woodworker

Yeah, but you don't want to wait too long. You have to catch it before it evaporates.

Once, way back when, I made up this concoction that I then placed in a empty whisky bottle with my own personal label of a skull and crossbones on it, and with the words "Ghost Water" added right below it. It was a dreadful mixture of some high grade alcohol, with some wine vinegar, sour lemons, salt, a little cigarette ash, and some black pepper, and I can't even remember what all else, as I got kind of carried away with it all. But I didn't piss in it, or anything like that. In fact, it was actually pretty good stuff. And it would really pucker up your lips. Big time! That much I do remember. Anyway, one night it got passed around during a poker game at my place where some of the guys were then gathered around. But then a few months later one of the guys there by the name of Al Barron ended up spending some time in Vietnam. And I hadn't seen him for quite a while after. Then one day at a welcome back party he introduced his then Vietnamese wife to me, and then added with a funny grin,.. "Do you still have any of that Ghost Water around?" Who knows, maybe I should have gone into the distillery business.

Peppermint Schnapps? I've never had it. Would that be the same as dropping a candy cane into a vat of moonshine? I could see where that would be appealing at times. "Here,.. Have some peppermint Schnapps darlin, it will help to loosen you up a bit, as will my right hand when I finally get around to it."

That's what being "All American" use to mean. Not sure what goes through these kids heads anymore. I'll bet some of those girls must have felt a strong under current at times. "Oh Sally, something is pulling me down."

I am laughing my fucking ass off! Sonic booms breaking their windows,.. LOL!!!!! Prime target! Your killing me here! Oh the good ole days.

Yeah, that brought back some memories for me as well, but mostly during elementary school. Anything else approaching junior high or high school is a patchwork at best, since I skipped so much of it. But in elementary school, somewhere around the fifth or sixth grade, I use to love it when they would whip out the ole sixteen millimeter projector and turn off the light, especially in science class where we sat by these long tables together. For me it meant two things. First, I knew that everyone's eye's would be pretty much glued to the screen, but it also it gave me a chance to slip my hand underneath some girls skirt during that time. And once, as I grew bolder and bolder with this, I managed to submerged myself like a submarine underneath the table in order to pursue this other girl, Sandy Nagle, who was sitting on the other side. She was rather cute, and most encouraging at the time. But in my haste I got caught, as Mr. Stockwell suddenly and abruptly turned on the glaring lights while I was still under the table. I hurriedly took out my pen from my pocket and said, "Oh, there it is." But I knew he didn't really fall for it. And there was this other time in his classroom, where at this same table we were to take this science test. But I had other plans, and had managed to slip my hand now up this girls skirt who was sitting there right beside me. Everything was going pretty well, except that I couldn't keep my miserable test paper from constantly just moving about with only just my pen hand. (A dead give-a-way) Anyway, He then snuck up behind me, grabbed my left hand and slammed it on the table, saying,.. "I WANT TO SEE BOTH HANDS ON THE TABLE!" He then added, "I want to speak with you after class." Mary blushed, and everyone else just stopped what they were doing and stared at me. I felt just like Jesus Christ at the last supper. But Mister Stockwell was a pretty cool guy, and while I was expecting the worst after class, he only said to me,.. "Does your mother have any more of those wonderful breads she bakes?" Wow! It was my first bribe. She had apparently brought some to school during one of those PTA meetings, and they made a big hit with him. So over the weekend I mentioned to my mom just how much Mr. Stockwell loved her home made bread, and she bake a wagon load for me to give to him. I liked science class very much. It was one of my favorite classes in school back then.

I guess I could have just as well pinned it to my crotch, and told him that I have a big hard-on for Mother Earth. But somehow, I don't think he would have taken that very well either.

Hey guys, remember when we first had "Earth Day" at school? For me it was back in1968 at high school. I had this black idiot of a science teacher named, Mister Gerard. It was the only time that I ever had a science teacher that was so full of shit. Anyway, He didn't like me much either. But one day he went into this almost hysterical diatribe about good old mother Earth. It was for me anyway, the first proposed onslaught of the liberal nonsense they now call "Climate Change." They use to call it "Global Warming", until they were recently proven wrong on that with these satellite photos showing how the polar ice caps were now actually growing. So they have quickly changed the descriptive title of their propaganda to the current "Climate Change." Anyway, this asshole was so eaten up by it all, that he actually issued these pin buttons that he wanted all of us to wear. It simply said, "Celebrating Earth Day" with a cute picture of the world behind the silly caption. He was adamant and took on an angry tone in this, saying to everyone,.. "And if you don't come in here tomorrow wearing this button, you will fail my course!" Well I don't like others telling me what I have to do, if it isn't something that within my own common sense or logic tells me is truly for a good reason. So the next day I walked into Mister Gerard's class, and he quickly, with an air of hostility pounced upon me and while pointing and shaking his boney finger not more than two feet away from me, screamed out,.. .."WHERE'S YOUR BUTTON?" "DIDN'T I TELL YOU TO WEAR YOUR BUTTON?" Trust me, he was completely unhinged, and quite livid. And I simply pointed to my pants cuff, where it currently was partially dragging upon the floor, and said,.. "Here it is,.. I wanted to put it close to the Earth." And that was the end of his class. True story.

I told this story ages ago around here. A story that is honest and true on all counts, but that also invokes a funny sort of memory for me. It was back in1969. When Dennis and I were up in Michigan and doing a little hunting. However, Dennis was not with me at the time of this event, as I had left him behind in the cabin while I went out to do some scouting around. I hadn't gone that far into the woods when suddenly I spied a skunk that had just come out from under some brush. And I was struck by how much bigger they seem to be when confronted in real life. But then suddenly the furry bastard locked eyes upon me as I quickly raised my shotgun up. It was a paralyzing moment frocked with tension. He now with his tail up, and I, with the bead of my gun now firmly planted upon his ass, as we both just stood there motionless together, in what had now presented itself as something of a Mexican stand off. In real time it was probably not more than maybe ten or fifteen seconds. But it was quite memorable, as I felt my finger resting up against the trigger and was about to blow his insides out. My nerves kept steady, but the tension was high. And yet in my heart, I didn't really want it to have to come to that. And somehow, throughout all of this I could sense that within that tiny little brain of his, he too felt the same way, and was looking or hoping for an amiable way to let this sudden threat subside. I was quite taken by that, as he surely could have just let loose and sprayed his stink all over me at the time. But I think he must have realized by the look on my face, that that would have been a fatal move on his part. For if he had let loose this spray, it would not have gotten but maybe half way towards it's intended mark before it would have been met by a volley of regret from my side. Anyway, something inside me finally decided to let the barrel of my gun come down. And very soon afterwards to my great relief I saw his tail do likewise. As he once again began to waddle away back through the thick underbrush from whence he had first sprung. For me it was a startling encounter that left me feeling uncomfortable for a while. But due to his gentle nature and wise disposition, this chance meeting between us had a happy ending for us both, and that for me was quite a surprise.

It's funny to me, but when I lived in Detroit, we didn't call a soft drink a soda either, it was a pop. And when I came here to Texas in 1977, they called a paper bag a sack. "Would you like that in a sack?" And with a cute face behind that question, it all just sort of made me smile at times. But the one thing I do know is that cocksucker, and asshole, are universal expressions not foreign to any parts of the continental states. Except for maybe in California, where they are used, but in a different form of context. For example, It wouldn't be unusual or seen as derogatory for someone walking down the street in California to greet someone with a customary, "Good morning cocksucker, how are you today?" Or, "No sir, It wasn't me, but that other asshole your referring to." If you doubt my word, just ask Foamy, he'll tell ya. He calls everyone out there an asshole and cocksucker.

They sell these clocks in Dearborn Michigan. For me, it is a delightful way to greet the new day. And it also helps to keep me very regular in the mornings. But unfortunately the neighbors dog keeps howling whenever it goes off. And I of course can not eat pig, but I am getting real curious as to what a Border Colley might taste like.

You both are top guys to me.

I'm glad. And I'm glad the fucking monsoon is finally over with. None of us needs to be going for a late night swim. Especially not at our age.

I too escaped from drowning, or falling into some sink hole. I guess we were both lucky in that regard. As far as computers go. I held off on getting one for years, and only bought one for investing on-line through Charles Schwab. I made some, and I lost some. But now I'm out of that racket. Charles Schwab literally had me down as,.. "An extremely high risk taker." It seems to have been that way with me for most of my life.

Thank you, my friend.

It would have gone down in the annals of great gun battles like the shoot out at the OK corral. And when I'm in the right, I never lose. That's why I'm still around.

It was always a tough town, but now it's just filled with the lowest scum you could ever imagine. Do you know that aside from car-jacking, which originated there, they are also now breaking into peoples homes while they're away, and just living there. And when the people come home or back from their trip, they can't get them out of their houses. Not even the law will help them. I would have set them to running real quick! Your just going to have to trust me on that. All jive-ass conversation would have ended abruptly.

While the audio on this up-load isn't the best, I first caught her doing this song on the DVD "In the Shadows of Motown" She's singing it with the same group that played it in the original song. She really makes you feel the pain in the song, with one hell of an ending at the end.

Another guy who doesn't have anything.