"GO AHEAD...MAKE MY DAY"
harry callahan aka "dirty harry"
An 11- year old boy with a .50 Caliber pistol followed this Hog for 3 miles and it took 8 bulletholes to kill him. Pretty ballsy kid. Still workin' on his Tenderfoot Badge in Scouts.
The Hog was 11 feet long and weighed 1051 pounds.
See the whole story.
Its been a long time since I had any desire to go out and kill something and I have to admit i would be a little shy even pulling the trigger on a .50 Caliber.
They estimate it will make 800 pounds of Sausage.
This is a lot of Bisquits and Gravy.
That would make my day.
I showed a picture of this to the kid that lives next door. Tonight, I am going to put some cloven-footed tracks outside his window...
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Posted by bulletholes at 11:54 AM
Monday, May 28, 2007
Memorial Day was officially proclaimed on 5 May 1868 by General John Logan, national commander of the Grand Army of the Republic, in his General Order No. 11, and was first observed on 30 May 1868, when flowers were placed on the graves of Union and Confederate soldiers at Arlington National Cemetery.
Posted by bulletholes at 10:30 AM
Friday, May 25, 2007
I GET WORRIED WHEN i DON'T HAVE THESE DREAMS FOR A TIME...
I have an interview for a Chefs Position...I am being interviewed by a very matter-of-fact sounding fellow. He has been the Chef de Cuisine for some time, but is going to be an owner now. I am to run the operation for him, and should not expect to see him.
In fact, the interview is being done over the telephone.
I tell him all that I have done.
Washing dishes at Red Lobster for my first job.
Working as Broiler Cook for Bonanza when I was 17 and just knew I knew more than Bullwinkle, my nickname for the Manager.
Busboy and Barback at a Ramada Inn where I met Junior Love Goddesses...Barmaids with Fishnet Stockings and Miniskirts and Chemises and stuff..
From busboy to a Executive Chef in two years at a pretty nice restaurant. Started there the day after I left Senior High. I didn't really even know how to cook.
Learning to cook at a 5-Star Hotel...
then to Country Clubs and back to Hotels.
I explain to him that I think setting standards and training and communicating...my people... are more important than the business itself.
He asks if I am one of these guys that is "Overqualified".
Thats what they say about people that do not really want to do any work anymore.
I tell him if he wants to he can call around and ask about me.
"They will tell you that I am pretty Muley"
So he asks if I am one of these guys that has to have everything just so in order to do my job, that I need a perfect environment to perform.
I have to laugh.
"Perfect? There is no "perfect"...every operation has its obstacles and deficiencies; you have to be able to adapt and improvise all the time."
He wants me there at 8:00 the next morning where "Dan-O" the helper will show me around.
Duly arrived the next morning, Dan-O and I commence to firing ovens and lighting burners.
Its very dark in this kitchen, the only light coming from the burners and when you open a Cooler.
"Where are the light switches, Dan-O"
"Yeah, lights, ya know."
He just grins at me.
Just then a phone rings on the wall right beside me.
I pick it up..its the Old Chef.
"How's it goin'?' he asks.
"Ok, pretty good boss, but I hate to ask... where are the lights in this place?"
Over the phone he says in this surprised and disdainful voice:
"Lights? What? You need Lights?"
I woke up... laughin' like a maniac.
And when I tell people about it I am laughin so hard I can hardly talk.
I know its not that funny to anyone but me.
It reminds me of the beans.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
GOD HOW I LOVE THIS PICTURE!
I just want to note that one of my all time favorites has outdone herself on a post.
I talk "a lot of crap" as the Xmrs Bulletholes would say, but Annelisa so easily gets to the heart of things and her sentiments are always so lovely,
And she has revived that picture of herself, that dazzles us so with her razzle.
Go take a look at her post titled "3 Things I Love"...
Its part of a project of her friend Mauro ...
And so while I am spreading the Crap, I can at least spread the word.
The Chef of Love will respond to the Million Messages of Love
as s-s-s-oon a s he figures the hell out of how to do so!
Have you ever seen such a smile?
Better get a witness!
Posted by bulletholes at 5:07 PM
Tagged by the very sparkly Gewels.....
4 jobs I've had;
1) Ran a Newspaper and Detective Service in the Fifth Grade.
2) Rockhound/Gemologist in the 7th Grade...during 1 Summer my friend and I brought about a Ton of rocks home (1 mile) from the Creek, thinking they were Rare and Precious gemstones. When my dad took us to sell them at a Rock Shop, the man actually bought some of them for a Dollar, I think out of pity for us.
My friend, Billy, sold his Harley Davidson Franchise last year. He is a Millionaire now, and runs one of those Pimp your Motorcycle shops. in High School, he was the kid with the crappy car, a 63 Dodge Dart with the Mag wheels and a hood scoop it.
3) Delivered Circulars/Handbills to a Dumpster when I was 17.
4) Chef for 24 years.This led to an extraordinary position doing Food Demonstrations at the Local Grocery store, wearing a Bowtie and Blackslacks, trying to sell Fritos, Air Fresheners, and Soy Milk ect.. Except for the Soymilk and all the ladies that lined up to talk to me, it was a real low point.
Almost like being the model for the Logo for a Pizza Box or something.
I quit when they tried to make me wear a Chefs hat.
I was their "Best Guy" and the lady cried like a baby when I quit.
4 Movies I can Watch over and over
I should preface this by saying there are a lot of movies I put on at night to help me sleep; I have seen them over so many times they act as a tranquilizer on me. It says more about me than the movie. These are not among those.
1) Paint Your Wagon ( I LOVE Ben Rumpston!He says 'if you want to turn thuis mining camp into a thriving BoomTown Metropolis, all you gotta do is put up one...tiny... little.... Cathouse!)
2) Dances with Wolves ("Do you know I will always be your Friend?")
3) Godfather 1&2 ( " Oh, Michael it was an abortion...I did it to try to stop this "Sicilian Thing" thats been going on for 1000 years")
4) Moby Dick (My Movie of the year, I can't get enough of Gregory Peck as Ahab)
4 Places I've lived
1) Detroit Michigan
2) In my 55 Pontiac Star Chief when Kid Rock and I ran away from home for 2 weeks during Spring break, Senior Year of High School. Par-tay!
3) A burned out Trailer, being tended to by a blind man named Arnold, when I had given up entirely.
4) Cowtown (Fort Worth Texas) and its Associated suburbs almost all my life.
4 Categories of Television I watch
1) PBS News & Documentary
2) PBS science
3) PBS History
4) Desperate Housewives (Actually, I will look at one of the Evening Soaps once for a while, long enough to follow it enough that I either puke or break the goddaamnidiotbox, then I'll switch over to something else. I had to let "Greys Lobotomy" go a while back, deferring to "Boston Legal", and I have since switched back over to "Desperate Housewives". I have a theory about LoST- they took a lot of shows that could not make it on their own, and stranded them on an Island.)
Thats enough for today!
Sunday, May 20, 2007
Joshua Lawrence Chaimberlain is perhaps the best known of the Civil War Heros.
He was a teacher of Language, Rhetoric and Oratory at Boudwin College in Maine when the War broke; his request for leave in order to join the Union was denied, so he "took" his Sabbatical and joined anyway.
His only qualifications were that he was a 'Gentleman of the Highest Literary and Moral Value."
Commissioned as a Lt. Colonel for the 20th Maine, he kept a Diary throughout the War.
The Mother of Invention did a post a while back about the "Northern Lights" and I left a comment concerning the Battle of Fredericksburg Virginia, December 13,1862. It was a terrible defeat for the North, losing 12,000 men to the Souths 5,000. But many of those from the South were only missing, gone home for Christmas.
There had been a severe lack of "Generalship" in the North, otherwise the War would never have gone on as long as it had.The Union General for this fight was Ambrose Burnsides, a genial and dapper man, whose whiskers set a fashion, but lacked decisiveness.
The Confederacy had stayed alive, due to the luck and daring and sheer genius of its high command, especially that of Robert E. Lee. And as the Union Army of the Potomac advanced on the heavily fortified Maryes Heights, Lee could not believe Burnsides would make such a blunder. A Confederate Artillery Officer said 'Sir, a chicken could not live on that field when we open on it."
As the Union advanced, a rousing cheer went up from the Rebels. It was not the Rebel yell you have heard of before, but a manly "Hurrah" that was used to show respect for the bravery of those who were now crossing the field to attack them. It is my understanding this happened a lot during the Civil War, and on both sides too.
Chamberlain was at Fredericksburg, and his Army of the Potomac was so defeated as to have had to take shelter during the night of the 13th behind and among the bodies of his fallen comrades. The temperature dropped well below frezzing that that night and a bitter wind too; wounded men on the Battlefield froze, as well as bled, to death.
From Chaimberlains Diary:
"But out of that silence rose new sounds more appalling still;
a strange ventriloquism, of which you could not locate the source,
a smothered moan, as if a thousand discords
were flowing together into a key-note weird,
unearthly, terrible to hear and bear, yet startling with its nearness;
the writhing concord broken by cries for help,
some begging for a drop of water, some calling on God for pity;
and some on friendly hands to finish
what the enemy had so horribly begun;
some with delirious, dreamy voices murmuring loved names,
as if the dearest were bending over them;
and underneath, all the time,
the deep bass note from closed lips too hopeless,
or too heroic,
to articulate their agony...
It seemed best to bestow myself between two dead men among the many left there by earlier assaults, and to draw another crosswise for a pillow out of the trampled, blood-soaked sod, pulling the flap of his coat over my face to fend off the chilling winds, and still more chilling, the deep, many voiced moan that overspread the field."
All that night and into the next day, the 20th Maine lay shielded and huddled behind the corpses of the fallen. General Burnside, through tears, said he himself would lead the next attack, which would have been the 14th such to fail, but his Aides talked him out of it.
That afternoon, Burnside asked Lee for a truce to attend to his wounded, which Lee graciously granted. Federal forces retreated across the river, and the campaign came to an end.
That night Chamberlain and his men began to scrape out shallow graves for the fallen, the northern lights began to dance.
This is an extremely rare thing that far south, and Chamberlain wrote:
'Who would not pass on as they did, dead for their Country's life, lighted by the Meteor splendors of their Native Sky"
Seven months later, on a little hilltop in Southeastern Pennsylvania, he would save the Union Army, and quite possibly the Union itself.
We will look at Joshua Lawrence Chaimberlain some more this week in preparation for Memorial Day.
Several questions were raised yeasterday about how thrilled I will be to go to the Dentist. I assure you I will be Drilled.
Willin' Drillin' and Chillin' because I love my Dentist.
He is almost as funny as I am and we always have a real good time.
I'll never forget the day he tried to do a little work on me without the shot and things were doing nicely until he hit a sweet spot and the first thing I did was to use my tongue to try to stop the Drill, which worked real good except now the Drill was lodged into my Tongue and we were both crackin up.
Speaking with my mouth wide open, and a bit "Tongue Tied" I said "Wud-doo-e-do-ow-dog" which when translated means 'What do we do now doc?" and he grinned down at me.
I squinted up into that very bright light that halo'd his face and was told that he would have to
"Put the drill in reverse to get it unstuck from my tongue"
Well, that just about did it for me . I could not stop laughin' right up to the part where he put the Drill in reverse and backed it from my tongue.
After that I always called him 'Dr. Death" and insisted on the shot of Novacaine.
Still , he is a very good Dentist, and explains to me everything he is doing to the Point that I think if he needed a little work done, I could probably fix him up.
20 years ago he told me I had terrible teeth... "Soft" he called them and everytime I went to see him he would wonder how I had any left and I would tell him I keep a toothbrush in every room and sometimes floss for an hour.
But when he see's my mouth next, he is going to find a real mess, as I have lost several teeth (in back ladies, dont worry) and the root is still in there due to me having a real high tolerence for pain. I'm sure that this will require some kind of Surgery to fix and that left in its present state could probably kill me.
The shame of it is that anytime over the last 10 years I could have called him and he would have fixed me I'm sure, but sometimes you feel that you can't ask nobody no more for no favor.
Posted by bulletholes at 9:34 AM
Friday, May 18, 2007
After falling out of love with being a Chef, just about going nuts and broke in the Ceramic Tile Industry, being miraculously transformed into a nicer guy by working for peanuts at Subway Sandwiches, then becoming a Kelly Girl, working in an Office where I talk too loud and laugh too hard, using a Computer which I know nothing about and a typing method that borders between Boxing and Parkinsons Disease, it appears that the Company I have Contracted with for the last 2 years is interested in making me an Employee of their own, entitling me to all their Mineral Resources and Employee Benefits.
This is really huge.
I squanderd what would have been my Retirement long ago.
I haven't had Health Insurance in 15 years.
I haven't been to a Dentist in 11 years.
It s like a Brand New Day.
A Brand New Me.
Posted by bulletholes at 8:29 AM
Thursday, May 17, 2007
Even in Detroit, I knew which neighbors within about a ten block radius had Rhubarb and Raspberries and Strawberries growing in their backyard, and was not shy about hopping quite a few fences to get it. You would not believe how I could hop a fence!
I am going to let a couple of my friends that know about shoes take me on a spree someday (and buy me some shoes) because I know they would be shocked..and appalled... to find that I only own one pair. Whenever i used to go look for shoes and finally found a pair I liked, the price would be like...$200...everytime!!!
The Barefoot Boy
Blessings on thee, little man,
Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan!
With thy turned-up pantaloons,
And thy merry whistled tunes;
With thy red lip, redder still
Kissed by strawberries on the hill;
With the sunshine on thy face,
Through thy torn brim's jaunty grace;
From my heart I give thee joy, -
I was once a barefoot boy!
Prince thou art, - the grown-up man
Only is republican.
Let the million-dollared ride!
Barefoot, trudging at his side,
Thou hast more than he can buy
In the reach of ear and eye, -
Outward sunshine, inward joy:
Blessings on thee, barefoot boy!
Sleep that wakes in laughing day,
Health that mocks the doctor's rules,
Knowledge never learned of schools,
Of the wild bee's morning chase,
Of the wild-flower's time and place,
Flight of fowl and habitude
Of the tenants of the wood;
How the tortoise bears his shell,
How the woodchuck digs his cell,
And the ground-mole sinks his well;
How the robin feeds her young,
How the oriole's nest is hung;
Where the whitest lilies blow,
Where the freshest berries grow,
Where the ground-nut trails its vine,
Where the wood-grape's clusters shine;
Of the black wasp's cunning way,
Mason of his walls of clay,
And the architectural plans
Of gray hornet artisans!
For, eschewing books and tasks,
Nature answers all he asks;
Hand in hand with her he walks,
Face to face with her he talks,
Part and parcel of her joy, -
Blessings on the barefoot boy!
Crowding years in one brief moon,
When all things I heard or saw,
Me, their master, waited for.
I was rich in flowers and trees,
Humming-birds and honey-bees;
For my sport the squirrel played,
Plied the snouted mole his spade;
For my taste the blackberry cone
Purpled over hedge and stone;
Laughed the brook for my delight
Through the day and through the night,
Whispering at the garden wall,
Talked with me from fall to fall;
Mine the sand-rimmed pickerel pond,
Mine the walnut slopes beyond,
Mine, on bending orchard trees,
Apples of Hesperides!Still as my horizon grew,
Larger grew my riches too;
All the world I saw or knew
Seemed a complex Chinese toy,
Fashioned for a barefoot boy!
Like my bowl of milk and bread;
Pewter spoon and bowl of wood,
On the door-stone, gray and rude!
O'er me, like a regal tent,
Cloudy-ribbed, the sunset bent,
Purple-curtained, fringed with gold,
Looped in many a wind-swung fold;
While for music came the play
Of the pied frogs' orchestra;
And, to light the noisy choir,
Lit the fly his lamp of fire.
I was monarch: pomp and joy
Waited on the barefoot boy!
Live and laugh, as boyhood can!
Though the flinty slopes be hard,
Stubble-speared the new-mown sward,
Every morn shall lead thee through
Fresh baptisms of the dew;
Every evening from thy feet
Shall the cool wind kiss the heat:
All too soon these feet must hide
In the prison cells of pride,
Lose the freedom of the sod,
Like a colt's for work be shod,
Made to tread the mills of toil,
Up and down in ceaseless moil:
Happy if their track be found
Never on forbidden ground;
Happy if they sink not in
Quick and treacherous sands of sin.
Ah! that thou couldst know thy joy,
Ere it passes, barefoot boy!
Posted by bulletholes at 9:10 AM
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
Like I said, if I had eyes like this, I would be irrestible. That is the Truth.
The Xmrs Bulletholes called me in tears several years ago....
“Rip and I have had a horrible fight... (sniffle, sniffle)
He went and locked himself in his room...(whimper)"
"I was making dinner and I thought ‘I’ll just let him be, because the fight was so b-b-bad....and I know that I get too intense sometimes”
So I said as kindly as possible, because she was very upset “Thats good, but we give you lots of reasons to be that way, but I’m sure you did the right thing. Please , go on...”
‘Thank you. But when I went to get him from his room, the door was blocked by a chair.”
‘So I just said ‘Rip, come to dinner” and gave him a minute.”
‘So why are you so upset, Honey?”
“Don’t call me “Honey”.... well, he didn’t come out so I went back, only now I was mad again because I had been being nice and I pounded on the door and it opened a little....”
‘And it smelled like there was Marijuana in his room. Oh God, he’s too young to smoke Pot!”
‘So what did you do”
‘I broke the door down , and he was sitting on his bed and I said “Rip, are you smokin’ Pot in here?”.
“And what did he do?”
‘He said “DAMN RIGHT I AM” and took another hit”
and over the phone, she just went to pieces.
It was wrong, but I could not help but bust out laughin’. It was the first time Rip had not tried to lie about what he was doin’.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
My son Rippy, or Rip for short, has been able to walk since he was about 2 months old. You have never seen a child so quick to his feet, so quick to climb up the sheer face of a 10 Story Building, so quick to drive a car or lock himself into a room with another 3 year old girl to do a little smoochin’.
He has been sayin' 'I'm the Man" since he could talk.
When he was 3 months old, we took him to a July 4th Pool Party. I swear the lad could almost swim.
At some point during the party, the X-Mrs Bulletholes comes running to me her eyes like saucers, her hair stuck out like she's ridin' a Zephyr or Bustin' a Bronc' with one hand flailing, the ozone smell of Static Electricity in the air around her...
“Have you seen Rip? Rip is gone, he’s missing I can’t find him, OH GOD he must be drowned, he’s dead I can’t live without him; issue an 'Amber Alert"”
My own heart skips a beat, but when the X gets into this mode, one scarcely has time to process one barrage before the next one comes.
“Clear the Pool, we have to clear the Pool”....she is right in my face now, and has me with the flailing hand by the collar ‘Call the Fire Department , call the Police, call somebody , we need an Ambulance...why is the pool not cleared? and where is that Amber Alert”
The Party has stopped in midair and the Heavens and Earth have ceased all movement.
I clear my throat so that I can yell “Clear the Pool” but I am too slow...
“CLEAR THE POOL” she yells and looks at me like “why aren’t you doing anything”, but the fact of the matter is that there has only been about 5 seconds pass since she started this tirade and I am dumbstruck.
She is very, very intense.
She still has me by the collar, her eyes are spinning like crazy Kaleidoscopes and I am a little afraid she is going to smack me one with her other hand to clear my cobwebs when I notice...
She is cradling something in her other hand, and that something happens to be her lost son, Rip.
“Honey, I think I found him...”
‘Where? Tell me where is my Child”
I point to her other arm where he is safely nestled, and fast asleep.
“Oh, Thank God” she says "You have to help me watch him"
AND SHE SMACKED ME ANYWAY, JUST FOR GOOD MEASURE!
You may think this is a story about Xmrs bulletholes, but it says more about Rip.
Monday, May 14, 2007
But he has managed to stay in so much trouble that its been hard to write about him. He hasn't done anything I haven't done, but he keeps getting caught!
I wanted to post pictures of all my Family, but there seems to be some kind of technical difficulty (X-mrs. Bulletholes) in getting pictures of my boy onto my Computer, and the latest pics in from my Daughter just wont wait.
Maybe tomorrow I'll have some of him and a few stories of the little rascal to follow. If I had his eyes, I'd be irresistible!
This is my Favorite picture of the Water Baby; I think its the Greatest Baby Picture ever and I'll kill anyone that thinks different.
This is her graduation picture, just in; Senior pictures these days include about 40 different Glamour shots and the XMrs Bulletholes actually asked me if I had $1500 to spend. I really wish I did.
And from her Band days, this one is very nice:
Now I know everyone is wondering about me so here is a string starting with my Wild Bill Cody days, then one of me as a Chef (I caught the Fish, a 12 lb. striper).
Grandmother said I was her prettiest Grandbaby!
Its so good we get along still.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
To the tune of "Cat Scratch Fever" by Ted Nugent
This was the image captured in October of 1967 that fired the young imaginations of all my buddies in Detriot Michigan. It appeared in both Time Magazine and Sports Illustrated.
The photo is proof positive of what we knew all along- Bigfoot was no joke! Like Werewolves, the Chupacabra and Vampires, this was not a Myth, but an actual Bone Crushing, Gas Passing Creature. He had relatives all over the world, the Himalayan Yeti, the Abominable Snowman, King Kong and even in Arkansas was the Boggy Creek Boogie Man.
Furthur bolstering our young imaginations were the reports coming out of Monroe County, just south of Detroit, of a Bigfoot like Beast ravaging the roadways, and scaring the Homones right out of all the young people who frequented the local lovers lane.
Across the street from me lived little Peter Spencer, the young brother of my classmate Bill. Peter and Bill spent the night with me one night, and we studied everything we could find about Sasquatch, Bigfoot and our more local "Monroe Monster" as the newspapers were now calling our neighbor in Monroe County.
The next afternoon, I put the finishing touches to the two humongous footprints I had made right outside Petes bedroom window, and spread a little hair I had taken from Mrs McMullins dog run that housed two Huskies on his windowsill.
Then I went and knocked on the door.
'Hey Pete, lets go look around and see if we can find the Monroe Monster....he could be close by."
"O-O-K, d-do I- n-n-need to bringa- anytthing?"
Pete had a bit of a stutter, but no one teased him about it because he was one of the funniest guys I ever met, and any of us would have creamed anyone who did.
"Yeah, Pete, grab that squirt gun of yours that looks like a German Luger"
"O-O-Ok Steve, and I'll g-g-get my f-fake b-barf t-too."
"What are you gonna do with that Pete?'
"I-I-Ill hold m-my Stomach and g-g-roan and throw it at h-him!"
"Good thinkin' Pete!"
So all around the neighborhood we trod, Pete with his luger and fake barf and me with a Magnifying Glass, a cap gun, and a Bolo Bouncer looking for signs of the Monroe Monster.
"W-what are w-we lookin' for S-Steve?"
"Stuff like plants pulled up and the roots eaten, Pete, or a place where he might have left his footprints."
"O-o-o-r m-m-maybe w-here h-he might have s-sat d-down and left his b-b-butt p-prints, S-steve?"
'Buttprints? Pete, you crack me up! I'm havin' a cow!""
And Pete and I just fell out laughin'. We held our sides and rolled on the ground and kicked our feet and wiped the tears from our eyes. How can you not like a kid who is going to find Bigfoot by tracking his Butt prints? We woulda’ creamed anyone to tease Pete.
I don't know how long we scoured the neighborhood, but at some point the only places left to look for signs were my house and his. My house was clean, so we crossed the street with an air of disappointment hangin' thickly between us.
"You go that way Pete, and I'll go this way, by your Garage."
When Pete went round the corner heading towards his bedroom window, I turned around to spy on Pete. I couldn't wait to see his face when he found those tracks and that fur I had planted earlier
Pete couldn't sleep for a whole week.
Those tracks and that hair had scared him bad. He had gone running into his house, screaming bloody murder. And while I had been in trouble, big trouble at first, the misdemeanor was alleviated by the fact that Pete had suddenly lost his stutter!
As my Mother had said, without much kindness...
"Your little stunt seems to have cured Pete"
I think about Pete a lot at times ... mostly when I have done something wrong that turns out right. I wonder if his stutter ever came back, and how much credit you can take for something that you have done that was wrong, but comes out OK.
I think that happens to us a lot more than we are aware of.
HIGHER EDUCATION, PART TWO
I spent my last two years of High School mostly in the Parking Lot, or at the Lake and if I was still in class at 11:00 am it was some kind of miracle...or else there just was no Marijuana or LSD on Campus.
Somehow, in the Subjects I liked I managed to make A's without study or doing homework. I think this says less about my Intelligence and more about the Curriculum.
And with such a sorry curriculum (curriculae?), who could blame my disinterest?
While attending Summer School one year to make up for a botched Chemistry Class (Chemistry being the kind of class that requires both homework and study to pass) the Teacher was delighted to find that one of her students at Summer School could read.
She urged me to get into Drama or Speech class the next year which I did and in my Speech Class I really found my groove.
I was on the Debate team and also participated in UIL Original Oratory where I took my 8 minute Speech on American Indians to competition and won.
All of this was influence enough for me to consider the possibility of going to School to be a Lawyer. Back then it was Lawyers that changed the World.
I would be the one to "Legalize It".
I think it was while I was waiting to see the Dean of Men one morning thinking of how to explain why I had missed 100 classes out of the last 120, that I determined I might be more suited towards being a Chef, maybe even at the new Restaurant in New York, "Windows of the World" that sat atop the World Trade Center, or on a big Cruise Ship going to fabulous and exciting Ports of Call around the world.
Yes, that sounded more like me. I didn't think I could take another minute sitting at a desk.
‘The Dean will see you now”
I entered his office. Somehow, unbelievably, with all the classes I had cut over the last three years, I had never been here before.
I sat down and Mr. Potter looked over the tops of his glasses at me .
“Bulletholes, I want you in class this next three weeks before you Graduate”
‘But Mr. Potter, I have been in class”
“Don’t give me any shit, Bullletholes, get your ass to Class”
Two and a half weeks later, my Journalism teacher, Mr. Washmon informed me that I had a 69 average, which was failing, and that I would not be able to graduate with that grade.
Of the several projects I had done in his class, he had not liked any of my work.
For the report about Walt Disney cartoons, I had chosen to do George Carlin’s routine on “Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs On Drugs".
I got an “F”.
For the Advertising campaign, I had chosen a Monty Python routine and a Breakfast Cereal called “Froggy Crunch”.
I mean this guy had “Zero”’ sense of humor.
And now the Chickens had come home to roost.
I said “How did you come up with a 69”
He said “Everything you have done, and its been precious little, I have given you an “F” on”
“So how the heck do you get a 69?, That seems a little high doesn’t it” I asked.
For the first time all year, Mr. Washmon grinned at me.
“Well, Steve, I grade on a curve”
That would explain it.
In a moment of clarity I said to Mr Washmon;
“Well 69 or 70, it really doesn’t make much difference does it because either way, I won’t be back next year.”
He looked at me with those little beady eyes, grinned again and bent over his ledger.
“No, I don’t suppose you will” and he changed my grade to a 70.
There was only one thing left to do. On the last day of School, when you turn in your books and clean out your locker, I had to go to the Office to find out what my Locker Number and Combination for the lock was.
Mrs. Rae just shook her head and made that "Clucking" sound.
I'll bet she gets one like me about every year.
I never looked back.
I did take two college courses while I was a Chef...Nutrition and Management 101 or something.
I think I might take some courses this Fall.
With my Acid days well behind me I might make a better Student.
I might even remember where they put my Locker!
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Kilroy has tagged me... this one concerns Education and in keeping with my usual policy of turning any tag into at least a 5 post series, we will first continue talking about Miss Cantrell.
For any one that missed my posts about her last week, and to refresh the memories of those who did not, Miss Cantrell was a Graduate of Kent State and a first year History Teacher and in the 7th Grade I was greatly influenced by her and an event that occured on her old Campus in 1970, which I detailed in a subsequent, but lumbering post titled "Four Dead".
Sometimes the very young and good looking Miss Cantrell would stop talking abiout history and let us talk about ourselves. I do not remember any of the girl classmates stories, but for us guys it wqas always about the same.
First a guy would say that while he and his Dad were out fishing they saw a UFO.
Then Another guy would say that when he and his Dad were out Hunting, a Bear had tried to get his Dad, but like a good son, he had saved his Dad with a One-Shot through the Heart kill. His Dad was forever grateful.
Then another guy would say that out on his Dads boat in the Bahamas, they had run into some pirate like bad Dudes, but his Dad had a Rifle and he had a Pistol and together they had run them off. Sometimes the guy and his Dad would actually capture the bad dudes and hand them over to the Authorities.
Finally, after a few more tall tales, some guy would say that his family heard noises outside one night and he and his father had circled the perimeter of the house with HPR's (High Powered Rifles) but it turned out to be just Aliens from another Planet and they scared them off, but the Cops had taken pictures of the footprints they left and the blast Burn from their Rocketship which NASA had followed up on the incident by interviewing them both, and issuing “I REALLY DID SEE AN ALIEN “ Certificates.
For a 7th Grade Class, there sure was a lot of Testosterone floating around.
Miss Cantrell was not the most influential teacher I had, but I think given the events of that year, it was a most influential class in a most influential year, if for nothing else but for the memory of her and the look her face the day those kids got shot at Kent State.
Tomorrow, I will tell you about what kind of Schoolin' I've had.
Tuesday, May 08, 2007
May 8th 1917, born Jack Renfro; needed a middle name on Dec. 8th 1941 in order to join the Air Force and took his mothers maiden, becoming Jack Rippy Renfro.
I wonder what your Birthday was like as you camped in the fields of France while Germany surrendered on your Birthday, May 8th 1945.
You and your buddies had chased them all the way from North Africa and back to Berlin in two and a half years.
Posted by bulletholes at 6:27 AM
Monday, May 07, 2007
Mother of Invention asked if James McMurtry did any 'Happy" songs..... I don't think so, but this one has a certain hope for the future about it.
I met a friend of ours several months back and my first impressions of her were what this song, “Crazy Wind” is all about.
She seemed like just another of some man's “Bird Dogs in a wire cage.”
She made me think of the book Billie had given me when I was 22 called the “Energy of Slaves” by Leonard Cohen.
and the day my fiance, "Susie the Slut" told me that she didn't want to go from being "Some Man's Daughter to Some Man's Wife"
And no matter how hard it was, knowin' the Ex- Mrs Bulletholes had done the right thing. Hell she did the only thing I left her to do.
It reminds me that there are a lot of men and women out there that STILL want to own other men and women.
Here’s to "flyin' down that 4-Lane."
gone off in the pitch-black dark
to work the morning tour
he's halfway to the highway
and he won't be back for hours
his tail lights down the gravel road
you watch them round the bend
nothing's on the TV
but something's in the wind
and it makes you crazy
and it makes you blue
it's a restless feeling
and it's nothing new
listen to the buzzing
of the June bugs and the flies
the sink's all full of dishes
you might just let 'em lie
you might just pour yourself a drink
and sit outside awhile
he won't miss the whiskey
he knows it's not your style
and he don't care enough
to even wonder why
you fight off his fumbling hands
with daggers in your eyes
time sure flies when you're having fun
wasn't it just yesterday you turned twenty-one
does it still matter what you might have done
had you tried
his bird dogs in their wire cage
are barking at the moon
you turn the covers back and hope
the dawn don't come too soon
draw the shades to keep your dark eyes
from the glare of the vapor light
but the sheets are cool and empty
and you won't sleep tonight
with a half moon rising
and a warm gusty breeze
blowing from the southwest
whispering in the trees
the asphalt 'neath the tires makes
a hollow whining sound
and it stretches on forever
through a thousand little towns
with their stores all dark and silent
and their flashing yellow lights
and nobody sees your passing
in the fury of your flight
you'll see them later
some other day
what can you say
time sure flies when you're having fun
your mind's all made up now
and it's all said and done
flying down the four lane with the morning sun
in your eyes
Posted by bulletholes at 11:03 AM
cant make it here
I posted the Lyrics for this way back. Here, you can listen to it.
Musically, its a bit plain, but I think it is quite representative of James' little attitude. I like him a lot.
I've been working too much and I am tired or I might write more.
Posted by bulletholes at 6:30 AM
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Dad had served in the Air Force in WWII as a Mechanic and was attached to Patton in North Africa. He went on to Italy after Sicily fell and later to France.
"Available Jones" was the name of the plane that my Dads crew worked on. Beneath the lettering was the obligatory busty gal. This one was a Brunette, and she poses with her hair thrown back, one hand behind her head
The plane was a B-26, a medium range bomber.
In the Spring of 1970 Dad took me to see the movie "PATTON". He was so proud to take me and I was proud to see it with him.
To this day I enjoy the movie because it brings back memories of Dad and how he and his fellows truly saved the world. George C. Scott is outstanding as the General known as "Ol Blood and Guts". One of my favorite scenes is while he is in charge of Occupying Forces in Berlin immediately after Germany surrenders. He is on the phone with Eisenhauer I suppose, talking about the Russians and he tells him, regarding the Russians
"Up till now we have been fighting the wrong people; you say the word and I'll start a fight with those Communist Bastards and make it look like their fault"
Eisenhaeur hung up on him.
The solution was to build a wall through the middle of Berlin that would later, much later, be torn down.
After the Movie, Dad and I sat in the theater and he told me a few War stories before we left.
In the Parking lot of the theatre there was a car with an "America: Love it or Leave it" bumper sticker.
Right next to it was another car with a bumper sticker that read "Richard Nixon is a War Criminal".
Dad and I didn't know it as we walked out of the Theatre but the country was about to sink right out from under us.
Donovan had that song "Atlantis" that was #1 for so long. It was about a country that had sunk
"way down below the Ocean"
and took all these great people with it.
America was well into "Incense and Peppermints", Nehru jackets and Earth Shoes, Paisley and Pot and “Sock-It -To -Me-Baby”.
We had Goldie Hawn and Tiny Tim and Hunter Thompson.
We also had Archie Bunker.
The Anti-War Movement by Students was well under way and on the horizon loomed an event so great that many of those that had been unsure about the War, and the protest, would become fanatics against the War. Up to and including Businessmen, housewives, and former members of the Establishment.
And for the kids in my class who would miss the draft, it was evidence enough not to trust anyone over 30.
I can think of few more ghastly images than the ones that came out of Kent State University on May 4, 1970. I thought of posting the heart-wrenching photo 0f the girl on her knees with that confused and pleading posture, but I won't.
CSN&Y sang the headlines..."Four Dead in Ohio"
The shootings became a defining event of the Vietnam War era.
Vietnam was right here, in the classroom, across the nation, up your street. It was no longer waiting at the curb in the form of a draft notice, it was knockin on your door.
It wasn't some disturbed and darkened mind with a gun on Campus doing the killing as we see these days.
It was our very own National Guard sent there to "Restore Order" .
It is said that the Kings of Atlantis became the Gods of Greek mythology whose goal was the peaceful existence of all the nations and that Atlantis was the region where man first rose from a state of barbarism to civilization.
Stephen King has a book called "Hearts in Atlantis". He likens the students back then to the Antlanteans from the Myth. I recommend it highly.... Mr. King is known for horror, which this book is not. Its more about kids trying to grow up and in doing so losing their belief in a place called Atlantis, where everything is Saturday Morning Groovy, to find that there are still little pieces of dreams and hopes and hearts 40 years later.
What did I learn from Kent State when I was only 13 years old? I learned that I could change because, quite frankly, like a lot of people after Kent State, I thought maybe those kids deserved it, deserved getting shot. It took a few weeks for it to sink in, and for me to decide that NO! it wasn’t OK for armed troops to come to Kent State or Central Junior High or L.D. Bell and start firing their weapons into the crowd no matter what.
I learned that WE COULD change the world, that it ‘s dying to get better.
I had a teacher that year, she was a mod lookin' hippie teacher with posters of Jimi and Janis on her classroom wall, along with a poster that said ‘War is not healthy for children and other living things” and I imagine she had a lot of friends in the ‘Nam, and that maybe she even went on protests and that maybe she even went to Kent State and I couldn’t hardly imagine her, with that long blonde hair, getting shot for speaking out. Miss Cantrell, she was an Atlantian.
As much as that day sticks to me, I can't imagine how it must stick to Miss Cantrell.
Like her brothers that spent time in the 'Nam, I hope she has found a way to "get over".
The hippies were definitely Atlantians.
I think Dr. King and Bobby Kennedy were Atlantians.
I think in a way, even ol LBJ, who said he didn’t want to be President anymore, grew his hair out and became Atlantian.
Dad hated to think we had been fighting a useless War, and like a lot of patriots, it took years for him to become an Atlantian.
I like to think that maybe he did.
"When your continent starts to sink underneath your feet it really does a number on your head." Hail, Atlantis.
Wednesday, May 02, 2007
It was great being back in Texas except for the Michigan accent I brought with me. having been born a Texan, it is particularly unsavory to be called a “Yankee Kid”.
The second thing I found out about Texas was that the kids down here were physically about a year ahead of the kids in Detroit. I would no longer be the starting Pitcher or Wide Receiver. And the entire mindset was different. In Detroit for Little League Baseball they gave you a Jersey; in Texas, you got a pro-style uniform, were told to go get cleats, given a playbook covering running and batting signs, and the 12 year old pitchers down here had “good stuff”, meaning an arsenal of fast balls, curve balls, knuckleballs, and sliders and the Coaches were teaching them how and when to use them. I had one pitch and the Coach called it the "Boogerball".I did hang in there at Second base.
In the Seventh grade I played Trombone and Football. I was in Boy Scouts and my best friends were in the same Patrol as me.
The girl across the street was named Jeri and she was what you would call “Mousy” with tawny hair, long and straight and her ears kind of peeked through at the sides and I thought that was foxy. I was in love with her and every time I heard the Archies sing “Sugar Sugar” I thought about her.
My really best friend was Kandi; she was a Tomboy and we spent hours roaming the fields by our house, shooting at Birds with bows and arrows.Her big brother was the star quarterback for the High School and Kandi wished they would let her play football too.
I am pretty sure Kandi could whup just about any of my friends. I knew she could whup me.
My history teacher was named Miss Cantrell and she looked like Peggy Lipton from the “Mod Squad” or maybe Nancy Sinatra and her ears stuck out of her hair just like Jeri’s. She was young and cool and if she weren't a teacher I would imagine that she would be a Hippy except that she dressed real nice and her hair was always brushed...she was Golden.
She was a Yankee; she said she was from Ohio. Thats where Johnny Appleseed was from.
She hung Posters of Musicians I had not heard of before...Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin, and there was a Band called the Doors I think I had heard of them before and she had a Donovan poster; I knew Donovan from the song he sang about Atlantis. She had another poster for a place in California called Monterrey and she said she had gone there. She also had a Woodstock Poster and everyone knew about Woodstock. I thought that guy Jimi was at Woodstock.
Of course there was one of the ubiquitous ‘Peace Signs” there on her wall and another one that said ‘War is not Healthy for Children and other Living Things...”
She was “Cool” and we all knew it and many was the boy with her on his mind as he fell asleep at night. She was Stardust.
One day Miss Cantrell showed me how to wear my Pullover Wool Cap. I typically wore it like a feedbag, down over my forehead, covering my ears in a fairly shapeless manner. When you take it off, your hair sticks out everywhere from the static electricity. Well, not my hair, because I had a Crew cut.
“Let me show you how to wear that hat” she said.
She rolled the bottom up about halfway, and set it back on my head, where it stylishly allowed my ears and forehead greater visibility and kept me from having to tilt my head back and use the lower eyelid as a Horizon.
“There” she said “That looks Cool!”
“Thanks Miss Cantrell” and I pretty nearly fainted from be in such proximity to her. I wondered how much cooler I must look.
When I got home that afternoon, my Mother took one look at me, crossed her arms and asked
“What happened to your hat?”
‘Miss Cantrell showed me how to wear it so it looks cool.”
She looked down at me with that Mom Face, pursed her lips a little and too sweetly asked
“Does Miss Cantrell have any little boys of her own that need to keep their ears and head warm?”
“No Ma’am, I don’t imagine that she does. She's too cool to be a Mom.”
“Um-Hmm...Well, you tell Miss Cantrell that this is the way little boys wear their hats to keep warm and when she has a little boy she will want him to wear it like this” as she took my hat and unrolled the bottom all the way back down and lovingly snuggled it back down over my ears and forehead, giving me a little pat.
I tilt my head back so I can see and say “OK Mom”
I suppose that was early spring of 1970. That’s the time of year that it gets really cold down here.
A few months later Miss Cantrell was so upset she couldn't teach her class for that day.
It wasn’t about my hat.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
We had spent the last 5 years in Detroit Michigan. For the last two summers there had been riots in many cities across the country. They called them "Race Riots" and Detroit had not been spared.
In the summer of 1967, Dad woke me up in the middle of the night and we walked through a smoky haze that was blowing through the screened windows and up the quiet street 1 1/2 blocks to the main road that led southward to downtown Detroit, 3 miles away.
There we watched a slow moving convoy of military vehicles, headlights off, stealthily creeping towards downtown. It was the National guard and they were there to "restore order" according to Dad.
That had been summer a year ago, and now the riotous summer of '68 was past and it appeared that"order had not been very well restored."
Dad had had enough excitement.
In school we had a part of our 6th grade class called "Current Events", but looking back I cannot recall talking about the events that were occurring around us:
There had been a real nice preacher named Martin Luther King who had said someday all the different colored children's of the world would be able to play together. I thought that was a good idea and wondered why, even after the War between the States it was taking so long. One day a man shot and killed Dr. King.
I remember that my mother cried about that.
But I don't remember ever talking about that at school.
She had also cried when President Kennedy had been assassinated in '63. His little brother Bobby was now going to try to be President. All the young people liked him a lot. He had longer hair than most of the politician guys that he had to talk to all the time. With his kind looking eyes and soft smile people said he might win, but someone killed him too. I thought that he looked too nice for someone to want to do that.
There were young people that were a few years older than me that they called "Hippies". Hippies were causing a lot of trouble, growing their hair too long, and wearing clothes that made them look like the Indians on "Daniel Boone", and playing Music that Mom and Dad didn't like at all. They also were called "Flower Children" and they had a peace sign that they painted on their clothes and cars and stuff.
He came on T.V. and said that he wouldn't take the job even if we wanted him to.
I thought that was odd.
So on the way home to Texas, we had lots of plans. We flew to Chicago and spent the night at a hotel called the Drake. The next day we went to the Museum of Science and Industry and the Shedds Aquarium. Then we went south a little ways to a College town called Champagne to see my brother, who had just got back from Vietnam and the Army wanted him to go to School some more. I spent the night in his Dorm Room and I was supposed to be asleep, but I was too excited on account we would be on a Train the next day to go the rest of the way to Texas, and I saw him sneak a girl into the room and spread out a Blanket he called a Brownie and they were "makin' out" ... kinda like Greg and I did with Becky and Cathy.
The next morning on the news it showed the trouble they had in Chicago the night before. Seems there were a bunch of Hippies that started a Riot and were turning cars over and stuff. There were a lot of them, but there were a lot of Cops too and the Cops were pretty mad and they had Tear Gas and Nightsticks and I think I saw some Horses too. The Hippies didn't have any of that kinda stuff and “Order was Quickly Restored".
Dad said he just couldn't wait to get back to Texas.
In the next couple of years I would have a little better idea about what was going on, but there were still alot of things going to happen that no one expected.
Posted by bulletholes at 4:19 AM