Monday, September 15, 2014
Posted by Bulletholes at 8:30 AM
Friday, September 12, 2014
You know the Lord is with someone when they seem to be dying of the same heart attack for 30 years.
I lost track of how many bypasses she had.
Lera had a bad ticker, but a good heart.
When I was a kid and we would go to Lera's, there was always that laugh. A throw your head back raucous laugh. I guess all 4 sisters had that laugh, but Lera's was the prettiest.
And there was her Texas Sheath Cake, and Buttermilk pie.
Funny, I was a chef for 25 years, but I'm not sure Lera would have believed that I could cook my way out of a wet paper bag.
That might have something to do with my storied past with Lera.
A few months before she died I had talked to her on the phone. I told her I had finally quit doing drugs, that I had 2 years of being clean and sober.
"We tried to tell you!" Lera said.
Lera. She was a kind woman, in a Joyce Meyer kind of way.
She suffereed no fools; pulled no punches.
I can remember when I was 14 I had had a key made for her car after my parents had started watching the mileage on theirs rather closely, and on Saturday nights during the summer of 1971 I would slide noiselessly out the back door and walk to Lera's car, then meet up with my other 14 year old pals in the middle of the night, and we would joy ride and smoke Swisher Sweets and I knew of a certain window that if you knocked on it at 2 a.m. a couple 14 year old chicks would come crawling out, and its off to Devils Backbone to make out. When finally I was caught (by the Southlake Police) and had to give the key back to Lera and try to explain what the heck I was doing with a key for her car, I don't remember anything except her bright and burning blue eyes and pursed lips, as she said without much amusement:
"What in the world were you thinking?"
It was the eyes that got me, eyes that blazed and sparkled with kindness, and could have melted steel.
Posted by Bulletholes at 9:11 AM
Thursday, September 11, 2014
Dear Handyman Bulletholes;
I had to take my car to the shop with transmission problems. They said they would replace my transmission for $1500.
I told them that I had heard my transmission was hard to find and expensive to rebuild.
“We got lucky and found one” the man said. So I said yes, please fix my transmission for 1500 dollars.
Well, they ran into some trouble and it cost them a lot more than 1500 to fix my transmission.
It took them 10 days to fix it. During that time they even loaned me a car to use. So when I went to pick my car up I was worried about how much they were going to charge me.
When I got there, they handed me two bills.
One was for 1500 dollars.
Another was for 1700 dollars.
The man told me that 2500 was what he should have charged me for the transmission, but he did not expect me to pay that at all.
The one for 1700 dollars would let him almost break even on the deal, but he would still be losing money.
And the one for 1500 dollars was all I owed him, because he intended to stand good on the quote he gave me.
I feel just terrible. What should I do?
Stranded in Euless
This reminds me of back when I was working 5 jobs.
I was selling insurance over the phone.
I was selling and installing landscaping.
I was cooking on Wednesday nights for First Methodist Church of Hurst, and other special occasions that came up.
And I had a paper route, throwing the Dallas Morning News at the crack of dawn.
But I also sold roofs. I would go door to door, doing estimates on damaged roofs and hopefully they would use my company and I would get a commission.
There was man I tried to sell to. I went by several times, took him presents, sent a Christmas card, everything I knew to do.
Finally! Persistence paid off, and I agreed to paint the top of his chimney for 40 dollars.
How hard could it be?
Well, let me tell you. I got up there on a 60 foot extension ladder, in a 30 mile an hour wind, with a paint can in one hand and a brush in the other and spent 6 terrifying hours swinging back and forth up there with no parachute, life and limb at risk, and did I mention I am TERRIFIED of heights? Somehow I did it.
I went and knocked on the door, and he came out and said “Looks good” and grabbed his checkbook. Just before he started to fill the check out, I said:
“You know sir, I told you 40 dollars and I intend to stick to it, but that job was worth a helluva lot more than 40 bucks”
He said “Yes Bullets, I know it was and I sure do appreciate it.”
He tore the check out of the book, handed it to me and smiled very kindly.
I waited until I got to the car to take a look.
There it was.
It sounds like you have a very honest mechanic. I'd keep him.
Here is Part One
Posted by Bulletholes at 12:19 PM
Friday, August 29, 2014
I went an signed a lease at an apartment one afternoon. I was going to move in the next day. But it took 4 hours to get out of the parking lot because while I was there they shut down a meth lab.
I thought, Oh man, I’m going to love it here.
I think at one point there had been three in operation while I lived there.
That’s the place where the manager called me in one day and said they were shutting all the drug lab people down.
She wanted to make sure I wasn’t involved because she liked me.
“Oh, no ma’am. I stay clear of those folks. When I want some dope, I go all the way across town to get it. I don’t want no one to know where I got it, or that I have it once I get home.”
And I laughed, because I said it like it was a joke, and she laughed too.
But the thing is...it was the truth.
Posted by bulletholes at 9:08 AM
Thursday, August 28, 2014
If I had wings
For me to
I'll probably have the fajitas.
Posted by bulletholes at 11:47 AM
Friday, August 22, 2014
Stewart DID did do a song called "Forever Young" but it did not come out until 1988.
We graduated in 1975.
So, either we are experiencing some kind of time travel, or some form of revisionist history, or else my entire class sucked at math even worse than I did.
I have offered $100 cash and a steak dinner to anyone that can produce a Pre-1976 Rod Stewart version of the song. That no one can has not deterred their belief at all.
I've heard a rumor that at the 30th Reunion, someone put on the Dylan version of Forever Young, and halfway through, someone else yanked it. How nuts is THAT?
The debate gets quite heated sometimes, and someone from the Stewart camp invariably will claim that Stewart and Dylan share the royalties for "Forever Young".
Yes, they share the royalties for Stewart's largely plagiarized 1988 version. The lyrics are almost identical, and Stewart claims he does not know how he subliminally managed to rewrite Dylans original with only a few minor changes, but to his credit his lawyers contacted Dylan and offered half credit and royalties for the Stewart version.
Stewart DOES NOT get partial credit or royalties for Dylans 1974 original "Forever Young".
Posted by bulletholes at 8:19 AM
Wednesday, August 20, 2014
Sunday, August 17, 2014
I've walked down the street my whole life, sometimes smack dab in the middle. I've played football, baseball, kick the can, rode on bikes with my posse', you name it, in the middle of the street. Never, not once had a cop tell me or my buddies to get out of the street. Had some swerve to keep from hitting me, or wait until we finish our football play to pass.
But then, I aint black.
I'm not sure at this point any of the details even matter any more, seeing some of the images of a city blowing up on itself.
Explain it to me in terms where I don't sense excessive force was used.
The Detroit riots of 1967 started over less. I know, I was there.
Not any more.
Veteran of the 82nd Airborne, commenting on police gear in Ferguson Missouri.
When I was a boy I watched 10,000 National Guard move into Detroit. They "rolled lighter" than this too.
Funny thing though.
The story my daddy told me was not the real story. The real story is that The Supreme Court ordered Mansfield School District to desegregate in 1956, and the white folks rioted, even hung 3 negro dummies up over the entrance to the school. Peace was kept by sending the 3 black students to Fort Worth School District. Mansfield took another 9 years to desegregate, and only did so after losing federal funding.
Posted by Bulletholes at 2:49 PM
Posted by Bulletholes at 10:07 AM
Thursday, August 07, 2014
Back when I was married, my wife would ask me every now and then if we could have a baby.
Finally one day she asked and I said “Well, OK, go ahead and stop taking your pills”.
She was so happy!
Then I got home from work that day, and she had all these books, and calendars, and thermometers and stop watches and big Q-Tips and stuff.
Man, she was a real go-getter! I’d be having a cigarette after, ya know, and she would look at her watch and say “Ok, time to go again!”
It sure didn’t take very long to make a baby.
Posted by Bulletholes at 9:26 PM
Tuesday, August 05, 2014
"The Grieving Parents", a sculpture by artist Kathe' Kollwitz who lost a son to WWI.
I saw this sculpture 20 some years ago on a documentary, and was moved by the amount of grief the artist has rendered without much detail. It stuck with me, and over the years I tried to find it again. I just found the artist and this image last week.
Kathe Kollwitz was informed of her son’s death in action on 30 October. ‘Your pretty shawl will no longer be able to warm our boy,’ was the touching way she broke the news to a close friend. To another friend she admitted, ‘There is in our lives a wound which will never heal. Nor should it.’
By December 1914 Kollwitz, one of the foremost artists of her day, had formed the idea of creating a memorial to her son, with his body outstretched, ‘the father at the head, the mother at the feet’, to commemorate ‘the sacrifice of all the young volunteers’. As time went on she attempted various other designs, but was dissatisfied with them all. Kollwitz put the project aside temporarily in 1919, but her commitment to see it through when it was right was unequivocal. ‘I will come back, I shall do this work for you, for you and the others,’ she noted in her diary in June 1919.
Twelve years later, she kept her word: in April 1931 she was at last able to complete the sculpture. ‘In the autumn – Peter, – I shall bring it to you,’ she wrote in her diary. Her work was exhibited in the National Gallery in Berlin and then transported to Belgium, where it was placed, as she had promised, adjacent to her son’s grave. There it rests to this day.
Posted by bulletholes at 1:18 PM