I Will Make This On My Own Mr. Obama

I am taking a positive turn after Tuesday’s election. That’s just the type of Hillbilly I am. It would be too easy, and popular, to start ranting and raving about 2016, and how conservatives need to do this, or try that. in order to regain control of our government. But this is not how I operate. Now that it is final, and the country is filled with a percentage of folks that are takers, another percentage that are willing givers, and a smaller portion of folks who are makers, refuse to be takers, and are survivors under any circumstances.

So when I received a comment about my blog the other day, by some one who said that I should be a comic writer, the Hillbilly’s wagon wheels began to grind. Somewhere in the comment, Hillbilly fortune cookies was mentioned. I guess for some strange reason, some folks find a few of my words, sayings, stuttering, comical. So I figure I am going to try to make a buck off of them. Yup, probably somebody giving me a dollar not to hollar! I don’t want to get too specific, but I am doing some research on a business opportunity with the main ingredient being my words. Thing is, I don’t always remember, nor think about what I have said, or written. So I am going to have to dig out a few nuggets from the haystack, or more accurately, crap-stack. I am also going to put a face to my product. I have hired an artist to draw me! I would do it, but stick figures don’t fit my business model very well.

So, you see Mr. President, this is what gun-toting, Bible thumping, nose to the grind stone, care for myself, kick your ass of my lawn folks do. We overcome dumbass obstacles like yourself, and the other 52% of the population that sticks their thumb in the cow’s butt while we are milking it. Hey,…That ain’t bad 🙂

The New Normal? No Way….Give Me The Old Normal

NBC has come out with another peice of crap show that shows deviant behavior as normal. Give me Leave It To Beaver, Andy Griffith, and old country music. Tell me who you would rather have dating your daughter,sister, or even mom: Bill Maher or Wallace Cleaver?

Here is a Hillbilly show for ya to watch.

Going Original!

No, I am not talking about Coor’s and Coor’s light. I am speaking of writing a blog that is not re-blogged or an article that is linked. Don’t misunderstand me, I love the reblog gig cause there is so much great stuff that needs to reach a wider audience. And sometimes it does, The other day, I had 4 plus hits out of Brazil. Don’t ask me why. Most of them checked out my “Know The Hillbilly.” Maybe some short bus riding, helmut wearg, special education kids had to reseach Hillbillies. What puzzles me is thee fact that nobody left a comment. Maybe they don’t speak “Billy.”

OK, so the beer hour is closing in faster than a fish taco from the roach coach goes from my pie hole to my bung hole. So here is a song to get this party started:

Good Bye To A Legendary Songwriter

Joe south wrote some wonderful songs. Elvis and Conway covered a few of them.

I Might Not Rock, But I Sure Do Roll……Or Bowl

Geez, most all the guys in my bowling league are good! Not having bowled for a million years, me and my teammate were given pins in both our matches today. My teammate carries a 150 average, while most of the other guys are well above that. We ended up taking 3 out of four games this morning. My low game was 148, and my high was 184. Not bad for just shinning up my ball! The hardest part about the darn game ain’t getting the strikes, but picking up the spares.

So, seeing that I am just a freckle competitive, I am going to work on the game, just as I do in golf. The best part about being in a league, is that I get free practice games! The worst part? The ain’t open till 11am, well after we are done!

Blow Yur Own Candle

Yup, The Billy is having a birthday on Tuesday, the 22nd of May. I don’t really celebrate it cause back in 97 pop past, so pretty much took the beer out of the mug for me. But this year, I am going to allow a small celebration.

I am so blessed: 47 years young and still can see my toes, and physically do what I gotta do! This allows me to spout my mind,and not worry about much of the mess other folks think about me. I know the more mature I get, the more I just want to be left alone.

So once the work day is done tomorrow, it is off to a quite site where the suds are icy, and the help don’t know who I am. Just hopin’ the juke box got a lot of George Jones and Waylon Jennings, and pop figures a way to get me a free beer!
God Bless ya’ll. 🙂

The Passing Of My Best Friend Dude

I can’t believe my buddy of nine years is gone. seems just like yesterday I was driving to meet him for the first time where he was given up for adoption. The first time I saw Dude, he was a year and a half young, red furred, hundred and thirty-five pounds of pure sweetness. The man who owned the kennel had his five-year old daughter scratching his ears. As I walked up to meet them all, the little girl said,”Dude is the nicest dog ever, just look at the top of his nose. It looks like a heart. God put it there so everyone would know how good Dude is.” Man, that was an understatement.

After spending an hour walking him, and getting to know him, Kennel owner guy said “Sign the papers, there is no doubt, that Dude is adopting YOU!” SO the next thing I know, I am driving home with my addition to the family. Remember, I said he was 135 pounds? He was also about four-foot long to boot. I had a small Ford Ranger, and Dude refused to ride shotgun!

We took a few weeks to get to know each other. I also had another furry pal, Cody, at the time. Dude was huge, and thought everybody else was just as big, playful, and durable as he. In other words, the big guy was a bull in the China shop. He sent poor Cody to the doctor’s office with a four-inch gouge just below her eye. He ran through the fence wile paling, and though he returned when the neighbor told him too, Cody was on the lam for two days!

I was having a bbq one afternoon with some friends, and Dude walked into the house, grab a five-pound dish of crab bisque, and took it outside and consumed the entire thing. Well, it almost killed him! He never moved for over three hours. Once he came back to life, he became good friends with the chef who made that dish.

Through out the years, Dude and I had many an adventure. Most better than Twain could have ever created for Huck. We used to go for walks under the overpass by my house. There were always drugged out bums doing the stupid crap that their habit makes them do. Dude would always growl and snarl at em’, and they would cuss back at us. I would always tell em’ “If I ever find any of my, our my neighbor’s property in their possession, I would let Dude be their judge,jury, and executioner.” Well, I did not say it quite like that, but this is a family friendly blog!
Not being a guy that leaves home for more than a day or two, I know, for a fact, I never spent more than two days apart from Dude. Just like I had never spent more than two weeks apart from my father until his death in 97. While the bond between me and my pop was unbelievably close, the friendship between me and Dude was a clear-cut second place.

I came home late Tuesday afternoon, and realized Dude was still in the same place as when I left that morning. He had hip dysplasia for quite some time, but he was not in pain, and still was able to bark at cats, and walk the fence and bark at thugs. When I called him, he just gave me a look that instantly told me that he was having a serious issue. It is amazing to be able to communicate with an animal. It is truly a blessing that God gives to some of us. I went to help pick him up, and Dude gently bit down on my arm. I knew at that very second, that God was asking me to return Dude. Heck, I am so blessed He loaned him to me for nine years.

I called my friend the vet, and his staff would meet me when we arrived. We had a great ride down to Turlock, and I told Dude how much I loved him, and that our first ride together was so much different from our last, but I would not change a thing. Dude just looked at me and I knew he was not sad, and that he knew that he was heading to a place where he could run and play once more. And that he knew that this would make me happy. And that is what Dude did very, very well; Make me happy. Dude being Dude always helped me to remember that there is a God. So when they carried my once one hundred and thirty-five pound ball of “happy” into the room where he would breathe his last breath, and close his eyes one last time, I said my thanks and good byes to my best friend. I tell you what, I can kick a lot of ass, and take a lot of pain, and do it with a smile, but I looked at my friend, who was strapped to the gurney, with a tube in his leg, waiting for the final shot, Dudes lat words to me where,” I love you, thanks for being my friend, and please wait outside while I do this, because I know how you want to remember me.” I thanked him, and told Doctor Rob to let me know when Dude was back with God. And that is the last I saw of him.

I sat in the backyard for the first time in nine years, and drank beer, and listened to George Jones, Dudes favorite, without him. Damn, sad and country music go great together. I know my friend is in Doggy Heaven, chasing cats that are in Kitty Hell! And I know that Dude’s passing has opened up the door for another of God’s gifts to find their way to my home, and my heart.

A Little More bare And Big Bare

Bobby Bare: Drop Kick Me Jesus

Only country and western can do a gospel song like this!

As Good As I Once Was: Darn Straight!

Toby is officially Hillbilly back yard stereo approved!

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