Thursday, July 28, 2011


"Jason and The Golden Fleece".
I did not check it out, back in April of 1974, I just slipped it into my notebook and left. I loaned it to a girl named Diana Hamilton who never returned it to me.

10 years later I went to a Halloween Party with some friends at some dudes house. I started looking at his bookshelf, and I see the book "Jason and the Golden Fleece". Of course I had to look and see if it had the card holder and if it was the book I had stolen.
It was ! Wow man, how weird!
So I go running to the dude with this book and ask him 'Where did you get this book?" and he says "Aw, that's my roommates" and I say "Who is your roommate?' and he points to some chick dressed like the mystic Princess Medea and says "Diana".
OK, like here I go running in my Scarecrow costume to Diana (dressed as Princess Medea) that I haven't seen her in 9 years and pointing to the book, say:
'This is my book"
"No its not"
"Yes it is"
"No its not"
Its like we are in the fifth grade again and I sense she is about to clobber me, she isn't amused at all, so I say:
"I stole it from the LD Bell library, and loaned it to you and you never gave it back" and I show her the sleeve and the Dewey Decimal Number and the LD Bell stamp and she squints at me in my scarecrow outfit and says:
"Are you Steve Bulletholes?"
Man, we just cracked up!

So, if you have never read "Jason and the Golden Fleece", all about Jason and how he went to Colchis at the ends of the earth to get the Golden Fleece so that he could "take his country back" from the man who murdered his father; and Hercules went with him; and he had to fight off Talos, a 100 foot warrior made of bronze; and captured Harpies that were stealing a blind mans food and sail through the Clashing Rocks; and then be held prisoner by the King of Colchis but then escape with the help of the mystic Princess Medea who had fallen in love with Jason; and fight the Seven Headed Dragon known as the Hydra, then have to fight off the Skeleton warriors known as the 'Children of the Hydras Teeth" that sprang up out of the ground; well, if you want to read that book I got to tell you -
You won't be able to find it at the LD Bell Library.

The library police look an awful lot like the Children of the Hydra's Teeth these days.


Tuesday, July 26, 2011


This newspaper I been doing stories for is starting to get on my nerves. They keep changing my titles. Its been my contention that a good title should serve to mystify the reader, and even after reading the article they are compelled to read it again to see if there is any rational connection between the article and the title.
That just seems to be good journalism to me, though I have had no training at all.

They changed my title from "I Got Sasquatch Fever" to "Bigfoot prank has positive outcome".
They changed one from simply "The Gullywampus" to "Shopping for fishing lures leads to good times".
They changed "Boy Scout Eggs" to "Scouts find solace in pancakes"
Then they changed "Jelly Omelet" to "Bzzing sound wasn't the clothesline"
I mean, in addition to boring the fuck out of the reader they are practically giving the story away with the title!
Am I being too sensitive? I don't think so!
For what ever reason they changed a Mothers Day story from 'Thanks Mom" to "Thanks Mom for everything". Everything? Really?

I kind of imagine they might take a title like 'The Red Badge of Courage" and change it to "Wounded soldier wins award". I figure they have been writing newspapers too long. They have lost their soul.

Anyway, I sent my last story in a couple weeks ago and added a little note that said "I think you do a great job of editing my stories but if you would like to change my title, please let me look at it first". Seems reasonable, yes? I got a reply that said "What do you mean?". So I thought about it a bit and said "I mean you do a great job of editing the text".

I haven't heard from them since. Maybe I'll send them this.

Monday, July 25, 2011



I was at the mall last week. There was this kid bangin' on a skateboard, doing all those tricks they do, you know, flying breakneck down 20 concrete steps, sliding down handrails, full tilt boogie off a 10 ft. ledge, skronking into the void of stone and light. This little old lady passed by him and says in her little old lady voice:
"You better be careful there Sonny Boy!"
He looks at her through his hoodie and says matter-of-factly "You can't be careful on a skateboard, Dawg" and *swoosh* off he dives into thin air.
This kid was completely indifferent and intolerant of the Laws of Gravity and oblivious to the Forces of Physics. It was like he was made of rubber.
But he was 100% right!
I spent many years indifferent and intolerant to the fact that it was the dope that made my life this weird series of disasters; forclosures, bankruptcy, divorce, dereliction and living beyond the pale of any priciples whatsoever outside of where can i get some shit; oblivious to my own misery and thought I was using successfully.
I thought I was being careful!
I thought I'd never get caught!
I thought I'd live forever!
That kid was way ahead of me.
"You can't be careful on a skateboard, Dawg"


My dad loved liver and onions and buttermilk. I'd sit there, the awful plate before me, terrified and 4 years old, and he would try to bribe me.
"Take two bites and a sip, and we'll go down to the Crawdad hole!" he would say, but I just couldn't do it. Two bites of Liver and a sip of buttermilk was way past the "daily allowance for awfulness" for a four year old.
God how I wanted to go to the Crawdad hole, with my little string and safety pin and a piece of bacon, and catch some of them crawdads.
I could almost eat the Liver, but no way could I abide the buttermilk.
What would you have done?
Thats what I want to know.

Sunday, July 24, 2011


The Doctor finally broke down and gave me a prescription for Testosterone last month.Its supposed to help with my energy level, and it has. It used to be when I went for a walk I would get a hundred yards away and be all wore out. Thats not happening anymore.
And on the package it says that it may increase the frequency and duration of my erections!
I can verify that as well, and would like to go ahead and add that my sperm count seems to be way, way, way up too!
I haven't seen anything like it since i was just a little boy.

The Testosterone comes in a gel, and after I put it on I'm not supposed to touch any girls for like 5 minutes, or else they will turn in to a frog or grow a beard and stuff.

I think this may be my 999th post.

Saturday, July 23, 2011


Red Lobster, my first job.
They had an Expeditor, "Expo" for short, on the house side, and on the line we had a "Caller"....he called the ticket to you and you dropped what he called and when it was done you passed it to an assembler, who now had the ticket and would be busy putting the plates together.
For instance, if I was Fryman, the Caller might call "Fry man!"
And I'd holler back "Workin"
" I need two Neptunes, 3 Crab Cakes, 3 Dozen shrimp, 1 Scallop and we're low on Dogs"
And as I'm dropping all that I repeat:
"I got two Neptunes, 3 Crab Cakes, 3 Dozen shrimp, 1 Scallop and we're low on Dogs"
The whole process takes on a rythum, and when you get to rockin', its a blast.
I had 7 Fryers with 2 baskets in each. "Dogs" were Hush Puppies that you cranked out of a big Hopper that hung over one of the fryers. It was where you learned to laugh off a grease spatter on the forearm. I learned to ladle a little grease onto the floor in order to help slide from one fryer to the next. I could push of at one end and slalom down to the other in a split second, shakin' the fry baskets the whole way down.. I learned to smoke a cigarette in less than a minute on break.
I got there by way of my first position as dishwasher. It only took three days; the Fryman called in sick and the Manager came to me and said 'You want out of this dishpit?" It was the most exciting thing that ever happened to me up to that point, and would remain so for another week before two waitresses laid me.
I was hooked.
Hey, you know what you get if you add an S and a T to Expo?

The best part about working as a chef?

Friday, July 22, 2011


I've written before about how if I am at the grocery store, and a woman happens to glance in my general direction, that the first thought that enters my mind is that she wants me. I'm not the only man in the world to have this quirk.

My pal Mike does a post yesterday that reminds me of an incident soon after I got married. I was in a Home Depot, back in the 80's when Home Depot first got started. I used to like to go there and just walk around and look at the vast assemblage of hardwares and household projects and improvements, and dream of putting in a new fancy bathroom sink, or replacing the fence in the backyard, or organize my garage with their nifty accoutrements for the handyman.

Usually, I was tweaking, and could spend hours in there wondering how I'd look in a tool belt.

One day I was tweaking over in the gardening area by the petunias, and a woman came and stood beside me and smiled at me. I thought "Uh-oh, she wants me", and since I was newly married, I hustled my butt away from her over to the azaleas. I was looking over their selection of "Pink Ruffles" variety, when I looked up and there she was again! And she looked like she was maybe even going to say something to me! So I trucked back to the inside of the store, and went to the bathroom fixture area to check out a new medicine cabinet. I found a real nice one, wood with a beveled mirror and as I closed it shut the face of this scary lady appeared in the mirror.
I was being stalked in the Home Depot by some sexy scary home improvement diva!! Man, I was tweakin'!

So with my cart, I bolted the hell over to the light bulbs and picked up a couple 4 foot florescents I needed, then over to the tools where I grabbed a set of vise grips, and I paused to check out a drill press, when I looked to the end of the aisle and there she was again! She must have wanted me bigtime! I took off again, made the corner with two wheels of my cart all the way off the floor and headed to the paint department and grabbed a can of Kilz, a couple putty knives and some spackiling. I started for the front of the store and was going down a long lonely aisle when suddenly she appeared at the end of the aisle coming my way. I was trapped! Either I was going to have to turn around and run the other way, or be very brave and pass her head on!
As she approached, she was looking me right in the eye and I did my best not to get hypnotized by her look. She was pretty, and soft in all the right places and she had a lot of right places, and as we got closer she started to slow down and I started to speed up and now she was right there, I could almost smell her, and she stopped and said "Hello".

Oh my god! Well, I was newly married and I glanced into her sparkle eyes and mumbled "Good day to you ma'am, I'm sure" and hustled my butt straight to the front of the store where I parked my basket without bothering to check out and ran to my car in the parking lot and peeled the hell out of there.

This story has gotten to be way to long, so I'll try to wrap it up for you.
Two days later my bride and I went to a party, and we were over by the chips and dips when who should appear across the table but this Home Improvement Diva! I nearly choked on a pringle. She smiled and said hello to Mrs Bulletholes and I, and introduced us to her husband, who was a friend of my friend that hosted the party. It was then that I realized I had met her before at another party.
She said "I saw you at the Home Depot two days ago"
I said "Yes, I didn't recognize you'
She says "I kept trying to say hello but you kept running away".
I wasn't sure what to say, so I turned to Mrs Bullets and said "Honey, see how good I been being?"

Thursday, July 21, 2011


I have a gallon of milk and a chocolate cake. I'm celebrating the last day of my diet. After 4 months of improving my dietary choices significantly, and trying to excercise more, including walking 30 minutes a day for 5 days last week, I have GAINED 2 pounds.
I'm tired of getting beat up by my Nutritionist twice a month at $25 a visit.
I think Gods will is pretty clear here.

Fat and Happy baby!
Fat and Happy!

Friday, July 15, 2011


The Lawyer presented the following hypothetical for our perusal during the selection process:
"A car runs a red light and hits another car, injuring the driver. We can probably all agree that the man driving the car that ran the red light should pay for the cost of repairing the car he hit. And we can probably all agree that he should pay his medical bills as well. But lets say that the man was injured and will not be able to perform his old job, and will have to take a different job, one that pays 10,000 dollars a year less. And he will likely be in that job for the rest of his working life, say 10 years. The question is should he be paid 100,000 dollars in damages for the difference in pay?  Is there anybody here that would have a problem awarding that amount?"

Several hands went up including my own. The Lawyer had me stand and asked why I would have a problem with that award.
"I said: "Counselor, we are talking about paying someone for a job they do in the future. Future earnings are difficult to figure.The fact is I could go to my job tomorrow and find I have no job. Or this fellow, he might take this lesser job and find three years from now he has an opportunity to double his salary. I would be reluctant to come up with a number for future pay with such a simple formula."
"Is there anything else?" he asked.
This opened the door for me....
"Hell yes. You know, for 100,000 dollars, this guy could be going to Harvard Law!"

Well, the courtroom pretty well cracked up, especially the lawyers and the judge had to pound his gavel and holler "Order! Order in the Court!" and I figured my chances of serving on this Jury were kaput.
But you know what?
I got selected!

Thursday, July 14, 2011


Though it be night
there are still clouds at work
moving in the dark
silvery linings at play softly still
shimmering high and brightly
even as we sleep
beyond the usual horizon
hold your lense high
and keep your chin up.
And keep your chin up.


Found his deep in my archives. I had written it for my friend Annelisa, one of my original blog buddies.


She calls every year, and we have the same conversation.

"Do you know what day it is?" she asks.
"Bastille Day?"
'No,goofnut, its the day our divorce was finalized."
"Thats nice. I took no note of it. Are you calling to ask me to dinner?"
'In your dreams pal." and she hangs up.

But last year, I ran into her at the grocery. So I asked:
"Do you know what day it is?"
"No, what day is it?"
"Its Bastille Day!" I say.
Her eyes light up "Oh, I had forgotten about our divorce!"
"Yes" I say "How about if I buy you a bottle of Champagne?"
'Oh that would be delightful!"

So we go and buy each other a bottle of Champagne.
"Now why would you buy me a Champagne?"
"It was my random act of kindness today. Why would you buy one for me?"
"Same, same...random act."
" I suppose there is nothing left to say here"
"Except goodbye"

Friday, July 08, 2011


I had to look it up.
I remember when dad and I used to go hunting, way out in the backroads with a carload of guns, I remember that I used to fantasize that he was going to kill me and bury my bones in the boondock swamp because deep inside I knew his life would be significantly simpler without me leaving tools out in the rain and losing all his stuff.
I knew it since before I was born.

Thursday, July 07, 2011


I'm having a hard time finding something I want to write about. Maybe its because I got too much stuff I don't want to write about, like my poor sister who has moved back from San Diego and she is so horribly depressed and wants to just curl up and fall asleep and hopefully never wake up. I know that's how she feels because I've felt that way before. I try to get her to hook up with old friends and she doesn't want to because she has gained a few pounds. I even say why don't you look at your Facebook and see who wants to see you  (I had all her friends post to her wall, they are all dying to see her) but she goes to pieces how she can't stand to look at herself.
No, I really don't want to write about all that.

Or my son, who is back in rehab again. I guess this makes about 4 trips this last 12 months. I never really wrote about it much, because if XMrs. Bulletholes knew I was writing about it she would crawl right up my ass. I mean, back when he was selling pot I wrote a really hilarious piece about that and they made me take it down. I'll tell you a great conversation I had with him a while back though.
I said- 'I sure do wish you had wanted to be a Doctor or Lawyer or something"
And he fired right back- "Yeah Dad, I was wishing the same thing about you."
That's really a great answer.
So I don't really know what else to say about that.

Then on my trip to San Diego I saw the Aircraft Carrier Midway, and I thought I could write about that, but when I looked it up it was all kind of dull and boring and the most interesting part was how the 1970 retrofit went way over budget. Or about these pretty trees they have all over San Diego called Jacaranda trees.
None of it seems too worthwhile right now.

Then I thought maybe I'd write about the Union General known as the "Rock of Chickamauga" and how his southern family turned his picture on the wall over backwards when he joined the Union. Southerners are very funny about that war.

I see tomorrow is the anniversary of the production of first loaf of sliced bread. I have that to look forward to. And the Newspaper I was writing for? I've lost interest in doing stories. They keep jerking off my titles and putting up really mundane banal titles that either try to explain the story, or else give away the ending.

At any rate, I haven't felt like putting my back into anything for a while now. It seems like if something is going to take me more than five minutes to do, I just don't want any part of it. I don't even feel like hitting the "Spellcheck" button.
What do you call that?

Wednesday, July 06, 2011


For those of you arrived here by googling 'Smurf Porn"....what are you thinking?

Friday, July 01, 2011


"I was sheriff of this county when I was twenty-five years old. Hard to believe. My grandfather was a lawman; father too. Me and him was sheriffs at the same time; him up in Plano and me out here. I think he's pretty proud of that. I know I was. Some of the old time sheriffs never even wore a gun. A lotta folks find that hard to believe. Jim Scarborough'd never carried one; that's the younger Jim. Gaston Boykins wouldn't wear one up in Comanche County. I always liked to hear about the oldtimers. Never missed a chance to do so. You can't help but compare yourself against the oldtimers. Can't help but wonder how they would have operated these times. There was this boy I sent to the 'lectric chair at Huntsville Hill here a while back. My arrest and my testimony. He killt a fourteen-year-old girl. Papers said it was a crime of passion but he told me there wasn't any passion to it. Told me that he'd been planning to kill somebody for about as long as he could remember. Said that if they turned him out he'd do it again. Said he knew he was going to hell. "Be there in about fifteen minutes". I don't know what to make of that. I sure don't. The crime you see now, it's hard to even take its measure. It's not that I'm afraid of it. I always knew you had to be willing to die to even do this job. But, I don't want to push my chips forward and go out and meet something I don't understand. A man would have to put his soul at hazard. He'd have to say, "O.K., I'll be part of this world."

Tommy Lee Jones as Sheriff Ed Bell from "No Country for Old Men" by Cormac Macarthy