Saturday, August 30, 2008


Velvet had a Doberman that went ballistic everytime he saw me. He was big, sleek and chocolate colored with the whitest teeth to ever curl into a snarl. When he would see me it would trigger some kind of bloodlust from a violent past.
It was unnerving, partly because I am a boy, a dog boy that has never met a dog that didn't dog-gone like me.

Velvet said that it was because of the Cowboy hat I wore the first time the beast saw me. it was not one of these NASCAR type hats with the big feathers sunburst on the front and gold pins and silver widgets all was a simple beat up Straw sharecroppers hat, like the one Minxy is sporting on her new avatar. The only thing to set it apart was the "RICHARD NIXON IS A WAR CRIMINAL" button that was pinned unobtrusively to the right side.
hell, it wasn't even my hat, I think i had found it at a Rusty Weir and blue Oyster Cult Concert.

Having hated that hat, the demon-dog named Luke now hated me as well, and it mattered not that I pledged never to wear it whene'er I went to Velvets.

So it was with fear in my heart that I rang the bell.
The door swings open, Velvet smiles at me and I ask
"Where is Luke? He's not ..." and before I can finish with the word "Loose" I see him peer around the corner.
Quick as you can say "BOO" sneers, and propels his body 'round the corner, almost shark-like and with those teeth bared is hell bent for leather straight towards me.

Now I may be a coward, but I am not very smart either.
I turned and ran. I ran for my life. I ran like a Deer. I hurdled the hedge and leapt over the fish pond in the neighbors front yard and then hit the straightaway.
I was running as fast as my feet would fly. Back then I could move pretty good.

I had made about 30 yards and was about to take a glance back to see if I had lost him, or if maybe Velvet had stopped him at the door or even called him back.

That was when I noticed that Luke was loping along right beside me looking up with these big chocolate eyes. If he were going to eat my face off, he would have done so by now.
He wasn't even at half speed for him. I realized how foolish it had been to run as I did but that has never stopped me from doing much of anything my whole life.
I slowed to a jog and looked down at Luke and said "Hey Boy, you can kill me now."
He capered about, did a circle and gave a little WOOF, like Lola, but there was no malice in that bark. And his poor little chopped off Doberamn tail was doing its best to wag.

By the time we got back to Velvet, I was scratchin' him behind the ear.
Luke was just a big ol' Puppy Dog.
I usually have some kind of punch line by now, but I guess today all I can say is
"What do you think about that?"

Thursday, August 28, 2008


I am quite sure that DAVE MOWS GRASS and UNREMITTING FAILURE are completely responsible for this dream. With most honorable mention to "The Shaz".

Dreamed last night that I was crossing a mountain range of cardboard boxes. It was nighttime, and in the dim moonlight I could not make out the label on the box indicating what was inside. It was fairly dangerous going, slipping on occasion, twisting the ankle and nearly being buried by all these cardboard boxes. They weren't heavy, mind you but when I say a Mountain, I mean a mountain.

The dream was drawn out and the journey torturous; I'll try to spare you that.

I came to the down hill side of the Mountain and I could see lights fsr below me at the base.
i could hear music, too and it sounded like that old Frito Bandito song, the one that goes
"Aye, yi-yi-yi, I am the Frito Bandito
I love Fritos Corn Chips..."
I'll spare you that as well.

As I got closer, I could see people and tables and noted that the lighting was Portable, like on a construction site. There were earth moving machines and conveyor belts and giant Tonka toys.
The people were all dressed in Chef Uniforms...they were pulling boxes from the Mountain. As they opened the boxes I could see there were big bags of Fritos in them . They would transfer the chips to Crystal Bowls on the table and then the Bowls would be loaded onto the trucks.
There were also bowls of dip being filled and loaded, but I don't know where they were getting the dip. No, I do remember...they were scooping Bean dip from a river that ran through the valley.

Bear with me here.

Suddenly the music changed and in a flurry of activity, these 'Chefs" seemed to form up into two distinct teams. They were still filling bowls, but now they had Candy they were putting in the bowls.
And one team would sing
"Sometimes you feel like a nut" as they placed Almond Joy's into the bowls
And the other team would sing
"Sometimes you don't" as they filled their bowls with Mounds.
"Almond Joys got nuts"
"Mounds don't"

Can you see where this is heading?
Me either.

Now everything changes again and some of the tables are transformed into a Fashion Model Runway and the Earth Moving machines and Steanshovels speed up. Boxes are opened and now they are filling bowls with nuts!
There are Cashews and Goobers, Macadamia and Filberts, Roasted Mixed and Blackened Pecans...
The whole valley is filled with a mighty expectation and the lights start making like its a Disco, strobing and swaying up and down the runway and the music starts in....
and then the Brass section starts
and then...
There are 6 Emerald Nut Leprichauns strutting down that runway and they are dressed in drag...Green Sparkly sequins and black fishnets and gold Go-Go boots and Belt buckles too small to cover their manliness, and the Big Planters Nut Guy is there too, only he is a she, and they are singing to the Disco beat as they blow kisses to the crowd...

"I'm too sexy for my Nuts,
too sexy for my Nuts
too sexy for my Nuts"

and they all do their little turn out on the catwalk...

At that point I deemed it necessary to consciously wake myself up.


How to cook Kidney Beans?

No, really this one is good.


When I was a kid I watched Downtown Detroit burn for two summers in a row over Civil Rights.
At the conclusion of 5 days of rioting in 1967, 43 people lay dead, 1189 injured and over 7000 people had been arrested.
I can't help but feel proud and patriotic when I see that the many small steps taken have led us to a place where we have a black candidate for the Office of the President.

There is a very good PBS production, "American Experience" that chronicles Lyndon Baines Johnson and his years as President. They say that his career was like a Greek Tragedy.
He was a Texan and a very political man. He was able to pass a lot of legislation to promote Civil Rights.
I especially enjoy the following dialogue he had with George Wallace, the notoriously bigotted Segregationist Governor of Alabama. This is part of what is known as
"The Johnson Treatment"....

"George," he said, "Do you see all of those demonstrators out in front of the White House?"
"Oh, yes, Mr. President, I see them."
He said, "Wouldn't it be just wonderful if we could put an end to all those demonstrations?"
"Oh, yes, Mr. President, that would be wonderful."
He said, "Well, why don't you and I go out there, George, with all those television cameras -- do you see those television cameras?"
"Oh, yes, I see them."
He says, "Let's you and I go out there and let's announce that you've decided to integrate every school in Alabama."

And his southern voice always deepened when he spoke to other southerners.
He says, "Now, you agree the Negroes got the right to vote, don't you?"
"Oh, yes, there's no quarrel with that."
He says, "Well, then, why don't you let them vote?"
"Well, you know," Wallace says, "I don't have that power. That belongs to the country registrars in the state of Alabama."
And Johnson leaned back and he says, "George," he said, "don't you shit me as to who runs Alabama."
And Wallace insisted "No, Lyndon, I don't have the legal authority to anything about the county Registrars.
He said, "Well, why don't you persuade them, George?"
"Well, I don't think I could do that."
He said, "Now, don't shit me about your persuasive power, George. You know, I sit down in bed in the morning when I get up, and I got three TV sets lined one right out back of the other. And I got a little button I can press, and I click it whenever I see something I'm interested in. I press the button and the sound goes on. And I had it on this morning, and I saw you, and I pressed the button and you were talking, and you were attacking me, George."
"Oh, I wasn't attacking you, Mr. President. I was attacking the whole principle of states' rights."
He says, "You was attacking me, George. And you were so damn persuasive, I almost changed my mind."

Well, this goes on for half an hour or more, and then, finally, he turns to Wallace. He says, "George, you and I shouldn't be thinking about 1964. We should be thinking about 1984. We'll both be dead and gone then," he said.
"Now, you've got a lot of poor people down there in Alabama, a lot of ignorant people. A lot of people need jobs. A lot of people need a future. You could do a lot for them, George"
He says, "Now, in 1984, George, what do you want left behind? Do you want a great big marble monument that says,
'George Wallace: He Built',
or do you want a little piece of scrawny pine laying there along that hot Caliche' soil that says,
'George Wallace: He Hated'?"

Wednesday, August 27, 2008


How to make Pickle Bread?



The Emperor is gone.
So is the Red Baron.

In February, the federal 5th Circuit Court of Appeals ruled Texas' statute banning sex toys unconstitutional, and in May an attorney for some kind of Triple X Megastore requested the return of "goods" confiscated in a "raid" in 2005.
But it was not going to be that easy.
The Houston Police Department managed to lose $50,000 worth of "Sex Toys" over the period of three years.

50,000 Big Ones!

The discovery came to light when a lawyer for the adult-entertainment shop sought to reclaim the 564 items that the 5th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeals recently declared legal to sell.
After initially telling the attorney the sex toys would be returned, Houston police then said they were destroyed.

"They said no problem, you can send somebody by to pick them up, and then we get another call and it's 'Whoops, we don't have them,' " the Attorney said.
The police told him they were destroyed, but he doubts that explanation.
"There is apparently no court order authorizing destruction of the property or any record of what happened to the property," he said.
A consultant for adult businesses, said sex toys were too "tantalizing" (no shit) for police to destroy.
"I think the cops stole them," he said. "to give to their lovers and stuff."

I've stolen tools, pens, pills, lighters, and even a couple dirty magazines...
And I've misplaced Pot, car keys, sunglasses, clothing, CD's and I even lost a boat one time...

But I don't think I've ever purloined a Dildo.
And I've never, ever lost track of a Vibrator.

Tuesday, August 26, 2008


I had high hopes for this years Presidential Election, but as the Campaigns have slumped and listed along it is starting to look like it will be a battle between
McHales Navy and Gilligans Island


Watching the convention last night I was struck by the difference 40 years can make. 40 years ago the incumbent Lyndon Johnson announced he would not seek or accept the nomination, then their best man was shot down in a hotel and then...well they damn near ran out of candidates.
This year, the party is all but split because they have two very good people that want the thorny job so badly.
And there is the possibility that we elect a proxy incumbent.
40 years ago Black Americans were still very much fighting for their rights, and were still afraid to enter a polling booth, or even register, as in 1965*.
This year we will see a black man win the nomination for the Democratic party.
Lets hope he doesn't get shot like young Bobby Kennedy.
40 years ago, women were burning their Bra's while me and all my 11 year old friends giggled.
This year we very nearly may have seen a woman elected President.
Even though Hillary may have been handed her hat, she is a serious driving force in this country and no one is laughing. Republican or Democrat would do well to have her on their team.
She is one helluva man.

One similarity between 1968 and 2008 is that we are involved in a War that has the Country split. But as of yet, it is not split with the type of emotion and violence that we saw 40 years ago.
Interestingly enough, the Democratic candidate in '68 was Humphrey, who's policy was to continue the War in Southeast Asia. In fact, we did not have an anti-war Candidate in'68 in either Party....Sirhan-Sirhan shot Bobby Kennedy, the anti-war frontrunner.
This year it looks like I'll be voting for the Dems and not so much because of the War we are in, maybe even in spite of it....but I fear for my Country...because Democrats always find a way to lose.

*"About a hundred and ninety-two Negroes were registered, on the average, a month in the State of Mississippi; all over the state, a hundred and ninety-two a month. Now, on the basis of this rate of registration, it would take exactly one hundred and thirty-five years for half of the Negroes eligible to vote in Mississippi to become registered."
Dr. Martin Luther King, 1965

The following I wrote a while back...I tried to write it through my eyes as seen when I was 11 years old and really did not quite know what I was seeing.
It was fun to write.
It all happened as I say:

In August of 1968, Dad came home from work and announced with much gusto that we would be moving back home to Texas.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.
Downtown Detroit was on fire.

From the main road 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 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 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. Mom and Dad and a lot of other people didn't like their Peace Sign either.

There was a country called Vietnam that was on the news always.We were helping them to fight the Communists.Communism was a worrisome thing because Russia was Communist, and China too, and they had gotten it from Germany. So Vietnam was like fighting the Germans all over again.
The Hippies didn't understand why Communism was so bad and did not see the importance of "Restoring Order" for them.
It wasn't going too well over in Vietnam, or in Detroit for that matter, because President LBJ (who was also from Texas) said he didn't want to be President anymore.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 right outside from the hotel we had stayed in. They were turning cars over and carrying signs and shouting 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."

Friday, August 22, 2008


OK, just to show you its not all Knickers, Grins and Granfalloons here at Bulletholes...
I can tell good story as long as I let ya'll do the Brainwork.
I just take out the garbage and hope it pays off.
Seems like as good a time as any to share this song with you.

The Artist says nonchalantly "it was probably the most inspired thing I've ever just seemed to appear on the page".
The melody that he scored for these words is inspired as well.
The Harmonica part is hauntingly wistful and expressive.

I used to tell the Ex-Mrs Bulletholes that I would like this song played for me when I depart (We had been to a Funeral that day, and the music was "Turn the Page" and believe it or not "Twist and Shout") permanently from this ol' World.

I used to kind of hum this song to myself when I knew I was doing the wrong thing.
It seemed to give me a certain license to be stupid.
But that is not what the song is about.

Every Grain Of Sand
In the time of my confession, in the hour of my deepest need
When the pool of tears beneath my feet flood every newborn seed
There's a dyin' voice within me reaching out somewhere,
Toiling in the danger and in the morals of despair.

Don't have the inclination to look back on any mistake,
Like Cain, I now behold this chain of events that I must break.
In the fury of the moment I can see the Master's hand
In every leaf that trembles, in every grain of sand.

Oh, the flowers of indulgence and the weeds of yesteryear,
Like criminals, they have choked the breath of conscience and good cheer.
The sun beat down upon the steps of time to light the way
To ease the pain of idleness and the memory of decay.

I gaze into the doorway of temptation's angry flame
And every time I pass that way I always hear my name.
Then onward in my journey I've come to understand
That every hair is numbered like every grain of sand.

I have gone from rags to riches in the sorrow of the night
In the violence of a summer's dream, in the chill of a wintry light,
In the bitter dance of loneliness fading into space,
In the broken mirror of innocence on each forgotten face.

I hear the ancient footsteps like the motion of the sea
Sometimes I turn, there's someone there, other times it's only me.
I am hanging in the balance of the reality of man
Like every sparrow falling, like every grain of sand.

Bob Dylan
From "Shot of Love" released 1981

Heres a link to get to You Tube where you can hear it for yourself.
The Harmonica makes its first appearance at about 2 minutes.
Last week I said it had been a rotten week.
This has been a good one.

Wednesday, August 20, 2008


Mother of Invention commented that I have been posting like crazy lately and I have and so I deem this to be Double Trouble Popped Your Bubble Wednesday.
Go see MOM...she has a new post up and could use a prayer and a liitle good cheer.
This is my second post today and also serves as the Epilogue for my Church adventure from last weekend.
I have found when things start to drag, or its a bleak November in my soul, or I feel like knocking someones Hat off and bending their Car antenna into some polyhedral design, all I need do is get drunk, or go to Church, or both.
My Bankruptcy Lawyer years ago told me that
'You can go long way with a smile, you can go even further with a smile and a gun"
I'm not sure what he meant, but so far I haven't needed the gun.

I went to Sunday School last week…the “Singles Class…It had been a couple of months.
They know that I am a Non-believer, but they think I am funny and that there may be hope yet, so they put up with me. With a good nature I am able to thwart their attempts at proselytizing me without offending.
They were thrilled when I said I would go to lunch with them, something I haven't done before.
They like me, and I like them too, but it is almost like we are on different planets.
The one where I live is round.

I was the first one to Desperados, so I got a table for 10 and ordered two plates of NACHOS.
After everyone arrived, the leader-lady of the class started telling me about the Singles class at another Church they had once hoped to unite forces with.
In a fairly critical voice and a sharp eye on me, she says
“They have been renting Humvee Limos, going to Bars and getting drunk. Its all about Hooking-up and getting married with them...with us its all about the Lord”

At this exact moment the Waiter brought the nachos I had ordered and as he placed them on the table I looked up at him and whispered loudly:
“Could you go ahead and CANCEL that Pitcher of Margaritas please?”

There is always that uncomfortable moment when you aren't sure if they will get it or not....
I was relieved when they all laughed.

I'm just glad no one saw my
"HONK IF YOU"RE HORNY" Bumper Sticker

Tuesday, August 19, 2008



I remember the day they took my sons "Dirty Harry" Lunchbox away.
They said it was inappr-O-priate.
Now it seems that one School District here in the lone Star State may allow teachers to carry firearms.
Their logic is simple:
"When the federal government started making schools gun-free zones, that’s when all of these shootings started"
Did I say simple?
I meant "Pretzel".

How do you talk yourself into that?
That makes as much sense as leaning into a left hook with your face.
something about it reminds me of a song long ago about Vietnam. I can only remember one line
"Save Vietnam from the Vietnamese"

I hear they are about to arm all the citizens of Washington D.C. too.
The last thing i want is to take my kids into a store for some Marshmallow Pies and find myself in some Wild West gunfight between the forces of good and evil and have to make like Dirty Harry Callahan as we take cover between the Graham Crackers and the Cool Whip...
"Did they fire six shots or only five each? Well, to tell you the truth, in all this excitement I kind of lost track myself, kids. But being as those are .44 Magnums, the most powerful handguns in the world, and would blow our heads clean off, we've got to ask ourselves one question:
Do we feel lucky, kiddos?"

Let the insanity begin.

Monday, August 18, 2008


Last week was a poor week for Bulletholes. I managed to offend just about everyone I talked to. I have a friend that likes to tell lies and another that likes to tell me what to do.
I have as sister with a degree in child Psychology and she stays on my case.
I practically told them all to go to hell.

Then there is Lana-nana-bofana.
She is my friend and she will even dance with me.
She sent me an E-mail asking for prayer and added that she was sending it to me because most people she knows that say they pray….don’t!
I responded that I was the exact opposite of them in a bit of a twisted way…
“I say I DON’T pray, but sometimes I do, so in your case I’ll say a prayer”…
This is pretty much the truth, and probably a sweet thing to say but I had to ruin it with an example of one of my favorite prayers. I never heard back from her, and given the nature of the Prayer I shared with her, I have probably offended her as well.

It was with this in mind that I went to Razzoos for an Oyster Sandwich Friday. An Oyster Sandwich and about 4 Beers. I get more POP out of two beers than anyone you know, so by the time I left there I knew everybody in the place and was having my own personal Mardi Gras.

Then Sunday morning I woke up and went to Sunday School and Church.
In the foyer they have a little Coffee House called Java Junction and it was there that I ran into the Preacherman. He was thrilled to see me.
“How long has it been Steve?” he asked.
‘About two years Good Doctor, give or take….of course I cooked Breakfast for the Full Gospels last May”
“Right” he says “Your Grits are to die for. So to what do we owe todays visit?”
Well” says I ” I think have offended quite a number of people this week including one in particular over a prayer I shared with her”
“Well” says he “Let me hear this prayer”

“It is a prayer before supper given by James Stewart in the movie “Shenandoah” set during the Civil War “
I explain
“and it goes like this:"

"Lord, we cleared this land. We plowed it, sowed it, and harvested it. We cooked the harvest. It wouldn't be here and we wouldn't be eating it if we hadn't done it all ourselves. We worked dog-bone hard for every crumb and morsel, but we thank you Lord just the same for the food we're about to eat, amen."

I looked at the Preacherman, pleased with myself that I was able to recite this prayer so well and asked
“Isn’t that a great prayer?”
He didn’t even blink; then gave me a soft but unsympathetic smile…
“No, not really Steve”

"Well, I reckon thats why I am here, Doctor!"

Friday, August 15, 2008


I apologize for this post, whoever wrote it

You know, I have made a living at this blog thing just by telling the truth, the truth being a record of all the varoious ways that I have screwed up and the many mannerisms that I have that really are not very attractive.
But it is with great hesitation that I will tell you this.
I am getting worried about my ass.
When I was a boy I was able to pinch a loaf clean off and scoot my boots right on out of there.
Then in my twenties I noted that there was toilet paper on a roll next to the head, and I found it very handy most occasions....
thank you very much and don't mind if I do

As time has slipped by I have noticed that my time in the john has increased and my diligence towards proper Personal Hygienehas increased tenfold...sometimes with results terribly lacking.
I have had to wonder, almost aloud whether this were a dietary thing or if my butt just leaked.
Maybe its just part of getting older.
Or could it be that my ass is just all wore out?
Not really my ass so much as my Asshole?

I know I shouldn't say it,
I know you don't want to hear it,
but even now I have a bad feeling
that there may be a
Bullet in my Mailbox!

Have a good weekend...its been a rotten week...I'm going to go get drunk and then I'm going to Church

Thursday, August 14, 2008


Another friend, Gewels, takes pictures almost a stunningly as Annie, would know just what to say about these because she matches pictures and words real well, but I'll move on to another subject before I start getting all mushy and stuff.
No, lets go ahead and get a little mushy.
What is it that makes us cry?
When I broke my leg I didn't cry near as much as when my heart got broke. And I didn't cry at all the times I shot myself in the foot. Not right away.
Why do I cry when I think about Wilma Rudolph overcoming Polio and having 21 siblings only to rise and win three Gold Medals in Track at the Olympics in Rome, 1960?
Its a different cry from the time I cried when the Cowboys lost to the Steelers.
I doubt if I will cry if Michael Phelps makes his goal of 8 Gold medals; all he has overcome is big ears and a DWI.
I might cry if he misses it by one and scores a Silver.
Almost Michael.
Why do I crY at the midpoint of "The Old Ways" by Loreena Mckinnet from her album "The Visit"? EVERYTIME.
Its a different cry from when I hear a Rap song.
It is amazing to me what us humans can overcome and how close to perfection we can rise, all the while being so flawed and fragile.
Liebovitz took a photo of John Lennon, naked, fetal and fragile, wrapped around Yoko Ono for the Rolling Stone magazine.
Its a fairly unflattering and clumsy photo, but not so much as to make you cry.
On his way home that night John Lennon was shot and killed.
That'll 'bout do it.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008


towered above just about anyone in 1971.
Damn Right!

I used to tell chicks that was me playing the Bass.



The Christmas Holiday of my 9th Grade year, under the guise of ‘Christamas Caroling” I met up with several Neighborhood friends. After regaling the first house with a rousing rendition of “Where Shepherds Lay” we paired up and headed for the fields and bushes for the purpose of ‘making –out”.

Up to that point I did not know who Rhonda was, but there is a certain ‘growing closer” that can be experienced by the simple act of a very wet kiss. We grew very close that night. Wanting to grow closer still we ‘Caroled” nightly in the trusty woods, all the way to New Years Eve.
It was all so simple then.
For the next year and half, Rhonda was my girl. She had curly hair and a very cute ‘Button’ nose and when she said “R-Ruff’ it drove me wild. We had Purple Pants and Green Felt shoes with stars on them that matched and of course there were the Captain America shirts we wore with this get up always on the same day.
Our shoes always matched.
She would spend the night from time to time with my sister. When my parents would turn in for the night, rhonda and I would get together under the piano for more growing closer.
In time my sister learned to have a second friend spend the night whenever Rhonda would stay over.
It was a sad day when Rhondas parents moved to Pheonix and took my little Puppy love away.

Some of you are familiar with my daughter Water baby. She came home from College a little early last year feeling defeated but found some comfort in a boy she calls Colorado.
They have taken an Apartment together.
If his grades are good this year he will graduate from High School.
Yes, he is a bit young and its a long story, but the bottom line is that they seem to be quite good for each other right now and while I may see all kinds of sorrow down the road my only course seems to be to support their decisions.
To love 'em.

I was with them renting a Truck last weekend. I found a couple ladies in line at the Truck Rental to flirt with. I told them my daughter and Boyfriend were moving in together.
They surveyed these two kids and one asked
"Oh my, how old are they?"
"Well one of them is too young"I drawled "and the WAY too young!"

I wrote earlier that things were so simple for Rhonda and I...
I hope things will stay simple for my two little birds for a long time.

Monday, August 11, 2008


When I was 16 I took a job as a Busboy at the local Ramalamdingdong Inn Hotel. My Supervisor was a Middle-aged dude named Dick.
Dick had these really thick glasses and looked like a miniature Alan Greenspan. He couldn’t have been more than 5ft feet tall or weigh much more than 110lbs.

Now, in 1973, when you are 16 years old, you understand that there are gay people in the world, but you really don’t quite believe it. You’re best buddy from the 6th grade, the one that you “made out” with for practice didn’t count. Nor did the guys from Scouts that you lit farts with and held an occasional “Circle Jerk “ with….no…they didn’t count either.
You understood that while you and they may have done some gay stuff, you and they weren’t Gay.
Gay was for guys in New York, like that guy Ratso in Midnight Cowboy. Looking back, I don’t even know that Ratso was supposed to be gay.

But Dick…well…I knew he was probably gay. Part of it was the way he looked at me which I am loathe to describe. Part of it was the Initiation he seemed to give me the first few days I worked there.
Dick would place me directly behind him and show me how a table was to be set. Base plate, Napkin, Silverware, Water Glass, Butter Dish and Centerpiece and as he demonstrated moving the Base plate over 1/8 of an inch and
He would abruptly back up, his ass right in my crotch, and immediately begin to apologize for his clumsiness.
And he would look at me like I was a Chocolate Malt.

Then he would reposition me directly behind him and show me exactly how far the chair was to be from the table, and how to center it and to insure it lined up with the one across from it and
Somehow his cupped hand would find itself between my legs.
And he would smile at me like he was a cat and I was…a Canary.
At first I had convinced myself these were just accidents, but as time went on and Dick continued to “Train” me, I had the feeling he had crossed over from “Doing Gay stuff” and was honest to god Queer.

So it was with a little trepidation that I agreed to help Dick set up a Banquet Room “After Hours”…. And of course it was not a big surprise when Dick found a way to “Cop a feel”.
What was a big surprise was that this time Dick didn’t apologize for his clumsiness…in fact, he was so bold as to leave his hand planted firmly on my nuts and turn to me with that look on his face I been telling you about…the same look I would give Jeri when she got on the bus ever since I was in the 2nd Grade and I swannneeee his nostrils flared.

Well, there was only one thing to do…I pulled back and made like I was going to punch this guy and said
“Dick, you gotta stop doing that stuff or I’m gonna clobber you”
And about that time the door to the BaNQUET Room swung open and Bill, the Security Guard was there as I quickly lower my fist which had been about to clobber poor Dick
“Everything all right in here?” Bill asked.
Dick looked at me…but it wasn’t that hungry look anymore, it was that scared look. And I don’t know how I new , but I knew the question was directed at me.
“Yeah” I said “Were cool”
And Dick took over.
‘Just setting up this Banquet room” Dick says “We’ll be finished in a few minutes.
After Bill left, Dick asked if I was going to tell anyone.
“Gimme’ a break, Dick” was all I could think to say.

Some of you might want to laugh, but it isn’t funny yet.

Over the next few weeks, a few of my friends started working there with me. One of them was Mac. Mac was a crazy SOB that would eat drink smoke or fuck just about anything. I knew for a fact he’d screwed Mona and I knew for a fact you had to be crazy to do that.
I have to assume that Dick gave these guys the same initiation that I got.
On Macs first day Dick says to me
“I’m taking Mac upstairs and break him in on a Banquet Room.”
Dick was grinnin' like a Butchers dog...
And then he gives me a wink.
I spewed my drink all over myself.
Maybe that can't be funny to anyone but me, but to me its hilarious.

I never told anyone about Dicks advances towards me.
Mac was the kind of guy that was crazy enough he just might give Dick a run for his money, but he never said anything about what may have happened up there that night.
Not one word, which to this day seems suspect. but i never said anything either.
Still, I’ll never forget the look on Dicks face when he told me he was taking Mac upstairs.

And I had no idea that years later my best friend would be gay.

Friday, August 08, 2008

"Yorn desh born, der ritt de gitt der gue, Orn desh, dee born desh, de umn børk! børk! børk!"


Back when I was a Swedish Chef on Sesame Street I nearly got jacked by a bunch of Lobsters.
I got plenty of complaints too, most unfounded, but no one ever went this far:

Police in Jacksonville, Fla., say they had to arrest a man who twice called 911 after he said a sandwich shop left the sauce off his order. One call was for police to get the shop to make his sandwich correctly.
The second was because he didn't think police were responding quickly enough.
Police aren't amused, but...
I am.

Thursday, August 07, 2008


This comes from a foodservice blog called "The Banquet Manager"...

1. First, pick the number of times a week that you would like to go out to eat to a restaurant. (more than once but less than 10)
2. Multiply this number by 2 (just to be bold).
3. Add 5.
4. Multiply it by 50.
5. If you have already had your birthday this year add 1758. If you haven't, add 1757
6. Now subtract the four-digit year that you were born.
7. You should now have a three digit number.

The first digit of this number is your original number. (i.e., how many times you want to go out to restaurants in a week.)
The next two numbers are…

Now i'm no Mathematician and it didn't work for me the first two tries but thats because...

Wednesday, August 06, 2008


"i got a crazy aunt
a crazy cousin
a couple crazy kids
i mean everybodys buzzin'"

Since everybody is on fire over James McMurtry I thought I'd go ahead anfd try another one on ya'll....this is a very different sound.
They make me think of Stevie Wonder, the subdudes, Littlefeat and even Steely Dan.
Sly and the Family Stone. Yeah, like Sly.

Sonia Dada is a band out of Chicago that is on my short list of obscure talent that I just have to go see live someday. From the two CD's that I have I could imagine they would be terrific Live and this Video confirms just that.

Vocals and Musicianship are first rate. This is from the Album "A Day At The Beach" and this album really begs to be listened to in its entirety.

Please note that the first two minutes is what may be refered to as an "Intro"...then they rock the house.

I tell what really blows my mind.
You can buy a CD by a very well known Artist and when you get it home you find that there are only two, maybe three songs you care much about. The rest you might as well just throw away.
There are a lot of CD's like that right?
Well, of the two Sonia Dada CD's I have there is not a song on either that would be a throw away.
And the Killer is...both came from the $2 each "Throwback" shelf at half price books!

Friday, August 01, 2008



I have changed the name I comment under from Steve to Bulletholes.
There are too many Steves.
There are not enough Steves.

I'm wondering if after 2 years of Bulletholes in the Mailbox if I shouldn't come up with a new name for that as well.

I don't own a gun and I've never put a bullet through a mailbox.

I don't look anything like Yosemite Sam.

I picked that name long ago to try to explain about everything that was wrong with me.
I picked that name long ago because it seemed to represent a part of me that people would take exception to. The part of my personality that caused people to not like me so much. That bit of me that is totally obnoxious...that is to say ...deserving of censure.

It doesn't seem to fit anymore because...everybody likes me!
Even people that don't like me!
And that part of me deserving of Censure?
And all those things that are wrong with me?
They seem to be what people like the most about me!
You know what?
I'll bet its the same way for you.