I have concluded that Tuesday sucks as a day to have Christmas and New Years fall on. Or, maybe it's just me and just this year............ I am accustomed to arranging vacation days, remaining sick days, interspersed with the above mentioned freebie days, for about a two week sabbatical from the drudgery of the mine this time each year. Most years, I abandon sanity, and drive my tribe to Minnesota to be with family, party, ski, drink Brandy, ice fish, and get a good two weeks of  zero degree reminder why I choose to live on the south coast!

I think the disorientation part is that I have totally lost track of what freaking day it is anymore.  I go to the office every day, in a futile attempt to finish a "project from Hell", so far taking only Christmas day off in the last three weeks. The office is a graveyard lately, what with all of the folks on vacation and out of town.

Were it not for Mustafa, down at the filling station reminding me whether it is Cash Five, Texas Two Step, or Mega Millions(that yankee lottery) night, I would honestly not know what day it is anymore. My saving grace here, is that I get next Monday off. I have a floating holiday left to use, and I'll be damned if I'll forfeit it back to the mine owner.............Think I'll use it to travel to see a friend........help him turn a page on his birthday and put another year to bed...........

Should be an interesting New Year's weatherwise....the weather gods are going to toy with us I hear. December the last promises to be a 70 degree kayak paddling day. i can handle that. uno de Jan. on the other hand,  is forecast  to be a shivering gathered around the chiminea day. I can handle that too. My buddy Fred and I are starting to eye the mountains and trying figure out which one we are going to attack with our kids and skis and snowboards after the New Year gets cranking............. A nice cold January first, north wind whispering through my pine trees should be a good mood setter and backdrop for us to hyper ourselves into a frenzy for a road trip to Santa Fe..........

.........you are expected to do as the Telfernites do, right?  I just got an e-mail from a friend who is travelling in the Chilean summertime at the moment. It was just a quick hello, but a couple of things she mentioned started me thinking about how we as Americans see the world, and how the world might see us. Seems my friend was almost immediately, upon her arrival, chastised by a taxi driver, that she must speak Spanish when in Chile. Then she mentioned her frustration with the "spanish keyboard" she was typing on. Seems the keys are a bit rearranged from what we are used to here.......It actually showed in her punctuation and writing, which explains her frustration even better, as she is generally speaking, a perfectionist when it comes to spelling, punctuation, and structure in writing.......

But on the subject of how we see the world, and how they see us, I can't help but draw a few conclusions, based on my own travels and observations. I have traveled extensively in the Yucatan of Mexico. I've hiked, hacked, climbed, swam and driven from the Caribbean reefs, to the pyramids at Coba, Uxmal, Chichen Itza, and Dziblichaltun, to the "Mayan Alps" of the interior. Never once have I encountered a local who was combative or argumentative with me. Pretty much what I experienced, was a small race of people with rounded features, and a smile almost welded on their faces.......and little wonder, as they live in paradise. I do pride myself in always trying to be a gentleman, and polite to everyone I encounter, until they go out of their way to show me they may not deserve it. I have also tried my best to attempt to use my broken spanish to communicate as best I could. It doesn't always work, but at least I was appreciated for my effort, if not applauded for my entertainment value, when I royally botched an honest attempt at communicating in the native tongue.  But the inverse of that scenario, I first encountered back in the '70s driving through a sleepy little spot that would become Cancun, as soon as the Americans could get the building drawings off the drafting board and onto the sand. I ran into a guy at a bar, who was cautioning me about drinking the water, and at the same time warning me that these "Mess-kins" were an unfriendly bunch and couldn't be counted on to do anything for you, in the way of service. That my friend, is/was one ugly American, and his advice to me spoke volumes about the way a lot of the world looks at us.........as wasteful,  self indulgent, bossy bastards who expect the rest of the world to wait on us hand and foot, and be happy with the change and tips we toss their way.

I could have tried to explain to the guy, that he was the foreigner, and that these folks he was speaking of, were his hosts and he the guest. I could have told him that while they were Mexican citizens, they weren't "Messkins", they were Mayans, and that they have been living and working the land he was standing on, since well before his hippie messiah Jesus wandered the olive orchards of the Middle East. But I didn't. Sometimes, you can just tell when a bubba is not worth the effort to try to convert. Besides, he was getting the service he deserved............

I just finished reading a "Fred on Everything" column by Fred Reed, on his travels in Cuba. While quite interesting, for some reason, I gave particular notice to a mention of "third world" countries. I have used the term liberally myself, but this time, I thought about what it meant.........It basically means the we are what we are - a self centered bunch, prone to classifying and assigning levels to world order, and that we have installed ourselves as numero uno. I'd sure like to know who is "second world", as well as if there are any more orbiting out there beyond the "third world"? And also, I was wondering what the people in say, Colombia, or NIcaragua think of when they walk outside and look at their world. Think they look around and say "third world"? Better yet, do you think when they look at a globe or world map, they see the U.S. of A. up there in the northern hemisphere, and tell their kids "there is the First World, on top of the heap"...........somehow, I don't think so. As an afterthought, a quick word of advice for those crossing the river for a relief from poverty and a better life here: Learn English.........it will no doubt improve your chances of staying, and most assuredly make for a warmer reception........

Okay Advocate staff, you are on notice.......you have been called out by one of your own bloggers. But not to worry....... you are in good company......the Chronicle was fingered too. Yep, both of my hometown rags, exposed....... I can't divulge the name of the one who ratted you out, but I did find an address on a scrap of cyber paper......77 Sunset Strip.

 Next thing I know, you'll be running a site dedicated to exposing flaws in all reporting. Even the Seadrift/Port O'Connor Dolphin Talk will have to hire an editor.........I'm fairly certain that if a bald,(that's nothing new) whitened "Clyde the Glide" was pictured in the Chronicle, that it was in fact, him. The logical explanation was that he apparently hung around with the "King of Pop" at some point, unaware that vitiligo(more commonly referred to as "wacko Jacko's disease"), was highly contagious.........I actually didn't see the story on the soldier, but it is not without precedent for the Advocate to use the wrong photo. Why, once back in the 1860s, I saw a photo of Francis the Talking Mule, and they had incorrectly identified the photo as one of "Mr Ed", the horse addicted to dipping peanut butter.

Here's to all of you! I wish you a very Merry Christmas, and a wonderful, happy New Year, one filled with both prosperity and................ Peace

A card for the season came in the mail today. The handwriting was so recognizable, yet it foretold of the inevitable. So happy was I to get it, yet the handwritten address on the envelope, spoke so much about the person who worked so hard to address it. The printed words on the inside, were even more telling of where my life is, has been, and is headed at this point. So sobering is it, when something as simple as  a written communication between loved ones...........can say things that spoken words, have to this point, have failed to address. As much as I want to, I can not be more specific here.............but I can say, that I have had an awakening, courtesy of a simple correspondence, and a signature. A signature that I have alternately proudly requested, or decidedly dreaded asking for under less than perfect circumstances. In my own way, I can only hope and pray for many many more of these happy surprises in my mailbox.

Verbatim.........the headline over an article in the Houston Chronicle: Rape Victim Pardoned By Saudi King. Now,that's mighty white of him, don't you think? I don't know which I find more detestable, that we actually do business with a society whose religious fanatics are more fanatical than our own religious fanatics, or that my hometown news rag would word a headline for a such a deplorable story, so matter of factly..........

I'll make this big text, since most who see the pic before the story, may or may not have their bifocals on.......I got my latest copy of "Reminisce" magazine in the mail last week. For a "War Child" baby boomer, I will have to say that little midwestern time capsule of a publication, is one of the coolest gifts I have ever received, compliments of my sweet mother-in-law Mavis from Minnesota.  Should anyone want a look at the mag, try http://www.reminisce.com/ . Anyway, one of their regular features, is a photo of an old automobile, and a "name that car"......and this month's reminded me of one that was maybe my second or third car. The photo, is a period ad for it.....my 1960 Desoto. In 1970, faced with the recent death of my '56 Fairlane or '61 Olds 88......(the start of the "fuzzy" years), I actually flew from Houston to Austin, on a Trans Texas Airways, DC-3 propeller driven tail dragger, and then hitched the rest of the way to Fredricksburg, and purchased that fine ride from my uncle Edward, who worked for the Chrysler dealer there. A thing of beauty it was......."mash on the dash" gearshift, a really cold A/C, and a back seat the size of a full size futon! You talk about a set of wheels. It was as best I could tell, custom designed for me.....designed to park on the Intracoastal with Ruby, and watch submarine races...............Before I managed to kill that car, it had ferried me to see The Animals, The Zombies, and the Strawberry Alarm Clock, as well as countless trips to Sun Valley to see that "lil ol' band from Texas".........about the only thing I can say bad about that old jewel, is that it handled like a twin screw crewboat with one dead engine, and oh...... most of my friends called it "The Batmobile"..........until they needed a ride.

I wonder how many folks are intentionally, or subconsciously humming or whistling “Leader of The Band” this morning? I know I caught myself doing it. Rest in peace Dan. Being as how I have yet to receive any indication of how my physical went a couple of weeks ago, save for the cardiologist noting a possible “right bundle blockage”………whatever "that" is, Mr. Fogelberg’s early passing, might just be the next “sign” I need, to go through with the last examination the doctor ordered as part of my “complete” physical. Somehow, faced with the consequences of, and what can happen as a result of not being checked, and the finality of that, maybe I’ll just take a towel to bite on, and go ahead and “assume the position” once more.

Yeah, yeah, I know the reason for the season. You didn't think I was that much a heathen.....or scrooge did you? Actually, I am sitting in my office working on a Sunday, just contemplating my very brief foray into the shopping melee that was yesterday, in west Houston. In a word - nuts. Retail Hell, to be more precise. The only thing I can think of that was worse than the crowds in the stores, was the traffic. Though I managed to snag a parking spot right away(to a chorus of honking horns, and nasty stares), at Barnes and Noble, I struck out swinging, on the book I was after. The girl there was nice enough to locate the book at another store and get them to hold it for me. A stroke of luck I thought until I hit the road trying to get to the other store.........Not happening - gridlock. Tucked my tail and thanked my lucky stars for living on the western fringe of the madness, and beat it for home. It was a lot quieter out there this morning at six!

Just when I was thinking what a drag the traffic and parking is up here in this festive season, I had a co-worker help put it into perspective for me..........he had a pistol pulled on him over a parking spot yesterday. Think I'll stick to cyber shopping from here on out. Merry Christmas Mr. Smith.................and Wesson.

I figured that would raise an eyebrow or two. False alarm. Note the sweet home grown orange in front of the classic CD. I was told it's sweet. Will test and comment later. I broke out the CD yesterday, in hopes it would force me to stay focused on my work at hand for a couple of hours. As for the tunes, Jeff Wayne's musical adaptation of "War of the Worlds", a friend stopped by my desk, and commented on it, and I related the story of War of The Worlds, all the way back to the original H.G. Wells story, and the fake radio broadcast of the invasion by Orson Wells in 1938 and aired on CBS Radio. I also mentioned the record's narration of the story by Richard Burton, and musical and vocal contributions by Phil Lynot of Thin Lizzy, and the amazing Justin Hayward of the Moody Blues.

About here is where it went south on me...........a young guy walking by, nodded at the CD and said "yep that is a good one". Oh, I asked do you have it? "Nah" he said, "but my dad made me sit down and listen to it when I was younger"..........hmmmm, I seem to remember such a scenario once upon a time, but the kid was being forced to listen to Glenn Miller Orchestra, and Tommy Dorsey........tunes. Another young co-worker, just gave me a blank stare at my explaining the significance of the immortal actor Richard Burton narrating the drama. "Richard who?"she said....... Sometimes with friends, I guess you just forget that they haven't been on board for the whole long strange trip.

And for those of you looking for a dope story........sorry, keep looking. I hear that there were some written back in Austin many years ago............when the hippies started wearing cowboy hats and the kickers grew their hair out long........haven't read them though. Onward through the fog. 

Standing in the kitchen, watching Boston Legal, on my little under cabinet black and white.......with rabbit ears(mother ship was tuned to Hannah), and chuckling, my little angel ten year old came up and asked......"Whatcha laughin' at dad". Not wanting to do a dissertation on the intricacies of the situation that tickled me at bedtime, I just said......."Captain Kirk's in jail for contempt of court, pal", Seemed to answer his question, but as he turned to head off for bed, he read to me from the inside of a candy wrapper........something to the effect of "sometimes a smile is worth more than a dozen roses". I thought about that for a few seconds, as he was running up to bed. Maybe it's just the realist in me, but when he's much older one of these days.......probably out fishing or skiing or something, I may level with him........there will also be times that an ill timed smile, might be interpreted the wrong way, and get some harrassment charges or an admonishment for a guy, where a dozen sweet smelling roses might have got you laid................It's really all about timing, and those grey areas, and recognizing when to wait for some clarity.

Really...... a disconnected ramble warning! Have a couple of photos and an abbreviated story that could and will be four stories down the road. Illinois connection - swiped the old phone from an Illinois Central Railroad phone box......before most of you were born. Got the Autoharp(think Lovin' Spoonful) near the same time same place, though under circumstances I'll save for later......and spare the ex.

On a flight home from Chicago to Austin, once upon a time, I had a guitar hero of mine, the late Randy California, pester me for an hour......to sell the harp to him. Didn't happen, obviously, so he settled for borrowing it to serenade a DC-7 full of captive, paying passengers all the way to Austin. I will in no way, to this day, fail to acknowledge having been in the presence of legendary musicians on that flight, by the way. Trying to keep a low profile, I settled for taking a seat next to Randy's step dad, Mr. Ed Cassidy..........surprise, surprise.- since some may think of Ed as the weird or mysterious member of Spirit. In truth, he was a down to earth old dude from Golden, Co., who was full of questions about canoeing Texas rivers........could have fooled me! I found out the next night, just why the band was called Spirit, watching Randy and Ed at the old Armadillo in Austin, after my girlfriend Chris and I were invited to dinner with them and as guests at the show. A once in a lifetime stroke of luck, in my book at least. Randy gave me the "Spirit of '76" bumper stickers on the back of the harp in the photos.........I used them to cover a crack in the wood.  okay, kids almost done with my little brush with greatness story, in the form of a protege' of the great Jimi. 'Twas a neat little diversion in my life though......and one much more detailed than I am letting on at this point. I will say though, that Marshall, the band's road manager and I hit it off too, and about ten years ago, I reconnected with him, after stumbling across his name on a website......Laugh.com. You see, Marshall Berle, was also the nephew of Uncle Milty.......the great Milton Berle, unbeknownst to me at the time. When I contacted him through his website, and related the story of our chance encounter, years earlier, I was pleased that he remembered(note, the as yet, ommitted parts)  Chris and I. That was when I learned that Randy California, had disappeared in the Hawaiian surf, while saving his child, a year or so earlier. All kinda seems like a dream now, but then so does a lot of the rest of the last forty years..............That night at the old 'Dillo, before the band played, at dinner, Marshall Berle told me: "Randy IS the spirit -watch him when he plays "Natures Way" or "Hey Joe" or "........Watchtower". Guess it never occurred to me until that night on the plane to Austin with Randy and Ed Cassidy, to even wonder where the got the title for their record"The Family That Plays Together" ..........Looking back now as a parent, and not a star struck rock and roll music lover, I kinda wish I'd met his mom too. She was probably the glue that held "the family that plays together"......together.

My goodness.......this old late blooming suburban, hippie, little league dad has found a new source of entertainment........monitoring the pissing match between bubba to the bone types, religious fanatics, one or two in your face, flaming, queer as a football bat and waving a flag over it folks, and obviously, a few just good ol' straight and gay normal folks,........... and tossed in for good measure, some well meaning intellectuals trying to make sense of the fray. Being as this old long haired bay rat turned city boy, has been called all of the above mentioned names(with the possible exception of WMI), at one point or other in his life by pretty much all of the above mentioned types of individuals, it makes for an interesting study in stereotypes, to watch you guys slug it out. Particularly, when at this point, as brother Leon put it in his Asylum Choir II record........I'm just "tryin' to stay alive........and keep my sideburns too".  Far out! Protest is alive and well. Oh, and for those of you who would draw a line in the sand and say "pick a side"............I have, I choose the bright side.

.............when pouring that first cup of coffee, you hear Casey Curry, the weather girl, saying ......Look for temps from Katy and Waller on the west side today , from the mid 40s to low 50s, with a chilly drizzle and you folks from the loop to the east side, look for low 70's and thick fog.  I went from leaning over my sleeping son to give him a smooch on the head, ever cautious of not getting my chest to close to his face for fear of putting out out an eye with a mannipple, to arriving at the office, in 72 degree overnight "low" temps and slip sliding to the parking garage elevator on wet sweating concrete.  I literally started the ride to work with the heater on and got there with the air conditioner blowing. Only in Texas, or the south, huh? Oh well......one more reason why I am so enamored with the weather I guess. Where else can one knock ice off of ones trees one year, and the very next summer, be cutting up that same tree and be stacking it by the street with the rest of the stuff that a cat three Gulf storm blew or floated up and deposited in your yard?

Yep, I'm feelin' a little political and disgruntled, this morning.........mostly due to little stories in the morning paper. I started to title this one "spitting(edit 1) into the wind" but thought better of it, so there!

Yep, you read right.....E.D. - the power of eminent domain. And guess what? They are going to use it to build a fence ! This little land grab venture is going to be used to steal land that has been in some folks families for hundreds of years. Land that actually was Mexico's at one time. They are then take a big long dump (with the well funded help of Halliburton, I'm sure) along the length of an international border and beautiful river, and leave it to lie there for all the world to see. "Don't Mess With Texas" indeed.....where is the governor now? How long do you think it will take them to realize what a folly this is and to appropriate another gazillion dollars for Halliburton to take it down?  I wonder if they'll get around to it before the Mexicans do, and start dismantling it themselves, using what they can to build bridges over the river, then cutting up the rest and selling it for salvage in El Paso, Del Rio, and Nogales recycling centers...........

Now that's what I'm talkin' about!.....I said to myself, when I peeled the little prophylactic sheath from the Chronicle, and it laid out on the bar there in all it's glory next to my rainbow trout coffee cup from Colorado, full of "poor man's latte" (Kona gold coffee, Ovaltine, and turbinado azucar). "Bush Lacks Berries", read the headline. Holy guano Batman! Has the hometown rag grown a pair of their own, and finally recognized this man behind the curtain for his true worth? I squinted a bit and tried to read on. then rubbed my eyes. That was the hint I needed.....not wanted mind you, but needed. One can't rub one's eyes if one is wearing one's glasses now can they? Damn! When the paper boy rolled that fat one for me this morning, he had done so with the Garden section on top. Dang it Toto, I was right ......this isn't Kansas after all. Makes more sense actually, this way........if the guy actually had some figs, we would have read about him being kicked in them somewhere back down the rails.

"Go lightly from my window".....

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.......and I thought it might be appropriate to share. Nothing I could say or play or attempt to force feed those who haven't experienced nearly forty years of being blessed with having known the Moody Blues' magic, would be sufficient to describe it. So for those of you who are on the bus, get out your hanky. For the rest of you, enjoy. Take advantage of the treat that YouTube serves up of the archives of this amazing group. A few will be like me, transfixed, and surfing from clip to clip. A few will say"my mom likes that one".......I hope a few who have never heard the Moodies, will look, listen, and say wow, wish I had been able to see them..........well keep your eyes on the concert calendar kids........they are still touring, and performing a high energy and timeless show. Take your mom or dad....who might have been too busy raising you to see the band earlier. They'll thank you..........

http://www.youtube.com/watc...

http://www.youtube.com/watc...

http://www.youtube.com/watc...

 

and to those of you whom this touched....you are welcome! .........and don't stop at one......there are so many more where these came from. And as an afterthought, if you should happen upon "Legend of a Mind", know that one day, I will have more to say on that subject..........other than that my ex and I had the privilege to sit in on a lecture by Dr. Leary at U.T. back when 19th Street was still 19th Street, just west of Oat Willies. There was so much more to the man than was reported in the press........ a lot like today's journalism...............

Okay, off the top of my head, I can think of about five of you who are already drooling for a bite of me on this one. I promise to try my best to stir you up then lull you to sleep,........k?

Foreward

To set the record straight, I was raised......well, at least in the beginning (seeing as  I am not finished yet, I really hate to use the past tense on that one), a BAPTIST........anyone miss that? I was married once in the CATHOLIC church to a Catholic girl(and yessir, Billy Joel was nuts on, in his assessment of them critters). Singin' the BLUE....s..for some reason comes to mind here. So it's not like I was born a heathen, or rejected God in a midnight ceremonial sacrifice or anything like that. I just choose not to subscribe to any of a number of planet wide fairy tale scenarios of creation and rules laid down by mortals claiming any direct connection to the "creator". Nothing personal towards any of those who are staunchly indoctrinated in ANY religious belief. Trust me folks, the very second I see what I determine to be irrefutable proof that any one of you has without a doubt stumbled upon the real secret(did I mention irrefutable?), you can look for me in the FRONT pew................meantime, if you don't mind, I will keep an open mind, and know in my mind and heart, that our being here is no accident, and maybe when possible, keep watching the skies over Roswell, Area 51, and the Yucatan Peninsula, for a possible break in the case.

Oh, now for the book/record/DVD burning chapter one.....and only. It's just a story - put on film folks...........deal with it. You have two choices. Buy a ticket, or don't. It's in a way, like going to a Queen or an Elton John show...........a few of you might stay home, and be a narrow minded bigot and spout hate in the name of God......... or you could go and rock your butt off and leave stone cold sober, but drunk on endorphins........or at the very least find out if your worst suspicions are confirmed.  

It's a film. So the story was written by an avowed atheist. Again, take it or leave it.  This is(or once was) a free country(some would like to think free world). I take it that the film in question, is advertised as a fantasy.......do none of you have fantasies? Have you never fantasized about something that you probably wouldn't care to discuss with your pastor? This ain't confession folks, be honest with yourself. Since I haven't read the book nor have I seen the movie, nor do I even intend to, despite Nicole Kidman's Golden Globes), I can't tell you whether it is a blatant attempt to steer your children into the "Jaws of Lucifer", or not. But I can certainly tell you what  "The Greatest Story Ever Told", "The Ten Commandments", "The Passion Of The Christ",  "Veggie Tales", and "Blazing Saddles" was about................. They didn't exactly mince words, or leave a lot of room for debate in those flicks, now did they? Don't be so self centered. You are not the only religion on the planet. You get so up in arms about anyone who would offer up another view that contradicts yours, yet you have no qualms about diving into the deepest jungles of the Third World: Africa, South America, and the oil rich sands of the Middle East with your "missionary positioning", and then get indignant when cultures who were here for so many, many, thousands of years before your long haired white(?) carpenter messiah, strolled the olive orchards of Israel, with his story, might offer up a scenario of their own that differs from yours.

Live and let live. Did I mention that you are grown ups now. This movie is not required viewing. Change the channel if you like.

 Oh, and this is the part where you may feel compelled to chime in and quote biblical scripture, thus "proving" your point. Please do. I just ask that you respect those who are reading a different book..............they may in spite of your objections, consider their own, a "good book" as well.

Amen, Shalom, Right On, Far Out, Peace,......and also with YOU hermanos, sisters, and "undecided"..............

Can anyone, explain to me the reason for the little box of Picasso lettering, plainly displayed at the end of the comments field, that must be retyped before the post will update(along with logging in of course). I mean honestly........most booger eating morons should be able to do it, wouldn't one think? That said, I am a part time dyslexic, and have on more than one occasion, muffed it and had to retype it again. Is that it? Is that square data field a none too discrete way of discrimination against dyslexics? I am going to the TV right mow, and turn on the dyslexia channels (it is on channel 23, and also on 32), and see if I can learn more about this........

First, my last couple of posts, were throw downs, and directed at a particular "blogger". The one about the gas station, was all true and good, save for the self mutilation and berating of myself......I'd never do that in public. Oh, and regardless of what people say, I do not have an eating disorder.......and I can stop when I want, like as soon as I'm thin enough. So, for the record, the knife on my bike, never left it's sheath. Oh, and Norbert didn't snap the hose connection either.........but he did sense enough discomfort from my demeanor, to exit - stage left, and leave his gas cap for me.....The other post was just silly and fun to pen.

I did however, assume the role of literary vigilante last night. I rode a blogger out of town on a rail. It wasn't the first time, but I'd be happy if it was the last. I did so, by mainly being a pain in the *** for him, but the way I see it, it was a him or me situation. I wasn't happy with this new "blog" format from day one.........but I stuck it out, because it is local, and because I'm from here. I may write elsewhere, but this forum is where I started my stories, opinions, and rants, and so far, even after adapting to the 'NewVicad", I still find enjoyment in sharing and debating opinions, ideas, and telling a story on occasion. Someone correct me if I am wrong on this one, but I do not believe that this forum should be used as a place to advertise one's business for profit.......and that includes the "new church person" that held up for about a half hour under my incessant b1tching, a month or so ago, who along with Mr. Happy Holidays, the tax bummer who took his best shot at it last night, opted to scuttle their blogs rather than try to weather my cannons.

I miss the old blogger group. I have adapted to the new group so far, though I still don't like the "free for all", if you can spel bloog, and remember yer passwerd, you is a blogger concept. Before, one had to ask permission. Now I'll be the first to admit that in life in general, it's a hell of a lot easier to ask for and receive forgiveness, than permission, based on years of personal research. I can't say as I know of anyone being turned down as a blogger, but at least, a paid staff member with a discerning eye, had to acknowledge a written request to be on board, and bless it happening. I did and still do, believe that is a better way. I think it weeded out the technically literate, who lacked any measure of common sense and open mindedness. What's done is done. So far I can live with the new "censorship"(and yes, I have had my pee pee whacked a couple of times). Brother Tim has convinced me that I can find words other than that $@#*&ng towboat slang to get my point across without pissing off the Baptists. You are who you are, and I'd bet with a little practice, I could still lay a barge full of gasoline against a small wooden pier without a crunch or a sound. I just need to remember to say "dagnabit" when I miss, and the guy with the bicycle and clipboard logging my arrival gets a spontaneous moonlight swim.

In closing, I'd like to suggest that in "the rules" which I seem to vaguely recall seeing spelled out somewhere, and dealing with personal attacks, profanity, and such, be modified a bit to exclude blatant political campaigining for any party or candidate(otherwise, with election year coming up, we can all hang it up), and that shameless, commercial, for profit advertising be grounds for a digital lynching. Does anyone else have an opinion on this? I'll hang up and listen................

Looking for free advertising here as you are, means that you are willing to dole out a little free tax advice, in the Christmas spirit I'd guess, huh? I was wondering if the supplies I bought at a yard sale last weekend in "Lolita", to worm my Catahoula "Elton", and a couple of other neighborhood dogs, need to be claimed as exemptions under medical, agricultural, or as "hobby supplies". Thanks for the services you provide. I'll hang up and listen...................

The night started off okay...........I got the word that the Thanksgiving holiday was officially over, and that Hugo Chavez got his butt kicked, down at the Chevron, when I saw that Mustafa and his sidekick Pepino, were lowering the price of the only gas my old truck will run on(ethyl), to three bucks a gallon. Actually, Pepino was on the ladder with the numbers, and Mustafa was on the cell with a calculator, calling the numbers out in a sort of Texspinglish - Pakistexican dialect that I'd never heard before, except coming from the beer cooler there, accompanied by the sound of a bullwhip cracking. So anyway, as I wheeled in, I was listening to The Marshall Tucker Band on XM, playing and singing and fiddling, "Ramblin'" like really loud, no really, really loud. Now not wanting to just garrott such a classic in mid fiddle solo, I proceeded to leave the door open and slip the magic plastic into the little slot provided, and commenced to pump my bargain basement gas. Well out of the blue, this bespectacled "Norbert" comes slithering around the pump from his own little cute hybrid, and says "by law you are supposed to turn off your engine, before you begin fueling"...........Well, I glared at him and said "sorry", then grinned at him.......and stuck a fork in old Quatro right there on the spot, and killed his engine. Immediately afterward, I walked back to my bicycle(which lives as a second spare, and spontaneous recreational vehicle) in the bed of my truck. He watched, as I pulled the Bowie knife I carry, tethered where your dad has his bike pump or water bottle, from it's sheath, and pulled the blade across my forearm...........with a little red trail following it's path. I explained to him, that it was to serve as a reminder that I'd done a bad thing, and to not to let it happen again. And then I smiled at him another time to show him I was sincere, then glanced into my outside mirror, and shrieked "it'll be worse next time", while holding the knife at my neck. Then I changed the XM to "Fungus" (I forget the channel number). He got hurriedly into his "car" and drove away. Did you know that gas pumps have break away hoses now? I forgot to get his license number, doggone it. Someday, when I no longer think his gas cap makes a cool curb feeler for my K2 mountain bike, I'd like to know where to return it to him.

Geez, an alphabetical format..........now there's a concept.    ......did yall get that idea reading the obits? Do you know what you have created now? Likely a cottage industry of folks going in and renaming their blogs to get to the front of the line. I am going to copyright a cache of cool names for blogs, and scalp them at the Hiller St. railroad crossing. I hear there's arms and warning lights there now and cars actually have to stop for the trains.

Sooooo, for the moment, the ancient blog, "A Pirate Awash in the Pity" remains up on the front screen..............but as soon as someone picks up a Houston Yellow Pages(with proper back support and lifting technique, please), and sees the myriad of methods of getting to the front of the line, the race will be on. There will undoubtedly be some "AAAAAAfordable Awesome Blogmeister", & Aardvarks and Landsharks". All I ask is that you consider putting in a "reverse order" sort feature, so when I change mine to "Wild Eyed Southern Boy", I'll still be where my kids can find me..........or maybe you could do an alpha numeric search, or put up a roulette wheel, or digital dart board and make finding your fave a game of skill.............

Actually, and in all fairness guys, an A to Z search feature was probably a good plan. I have had more than one befuddled friend e-mail and ask where did your blog go?

Okay, I am starting this one at a loss for what to title it. As is usually the case, I am not at a loss for words, and as is sometimes the case, I will probably use some wrong words.

I went to a wake today. I wish for all the world, that I had not had to be there for that reason - that I had been able to see the amazing old and dear friends I did under different circumstances. It was scarcely a month or two ago it seems, that I wrote a short piece on the passing, but more importantly, the life I knew, of Mr. James Rudd, the father of a family that I and my siblings grew up with in our little home village on the bay. Today, the young man that I was there to pay my respects to, was his son Mike, a young man of fifty one, and who lying in repose, looked like a boy of thirty five, like he could wake with a big grin, half concealed behind his walrus mustache, swing in behind the wheel of a pickup, and be off to the four winds, and to do whatever struck his fancy. I would like now, to be able to say that I knew Mike...........but the Mike I knew was a boy, a friend of my younger brother, and over the years and miles, I, as people will do, lost touch and knew only where he lived, based on my way too infrequent conversations with his oldest sister, and her husband, my dear old friend Paul. But one thing I can tell you, is that judging from what I have read, and what I was told, and by the stream of mourners, well wishers, and who passed through Grace Chapel for just a visitation, that this young man had made a mark of unquestionable significance on the lives of so many. I saw kids of all ages, fresh and innocent, and pierced with adornments. I saw old friends of my own. I saw so many total strangers, right down to the veterans and American Legionnaires in dress, that I hear Mike was so ready to step up to the plate for, that he was recognized for his contribution and time to them and to their organizations.

Mike was, just a month ago I am told, for all outward appearances, a healthy man, but who was initally diagnosed with pneumonia, and after not being able to shake it, and on further tests, diagnosed with lung cancer that spread quickly, and consumed his life within a short few weeks.  I would bet that if I could speak for MIke and for the family and friends who mourn his untimely passing, that they would echo my sentinments and advice. Don't let this be a light extinguished, without having seen it. Cherish every second you have with the ones you love. Tomorrow does come. Make sure you don't miss an opportunity to reach out and let them know how you feel - every chance you have. I do wish now, that I had known Mike as an adult........can't change that. I wish I had watched his kids being raised by he and his wife Jacque, but I didn't. My friend Reese, speaks very highly of MIke's wife, and my heart goes out to her for the loss of her friend and mate. Though the finality of his life on Earth is very clear to me, I know that he will live on in the hearts and spirits of so many. That means a lot to me. Today I spent a couple of hours in the company of a couple of wonderful people, old dear friends. One, whom he and I keep saying that we "have to quit meeting like this" and go grab a cold one together. I will see that that happens. The other friend, was so special to me once upon a time, and a friend that I was afraid I would likely just carry fond memories of and smile when I thought of them. Maybe now that won't have to be the case.

Life and friends come with so many smiles and so much wonder and love.

Thank you Mike, rest now, in Peace.

And I thought of the perfect title after all...........