If You Are PC Then This Ain’t For You

I have no issue saying that Gran Torino is my favorite Eastwood movie, and I have almost all of them on dvd. The message of the movie is what many folks in this country either have forgotten, or don’t get: Deeds are greater than words, and when the rubber hits the road, real American men fight and die for what is right. Walt fought in Korea for people he refers to as Zipper Heads and Gooks. He ultimately sacrifices himself for these same people, and gives his most treasured possession to Tao…his car. His own family thinks he is an inconvenience. Kind of how our government treats our vets.

People Who Make Me say ” Good Job Dumbass!”

We all get Pearl Harbored by idiocy all the time. Some just filter it out better than me. So no dancing around the pile of poop, I am getting right down to business!

1: Wanna be poindexters, get wearing thick framed black glasses. Does not make you any smarter or better looking. You are still stupid and will still end up whacking off in the tool shed thinking about some long lost girlfriend you never scored with anyway.

2: Morons who use their hands free phones instead of writing a shopping list on a piece of paper. Don’t need to hear or see you and your fast food head gear walking around like you are a Shakespeare character deep in a soliloquy. Dumbass, I can hear you asking if you want the chicken thighs or breast?

3: Lady’s britches with words plastered on the back side. The chubby broad at Wal-Mart whose spandex tight sweats should have read “Princess” and not “Press” cause your Half Dome size butt cracked swallowed up the other letters. Dumbass.

Ok, I got to stop this for now, starting to get a bit bent, and it is too early on a Friday and sans beer for this :)

When Dreams Don’t Rock

Let me make this perfectly clear (I am using my Nixon voice) when I had this dream I had not been guzzling suds, smoking hippie lettuce, licking frog bellies, or hanging by the neck naked playing tug-o-war with cyclops. This was a good ol’ fashion dream.

The dream took place in what appeared to be a tavern with a stage. Yeah, like I have been in a pace like this before. Up on stage were Waylon Jennings, Hank jr. and Merle Haggard. Jr is singing “A Country Boy Can Survive”, Waylon is playing a huge slide guitar, and Merle is banging a tambourine. Don’t ask me why, he just is. I am sitting at a table with their album cover, and the entire scene is playing on a small screen that is built into the cover. Under the screen are the words “Sneak Peak.”
All of a sudden Hank finishes with his tune, and Merle starts sining a Marty Robbin’s tune; “I Walk Alone.” And he sounds just like Marty. There is actually a video of these two on Marty’s t.v. show were Merle does this, and does it very well.

Sadly I wake up, and realize that I was not really in this honky tonk listening to my country favorites. This ranks in the top three of my all time favorite dreams that does not involve beer and reverseable under wear.

Christmas Season In Central California

November 19th, and we have not had a day of serious rain in months. The coldest morning has been roughly 40 degrees. There are leaves on the trees, and the Bermuda grass is still partly green. This is the upside to leaving in the People’s republic of California. Every day is golfable, fishable,and enjoyable thanks to the wonderful weather. Sadly, most of these activities are not as affordable as they once were.

Takes a lot of tax dollars from us working folks to support the non-working, and illegal folks that dwell in this state. I know it is a lost cause, but I still remain here partly due to the weather. As I scribble down these words, I see the clouds forming, and I see that my phone’s weather update is calling for an 80 percent chance of rain tomorrow. I will make it a shoe in by washing my car after work:)

Idiots: Why Do They Exsist?

I believe the answer to ny question is simply, “to piss me off!” I was sitting in my front yard drinking beer with my little dog, Bill Willy. The dog loves to run the fence line and bark at everything that moves. He’s about 10 inches tall and weighs in at 11 pounds. This particular night, a young man is walking by, and Bill Willy is doing what he does best, and the idiot says, “Shut the fuck up.” Nice going dude. So I tell Bill Willy to “get-em”, and the dude replies to me the same eloquent phrase. Not smart. Beer in hand a spring out of my chair with some very strong language. Dude goes into to monkey fight mode….throwing hands in the air saying “come on cracker”. Really? So I say no problem, just quit backing up. Never seen somebody move so fast backwards in my life. Silly thing is, the further he got from me, the braver he became:) Then dude reaches into his saggy basketball shorts as if to grab a weapon. Idiot, it is easy to see there ain’t nothing but his hand, and small dreams in the pocket.

Why me? Why I am I an idiot magnet? Then it hits me; It takes folks like me to teach idiots like this they need to think about their actions before they act. I am sure this dude was scared all the way to chocolate chonies land. He is probably glad I was not the type that would shoot him…..but I am the type that would have roughed him up a bit. Something more idiots are in dire need of these days.

Old Growth And A Fighter Pilot’s Check List

Not talking about forest or anything like that. Heck, my title is probably confusing to everyone but me. But give me a chance to explain as only a Hillbilly can.

Back in my 20’s and 30’s, and even early forties, when I would be doing myself up for a night, or even a morning on the town, I had a very small to do list; Shower, Shave, and Shit. Brush the choppers, put some smells good on, and this Handsome Hillbilly was unstoppable..up until the 20 plus something beer.

Fast forward to today. Still rock the three “S’s”, but now I have a fighter’s pilot type of check list. Nose and ear hair tamed? Check. If not checked, grab the clippers and razor and go to town. What the hell happened? How does hair decide to expand its domain as I get older? It still grows very well on my bucket, though graying. It also has migrated to my chest and shoulders. I never figured I would be morphing into a human Che-A-Pet.

Here is the kicker: I can’t even grow much facial hair! Except for my dome, and my unmentionables, I am going in for a Nair Dip.
This is a battle I refuse to lose. If I don’t win, I will be hiking my britches up so high, I will have to unzip them to see. I will be dinning at 3pm, and hitting the roost at 7pm. I will also be wearing adult diapers….wait, I would love to wear those bad boys… less time away from my beer:)

Makin’ A Stink About Tink

My cat Tink is a bit miffed about the pups getting all the pub. So as I promised him, here is his picture.

My boy Tink

My boy Tink

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