BEING SCARECROW

SUITS ME, DONCHA THINK?

Heres me and the Catwoman (Julie Newmar) cuttin' up in a cornfeild back when I was just a little bale of hay.

STEP TWO

"We came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity "

"Belief in a Power greater than ourselves does not come easily to all of us. However, we have found an open mind indispensable when we approach this step. If we look around us, we find many reasons to believe. Our belief may simply be that we can recover from a life of active addiction. The freedom from the obsession to use may be our first experience of a Power greater than ourselves at work in our lives. Perhaps for the first time in many years, our obsession with drugs no longer controls our every waking moment. Knowing that we don’t have to use today is a powerful belief in and of itself."
From NA Literature "It works: How and Why"

I went to my first NA Meeting a year ago today. The first thing they told me was that this program was simple and would take a long time. I knew that they would try to sell me some kind of higher power and wondered how they would do that. but what they didn't tell me was how much difference just not using, just for today, would make in my life.
And that it would make a huge difference in my life inside a year.

I don't have to believe in Eden, or the God of Abraham, Issac and David, whoever they are supposed to be.
I don't have to believe that dogs licked the blood of Ahab, or that Shiva will destroy the word, or that by abandoning myself I will find enlightenment.
I don't have to believe or disbelieve that "There is no God but God, and Muhammad is his Prophet" or in the Six Articles of faith.
I don't have to believe in Life everlasting, the Second Coming, or Gabriels Horn

No, for guys like me that last sentence from the text really keeps my world turning...it asks little and guarantees nothing.
"Knowing that we don’t have to use today is a powerful belief in and of itself."

THE PROMISE

I went down to Glenrose two weeks ago at the invite of a friend (to read all about her, click here) to see the outdoor theater presentation of ‘The Promise”, a play all about the life of Jesus. There are several of these around the country, but it seems the one in Glenrose is the only permanent set. It has been in operation for 21 years now. For more information about “The Promise” and its season, venues, show times and how to get tickets, click here.

Now I used to be a pretty good little church boy. Maybe not so much anymore, but the life of Jesus, the story, its not entirely foreign to me, and I was very interested in seeing how “The Promise” would present three of my favorite scenes from the life of Jesus.

The first is the scene at the river, when Jesus meets John the Baptist and asks John to baptize him. John recognizes Jesus as being the Messiah, and tells Jesus he is "not worthy" to Baptize him.
Jesus says:
“John, you Baptize folks with water, but I come to Baptize 'em with fire and with the Holy Spirit!”.
So John goes ahead on and dips Jesus into the river. As he does there is a loud clap of thunder, and a puff of smoke over the stage from which flies a White Dove, representing the Holy Spirit. The dove flies over the audience and away into the night.
Then comes the booming voice of God himself:
“This is my only Son, with whom I am well pleased!”

The second scene I would like to describe to you occurs after Jesus has left John, and gone into the Wilderness for forty days and nights, and where he is tempted by Satan.
Satan is dressed in red and black with a menacing look and a long red cape. He comes to Jesus in the dessert and says:
”Come up to this high place, and throw yourself down. If you are truly the son of God, a band of Angels will catch you before you hit the ground.”
This is done on the stage, but at some point in that dialogue Jesus and the Devil both suddenly disappear from the stage, only to reappear just as suddenly on top of a 30 foot tower at the right of the stage. I do not know how they did this.
Maybe there is a trap door and a cable that quickly transports them, maybe its done with lights and mirrors, maybe there are doubles on top of the tower, or maybe its just a miracle!
I don’t know, but it’s a very cool scene.
Of course Jesus reply to Satan is that he “will not put the Lord my God to the test”. I’m not entirely sure what all that means, but I always liked the answer. I imagine it could be a bad habit to get into, and might really wear on the Lord.

Finally, the third scene I will describe to you comes after Jesus has performed many miracles. I had hoped that they would use this in the play as it is one of my favorite parts of the story, and I sat at the edge of my seat in anticipation. There are four women on stage, and they are singing a really beautiful song about what wonders they have seen, and how wonderful Jesus and his love and message has been. As Jesus moves through the crowd, he passes by one of these women singing and she drops to her knees and barely touches the bottom hem of his robe. He continues walking as if he did not even notice this light touch, then suddenly stops and turns to the woman.
He tells her that it is her faith that that has healed her, her faith that has made her whole.
Perhaps it is because I have so little faith that this scene appeals to me so much.

Whatever your belief, the story of Jesus is a great story, compelling and poignant in all its parts, and I always enjoy hearing it.
We come now to a time of year that the story figures prominently, and I hope that no matter what our beliefs might be, that we all can consider that which Jesus asked that we do:
"A new commandment I give to you, that you love one another; as I have loved you, that you also love one another.


Here is Jesus explaining to ol' Satan that "Man does not live by bread alone, but by ev'ry word of God"

"THE WARM THRILL OF CONFUSION"

Fella said:
“No way I’ll ever do any dope again! I have completely lost the desire to use!”
I had to give him a funny look.
“Is that right ?” I said.
“Yep” he replied, “You could put a big pile of dope on that table right there, and I would have no desire to use any of it. I’m done”
I said "Man, I wish I could say that, but I’m not so sure”
“Why not?” he asked.
‘Well, with me it could all depend on who it was that threw down that dope, and how do she look. It if was Velvet Skinned Annie dancin’ with a rose between her teeth, I’m afraid I might be right tempted to have a go again.”
Fella just looked at me kinda sober like, and went back to his seat.


******************************

See, that’s the way it is for an addict like me. I got rid of all my phone numbers, all my connections, all the people I used to use with. But the fact of the matter is that a relapse is only a phone call away, two at most, and by the end of business today I could be high-igh.

******************************

Its just different for me. I went to a movie Monday night. It was made by a couple of 20 year old kids, one of them being the son of a friend of mine.. It was about dope, and kids that were dealing, and one of them gets beat-up, and another gets shot and another OD’s and it was supposed to be all about the intense danger that looms in every users life. Not many movies can begin to portray the insidious nature of drugs, or reveal the depth of the insanity that makes their use so attractive to people like me.
And this movie, "Thrown", did not, though I have to say it was a major accomplisment and a grand venture for a couple of High School kids.

This post is not meant to disparage the Movie, but to illuminate the space that my addict mind sometimes occupies.

Some people might be able to watch a movie like this and think “Oh, gosh, I’ll never do any drugs! No way!”.
But you know what that movie did for me?
It made me want to go use some drugs.
It made me want to snort something, even if it were only Pop-Rocks.
See, I could make all that insanity work for me. I know I could.

I wanted a piece of that action, that confusion, that excitement. No one is going to get beat up, or OD or get shot. No, I’m too slick for all that. At least that’s what my addict mind wants to tell me.
After the movie, they had a question and answer period with the audience. People asked questions like “What kind of camera did you use?” and “Did you shoot that scene over by the Bedford library” and “How long did it take to film this movie?”

It was all I could do to sit on my hands and not ask two questions:
‘Have any of you ever done any dope? I don’t mean experimented, but really done the deal?” and “How much dope was used to produce this movie?”
A good friend of mine stood up, and he never asks any questions, but he likes to make a statement. He said
“I just hope some young people see this movie and it keeps them from ever using any drugs.”
I would hope so too, but my own experience is that it was the excitement and danger and counter-culture phenomena that led me to drugs. I needed more of a thrill than what the Chess Club and Methodist Youth Fellowship had to offer.

I left that theater and went straight to a meeting. These days I just thank God for Narcotics Anonymous, whose message is:

“Anyone can stop doing drugs, lose the desire to use, and find a new way to live.”

"GOOOOOOD MORNIN'!"

I had a date this weekend!
I went down to Granbury, about an hour from Fort Worth to see an outdoor play called “The Promise”, all about the life and death of Jesus.
My friend lives in Granbury, right on the Golf Course. She has a sweet Greyhound named Gracie.
After the play I spent the night in the guestroom.
Just before turning in, she asked me:
“So, are you a morning person?”
To which I replied in my usual quite animated style:
‘You better betcha I am! I wake up, and the birds are chirpin’, and I pop out of bed and feel like a million bucks! I dance around, and sing a little song, sometimes ‘Rhinestone Cowboy” or ‘Baba O’Riley” by the Who or ‘Stolen Child”, that WB Yeats poem. I just feel so good, and love to be happy and friendly in the morning! In fact, my daughter says I am kinda hard to take in the morning”
She gave me a real sweet little thin grin, and then between clenched teeth, she said
“Well, I’m not!”

So the next morning I get up and true to form I am dancin’ and singin’ and jabberin’ away all kinds of nonsense the way I do.
By the end of breakfast, she had had about enough of me.
But that’s OK.
She was a very good hostess, and I never felt nervous or uneasy, and I even slept like a baby, which I don’t usually do when I am away from home.
And she might be able to say of me that I am goofy, silly, insane, immature, irresponsible and incompetent, and that I wear on ones last nerve like nobody she has ever met….
But she cannot say
‘That asshole was a real jerk”

CREATION

I can almost hear the conversation....
Man: "God, how did you create all this stuff?"
God: "Create? I learned to instigate it, and to some extent, to guide it, but the results are hard to accurately predict."

I found the dialogue over at Souby's...and I added the names.
It seems like it would fit to me.

"YESTERDAY"

Another UF Mike impression...

There is a very hostile undertone to this song which McCartneys Vienna choir-boy voice belies.
I was at a dive bar after Super Bowl 31 in the early days of Karaoke. A big hairy man in a tank-top took the stage.You could see just by his posture that he was angry, he was enraged, and he wanted some butt.
The ass kickin' kind of butt.
He brought out a side to this song I had never heard before. Mad as hell, he spat out the opening lines:

“Yesterday… all my troubles seemed so far away”
And today someone was going to get their ass kicked over it.
"Now it looks as though they’re here to stay"
That’s worth a major ass-whuppin’ right there.
But then this angry man with the scathing voice blurts out:
“Oh I believe in yesterday”
Frederich Nietzche called this a “re-sentiment”, later shortened to the more familiar “resentment”, in which one locks their heart forever to the past, and replays over and over again circumstances beyond their control, circumstances which, with a little sober effort, would obviously reveal themselves as having been brought about by their own defects.

So this big ‘ol boy, mad as hell and locked in the past gets to the chorus:
“‘Why she had to go…
I DON’T KNOW!”

When he said” I don’t know”, the glasses behind the bar rattled and nearly walked off the shelf.
There was no remorse, no guilt, no shame or contrition in his voice.
No, this guy was truly pissed that anyone would leave, and he was clueless as to why she might.
He really didn’t know.

"HEY, BRING THAT F'n MICROPHONE BACK. I WANNA SING "MUSKRAT LOVE"

DEAR DIARY

I took a girl out in High School and before we had our second date her mother found her diary.
There was no second date!

It reminds me of an old Bread song about a Diary from their album "Baby,I'm a Want You".

I found her diary underneath a tree.
and started reading about me
The words she's written took me by surprise
you'd never read them in her eyes.
They said that she had found the love she waited for.
Wouldn't you know it, she wouldn't show it
Whoa, Nellie!

Nobody ever kept their Diary underneath a tree. Not unless they were a squirrel in love, a sensitive, deeply emotional right-brained squirrel with a lot of love to give. But squirrels generally do not keep diaries, no.
They are too busy gathering nuts. And tweaking. Ever see one jump sideways 20 feet and scramble 100 feet up a tree? I used to have friends did the same thing.

I have walked past, by, and through a great many trees. My granpa had a Pecan Farm, I've been to the redwood forest, and the piney woods too; there were squirrels everywhere, but never once did I find a diary. I've never heard of a Diary Tree, where diaries grow like ten dollar bills on the branches, falling with the leaves in autumn to sprout into little Diary Tree saplings.

No, the only way you are going to find a diary is if you are a sicko control freak or a jilted lover with a confidence problem. and you break a window or pick a lock and ransack someone’s house, looking through their drawers and under their bed and on the top shelf of their closets until you finally find the wall safe behind the Renoir, and you tear it out of the wall, drag it out to the car and speed down to the river bottom sticks where you can blow the lock and read all about yourself.

Or you can send your lover out for pizza, then ransack their house.
That's how you are going to get your hands on a diary.
No one leaves them "under a tree".
That would simply be bad journalism.
Maybe not as bad as this post.




My Diary! Gimme back my diary!

LIVED NINE LIVES GUNNED DOWN TEN GONNA RIDE RIDE LIKE THE WIND

Down here in Texas, everybody knows Christopher Cross.
“Ride Like the Wind” and ‘Sailing” were huge hits from his 1980 eponymous debut album, and together they brought Mr. Cross fame and fortune, earning him all of the "Big Four" Grammy Awards in one year, a feat that is yet to be equalled.
There were two #1's and three other songs that made the top 20 that year from that album.

He seemed to be everywhere all at once in the 80's.
After that it was hard to find anyone 'round these parts that didn’t have some connection to the ubiquitous Mr. Cross.
I know at least 10 people that have lived next door to him.
I know 20 people that lived in the same apartment complex.
I know at least 100 people that saw him regularly at the Piggly-Wiggly check out line.
Apparently, he attended 3 Major University's here in Texas, on no less than 11 campuses in the space of eight years.
I know a guy that studied with him Pre-Med and another guy who took his Bar Exam with Mr. Cross.
I knew a man whose father said he knew a man who was there the day Christopher Cross was born.

Me?
Hell, I played Badminton and drank lemonade with he and Lowell George at the Governors Mansion.

POLITICS

"Politics would be a helluva good business if it weren't for the goddamned people"
richard nixon

"Call it what you want, Rebate, Redistribution, Rodeo, whatever.
It all comes down to being just a good old fashioned bribe, hush money for the masses, the Cornerstone of Capitalism and Free Enterpise.
All things being equal, what is wrong with that?"
bulletholes


Richard Nixon presenting me with my Debate Trophy Belt Buckle from my very First Debate

RESPECT

Went and bought me an outfit to wear to court.
Khaki pants, Slate Grey shirt with broad Tan and thin Lavender Plaids, with a nice Oleg Cassini Forest Green tie.
Totally Masculine, yet tres sensitive.
I haven’t worn a tie in 14 years.
Thought I’d show the event the respect it deserves.

SLEEPIN' NIGHTS AIN'T SO BAD

Stayin’ clean for 440 days has not been that tough.
Its not near as tough as handing a guy you barely know and who has no visible means of support 100 bucks with the hope that he will be back in the next hour or two.
That he will be back at all.
Its not near as tough as concocting an explanation for why you have no Drivers license, Inspection Sticker, Registration, and your socks don’t match.
Its not nearly as difficult as trying to get through the next week with $4.58 to your name.
That’s tough.
Its not as hard as looking into your rear-view mirror and having a blood-clot heart attack because a cop is right behind you, or turning into someones driveway because you see one a few blocks up.
Its not nearly as hard as trying to remember the last place you put your shit can be, especially when the last time you slept was in line at Jack-in the Box four days ago.
Nope, sleepin’ nights really ain’t so bad.
Really, it ain’t that bad being able to look your boss, your kids, and your friends in the eye again; to make new friends and learn how to buy groceries, chew your food before you swallow, and clean a little on a regular basis instead of a 12 hour binge every 3 weeks.
Of course, I'm still working on that one.

Tomorrow, I graduate from my Probation, my case dismissed.
Funny, a year ago I figured that I would go get commode-huggin’ snot-slingin’ drunk after graduation. That I might even want to do a little dope in celebration, you know, what the hell.
The Court system brought me to Narcotics Anonymous. thats how most of us addicts get there. We come like prisoners, like refugee's, and the first thing they tell us is that we really don't have to use drugs today.
They tell us that we can lose the desire to use, and find a new way to live.
Narcotics Anonymous really did give me a new way to live.
I might have been able to stay clean for 440 days through the court system, but still, I would be lost.
I would still be so lost.

MINNIE AND JOE

Minnie Ripperton sang “Lovin’ You”, a real Sweet Potato of a song and kept up her high pitched whine throughout with lyrics like:
"Lovin' you is easy cuz you're beautiful"
followed by the redundant
“Lalalalala,lalalala, lala-lala-lala,lalal, la-la-ah”
If it were not for the comma’s and the “Ah” at the end, one might fall asleep, except Minnie does liven it up with the suggestive
“And every time that we oooooh”
And that keyboard!
It had the energy of an old guy that to played a one man show at a bad restaurant I used to work at.

I remember driving down the street in 1974 with my buddy Steve Holland.
"Lovin'' You" came on the radio and Steve got all excited and said “I love this song”.
I do not know what a 16 year-old boy must be going through to like this song, but I always felt sorry for Steve after that.
If I had only had an FM radio in my car, it would never have happened.

Through sheer creative genius, the DJ’s of the period would often follow Ripperton’s offering with Joe Cocker, croaking out his hit “You Are So Beautiful”.
Now I liked this song, it even got me laid one time, but the overall effect of playing it after "Lovin’ You” was somewhat akin to treating a sprained ankle by submersing in ice, then applying heat.
Only without the health benefits.
And when Joe would try for that high note at the very end of the song, you can almost see him convulse spasmodically up on his toes and about to rip his pants from stem to stern and come up still a bit flat.
So there you have it.
Anyone seen Steve Holland?



WITH A CAR LIKE THIS, WHO NEEDS FM RADIO?

JU-JU

I watched Mackenzie Phillips on the Oprah Show last week.
My mind immediately went to the Mama’s and the Papa’s, the famous Vocal group from the mid-sixties. And when I think of them, I have to think of Mama Cass Elliot, whose warm distinctive voice was essential to the groups success. “Mama Cass” was known for her size (she was a big mama) and having been hit on the head by a copper pipe which miraculously extended her vocal range.
One of the best lines in rock is the recurring line in their song “Creeque Alley” that ends each stanza.
“No one is getting fat ‘cept for Mama Cass”
"Creeque Alley” is a song that in just a few minutes' running time manages to present an account of all the band's history up to that present time, and in pretty good detail..
It’s a hint at both Cass Elliot's weight and her relative commercial/artistic success in the pre-Mamas days.

Anyway, that’s not what this post is really about.
This post is really about the hoopla over the reunion of Mackenzie Phillips and Valerie Bertanelli, the two child stars of “One Day at a Time” on "OPRAH" last week..
It was supposed to be emotional and nostalgic, this reunion, but it seemed a bit contrived to me.
These people are stars, they are in the news, they have money to go anywhere anytime, and rack up frequent flyer miles like you wouldn’t believe.
If they have “lost” each other, its because they haven’t turned on their TV For the last 15 years and have managed to not see the tabloids at the grocery store.
Its not magic, its not amazing, its not even cathartic that these two wind up on Oprahs set.
Heartwarming, maybe, if you are into schmaltz.
Its predictable, and a sleight of hand sales pitch for Mackenzies book, God bless her heart.

No, this is what is amazing to me…

That four days ago I would talk to the mother a girlfriend I had but for a few weeks 31 years ago after seeing her last at Shavonnes funeral, and the first thing she would say to me was
“I think about you all the time, Steve”.
The story of Shavonne lies close to my secret heart; I talked to Shavonnes brother too, and was able to also share my dream with them, a dream I shared with you long ago.

I think it is noteworthy that I would look up an old acquaintance in Detroit Michigan and travel 41 years over time to be the first one to write on her newly formed Facebook wall. And that when I shared with her my post about "Stuttering Pete", that I would find that Pete is now a Disc Jockey for a local radio station, and funnier than ever.

But this is the one that takes the cake...
Three days ago I would put an inscription in a book that read
“Somewhere in this book it says “Hearts are tough, they mostly bend”
and ship that book faraway to a very dear friend that I had not seen or heard from in 33 years, only to have them read to me over the phone my inscription from their L.D. Bell Yearbook made in the spring of 1975 which ended like this:
“Just BEND a little bit, baby, but don’t break”

Man, thats some weird ass Ju-Ju there.

HOW TO CURE A LISP

Do not breath the “Green Gas” that Mel and I used as an initiation rite into our Chemistry Club which also required a $1 non-refundable fee before we administered the gas which would send you to the hospital.
It will not cure your lisp.
It will kill you.

No, to cure your lisp, you will need a live Chicken, a can of Whipped Topping and a Ball Peen Hammer. Take the chicken to a Bingo Parlor and buy six cards. Let the chicken play the cards while you huff the gas in the can of Whip Topping. When your chicken wins the $500 prize( or not, it doesn’t matter, but its nice if she wins) then hit her over the head with the ball peen hammer. On the way home, stop by the store for more Whip Topping to huff while you fry that chicken up for dinner. After dinner, you may still have a lisp, but you won’t be able to feel your mouth, so whats the difference?

WANG-CHUNG TONITE

I've been looking for something to post, and finally found a little inspiration...

It was the Opening Day of Deer Season, 1987. I was in the woods when I heard the Wang-Chung song "Everybody Have Fun Tonight" faintly through the trees. I followed the sound to a dilapidated three story building. It looked like George and Mary Baileys house from "Its a Wonderful Life"
The door swung open and I entered to find women everywhere in various stages of undress.
Two of them approached me and asked it I would like to "Wang-Chung tonite". I took off my blaze Orange cap and hunting vest and set down my gun. They asked that I leave my boots on.
I set about kissing the Blonde, while feeling up the other, a big busty Redhead.
This was more fun than hunting.
(Can I say that here?)
I moved my hand down from the redheads ample breast to between her legs and was surprised, no...SHOCKED to find a penis.
My mind was split into three parts....one part was how good a kisser the blonde presently was; two was how truly hot this redhead was,; and three what to do with this dick in my hand.

All I remember was thinking "Well, ol son, you do know what to do with a dick, don't you?" and that "this IS way more fun than hunting" so....what the hell?

Thank God I woke up before I got too carried away.
Thats my Wang-chung story and I never thought I would actually ever tell it.

A 9/11 RETROSPECTIVE

With all the entertaining I am doing over at Facebook, I forgot to post up my usual 9/11 story here.
I try to post it every year now, 'cept maybe I even forgot to last year. Its a story that goes almost like a Star Wars prequel. I hope it reminds you of how lucky we truly are to be Americans, and how unpredictable the future really is.

Everyone has their story to tell concerning 9/11 and so do I.

In February of 1993 I had been looking for a Chef position for several months. I finally found work with a good company out of Dallas called “Culinaire’ International” . They had their fingers in a lot of pots, so to speak, including several Private Clubs and a High End Catering operation that did a lot of business with Ross Perot. The biggest part of their operation was doing foodservice for some large concerns in the Trade Area of Dallas. In addition to the Apparell Mart (Clothing), the Info Mart (Technology) and Market Hall (Housewares and Furnishings), they also did events at the Dallas Convention Center. They worked out of a huge kitchen in the World Trade Center @ Dallas.

Bear with me here...

On a “try-out” basis, I was hired to work mainly on one event coming up- the “Mary Kay” convention @ the Convention Center. It was Breakfast, Lunch and Dinner for 10,000 ladies for 3 days. We spent 2 weeks operating as a food processor, sealing foods we prepared into bags and storing them in two 18 Wheel Trailers. This was all done in and just outside the World Trade Center@ Dallas.

When it came event time, the trailers and an awful lot of equipment went to the Convention Center from the World Trade Center. Included in the Equipment were about a dozen of what we called “Boiling Oceans”. They were big water baths or “Bain Maries” as we call them in the business. I don’t know how many gallons of water they held, but they were about 12’ x3’ and 2 feet deep. We used them to heat up all the food that we had been "Seal-a-Mealing” for the last 2 weeks. The heat was generated by big propane tanks, not the backyard BBQ kind, but the one’s that look like Torpedoes.

The 3 days went smoothly, and I was impressed by the company and they seemed to like me. It took 2 days of hard work to get the Conevention Center cleaned up and everything back to the World Trade Center.
On my last day there, one of the last tasks I had was to take the leftover Propane tanks and put them in cages on the 2nd floor of the World Trade Center. On the way up I checked to make sure the valves were completely closed. Outside the cage, I again checked to make sure the valves were completely shut. And after putting them in the cages ….checked again. All 40 Propane Tanks are secure. Cage is locked.

An hour later I was on my way home. It’s a beautiful February day in 1993 and I am excited about the prospect of going to work for “Culinaire International”. At some point I turn on the radio for some tunes but what I get is a “Special Report”.
It is breaking news and what I hear is this:

““There has been an explosion at the World Trade Center. I can see smoke pouring out of the 2nd Floor window and people are being evacuated. Emergency vehicles are arriving but we have no further information. Stay tuned for further information..”“

““WHOA!““I am freakin’ out.

I says to myself:
““I know none of those tanks were open. I checked them all. I double checked them all…”
“Then what caused the explosion?” the other voice in my head asks.“

Should I go back and explain that it could not be the tanks on the second floor that I had “Secured” that had caused this explosion? Sure, I’ll tell the newsguy that and the backdrop can be the smoke pouring out of the 2nd floor window.
Like I said, I’m freakin’ out.
I frantically search the radio dial all the way home. One more report confirms the explosion being at the World Trade Center and that the smoke is coming out of windows all the way up to the 5th floor now and there appear to be only a few minor injuries. Information is still sketchy as this has just occurred within the hour.
Freakin’ out.
I'm losin' it.
Pull into my driveway, run into the house to turn on the news. I am sure that not only have my chances at”Culinaire” gone up in smoke, but I am forever to be known as the guy that blew up the WTC @ Dallas.
T.V. is on.
I can stop freakin’ out.

By coincidence some fanatic had parked a Van full of fertilizer in the garage of the World Trade Center in New York City.
It was February 26, 1993 and that event that day would come to be known as the , "First World Trade Center Bombing".
That was 13 (sic) years ago and I had no idea at the time just how common* this kind of thing might become.
I had no idea I would wake up one morning to find someone had flown a plane into each of those two towers.

That’s my story.
*This was written some years ago. Fortunately the steps that have been taken to help protect us have worked well. It has not become a common occurance on our soil , but like Kissyface commented a few years ago, some folks have really made a foul use of us perceiving it that way.

CONVERSATION WITH SUSAN

“Susan, I’ve got a date with a lady Friday night!”
“Really? How did you manage that?”
“Well, she said that she might be going to the show, and I told her that if she went, I‘d meet her there, but if she didn’t go, I wouldn’t go myself.”
“You think that’s a date?”
“Yeah!”
“That is not a date!”
“Sure it is”
(laughing)
“Steve, you have a funny idea of what a date is”
(laughing)
“Yes, I know. You got to understand….if I am in line at the grocery store, and the lady behind me happens to glance at me…well…that’s a date. (laughing) And if she actually makes eye-contact and smiles, man, that’s a great date.”
“You are really sick aren’t you”
“Yeah, all us men are. If a girl happens to smile at us, all we can think is “Uh-oh, she wants me”. That’s just how we think. Surely you knew that.”
(hesitating)”No, I’m afraid I didn’t”
(Cheerily) “So the thing about my date Friday night…the way I see it…and you have to listen close…
I think maybe that she thinks maybe that I think maybe it’s a date so….Its a date!”
(long pause)
“When is the last time you had a date, Steve?”
"I had a date New Years Eve”
"Really? What year Steve?"
(long pause)
"Oh, I don't know, like 1999 maybe?"

WHERE ARE THEY NOW?

My previous post was a re-post from a 4 part story I told last year. I have since added two more parts to the story, with this being the Final (?) Chapter...

"‘Ol Bulletholes cannot speak for any of the characters, unreal imagined or conglomerated into his story about fightin’ Joe. He can however, speak for himself.
Bulletholes resides in Bedford, not far from the old Boys Ranch for Orphans.
He works a job as a Shipping and Receiving Clerk.
Bulletholes is a very grateful Recovering Addict with 419 days of clean time.
He spends his time spreading the message to the still suffering addict:"
“ANYONE CAN STOP DOING DRUGS, LOSE THE DESIRE TO USE AND FIND A NEW WAY TO LIVE”

A VIEW FROM THE SMOKING AREA

"The Continuing chronicles of Fightin' Joe" Part III



“Howdy do there!

You bet I got somethin for the head!
Come on, come stand over here, it’s the best spot on Campus. Want a hit? Yeah, its Wahokkan and it is good. See, from here you can see down the side of the building both ways and if Potter or Coach Dibble show up, we got a runnin start to the Parking Lot. They'll never know what hit 'em. Lobo is out there with all her girls. See that “72 Civic, the Purple one with the smoke comin’ out the rear window? Theres more girlie-girls packed into there right now than a Future Teachers of America Convention. Sometimes they let you party with em, but you gotta wait for the invite. Won't take long, man.
When the wind is just right, comin out of the lot, you can get high just standin here, and seein’ as how jus’ ‘bout every other car is packed with Freaks all tuned in to KZEW its like were getting’ “Smoke on the Water”… in Quadraphonic too. Pretty cool
From here we can see everything. We got a better view of the Parking Lot and the Drivers Ed course over there than Mr. Purcell up there in the tower. They put that in last year, looks like something out of a Yogi Bear vs. The Park Ranger episode. Purcell thinks from up there with his Binoculars he’ll be able to see whats goin’ on inside the vehicles while everybody’s practicing driving.
Say again? Yeah, it looks like something a Boy Scout Troop made. He climbs three flights of ladders every day to get up there.
No, you’re right, they didn’t spend much money on it and it don’t look real safe.

Uh oh, there goes Fightin Joe. Looks like he's on a mission. Looks like they are headed to Drivers Ed. He’s got Tiny Fontanadana with him too. They’re probably lookin’ for someone for Tiny to beat up while Fightin’ Joe holds ‘em. Tiny is little, but he’s a coward and that makes him dangerous, especially since he’s Joe’s only friend besides Betsye.

But don’t look now cause here comes Cross-eyed Myra in that Rabbit Jacket of hers. 88 degree's in the shade, Myra has gotta wear that jacket. Her mommas REAL French, barely even speaks English, but Myra is from Brooklyn. She likes to think she's French though.
Listen! Hear that squeaky sound?
Its that Patent Leather Ultra Miniskirt she wears. Man she’s really truckin’ ain’t she? Check it out, she’s gonna want a light for her cigarette…she’ll let it dangle until she decides to make Gentlemen out of us, and ask us if we ain't gonna light her cigarette.

Hey Myra whats happenin'?!
No, ma’am, I do not know what Joe and Tiny are up to besides no good. Lookin for who? What do they want with Buck? He did what? You don’t mean it! He and Betsye? But she’s his Half-Step Sister. Yeah, I guess that don't plug no holes. Aren’t I gonna what? Oh sure, here you go…man I need a cig too after hearin’ that shit.
Buck and Betsye! My my!
Ok, catch ya later!

Man! Buck has been makin' out his own step sister, Betsye, which just happens to be the most notoriously bad-assed’ dude in the world's girlfriend. Fightin’Joe must be wiggin’ out. Someone's gonna get hurt, I guarantee you me.
Buck better keep his ass well hid.
Whats that? Me and Cross-Eyed Myra?? No, not me…everyone thinks I am but the fact of the matter is I’m the only one thats not.
Yeah, it gets pretty intense around here for sure. Whats your name? Good to know ya, Stan-man…
They call me Bulletholes. See ya ‘round”