ABSENT MINDED THOUGHTS

2006-10-20T16:07:00.000-07:00

Lynyrd Skynyrd - Free Bird (live@Oakland)

R.I.P.
RONNIE VAN ZANT
STEVE GAINES
CASSIE GAINES
DEAN KILPATRICK
OCTOBER 20th 1977

2006-09-04T14:23:00.000-07:00

Eric Clapton - Layla (live)

I know I haven't been around lately (new job and all), but it's my day off...so I though I'd post this...see if it works...I'll post some musings soon enjoy

Guns N' Roses - Aerosmith: Mama Kin

2006-08-13T17:01:00.000-07:00


Guns N' Roses playing "mama kin" live in paris in 1992

IS IT JUST ME?…

2006-08-09T16:18:00.000-07:00

Or does it seem like the average, everyday, bum getting more aggressive? I used to be one of those people who let things go. I often gave a person who was seeking a handout the benefit of the doubt. I figured maybe they weren’t ALL winos and crack-heads, some could possibly be out of work Enron executives (somewhat lower than a crack-head) or maybe a poor bastard who had his wife leave him and take everything he owns, but whatever the story…I try to be compassionate in a standoffish sort of way. Hell…I’ve even been known to let go of a dollar or two when I had it to spare.

So, that is why I get particularly PISSED OFF when a bum gives me shit. That’s right wash my mouth out with soap, but that’s just what this bum did to me today…because I wouldn’t give him a dollar.

My lawnmower ran out of gas while I was mowing the lawn this morning. So I grabbed up my little 1 ½ gal gas can and trudged up to the service station. I went in and told the attendant that I needed $2.00 worth of regular and proceeded out the door to PUMP#1.

As I was headed out the door some guy said “Hey man! I ain’t seen you in a long time! How you doing?” I didn’t have a clue as to whether I had ever met this person or not, but it’s not unusual for people to know me, and me NOT know them. I’ve lived and worked in the neighborhood most of my life, people come and go, but I’m usually a constant.

I acknowledged his greeting with the customary head nod and “I’m fine.” I usually keep my responses brief with questionable people, IE: Those that SAY they know me, but I don’t recollect ever meeting. There is usually some request to follow, so, why engage them in conversation? I already have an idea where it’s going to end.

Sure enough…as I’m pumping my measly $2.00 worth of gas into my can he makes his first pitch.

“Hey man, I hate to bother you and all, but can I borrow a $1.00 from ya?”

I replied… “Sorry man, I spent my LAST $2.00 on gas for my lawnmower.”

Now this should have ended it with most people, but not this persistent bastard… “Aw come on” he said, “I know you gotta dollar, just a dollar man?” “I need some gas to.”

It continued much the same way while I was trying to fill up my little can, paying close attention so as not to spill one drop of the precious, overpriced, liquid.

Finally as I was putting the cap on the can, he began to walk away, but not before muttering… “Damn white people…won’t even give a brother a dollar.” Then he turned around and hollered… “You MUTHAF**KERS is the REASON GAS IS SO HIGH!!”

I just looked at him and thought… Is that anyway to get someone to give you something? I mean lets face it… I knew if I was to give him a dollar I would never get it back, and I wouldn’t EXPECT it back. But, don’t PISS ON MY HEAD AND TELL ME IT’S RAINING either! Don’t get mad at me when your DUMBASS, PANHANDLING, PLOY DON’T WORK!

I wonder if he would have commented on my lack of pigmentation if I had given him a dollar? More than likely this ASS-HOLE would have asked if that was all I had?

I wonder if ALL US MUTHAF**KERS would have been to blame if I had given him a dollar? Or would just some of us muthaf**kers have been to blame?

I guess it’s a bold new world when the bums are trying to impose white guilt on someone who is just barely getting by himself, but isn’t hanging out at the gas station yet.

What really PISSES ME OFF, is that if I had money to spare…I may have given it to him. But, what if I had…and then he decides to pull the same shit on someone else who was not in a position to give him something…like he did to me?

It ALMOST makes want to give up on humanity.

I remember coming up as a kid and hanging around the neighborhood winos. They were a different breed back then. Most of em were affable even when they were sloppy drunk. Kinda like Curtis Lowe, they were neighborhood characters whose drunken exploits entertained the neighborhood. Hell, you might even be led to bring one over for Thanksgiving or at least bring him a plate.

Whatever happened to those guys? Is there some kind of derelicts union or something now? Some kind of collective bargaining for street bums? I don’t remember the winos of old feeling like they were entitled to anything. They were bums, they knew it, and they blamed themselves. They usually ended their pitch with… “please.”

That’s why I am calling a temporary hold on ALL my contributions to BUMS… until they bring back some CIVILITY to begging.

If you are a BUM, and you have CHOSEN to be one… don’t be afraid to ask for a handout, but be humble enough to recognize that YOU ARE NOT ENTITLED TO ONE!

Oh… and entertain me or something…damn-it !

http://www.bumwine.com/

WORKING WITH DAD

2006-07-21T16:50:00.000-07:00

I hear a lot about father and son bonding. I’ve experienced it firsthand on a fishing trip or on a trip to buy my first car. However, I have never had a bonding experience while WORKING with or for my dad.

I can only come to ONE CONCLUSION: We are BOTH too HARDHEADED to truly get along in a work environment.

Don’t get me wrong, I respect my dad. I understand that he has years of experience on me, but he WILL NOT admit that he is WRONG about anything. It has been like that most of my life and it hasn’t changed in 45yrs.

My dad got me into the Millwright Union when I was a kid. I went through 4yrs (split up with 2yrs in between) of apprenticeship. The union said I was good enough to be a journeyman millwright after 4yrs, but if I ever worked on a job with my dad (and I have)…you would have thought I was a 1st year apprentice who didn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground. Not only that but GOD HELP me if I got on a job and my dad was foreman. I might as well have been a RED-HEADED STEP CHILD. My old man would work me TWICE as hard as anyone else. I understood his reasoning behind it, but that didn’t mean I had to like it. Whatever happened to nepotism? Couldn’t I get ONE TIT JOB?

I volunteered to do a job for my dad (clear 300ft of land for a fence line) and now it’s like I’m a 1st year apprentice all over again. Apparently I can’t read a tape measure? Apparently I can’t set a bench mark? Apparently the bench mark that he set is wrong, but it’s my fault? No! I know I set the damn benchmark in the RIGHT PLACE! He knows I set the benchmark in the RIGHT PLACE! But he ain’t gonna say so. Nope, he is gonna go with his memory and come off of what he thinks is the right benchmark which is the corner of someone else’s property and not the corner of his property. Yes dad there is red flag there, but it’s not your red flag…your red flag is where MY BENCHMARK IS!

Frustrating as it all is, I’ll finally acquiesce and end up clearing half a frigging forest and then (and only then) will it come out that my benchmark is right.

I love the old man, but damn he’s hardheaded…so, I guess I come by it naturally.

I need to keep a firm reign on my tongue, do as I’m told. I don’t know how much longer he’ll be around... No need to let a fence come between us.

PARIS SNUBBED JACKSONVILLE!

2006-07-03T12:53:00.000-07:00

Club Paris!?!

No, no, no…I don’t mean hit the bitch. I mean Paris snubbed the opening of her new nightclub in Jacksonville… CLUB PARIS.”

I’m really not surprised that Paris was a no show, I doubt she really knows where Jacksonville is. Yeah, she made an appearance here when the Super Bowl was in town, but it’s not like the dumbass piloted the private jet that flew her into town herself.

I’m a little more interested in why anyone thinks a CLUB PARIS is gonna survive in Jacksonville anyway? Don’t get me wrong… I’m all for bringing more attention to the city, I’m all for revitalizing downtown, but CLUB PARIS seems kind of Haute Culture to me (I have no idea if that is even a phrase).

I propose that the citizens of Jacksonville give Paris a chance to make up for snubbing the 2000 invited guest who attended the opening of her ritzy, overpriced, den of iniquity (ok… I know that’s an archaic term, but I’ve always wanted to use it), but what could we invite her to make an appearance at?

She seems to like football (at least Super Bowl parties anyway), maybe we could invite her to a Jaguar’s game? How about a Lynyrd Skynyrd concert? Maybe she could dance nekkid at the Gold Club? She could throw out the first pitch at a Suns game or bring a new episode of the Simple Life to town and have her wait tables at a Sonny’s Barbecue on the Westside? Oh… what to do, what to do?

Forgive my sarcasm…, but I could give a rats ass, as to whether Paris snubbed the opening of her new club, or not. I think it’s pretty telling of her own opinion about fame and celebrity. SHE’S A FLASH IN THE PAN AND SO IS HER CLUB! SHE KNOWS IT!!!

Hell, give me something tried and true… like a Hard Rock Café or a Planet Hollywood. Somebody on a message board wrote just what I think about Paris in a response to a post about this subject… “People famous for being famous...pfffft!”- TENENIT

I wonder if there is a death pool for nightclub ventures? If so, this one should be on the list… I may be wrong, but I don’t see it lasting long.
Bring us a HARDROCK DAMNIT!!!

Here is a review from someone who actually got to attend the opening of the club. His review is much more polished than my scathing criticism of a pop culture tragedy in the making.

To borrow a line from Monty Python…“AND NOW FOR SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT” (Well almost)…

PARIS HILTON JOKES
Q: What did Paris Hilton’s right leg say to the left leg?
A: Nothing. They've never met.
A: Between the two of us, we can make a lot of money.

Q: How can you tell when Paris is dating?
A: By the buckle print on her forehead.

Q: What goes VROOM, SCREECH, VROOM, SCREECH, VROOM, SCREECH?
A: Paris going through a flashing red light.

Q: Why can't Paris get a drivers license?
A: Because every time the instructor says "Let's park" she jumps in the back seat.

Q: Why does Paris have TGIF on her shoes?
A1: Toes Go In First.
A2: Tits Go In Front.

Paris was walking along, when she looked up to observe a bird flying overhead. Suddenly, the bird drops a load when it was directly over her. Paris says,"Good thing I had my mouth open, or that would've hit me right in the face!!!"

Paris and Nicole are walking along in a park. Nicole says suddenly, "Awww, look at the dead birdie."Paris stops, looks up, and says, "Where?"

Q: What do Paris Hilton and a beer bottle have in common?
A: They're both empty from the neck up.

ONE OF A KIND

2006-06-26T17:18:00.000-07:00

Today a group of bloggers are mourning the passing of one of their own, Rob Smith AKA Acidman.

I came across his blog a little more than a year ago. I was beginning to get interested in blogging and was reading various blogs to see what was out there, looking for a bit of inspiration. Most of what I had read discouraged me a bit. Some of it was too intellectual, some of it was not intellectual enough. Some of it was too political or seemed to be trying to promote some political agenda, and some of it was just plain drivel.

Then I came across “GUT RUMBLES” and my outlook about blogging changed in an instant.
This man could be inspiring one moment and scary the next, but he always spoke his mind. He didn’t dance to anybodies tune, except his own.

I never had the pleasure of meeting Rob in person and have only exchanged one brief email (about Delbert McClinton of all things) with him, and he did link to this post once. I am only one of many who have never met Rob personally, but has been deeply touched by his writings.

There may be others with similar qualities, but Rob was ONE OF A KIND, unique and yet approachable.

To Sam, Quinton, and the rest of the family…I wish you all the best and offer my heart felt condolences.

PORTABLE TOILET SHORTAGE?

2006-06-24T12:34:00.000-07:00

"Once a toilet has been used on a construction site, you don't want to put it anywhere but a construction site," she said. "You wouldn't take one of those toilets and send it to a wedding." (SOURCE).

There is a lot of truth in that quote that I have used for an opener. In fact I have a great deal of experience (most of it bad) with portable toilets found on construction sites.

I was a Millwright for 19yrs. I had to use those temporary facilities on a number of occasions. I have never been in one that I would consider to be “Martha Stewart” clean, but some are passable. However, those that are passable are rarely found on construction sites (unless they are fresh off the truck).

I can relate a number of bad PortOlet experiences, but I’ll only share two of them with you. It’s not that I mind talking about it, I just figure you have better things to do with your time than to read a detailed list of my 19yrs of PortOlet experiences.

One time involves being called out to a job one early July morning. I had been drinking all day and into the evening of the previous day. I probably had 3hrs sleep when I got the call to go to work.

So, hung-over and feeling like what one might find in a PortOlet, I drug my tired ass into a paper mill in North Florida. The temperature was already in the mid 80s by the time I got to the job site, and was well into the 90s by the time afternoon break had rolled around.

As bad as I was feeling I had naturally skipped breakfast and had only a couple of bites off of a sandwich and a jumbo glass of iced tea for lunch. After returning to work for a few minutes I felt the need to relieve myself of the jumbo tea which I had for lunch.

I made my way to the nearest PortOlet determined to relieve myself, return to work, get the job done, and head to the nearest beer store to self-medicate my aching head.

If the temperature outside is in the mid 90s, one can only imagine what the temperature is inside the confined quarters of a God-awful PortOlet. I knew there would be a rancid odor so I had prepared myself by taking in some good air (if there is such a thing in a paper mill) outside the facility and taking shallow breaths through my mouth inside the facility. This is a time honored method of breathing in such places that has served me well in the past.

I bravely opened the door and began my breathing exercise. Of course, the furnace like condition that hit me in the face as I opened the door was horrendous (but not unexpected). What took me by surprise was the huge, brown, anaconda like, monstrous turd, that was threatening to escape the confines of the small commode! It was as big as my forearm! How it got to such monstrous proportions I will never know, suffice it to say I have never seen anything (from a human source) like it before or since.

Naturally I gasped in surprise, and in so doing, I forgot all about my time-tested method for breathing. I got the smell, the heat, and a visual (that still gives me nightmares on occasion)… all at once! The iced tea I had ingested didn’t have to exit through the urinary tract, it came straight back up.

The next bad experience in a PortOlet happened on a pay day, of all days. I had been working for Milton Wood on a shutdown at the paper mill in Palatka. I had gotten paid and cashed my check at lunch. I was saving for a concert ticket (or something), but I also had to put some money away in the bank back home to cover some upcoming expenses.

So, I went into the PortOlet to answer natures call when I suddenly felt compelled to count and separate my money in the tiny cubical. My main reason for doing this was because it was private, I don’t like flashing my money around people and I had a small amount of privacy in the john.

I opened my wallet and begin to thumb through the tens, twenties, etc., when suddenly a loud knock on the PortOlet door startled me and caused me to loosen my grip on the wallet. With a sickening plop it left my hand and landed in the toilet!

I made a quick mental calculation of the money I had already counted through (about $600), weighed the consequences of possibly contracting Hepatitis (or God knows what) from doing what I knew had to be done, rolled up my shirt sleeve and stuck my hand right in! Surprisingly, my old LEVI’S Velcro surf wallet didn’t sink. My wallet was (for the most part) on top of the mass of toilet paper, turd, and urine.

I hurriedly opened the door nearly hitting the Iron Worker (who was standing outside) with it. He gave me a wide berth as I ran to one of the fire hoses and began to hose off my wallet, hand, and arm. I tried my best not to use that hand for the rest of the day, if it involved ANYTHING that might bring it into contact with my mouth. The rest of the day I smoked my cigs with my left hand, drank my soda at break with my left hand etc. I did this even after I had found some soap in the company break room.

Those are my two, most notable, bad experiences involving PortOlets. The only good thing (in this case good does not mean redeeming) that I have ever found about PortOlets is the graffiti that is left on the walls by shit-house pundit’s the world over.

I leave you with these words of wisdom found on the walls of a PortOlet years ago. I don’t recall which one of the many that I have visited they were in, but you can rest assured that they indeed came from a PortOlet wall…

“He can’t WELD and he can’t FIT
But the PORT-O-LET MAN knows his SHIT!”

Haven’t heard enough about PortOlets today…here’s more

The Worst Job Ever?

2006-06-17T12:41:00.000-07:00

Alright, I know I shouldn’t complain. I mean; after all there are people who have worse jobs than I have at this time. Hell, there’s even people who don’t have any job at all. But as far as my experience goes, this job is the worst that I have worked so far.
To begin with, there is the ridiculously low wage I am receiving. It’s so low that I won’t reveal it, even in this protected post.

Yup, that’s right I’m writing this in protected mode. I don’t see myself with this employer much longer. He’s paying me under the table, so no taxes are coming out, but there’s no compensation for me if I get hurt or fired either. All that and I’m the one who will have to face the music with the IRS sooner or later. But fact is, if I keep working at this rate of pay I could legally go exempt for this year…you do the math on that one.

I’m working at least 12hrs a day for wages that migrant farm workers would turn their noses up at. I feel pretty sure that no illegal is gonna come take this job from me…that’s how bad it is.
Everybody (except me) drinks on the job.

Yesterday, the mechanic (shop manager) passed out drunk underneath a car he was working on. The job he was working on had been stretched out from 4hrs to 3 days. Another mechanic on the job finished up for the passed out mechanic and it still wasn’t done right. When the customer came in to pick up his vehicle, the owner wouldn’t let him take it out of the shop unless it was paid for. The guy and his wife were complaining (legitimately in my opinion), that they wanted to at least test drive the car before they paid for it. The owner (who remained in his office) said no. The couple called the Police (who have been up to this shop 7 times in the past 2 weeks), who in turn tried to mediate between the shop owner and the dissatisfied couple. The owner had the 20yr old girl who runs the office and the other shop outside talking to the Police and the couple. It was a big cluster f**k.

Finally the couple said they would pay with their credit card, and they were told the credit card machine was down, that it would have to be a cash transaction. I personally think that the owner has either lost his merchant account or he didn’t want the credit card company to dispute the bill. Either way, it’s just plain shitty on his part to pull some cockamamie, jack-leg, half-assed, Mickey Mouse, bull-shit!

That’s not the only thing going on there. The guy in charge of tire sales is a crooked bastard as well. I’ve graded used tires for 20yrs, going back to the days of grading casings for retreads. I’ve always graded conservatively, I believe that if one is to err he should do so on the side of caution. This jerk-off took a tire out of the discard pile I was grading. The tire looked good on the outside (it was a full-tread, low profile, 22in tire), but it was obviously ruined on the inside (the liner was ruined), making it a hazard to even inflate the tire on the tire machine…never mind running the damned thing on a car. He said in front of some of these young kids that he’s training… “I can get $100 for that tire.”

I told him that one of two things was gonna happen. 1) The tire was gonna blow up on the changer or 2) whatever gangsta he sold it to was gonna come back and put a cap in his dumb-ass and take his $100 back. I’ve lived in this neighborhood for 40yrs, most of the people I grew up with are either dead or in prison, there is a reason I’m not…I don’t intentionally set out to screw people, and if it happens unintentionally…I try to set it right. This place has a “no refund” policy. I can see that if you are doing your best to be on the up & up, but if you continually set out to screw people, somebody is gonna get their satisfaction back out of you.

The same mechanic that passed out under the car (he’s a nice guy, just a lush), has a crack-ho girl friend who was fighting another crack-ho on Main St, in front of the shop, the other day. That particular day a cop just happened to drive by and see the two drunk, coked out, whores rolling around on the sidewalk. How they kept from getting arrested, I’ll never know.

There’s more that has gone on since I’ve been there, but I don’t feel like going into it right now. Let’s just suffice it to say, that I’ll be lucky to make another week and when I leave… I have a good mind to call the DOT on their ass. I know where that screwed up tire (and bunch more like it are).

Does that make me a rat? Possibly, but remember what I said about satisfaction? Screw me and see if I don’t get some!

Oh…BTW: As pissed as I am about these low-life, crooked, no-good, bastards, I’m working for…It’s a rant about them…not you.

I LOVE YOU GUYS
Have a great weekend.

CHANGES

2006-06-03T16:41:00.000-07:00

Boy what a week. There has been good news, bad news, and mediocre news in my world this week.

BAD NEWS.

It seems that there is a death watch for a good friend of mine. This guy is only 46yrs old, yet he’s on his deathbed in the hospital as I type this.

25yrs ago this guy was strong as an ox. He could bench press 300lbs, he was a hard worker and took care of his body. When we first started hanging out he was into the whole health food, exercise thing. He worked hard and he played hard as well. We were what you might call drinking buddies. We both liked to drink. It eventually cost him his marriage and now it looks like it’s gonna cost him his life.

Five years ago he was diagnosed with diabetes, something that (at the time) could have been regulated with paying strict attention to his diet and monitoring his blood sugar. He was also advised to give up drinking or at least cut back to a reasonable level. He made several unsuccessful attempts to do that. He was in and out of rehab several times, but always fell back into the lifestyle of alcohol dependency.

Like a lot of us (I’ve been there), he had his reasons (or excuses) for falling off the wagon. Sometimes it was pressure from his job, sometimes he blamed his family (stepfather, sometimes his ex wife), sometimes it just seemed to him that everybody was against him. Friends (myself included) and family alike tried to talk to him or just get him to realize what he was doing to himself. But, in his eyes it seemed that we were just preaching to him.

I did my best to lead by example, I didn’t preach at him about his drinking (I like to think I could empathize with him), I just hoped that he could see through me that someone could go on with life and find happiness without a drink in his hand. Sadly, he was just tortured by too many inner demons… he tried unsuccessfully to let go of the bottle, but it wouldn’t let go of him.

He now has Cirrhosis of the liver, made all the more deadly by hepatitis C. They have pumped the poison out of his system several times, this last time they said it may take 4 days of waiting before they can pump out any more and even then it’s only gonna prolong the inevitable. He has asked that his pick-up truck, his two bass guitars and property go to his 14yr old daughter, as well as his insurance money when she is old enough.

I can’t get in to see him right now, I’m afraid the only time I’ll get to see him is at his viewing, before he’s cremated. I hope that when this is all over he’ll find that peace he was always looking for.

[Note: This tribute to my friend was posted on my Xanga. I post it again here, because I know that many of you don't read Xanga.]

THE EVOLUTION OF COOL (PART 1)

2006-05-27T17:16:00.000-07:00

Some times I just feel old. I really shouldn’t, but I do. I reflect on a lot of things, not anything that’s gonna change the world or anything, but I reflect nevertheless. Today, I came to the conclusion that I am no longer cool.

Back in the day I was cool (damn…sounding older by the minute), now it seems like I’m that grumpy old man (like every neighborhood has), who stands in the doorway in his drawers at night, hollering out into the street to “TURN THAT FUCKING MUSIC DOWN!”

Yeah, I know we played our music loud. Hell, I annoyed the hell out my neighbors…playing “Iron Man” incredibly loud and sloppy on my old Sears Harmony guitar when I was kid. I don’t know which was worse, my repeated attempts to master the old Black Sabbath standard or the pitiful wail of every dog in the neighborhood. However, I had a purpose in mind…I WAS AN ARTIST DAMN IT!

That brings me to the meaningless point of this essay… “The Evolution of Cool.”
I’m approaching this essay by examining what was cool in my dad’s day, my day, and what’s cool to the 18-20 something crowd today, but aggravates the piss out of me .

AUTOMOTIVE…

DAD‘S DAY: 40 Fords, 55-59 Chevy’s, 60s Mopar. (Note: my dad usually drove what was popular at the time, but I remember him having a # of cars that might not have fit into the cool category at that time…IE: He had 3 Metropolitans, a Packard, and a Ranchero).
Most cool cars were 2dr Hardtops and guzzled gas, gas, gas.

MY DAY: 60s Mustangs, 60s -70s Mopar, Corvettes, Volkswagen Beetles, Chevy Vans (Full size, no such thing as a Mini-Van), Four Wheel Drive Pickups (These were actually taken off the road back in my day and they didn’t cost an arm and a leg).
Again, most cool cars were 2dr Hardtops.

KIDS TODAY: 80s-90s Used Police Cars, SUV’s (that rarely see any off road conditions), Japanese Imports (with ground effects).
Nowadays, most of the cars that kids consider cool, are 4drs (even the new cars).

MY ANALYSES: I think kids today like 4dr vehicles for convenience. Not the convenience of being able to chauffer around the family, but the convenience of being able to bail out of a car after a high-speed chase involving the Police. It’s so inconvenient to have to push up the backrest of the passenger in front of you, when you’re in a hurry to exit the vehicle with the law hot on your heels, and exiting through the window with those baggy clothes on is just out of the question.

Which brings us to the next question…Why the interest in old Police cars? In my humble opinion it’s simple. They want to know what it’s like to ride in the front of one. That, and the fact that most of those old Police cars have adequate trunk space for a decent size boom box.

SUV’s? You don’t expect them to store ALL their weapons in their baggy pants do ya?

Lastly, the Japanese imports with the ground effects? I guess that’s just the effects of Hollywood on upper middle class youth. It was glamorized in “The Fast and the Furious,” so it’s cool now.

I’m bound to repeat this sentiment as I continue to through together random essays on “Pop Culture” at irregular intervals, but here it is anyway… “I fear that the only satisfaction I receive as an old man, will be living long enough to see the kids of today’s generation piss off their parents, just like they pissed off us, and we pissed off our parents.”

Yup, I guess it’s just a vicious cycle. I can almost hear my mom’s voice calling from back in the days of my youth… “Just wait till YOU have kids!”

SOMEBODY HELP ME, FOR ONCE SOME DEMOCRATS ARE MAKING SENSE!

2006-05-19T17:26:00.000-07:00

First of all, let me say… “I am not a Democrat, nor am I a Republican, I am in fact a Nonpartisan Voter.”

Prior to the last Presidential campaign I was a registered Democrat who rarely voted that way in the National elections. Oh, I would sometimes vote Democrat in the regional and local elections (more often the local elections). My dad was a Democrat, my mom was a Democrat, so I just kind of fell right in there when I was old enough to vote and registered with the Democratic party.

The thing was though, when my mom and dad registered with the Democratic party, it was somewhat closer to how the Republican party is today. It certainly wasn’t as extremist or liberal as the Democratic party today.

I was also a Union man for 19yrs. I think most people have a pretty good idea about the ties between organized labor and the Democratic party.

In my humble opinion the Democratic party was in decline by the time I got to be old enough to vote (Carter/Reagan), and has gotten steadily worse.

George Bush was a better alternative than John Kerry (no doubt in my mind about that), but what the hell has he shown us lately? If we are gonna fight a “War on Terror,” why are the boarders wide ass open? Why are we allowing outsiders and rebel rousers to decide OUR POLICY on immigration? What will it take for the man in the White House to recognize what’s going on? Another Civil War? Another 911?

I received the forwarded email (below) from well known local Democrat, Andy Johnson. Andy has a colorful local radio show here in North Florida. He is a liberal Democrat, but I’ll be damned if the email he forwarded to me doesn’t have some valid points and ask some valid questions.
Do I agree with all of it? Not exactly, I question point (8)…in my opinion only LEGAL immigrants are entitled to a living wage. Illegal aliens aren’t entitled to shit.

Am I gonna revert back to being a Democrat? Highly unlikely! However, something’s got to change. We need a viable alternative to this two party system that we have now, we need a party that genuinely cares about the future of this country. Remember the Alamo? Anybody?

BUSH IMMIGRATION PROPOSALS ARE A FRAUD

(1) I simply cannot believe that George Bush is sending our National Guard to the Mexican Border without any protection. Does he not realize that the "illegal" drug runners from Mexico are armed? What will protect these guardsman from any sniper shots that may be fired at them? How can any of these guardsmen detain any drug runner or any "illegal" border trespasser until the border patrol arrives if he is unarmed? I say this, that if any of our guardsmen in this border area is wounded or killed for not being armed to protect themselves, then George Bush should be impeached immediately.

(2) Bush did not provide a moratorium to "temporary" close our Mexico boarder to all immigrant workers or border crossovers, until the present proposed immigration laws in Congress have been "fully" implemented and also operational.

(3) No annual immigration "cap" was placed on the number of immigrants that would be allowed into this Nation in the future after this new proposed immigration program is enacted into law by our Republican U.S. Congress.

(4) No provision was made to protect our public school systems and the tax payers that fund them. Bush could have accomplished this by requesting the immigrant "parents" of the school children to show proof that they are legal "parent" immigrants at the time they enroll their children into any of our public schools each year, or "that an application has been made" by the parent to file for "legal" immigration status under this new Senate proposed immigration law; before any student is permitted to attend any U.S. public school within the United States. This would be one way to entice the present "illegal" immigrants now in this Nation to register for proper "legal" citizenship. This proposal would also save our taxpayers money that could be utilized for construction of additional classrooms as a result of our over populated communities and school enrolments.

(5) Bush proposed that the present "illegal" immigrants must provide a background check PRIOR to receiving their citizenship AFTER their TEN year stay in this Nation. Give me a damn break, this Nation should require a background check right now in regard to their criminal records that they may have committed while they where in their country of Mexico. If any immigrant has a previous Mexico criminal record, this person should be deported immediately. This would save our law enforcement agencies millions of dollars now or in the future in relation to law enforcement expenses, prosecution, and incarceration expenses in regard to potential criminals.

(6) Any U.S. Citizen, business employer, or temporary business employment firm must provide "family" health care insurance for any immigrant employee regardless of their status. Should any employer hire any immigrant for employment in this Nation, this employer must provide health insurance for all employees within this business firm and shall maintain this insurance at the "employers" expense for a period of one year. After one year, the expense will be divided between the employee and the employer. This proposal would save our taxpayers millions of dollars in health care costs for those who have no "family" health insurance.

(7) Bush did not propose that the present Minimum wage in this Nation should be increased to all workers of this Nation to provide a decent wage for everyone including all immigrants regardless of their status. He also did not impose any stiff penalties on any employer who failed to pay the National or State minimum wages in regard to all immigrant workers regardless of their immigration status.

(8) Bush did not impose any prison sentence for any employer who may have broken our laws regarding the employment or checking the legal status of any immigrant employee. From my perspective, any U.S. employer or U.S. citizen who hired an "illegal" immigrant in the year of 2005 to the enactment date of any pending immigration bill, must therefore pay a fine of $2,000 for each" illegal immigrant that he had hired within this identical interim period. After the enactment of any new Congressional immigration law for the future, it should therefore be mandated that if any U.S. employer should hire any "illegal" immigrant or fails to check the legal status of this identical immigrant; any employee or the employer of this U.S. business shall be in violation of the law for not verifying the information or legal status of any hired immigrant, and shall be subject to a fine of no less than $2,000 for each immigrant that was illegally hired or employed, and shall also receive a "mandated" prison term of no less than two years in prison with no provisions for restitution, appeal, or probation upon any conviction relating to this law provision.

GOODBYE JIMMY SMITH

2006-05-12T12:34:00.000-07:00

It was bound to happen and I can’t say that it was totally unexpected, but it was somewhat surprising last night to see that WR Jimmy Smith has decided to call it quits.

“A five-time Pro Bowl selection, he played in a team record 178 games and started 150 games since joining the Jaguars as a free agent in 1995. He ranks seventh on the all-time receiving list with 862 catches, and has 12,287 yards and 67 touchdowns. He is the only player to start all nine Jaguars playoff games.” (LINK)

Jimmy was the last remaining Jaguar from the original lineup in 95. His departure brings an end to an era, but opens up the door for new talent.

Questions arose during the press conference concerning his past problems with drugs. Namely, “Could this have anything to do with his departure?” Jimmy maintains that it doesn’t, he merely says that he’s “tired.”

Whether drugs played a role in Smith’s decision to leave the Jag’s or not, he will definitely be missed by the fans and by his teammates.
(Jimmy’s Stats)

SHS!

2006-05-06T15:31:00.000-07:00

I was visiting Yahoo today, checking my mail and adding some photos to the album on my 360.
In the process of answering my mail I joined a chat group. I was back-reading and came across a person promoting his site. I like to check out what others are putting out there, I like to read others opinions.

I’m glad I checked it out, because it contains something that I have tried to instill in some of my non-smoking friends. What might that be? Much of what you’ve heard about “second hand smoke” is just alarmist rhetoric. More and more of us are being denied our individual freedoms, through legislation that is being shoved down our throats by (possibly) well meaning, though misguided lawmakers.

Hell, I know smoking is bad for me! Only a fool would deny that it leads to cancer, but it’s me that is more apt to suffer from the effects of the disease, not my non-smoking neighbor.
I respect the rights of those who do not smoke, by not lighting up in their personal space (their homes, cars, etc.). But I have rights as well! I am already punished by the government with the outrageous “sin tax” that they have imposed on cigarette smokers. I am looked at like I shit in the punch bowl if I even think about lighting up on a public street. I can’t enjoy a smoke after a meal, or in Jacksonville’s new Veteran’s Memorial Arena, or any bar in town that serves food. Shit! If I want to enjoy a smoke in a restaurant or bar, I guess I’ll have to go to Vegas. Of course it’s been awhile since I was there, but I don’t recall them having a lot of smoking legislation. Almost makes me want to move, or least bitch slap the next smoke Nazi I come across.
Read this…enlighten yourself.

2006-05-06T15:09:00.000-07:00

BEWARE OF THE DOG!

2006-04-27T17:33:00.000-07:00

I’ve been sober 5 years now and I feel a whole lot better than I ever have in my life. I don’t wake up with hangovers or the shakes anymore. I don’t feel like I have to have a drink to have a good time anymore, I just plain feel a whole lot better.

That being said (like most alkies), I have a whole backlog of drunk stories (both good and bad) that insinuate themselves into my consciousness from time to time…This is one of those times.
I started drinking when I was a teenager, and the first thing I ever got drunk off of was (you guessed it) “M. D. 20/20,” better known on the street as “MAD DOG.” Anybody that has ever had any dealings with that shit, knows why it’s called “MAD DOG.”

I had my first taste of the vile concoction in an alley behind my house. Me, my best friend David, and (another running buddy)Rhett. We were too young to buy alcohol on our own (I was 13), so someone would generally go in a store and lift a bottle. This task usually fell to David, since he was the criminal mastermind of our budding juvenile crime syndicate. Don’t get me wrong, we weren’t the worst kids in the neighborhood, but weren’t no angels either. Hell, half the people I grew up with are either dead or in prison. Of the three of us only one’s no longer with us (David), and none of us ever went to prison. We were just typical wild-ass kids.

I remember that first taste…I damn near puked! I’ll always remember Rhett’s advice… “You gotta make a face when you drink it…Like this.” Rhett grimaced and made a face that sorta looked like he was taking a shit. So, the next time the bottle came around…I did the same. Ridiculous as it may sound now, it damn sure worked then. In fact after the bottle was passed around a few more times, I don’t think I even had to make a face anymore. Of course, I don’t remember much more than the beginning of that escapade…It being so long ago.

That was the beginning of short teenage love affair with cheap wine. A boy and his dog. But, (as with most teenage love affairs) it was short lived. By the time I was 16, I had gotten too familiar with the “DOG,” and it turned on me. It finally bit me in the ass.

Me and another buddy (Jay), were going to see Aerosmith. We wanted to get good and tanked before we went, but didn’t have a whole lot of money left after buying our tickets. We did have a couple of joints (yup, used to do that to), but that wasn’t enough. Nope, I could hear the “DOG” scratching at the door, wanting to get in.

I was big for my age, so I didn’t have to lift a bottle by this time. Nope, I walked right into the liquor store and bought it. Times were different then, drinking age was 18, and I was only a year and some months from being there. Shit, I was so cocky…I bought 2 fifths of the stuff, along with a big bottle of Sprite. Why the Sprite? Cause Jay was a pussy, he couldn’t drink the shit and make face. Hell no, he had to mix it with Sprite.

Well, things were rolling along pretty good. I was chugging on the “MAD DOG” straight, Jay was mixing his pussy drinks and we were just having a good old time. We finished the one bottle and commenced to work on the next one. We had fired up one of those joints and (of course) soon got the munchies. The ONLY thing in the friggin house that (for some odd reason) appealed to our drug and alcohol addled minds was…Barbeque Fritos and bean dip. [Let me interject right here…I only ate stupid shit like that when I was stoned, in a normal state I would never touch shit like that]. So eat, drink, and smoke we did.

Now things begin to change. I should have taken heed of the ominous turn of events, but I was already riding the “PURPLE DOG.” I was oblivious to anything that may lay before me.
The change was initiated when I got up to take a leak. When I got back, I discovered that Jay (the pussy) had poured the remainder of the “MAD DOG” into the remainder of the big bottle of Sprite. Damn, damn, damn! I couldn’t un-mix the shit, so I continued to drink. All the while I was calling Jay a pussy for ruining my precious “MAD DOG,” I continued to drink, and (unwisely) eat the damn Barbecue Frito’s, while liberally slathering them with the bean dip.

We finally made it to the concert, and (believe it or not) we still had some “MAD DOG” and Sprite left. Now even in those days, you couldn’t carry that stuff in with you. Well, you could sneak it in, but not in a 2 liter Sprite bottle. We had finished up the pot, the Barbecue Frito’s and the bean dip, but there was still a considerable amount of the “DOG” and the Sprite in the 2 liter bottle. It was like the oil in the lamp, Hanukkah miracle. I’d drink, still there. Drink, still there! Hell, Jay had given up by this time. He had more sense (still a pussy, but more sense).
I didn’t have much sense that night. I had carried on a long relationship with the “DOG!” I wasn’t gonna run out on that partnership, I was gonna see this thing through, I was gonna finish the bottle.

I stepped out of my old Dodge Charger, braced myself against the door frame and chugged! I chugged some more! Then, finally, the bottle was empty! I was victorious!
I felt rather good about my accomplishment, the only thing that bothered me…was just a little gas. No problem, nothing a good belch wouldn’t take care of. Right? Wrong!!!

It started out as a belch, but as soon as it started, it turned into something far worse. It began as a normal belch, but as it rose up in my throat, I began to get that flush feeling all in my face. That warm, sickly feeling, accompanied by my head spinning. No amount of face making would save me this time (although I did call on Jesus) as I spewed large, multicolored, chunks across the hood of the Dodge! Several concert goers who were preparing for a night of Aerosmith, were now, shrieking, running, and ducking as I spun around with my arms straight out, projectile vomiting.

The “DOG” took it’s toll on several bystanders as well, as they (sickened by the display) began to vomit also. By this time, Jay had fled the scene. He later told me he thought I was possessed, seeing as how I put Linda Blair’s character to shame that night. Honestly, I have never puked like that before or sense. If there was some kinda record for that kinda shit, I may very well have broken it that night.

That was the night that I severed all ties with the “DOG!” I continued to drink for 20 years after that, but not the “DOG!”

I offer this post (as humiliating as it may seem), as a public service.

BEWARE OF THE DOG!

If you don’t think it’ll bite you…check out this site.

WHAT’S ALL THE FUSS ABOUT?

2006-04-24T17:28:00.000-07:00

Some mayor of a small town in the Netherlands is upset because local farmers are making some money advertising a large hotel on their sheep.

It doesn’t seem to be hurting the critters, and the farmers are getting compensated for it. So, what’s the problem? It seems that there’s a local ordinance pertaining to “roadside” signage.
Sounds a lot like what’s been going on in many communities throughout our own country. Jacksonville Florida has had a sign ordinance for sometime now. Our ordinance pertains to those little portable signs that used to be so prevalent next to the roadway in front of the multitude of strip malls that dot our landscape.

My guess is that the ordinance in the Netherlands has similar roots, namely environmentalist who (either rightly or wrongly) want an unobstructed view of the countryside as they tool along releasing harmful emissions into the ozone. Our ordinance was even stupider, because the elite seemed to think the little portable signs in front of the strip malls all over town…made the strip malls look trashy. There’s irony in there somewhere.

Anyhow, the little news story made me think about those road trips I used to make with my mom and dad when I was a kid in the 60s and 70s. My grandmother lived in Tennessee, and on the way there and back, we’d see these signs painted on barns throughout our trek through the foothills of Georgia and Tennessee, pointing the way to Lookout Mountain. Most of these are gone now, for very much the same reason that the little portable signs are gone from in front of the strip malls.

WHERE DID HE KEEP HIS TOOLS?

2006-04-22T17:28:00.000-07:00

This world is full of oddballs, so this story doesn’t surprise me. I just can’t understand how someone could be comfortable working this way.
I’m not a prude. I’m not ashamed of my body, but we wear clothes for a reason. Working, is not a reason to get naked. When I used to drink, I had no problem getting naked. However, even then there were limits. The situation may not have screamed for nudity, but there was some kind of rhyme or reason. Possibly one of those parties where everybody ends up naked in the swimming pool, or lake, or ocean. Hell, I’ve even been naked in somebody else’s living room, but they were usually naked as well (or getting there).
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As a side note, I took the music embed out of the page. It appears that the latest atomic update (IE), was giving me problems accessing the page. That’s probably good news for those who don’t like Skynyrd (the music I had embedded).

I'M BACK...

2006-04-18T16:56:00.000-07:00

...For awhile anyway.

I don't contribute to this blog as much as I do my Xanga (Yes I'm 44 and I have a friggin Xanga). Actually, that place gets kind of a bad rep with all the undisciplined little shits running about the place, doin God knows what. However, there are some good people on there. People who have a knack for writing that the Good Lord didn't bless me with. I've also learned a little bit about how online communities work over there as well, without having to put up with the torrential spamming that I used to encounter here.

So, I figured I'd add a couple of links today (make the place look lived in). As soon as I figure out how to add one of those blogroll deals to this site, I'll add some more blogs to the side-bar.

Today I added my Xanga. If you go there, you may want to wait for the song to quit playing on this blog, because something else is playing over there, or you can just turn the sound down. I love music, but it's not music when it's all garbled up...that's rap, not music.

I also added Acidman to my side-bar. I'm not blowing smoke up his ass when I say this, but he was one of the first bloggers I read. Although we are both individuals, we are similar in a lot of ways. We are both from the South (God Bless Dixie), both guitar players (who aren't playing anywhere right now...cept home), both former alkies, and (for the most part) we share similar ideals and aren't afraid of expressing them.

I visit that site often, and recommend it highly. It'll make you laugh (for the most part), it'll make you mad (sometimes), it may even make you cry, but I guarantee it'll entertain you as well.

I'll add others, it's just slow going with all the cut and paste shit that I have to do right now. If you have one of those fancy site trackers and you see me linked to your site, just know that I'm a fan (not a psychotic stalker). However, if you don't like me, or you think my writing is too pathetic to be attached to your site...just drop me a line and I'll unlink you.

By the way, that's my new guitar at the top (I forgot about the assbackward way this place loads pictures). You can read about on my Xanga...I'm out

Tom

PIDDLING!

2006-03-19T16:16:00.000-08:00

Well...I been piddling (I have no idea if that's spelled right) around with the background color today. It's not quite what I want, but anything is better than that frigging, God awful, orange. I like the simplicity of "Blogger," but they have some of the damn ugliest templates around. I like the simple layout of this template, but that orange had to go.

I haven't been hit up with any "spam" yet, but then again, not that many people know that I'm here. Thanks too "browneyedpsycho" and "Zimbo"...I'm glad you guys stopped by. I'll try to have something for you guys at a future date...just drop in every now and then. I haven't hit up any of my Blogspot buddies to come over yet. I will in the future.
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I have no idea why my photos are at the top instead of at the bottom..I guess next I'll add the photos first and then the text...Seems back assward, but maybe all the other photo editors I've used are back assward and this one is correct...lol

What are those photos you might ask? Well the top one is a picture of Jacksonville taken from the Southside of the St. Johns, and the one below it is a picture of an old record ad that I bought off of eBay. The red-headed gal is Ruby Starr, probably best known for singing back-up with Jim Dandy and Black Oak Arkansas. I had a thing for her in the 70s. I kind of like the wanton, dangerous looking, woman. I was damn disappointed when I found out she wasn't a real red-head . But in retrospect...I guess...That makes her all the more dangerous. I miss you Ruby.

CURRENTLY UNDER CONSTRUCTION!

2006-02-26T10:31:00.000-08:00

Hi

My name's Tom. I'm not new to Blogger, in fact I've had a site here before. I think it was more of a spam generator than an actual blog, but nevertheless...I was here at one time.

I'll have this puppy up and running in about a week. I'll add some links to the side-bar, and I may even get rid of that God-awful orange background.

I decided to come back to Blogger, because there are a lot of blogs that I read on here. I also have a Xanga site and a Yahoo 360, but those are pretty much closed communities (much like Blogger), my friends from Xanga can't comment on this site or my Yahoo site, unless they are registered with either Blogger or Yahoo. The same thing works in Reverse with my Xanga site. So, after much thought...I am considering tying them together via that neat side-bar, link thing, that is so convenient for the html challenged such as myself.

Those who know me, if you have any suggestions, advice, comments, etc., leave em in the comments section or email me.

Spammers...DO NOT LEAVE YOUR USELESS SHIT ON THIS BLOG...I WILL DELETE IT!