting the victims and their families by saying what you hear from Media which I mean its so stupid to say that 19 people from afghanistan living in caves just happen to fly into "World trade towers" i mean its so stupid. Look for "9/11 conspiracy" you will get to learn something. Peace to all.
Hell raised by Ali naqi on September 13, 2007 10:22 AM
the 911 conspiracy theory, well all of them actually that i know of, have been debunked.
Hell raised by Kimmy on September 13, 2007 02:21 PM
Mindless violence is wrong in this case. Random attacks on Muslim targets are not right.
Instead, this must be well thought out and planned. Targets such as the Quabbah must be carefully selected. The time and date, of our choosing must also be carefully selected. Most likely during the Haj.
Hell raised by Cappy on September 13, 2007 04:25 PM
I'm Canadian and I haven't forgotten a bit. Killing in the name of religious fruitcakeism is f*cking nuts. It's just a damned shame that all of the murdering SOBs couldn't have died in the original crash. I'd personally donate one stick of dynamite to each raghead who wanted to enter their version of heaven at 2000 feet per second but they'd use it to take others with them who had lots of life left in them.
There are, I’m sure, jokes a-plenty about Kentucky weddings - the ones involving close relatives and/or a bride on the flat-chested side of thirteen - but I won’t be telling any of those here. Kentucky, after all, is not all that far from Tennessee, and both have their mountainous parts where...well, parts is parts. And people - like my Bloggy Host - have big knives and large-caliber firearms.
But let’s face it - there is something deeply different about Suthen Weddings.
The Missus and I were at an honest-to-Gawd Georgia wedding this past Saturday. The ceremony took place at a Baptist church a couple of three-woods north of Stone Mountain: the north face of the mountain loomed above us as we headed out toward the reception.
The ceremony proper was traditional in every respect, with the standard musical accompaniment, wedding party, et cetera. There was nothing to distinguish it from, say, an equivalent sort of wedding in any Northern state, save for the mild drawl of the minister.
But you knew you were south of the Mason-Dixon line once you got to the reception. For there, in addition to the usual Reception Buffet Fare, there was a Grits Bar.
That’s right. A Grits Bar. How many of you rubberneckers have seen one of them? Be honest, now.
You’d step up to the bar and a uniformed cheffy sorta dude would dump a couple of ladles of hot grits in a Martini glass, and then you’d select from a choice of toppings. Butter...sour cream...sliced scallions...bacon bits...shredded Cheddar...hell, if you felt like being creative, you could slide in a few boiled shrimp or fried scallops from elsewhere in the room.
It’s not something you would ever see in, say, Brooklyn...but that’s not a slam, by any means. I like grits - they’re the closest thing to Romanian mamaligeh this side of Bucharest - and besides, my Daddy has been a grits fan since Hector was a pup. Or since Miles was a block. So I come by my love of grits honestly.
[Just don’t ever let me catch you putting sugar on ’em. Grits ain’t Cream of Wheat, fer Gawd’s sake. Sweet grits? You oughta be dragged off and shot.]
You can keep your chocolate fountains, your caviar and blini. But set up a Grits Station at your wedding, and ol’ Uncle Elisson may just have to be a wedding crasher...
The only way to properly serve grits is with butter and lots of runny fried egg yoke on them, now that's a mighty fine meal.
Hell raised by Wm H on September 12, 2007 09:24 PM
Boys, Boys! Just how fer up in them mountins did ya have to get to find them thar weddins? Up chere in Narthern Kentuck, we have this might fine vittle called 'goetta', ya can't getten much bettern then that! Grits are for sissies! unless its Grits n shrimps! UMMM MMMMM Gooder than fried frog legs!
Hell raised by Ky Woman on September 19, 2007 10:39 PM
As if the internet wasn't already chock-full of examples of Eric's poor judgment, he gave me keys to this place shortly before departing for Europe. So, here I am. Just wandering around, seeing what's on the bookshelves, checking out the liquor cabinet, etc.
It's a nice place and all but as Jimbo's post has made clear, some of the stuff here is kinda embarrassing, ya know? I mean, I realize that Eric isn't exactly the most politically-conscious fellow out there but still...someone's gonna have to explain to him who Fred Thompson is because Eric's got this weird-ass poster on the wall. Check it out.
Damn, I forgot. No need to knock; I have the keys.
I promised Eric before he and Mrs. SWG winged off to Europe that I would stop in and check on the place. So, let’s see what we have here.
The front room appears to be in reasonable order. I see his guitar in the corner. I think I’ll give it a test run. Oooopsie! Way out of tune. Hell, no wonder he has trouble figuring out those simple twelve-bar blues tunes. I’ll tune it up for him, goddamned Prince that I am.
His bookshelf is as I remember it -- well-stocked. Not surprisingly, there are a bunch of Ogden Nash Books, a couple of well-worn Robert Service volumes. Uh oh. I wasn’t aware that Eric subscribed to so many Muscle Guy Magazines. A couple of them are still wrapped in brown paper and, yep, there’s his name on them. WTF? Wait! Tucked in here between two Marine Corps books are several issues of American Transvestite. The cover story on one is called “Strut Your Shit in a Boffo Black Lace Bustiere.” … mercy…
I’ll just take a quick peek into the bedroom to make sure all’s OK. Yikes! There are even more penguins than I had remembered. I had often wondered why Mrs. SWG was such an avid collector of everything penguin. I’m still not sure, but I’m thinking she must spend lots of time shopping once Uncle Eric begins prancing around the house in women’s dainties. Memo to self: Check the Guinness Book of Records for “Penguin Collection, Largest.”
On to the kitchen. We all know that Eric spends a good deal of time here, quite the cook he is; at least he says he is. Let me just open this cabinet here. Yep; it figures. Twenty-four boxes of macaroni. Now, let me just guess what’s in the refrigerator. Bingo! Five pounds of cheese. The boy must have to swallow a cherry bomb to take a shit. Oh, look! I see his “famous” spaghetti recipe on the counter in the corner. The damned thing is ten pages long! Ginger Snaps and Lime Jell-O in spaghetti sauce? Who knew? That would be a capital offense in Jersey.
Next stop: the most interesting room in the house – the oft-spoken of “Blog Room.” Yes, rubberneckers, this is where the magic happens. I’m pumped. I think I’ll just sit myself down in the SWG chair in front of the SWG computer – not to write anything (I’m not worthy), but just to bathe in the atmospherics of the place. I want to gaze through the window, the world outside of which has spawned such … wonderful … prose. Yo! Wait just one farookin’ minute! There’s a dime store fake spider hanging on a string outside the window. W … T … F…!
Not being able to grapple with the notion that all those spider posts were 14 carat bullshit, I’ll spin the SWG chair around away from the direction of the window to gaze at where I know Eric keeps all his rugged outdoorsman stuff – heavy duty cammo duds, mountain climbing gear – crampons and shit. OMFG! Ballet slippers! I think I might hurl. I need a bathroom.
I’m happy to report the bathroom looks perfectly normal. It’s nicely decorated with matching towels, and it even boasts matching toidy paper. I feel myself beginning to calm down. As I begin to wash my hands, I notice a can of shaving cream, on which is an image of one of those muscle guys – like on those magazines. The label reads, “Ramrod Nad Cream – Specially Formulated for Sensitive Stindeens.” Jesus H. Christ!
Yo, rubberneckers. Let’s keep this between you and me, OK? I’m goin’ back to Jersey. I plan on telling him that the place was just fine.
You are a dooshbag, because I found waaaaay worse stuff in your digs. I mean, who leaves bottles of Preparation H cream and Tucks pads out on the sink when they know they have company coming?
Damnation, Jimbo...he's just a boy with healthy curiosity. You, OTOH, with your red silk surrender monkey bloomers and and fishnet stockings hanging over the shower rod, well...you know what they say about throwing stones at glass houses.
Hell raised by Erica on September 9, 2007 10:32 AM
Letting the secret feminine side of good friend Eric out for the world to comment on......The only thing left for the poor guy is to get sexual re-assignment surgery, become a lesbian & join the YWCA....At least his current better half will have a doubles partner for the WYCA tennis tournament.
Hell raised by dudley1 on September 9, 2007 11:28 AM
Back in the days before Political Correctness became a societal bugbear - and when children actually played outside and got dirty - we littl’uns used to enjoy playing Cowboys and Indians - or a thousand variations of the same. Kings of the Wild Frontier, we were. Deerstalkers, muleskinners...we did it all.
Nowadays, I suppose it’d be Western Animal Husbandry Workers and Indigenous Americans...but the game is the same. I chase you, you chase me, we pretend to shoot and/or scalp each other unto death, we flick a few boogers at each other, we find something else to do.
On a related note, I remember when kids would wear their Hallowe’en costumes to school. You could get away with this only if you were in elementary school. In third grade, I wore an Indian Indigenous American outfit to school. Feathers, warpaint, leather fringed vest, the works. It was fun, except for the merciless razzing I got from the fifth-graders. Truly a Nerdly Moment...but that’s what the old Snot-Nose Days are all about, eh?
The Great Mythos of the American Frontier, that was a big thing. The Fess Parker-inspired coonskin cap craze died down before I was an age to care about such things, but the epic stories of how the American West was settled rang loud in our ears, as did the names of the many heroes of those stories: Dan’l Boone, Davy Crockett, Andrew Jackson, Sam Houston, and all the assorted characters of the Wild West era. Fictional ones, too. Mike Fink, Pecos Bill - we knew ’em all.
I was reminded of all this when I found a treasured old volume in a box in the basement. The box, crammed with chess and checker pieces, poker chips, dice, and a Roulette Wheel in working condition, was an unlikely place for a book to have hidden itself away, but no matter. What mattered is that I had found an old friend, a treasure from the days when kids could still play Frontiersman...
Why, it’s...Nasty Bumppo!
This Photoshop, incidentally, has its basis in fact...Eric, on more than one occasion, has copped to wearing buckskins back in his Snot-Nose days...perhaps it’s a Tennessee thing, but I suspect there’s more to it than that...not everyone can channel Dan’l Boone, but if anyone can, Eric can...
Hell raised by Denny on September 7, 2007 12:53 PM
Actually I was thinking freckles... do Indians have those?
Hell raised by Teresa on September 7, 2007 09:46 PM
lovely book cover, despite the heinous defacing. Wish I could find stuff like that by happenstance. A roulette machine? I'm noticing a mocking theme in these guest-posts...must be genuine affection. mercy...did i mention trees?
Hell raised by Bindersix on September 8, 2007 12:12 AM
Yes, it's all true, even if we only played at all that good stuff back in the rugged 1950s. None of it would be tolerated now.
Now I've got to get back to enjoying the humiliation of Michigan brought to you by Ducks, the most feared name in college football.
Hell raised by Cappy on September 8, 2007 04:56 PM
OK. I'll do the honors, even if it's like giving myself a noogie, although in real life I have an ex-wife that does that.
Since Eric is out of the USA I'll bring up the fact that SEC football makes the Big Ten look like it's in slow motion. It goes without saying that Michigan ought to stop playing in skirts. Even OSU had trouble in the first half yesterday against Akron (fear the Roo?). Meanwhile, South Carolina really looked fast and sharp against UGA. I don't know who I've pissed off now amongst this readership, but only call 'em like I see 'em.
Hell raised by Cappy on September 9, 2007 08:38 AM
Akron??... my alma mater! ...football used to embarrass us there... has it changed?
Good morning, rubberneckers...It's your old Uncle Elisson here, filling in for Eric while he fills his gullet with 800 different varieties of Belgian beer...mercy...I hope the Belgians have laid in some stores, for it will be a long siege...and both Eric and the lovely Fiona have been known to bend the elbow on occasion...
The Belgians are quite an interesting lot, consisting of both Flemings and Walloons...they know how to do up a mess of mussels quite nicely, thank you...and there is something to be said for a country that has a chocolate shoppe on nigh every street-corner...
The beer - did I mention the beer? - is of an extraordinary quality and variety...nondescript lagers like Stella Artois...lambic-style ales fermented with wild strains of yeast...Trappist ales possessed of amazing flavor and alcoholic strength...I do hope Eric's liver is prepared for the onslaught...
...one of the unique products to be had in this little country is the fruit lambic, in which macerated fruit is added to a lambic for a secondary fermentation step...cherries (the famous Kriek Lambic)...raspberries (framboise)...peaches (pęche)...black currants (cassis)...don't be fooled, rubberneckers...these are manly drinks despite their fruit content...nothing quite sets off a fiery dish of Hunan Beef quite like a cool, astringent Kriek Lambic...it is also perfect for washing down the local specialities...
Carbonnade Flamande, that's the ticket...hearty hunks of beef, stewed in the local beer...
...I foresee an extended session with Helga upon Eric's happy return...
Hang out over here for any length of time and one cannot help but start reminiscing about past events and childhood. I don't know what it is but Eric just brings out the child in some of us. Maybe it's that poetic prose that lulls me into a numb sleep or maybe it's just that guy lurking in the background with a shovel ready to beat the hell out of. I guess we'll never know. Shovel Boy and the wife should be in Europe by now and I hope they are having a wonderful time. I was pleasantly surprised when he asked me to come back after posting that picture of his manboobs the last time he was on vacation...
One thing I was reminiscing about was my tenth birthday, which is one that I remember with great clarity, or at least enough fondness to retell the story enough times that I won't forget...
We never had a great deal of money growing up. We weren't by any means poor, but sometimes it was a stretch to make ends meet. One year my dad decided to go out with a friend from work and help cut down trees. I don't know if his friend sold firewood or what, but he got paid and got some firewood so it took care of a couple of birds. It so happened that he was going on my tenth birthday and dragged my ten year old self with him.
I do remember that we got up at the crack of dawn, earlier than I was used to at that time, although now it doesn't seem such a big deal since I do it every day.. Before meeting his friend we stopped and had breakfast at a Denny's, just me and the old man. French toast and sausage. I guess the palate holds memories for awhile as well, because I can still remember the smells.
We spent the great majority of the day (or so it seemed to a 10-year-old) out there cutting wood. I carried logs, but mostly rolled them. I am not a huge man by any means and 30 years ago I was most definitely smaller than I am now so I probably rolled most of them. I don't remember if I was really any help at all but at the end of the day I received $10 from my old man and another $10 from his friend for working. Holy crap! Back in 1976 $20 was like a million for a ten-year-old. I don't remember what I spent it on. Most likely candy and other garbage the kids buy, but I remember thinking I was just completely rich and I remember the feeling I got when my dad thanked me and handed me the cash. Appreciated. That was a nice feeling.
I had more to say on it this morning but have run out of words. It's been a hella long week and I have to get ready for work shortly. Luckily I am off tomorrow and may get a bit of nice shut-eye tonight provided everyone shows up for work.
I will most likely post this at Shadowscope as well and may stop back in later in the week to piss on the carpets.
We all know that Eric is laid-back poet down to his bone marrow (except, of course, for the occasional booze-fueled blade thing), so I thought it would be cool to do my impression of Eric on crack. Here ‘tis:
I was gonna post THIS PICTURE of Straight White Guy's place but mu.nu. allowed the picture was too big. Pretty nice but does need cleaning up some. I was trying to get JIMBO to help me this weekend and really do the SWG a favor..but Jimbo allows he is gonna be busy doin' lawyerin' stuff and besides he needs to slam the Joisey politicians some more this weekend. But I think it wuz just because I said I would bring an extra chainsaw...
By the way, if the vehicle I saw here is named Sylvia it damn sure ain't no straight vehicle. Than sumbitch is a Sylvester if I ever saw one like in Sylvester Rambo ... I may clean the boat up though..hell, he might take me fishing on one of those TVA lakes if I do that...
…. well, it is time to set sail, folks….. I’m off to putter around a few cities, buy some diamonds, eat a bit or two of chocolate, tour a few battlefields, and sample some Flemish beer while watching the Walloons do whatever it is that Walloons do……
.. if anyone needs me, I shall be here…. (for a time, anyway) …. safely ensconced in the fortified city of Koblenz…. by way of Antwerp, Brussels, and Bastogne......
….. oh, and I have also arranged for a few guests to drop by here from time to time while I am wandering…. So, who knows?.... perhaps y’all might be treated to a tale or two while I’m away……
…. and so with that, ladies and gentlemen, I’m off……
… we’ll see you rubberneckers on September 17th…….
.. and hey, it looks like I will miss my own 4th blogoversary!..... September 10th, 2003 this whole wild ride began...... good God..... four years..... no wonder I'm going to Belgium where the pubs have 800 different beer in stock!.....
Have a great time, Eric! I'm almost afraid to check back here with the crew you have most likely assigned to stop by.
Hell raised by Rosie on September 4, 2007 07:53 PM
Have a great trip. I just checked my keys to the joint, and they work just fine. I may just stop by to check on the various forms of fornicating wildlife that thrives in the Tennessee woods and to sample some of that well-aged scotch you've got squirrled away in the Hillbilly castle there.
Hell raised by Jimbo - PRS on September 4, 2007 08:21 PM
Have a safe and happy trip and if I can find where you hid the keys I'll drop by and clean up after Jimbo..
…. On and off for the past week or so, I have been attempting to research an old photograph of my Father…. it’s the only photograph that I have of him (other than the standard pre-graduation shot from bootcamp) where he is wearing his dress blues…
.. the whole thing hasn’t really turned out as I expected… initially I was curious about a piece of his uniform…. And after researching the item, I found myself laughing about finding my Father out-of-regs and out-of-uniform (… trust me, there is nothing that a Marine loves more than catching a fellow Marine that 1/8th of an inch out of alignment with his ribbons or badges…. Hey, attention to detail is followed as a religion almost…) ….. and to think that I caught dear ole Dad, well, I laughed….
….but as I did more and more homework, the “gotcha” moment faded as I realized just exactly what I was looking at when I held that photograph in my hands….
… most US Marine uniforms hold only the most basic of information…. rank, awards, ribbons, badges, medals, and service stripes…. And they usually lack unit patches or devices of occupation…. So when you see a Marine in his blues, well, all you see is a Marine…. Not a cook, artilleryman, or office pogue…
… there are, of course, a few exceptions to this rule…. And those exceptions are what triggered this information-chase and possible discovery… mainly, well, the wearing of the French fourragčre by the 5th and 6th Marine regiments .. however, before I go any further, I will say that what I have concluded is still up for debate…. So if anyone can identify the uniform item differently from my own deducing, then I will be very interested to hear your ideas…..
… and so, here is the shot that I’ve been talking about…. behold, my Pa circa 1966….
….. alright…. for those of you non-Military types, here is what we’re lookin’ at…. He is a Lance Corporal that qualified as a “Rifle Expert”…. And he wears three ribbons above his shooting badge…which, from left to right, are as follows….. the National Defense Medal, the Vietnam Service Medal, and the Vietnam Campaign Medal…. The fly in the proverbial ointment is the gold-braided fourragčre which he is wearing around his left shoulder….. as far as I can figure, the gold braid signifies that he is perhaps an attaché to either a general, admiral, or The President (… which he most certainly wasn’t as he was a combat engineer…)
…. any ideas?..... yeah, quite a mystery…..
…. I’ve dismissed this curiosity for years… simply assuming that because he was attached to 1st Battalion, 5th Marines during his first tour in Vietnam that this was their fourragčre…. But after some major groundwork, I find theirs is green and scarlet…. This bit of news got the ball of discovery rolling faster than ever….and pieces of information began to fall into place…
… for one, this photograph was dated 1966…. He didn’t arrive in Vietnam until January of ’67… which means that he hadn’t earned the two service medals that he was wearing yet and was only authorized at that time to be wearing the National Defense Medal…. Secondly, I know that he qualified as a “Sharpshooter” in bootcamp and not an “Expert”… and after doing his Combat Engineer training, he went directly to his AIT in California and never re-qualified with his rifle….. so he remained a sharpshooter for his entire time in the military….in short?... well, that ain’t his shooting badge…..
… thirdly (and I cannot believe that I overlooked this glaring fact for so long), he was never issued a set of dress blues… and he never purchased a pair either since he spent his entire enlistment deployed…..and yet, here is this photograph in my hot little hands…….
…. So after a week of searching and head-scratching and wondering why he was so blatantly out of uniform, it slowly came to me…..and it caught me quite unaware…..
… I made some phonecalls to a few Vietnam-era Marines, and they confirmed much – but not all – of what I suspected….
…. Wearing dungarees everyday, far away from home for the first time, and preparing to enter a combat zone for 13 months, he must have been wondering if he’d make it back alive…. personal cameras were still expensive items, and I seriously doubt that he could have afforded one on a 1966 Lance Corporal’s pay….. so what would someone in his situation do to ensure that if he didn’t make it back from the war his family would have a nice keepsake?.... a cheap snapshot of him in herringbones taken by a buddy?.... or a quick ride into Oceanside to use one of their backless, anonymous sets of dress blues for a ‘proper’ momento?...
… how incredibly scared and uncertain he must have been – being so incredibly far away both mentally and literally from the rolling farmland of eastern Tennessee….I can barely even imagine….
… and that is when my original curiosity – that had morphed into a laughable attempt to catch my Father (and fellow Marine) in a uniform hiccup slowly led to the realization of what I was really looking at - Quite possibly the last image that his family would ever have of him…. A cheap five-dollar portrait from a California street-booth….
…. I’m still blown away by it all, actually…..but I do understand a bit of where he was coming from…. And a bit about how he’d much rather have his folks remembering him sitting straight, clean, and dressed in a polished uniform… instead of sweating, muddy, and bone-tired……
…. I suppose that I’d have done the same as he if I’d been in his situation… that last minute photo before being sent off to combat….for them to remember me looking handsome and proud…..
Most likely you are correct. I was Army, and early in Basic the civilan photogapher shows up on base to rip us off. We were given a prop cap and dress jacket to put on for the photo. Often it was to large or small. But hey, the 1st shirt was getting a kick back form the monkey with the camara and both were in a hurry, the 1st shirt to torture us and the camara monkey to move on to the next Company of new boots.
But still, you have to admire you Father for what he was doing in a very uncertian time in his life. Thank you for sharing it.
I am sitting here trying to put into words the thoughts and emotions this post evokes. Nope. Can't do it. Thank YOU so much for sharing this.
Hell raised by Lemon Stand on September 2, 2007 08:25 PM
Of course, you are assuimg that the date on the photo was correct, or that indeed the date of his service in Vietnam was actually. 1967. Maybe that fourragčre was is one as described on Wikipedia:
"The Republic of Vietnam Cross of Gallantry is the equivalent of the Frency Croix de Guerre. It was created by Decree No 74-b/Qt dated 15 August 1950 and Decree No 96/DQT/HC dated 2 May 1952. Both individuals (denoted by a star) and formations (denoted by a palm) cited for gallantry were awarded the decoration. Formations that were awarded the Gallantry Cross for two or more occassions were initially authorised to wear a fourragčre."
Maybe dad was a hero afterall, anyway I am sure he was your hero. Sounds like a good man.
All the best,
Hell raised by Glenn B on September 2, 2007 09:03 PM
From what I can gathe rin a few online searches, gold Fourrageres were, and still are, often awarded to students of special merit both in military schools, police training academies, and in civilian colleges.
Could have been for that maybe, or maybe as you hypothesize.
All the best,
Hell raised by Glenn B on September 2, 2007 09:24 PM
Everything that could be said has been said, so I can only reiterate... Thank you for sharing.
Wow -- what a cutie your Pops was! And I would surmise that your theory about what he was doing in that particular uniform is probably spot on. Totally makes sense given the dates & the locations, etc. Now you want to hear something really (okay, settle for kinda) funny? In 1967 I was a freshman living in an all-girl dorm at UC Riverside. Almost every weekend they'd come around wanting to bus a bunch of us over to 29 Palms or down to Pendleton to do our patriotic civic duty and go to a dance with the Marines. I never went but lots of the girls did -- just think -- if I hadn't been such a geeky hick from the mountains, I might've danced with your Daddy! And if I knew that a Marine could look that good, I probably would have gone!! How weird would that be? But actually, I graduated HS in June and thus didn't arrive at UCR until September of '67, so I would've missed your Dad by a good 6 months or so -- but that's still close enough to get a giggle out of. I love small-world stories!!
Anyway, it's an incredible picture and a great story, as always. Thanks for sharing it.
Hell raised by Marianne on September 3, 2007 02:46 AM
yes indeed, that was moving. thanks for putting this on your blog.
Hell raised by chilli on September 3, 2007 08:48 AM
Great story, makes me wonder about two old photos I have. Grandfather on my mother's side in full uniform, army infantry with cap and all, looking magnificent, square-jawed, strong nose, wide-set, deep sensitive eyes. All the bloom and pride of youth. The other is his son Jimmy, same setting, looking almost identical, army air force, just before deployment to italy to be a tail-gunner on a B-25. I had them put on one photo for comparison and display when I was about twelve. Still has a wow factor, but now I wonder at the uniforms and such..Grandpa went over to europe in some behemoth of a ship with horses and cannons and all, fierce storms sickened everyone, some horses died. When they got to France the war had ended, they were greeted as heroes, having done nothing, really. Lucky. Jimmy flew twenty-some missions, shot down several times, but made it home physically intact, but shell-shocked and damaged, not so lucky...Photos can have so much power. No wonder some cultures fear they steal your soul..
Hell raised by Bindersix on September 3, 2007 11:23 AM
Eric, have you been to www.togetherweserved.com If not, I think you'll find it a wealth of information.
Hell raised by Sissy on September 3, 2007 12:00 PM
What a great post...it's rare when things hit me like this one did. I don't understand much about the military, but I can understand loving your family enough to want them to remember you in a good light and at your best. Out of uniform or not.
I have a black and white of my Dad before he was shipped off to Korea. (He was 16...he lied to get in)
He looked so confident and handsome-and young. That picture is one of my treasures.
Thanks for your story.
…. Ya know, there are mornings where I awake, pour myself a cup of coffee, light a cigarette, and ponder the great mysteries of life…. And then there are mornings where I fire up the old blog and try to think of something to post about…..
…. For some reason, I don’t believe that Brother Elisson has those same moments of “… Gee, I wonder what I should post today..” …..
.. you, sir, are an inspiration….. and I mean that….
…. there’s nothing quite like waking on a sunny Sunday morning to see a hairy-chested fellow blogger sporting a flaccid, uncircumcised weenie to put you right off of your frosted mini-wheats…. Which, of course, is exactly what blogging is all about…..
… but, wow..... after reading that post about fine art and debasing, I cant help but wonder what Baroque goodies lie in store for me when I hit Antwerp next week……
Blown Eyes & Bloomers [has a Nashville ring to it, no?]...what won't these crazy peeps post?
Hell raised by Erica on September 2, 2007 09:22 AM
... let me see if I got this right, if I click on the highlighted name I will see what you described in the next sentence?- not giving the man high billing are you-the amsterdam stuff was more fun, how 'bout "virginia is for lovers, amsterdam is for, uh...."
Hell raised by Bindersix on September 2, 2007 09:23 AM
In fact, speaking of "Blown Eyes and Bloomers," were a parody actually to be done, I would suggest putting it to the music of the Stanley Brothers' "Stone Walls & Steel Bars."
Hell raised by Erica on September 2, 2007 09:25 AM
OMG - ROFLMAO!!! That's what I get for trying to not get on my computer for a day... I hadn't gotten over to Elisson's yet.
Hell raised by Teresa on September 2, 2007 11:13 AM
….. well, even though it certainly may not feel like it with the heat, humidity, and ragweed pollen, it appears that college football season is truly upon us…. and after checking the various schedules, it looks like I have an impossible task ahead of me….. that’s right, folks, I have to find myself a sports bar/pub in Amsterdam that’ll be showing the Tennessee-Florida game on September, 15th…..
… hell, I may have to see if I can break into the US Embassy as a last resort….. but you know, I am pretty optimistic…. I mean, my track record for obtaining the nearly impossible while traveling abroad has been tested quite a few times now… and I’ve always managed…. I once scored a half-gallon of Johnny Walker and two lovely fifths of Beefeater gin during an Islamic holiday AND a general worker’s strike in Dhaka… so surely I can find a SEC fan or two in a great seat of civilization such as The Netherlands……
… then again, it’s not that my beloved Volunteers are predicted to defeat those nasty Gators…. but I’d still like to watch it even if it turns into a bloodbath…
… the upside?.... well, if I cant find the game on, I suppose I could just hit a coffee shop and sip some tea while the locals puff their blunts…. I mean, after all, it is Amsterdam…. And if I cant catch the UT game, at least the Europeans and their dope-smoking will be mildly entertaining…
I'm thinkin' secondhand smoke. there is, was, a famous(?) book called, "The dog is us", about the the so-called hippie generation, and the old notion that if you blow dope smoke in a dog (or cat's) ear the animal will become stoned, and do funny things. The point being that if a group of people have enough el supremo to blow it into an animal's ear, they are likely stoned plenty, and the animal will appear to do silly things ANYWAY. Angie sez you should ask at he local Hostel, They would know where the U.S. expats and such hang out. When I was in San Miguel de Allende, deep in mexico, Martina and I were able to find a hotel-bar that had norte-americano news on teevee. Admittedly, that town is known for it's anglo population, both seasonal and permanent, but the concept is valid...
Hell raised by Bindersix on September 1, 2007 01:43 PM
It doesn't work in the ear... hold the snout closed with your hand and blow smoke in the nose when you loosen your grip and they suck in a breath. Yes, they do funny things.
...um, so I've been told.
Strangled pets do act strangely, gotta give you that. (when you loosen your grip and they take in a breath)...that part is a little disturbing, are we trying to get the animal high, or cause that weird auto-erotic-orgasm-thing? (lol) I don't mind when they hump my leg, and the whole 'stick yer butt in my face' thing is forgivable, but coming in my bong is right out.
Hell raised by Bindersix on September 1, 2007 07:58 PM
'tis not strangling...heh...merely to try and time their inhale with your smoke-blowing.
I thought setting he injection pump timing on a mercedes diesel was tricky, but this whole dog/inhale/human/exhale thing is much worse, and when do you set the choke/strangle it?...confused in maryland...
Hell raised by Bindersix on September 2, 2007 12:03 AM
Those previous comments between Jean and Bindersix -- strange thread to follow. And best I could tell, had nothing to do with finding a telly in Amsterdam with a UT game. I'd recommend not spending too much time looking for it. Probably be another butt-kick like last night out in hippie-land. At least they did not get embarrassed like we did to them last year at Neyland.
If you're determined, there may be a simulcast on internet.
Hell raised by Winston on September 2, 2007 06:49 AM