What Are The Odds?

It all started innocently enough, I was out in my garage trying to organize my tools, fishing reels, weights and lumber that I use to build stuff, when a freaking rat runs across the floor.

I hate rats. I’m not talking full blown ricochet panic thing but I just hate the little disease spreading bastards. They hardly ever sit still long enough to shoot.

After putting three bullet holes through the back door, the freezer and a tackle box, the rat got pissed off and did a full on frontal assault. Thinking fast I grabbed a tennis racquet and whacked the little sucker sending him or her to Valhalla.

Throwing the tennis racquet aside I glanced over at the broom laying on the floor. So keeping one eye on the rat to make sure he didn’t revive himself and come after me (zombie rats are a real pain the ass), I grabbed the broom handle and picked it up. Apparently I missed the broom handle and grabbed the snake that crawled into the garage to get the rats.

I’m not real sure but when I flung him or her out into the driveway, I could have sworn it called me a name that rhymed with bon of a witch.

After regaining my footing I noticed the rat was still where I knocked it and the snake was limping out of the drive, cursing me under its breath.

I swept the rat outside and over to my home-made catapult then launched that sucker of course it flew over the fence and  into the neighbors yard, where the neighbor just so happened to be walking with a hoe in her hand trying to kill a mumbling, cussing snake.

When the rat fell out of the sky and landed by her feet, my neighbor panicked and threw the hoe into the street where it struck the windshield of a garbage truck, causing the driver to lose control and run into the telephone pole.

The telephone pole fell over ripping down the power lines on our block, putting everyone without power while simultaneously starting a small fire three houses down.

Luckily the fire department is only two blocks away and they were able to save the foundation of that house.
Of course all the smoke drove all the rats from the nearby meadows into the first safe spot they could find. You guessed it. My garage.
Now if all this happened from killing on rat, what are the odds that if I kill a lot of rats we will have floods of Biblical proportions?


One Fine Day In The Oval Office

We enter the Oval Office to find a distraught Barack Obama, talking to Joe Biden.

Obama – Joe, this shit is getting bad. Benghazi, Fast and Furious, The  I.R.S. , all of this crap is taking a toll on me.

Biden – I know bosserooni, and now it seems the press is turning on you, too.

Obama – I’m wondering what the heck I should do.

Biden – Buy a shotgun.

Obama – What?

Biden – This is a big f***ing deal.

Obama – I know it’s a big deal.

Biden – Millions and millions of people agree with me on this.

Obama – On what?

Biden – Oh, sorry big kahuna I was just looking over all my usual talking points to see if I could find something to help you.

Obama – Well it aint working, Joe.

Biden – Hey at least we got the I.R.S. to go after that guy in Alabama that makes fun of you on his website.

Obama – Which one is that.

Biden – The one that writes that one fine day in the oval office stuff.

Obama – Yes but that is one fish in a large pond.

Biden – I thought his site was fishy.

Obama – Of course he also made fun of W. when he was president.

Biden -Yeah, but that was different, W. is not the messiah that you are. Although  I do love his pelosi jokes.

Obama – There is no bigger joke than Nancy herself.

Biden – True dat!

Obama – So what do I do about my scandal riddled presidency. Maybe I should just pack up and go home.

Biden – Yeah that would be the thing. Nixon resigned before he was impeached.

Obama – Yeah, but Bill was impeached and not removed from office.

Biden – Well, if I have any say in the matter you can bet your ass that you will be removed from office.

Obama – Thanks Joe…. wait what?

Biden – Yep then they won’t have nobody to pick on or make fun of but Uncle Joe Biden.

Obama – So you want me out of office too?

Biden – Did I say that out loud?

Join us next time after the author of this gets done dealing with the irs  (seriously) and hopefully we will have something funny to say.



One Fine Day In The Oval Office

We enter the Oval Office to find an irritated Barack Hussein Obama  along with Joe Biden, Dianne Feinstein, Charles Schumer, Micheal Bloomberg, Nancy Pelosi and Hillary Clinton.

Obama – This little guy is driving me crazy, can’t we do something about him?

Obama, Lord of the flies

Hillary – Do you want me to get my flyswatter, oh great one?

Obama – I aint talking about the fly you beastly woman, I am talking about Biden. I’ve named him Lenny.

Schumer – You named Biden, Lenny?

Obama – No I named the fly Lenny, I’ve named Biden Dumbass.

Schumer – Are you calling me a dumbass?

Obama – Well I wasn’t at the time. But I was actually talking about Biden being a dumbass and the fly being named Lenny because he’s my little buddy.

Pelosi – Biden’s your little buddy?

2 (3)

Obama – No dammit. The fly named Lenny is my little buddy. Biden’s my pain in the butt.

Hillary – Oh I see. So you want someone to whack Biden with a fly swatter.

Pelosi – I’ll do it! I’ll do it.

2 (9)

Biden – Huh? What did I do this time?
Feinstein – You know exactly what you did, Joe.

Biden – No, No I don’t.

Bloomberg – Yeah, I believe Joe on this one, he never knows what he does, even when he’s doing it.

Biden – Yeah what Putin said.

Hillary – Putin? What’s he got to do with this?

Biden (whispering and pointing to Bloomberg) – Shh! Hillary he’s sitting right there.

Bloomberg – You idiot! I am Micheal Bloomberg the Mayor of New York.

2 (7)

Biden – Ooohh. Sorry. Didn’t mean to blow your cover.

Obama – Can we get back to the problem at hand here?

Biden – Yeah. So what is your prob… I mean what is the problem, Bosserooni?

Feinstein – The problem is Joe, we are trying to ban guns, not give people alternatives.1 (24)

Biden  – I thought we were trying to ban assault rifles.

Feinstein – Well that’s the start but eventually we want them all.

Biden – Well we get them to give up those dangerous assault rifles that are hardly ever used in criminal activity and we are off to a good start.

Feinstein  – But you told everyone to buy a shotgun and stock up on shotgun shells.

Bloomberg – Shotguns are illegal in New York City…. or they will be.2 (7)

Biden – Well I was only trying to help save lives.

Pelosi – How was that helping.

Biden – Because it’s safer to get killed with a shotgun than it is with an assault rifle.

Hillary – Whaaaaaat?

Biden – Well figure it out. An assault rifle leaves tiny little holes in you. A shotgun up close blows a chunk out that I could park my old Buick in…

Schumer – You’re missing the point Joe…2 (2)

Biden – You could see slap through somebody after getting popped with my shotgun…

Bloomberg – Joe….

Biden  –  No meat grinder needed here baby, cause you’re hamburger….

Hillary – Not what we are ……

Biden – The Swissiest of Swiss cheese…

Schumer – Joe we are trying to ba….

Biden – D… O… Freaking A… Baby!

Obama – SHUT UP!  Everybody. Dang it Joe. You were giving people other  weapons to use as alternatives to our weapons ban.1 (21)

Feinstein  – Yes Joe. We are trying to disarm America not give them other weapons to use against our tyrannical, maniacal, farsical and magical take over of the country.

Biden – Oh what harm is showing them a little shot gun?

Obama – That was the AA-12 you were using. It’s fully automatic.1 (2)

Biden – But it’s not an assault rifle, it’s an assault shotgun.

Pelosi – You looked like FPS Russia using that thing.

1 (15)

Biden (points at Bloomberg and whispers) – Nancy you don’t need to be insulting the Russians right now.

2 (5)

Hillary – Good Lord.

Obama (leaning toward Hillary)  – Yes?

Hillary – What?

2 (11)

Obama – You called me.

Hillary – I meant the other Lord.

Obama – There will be no other lords before me.

Hillary – What difference does it make which lord is where.

Obama – Hillary. You’re Fired.

Hillary – Idiot, I was quitting anyhow as soon as John Kerry gets sworn in.

Biden (points at Bloomberg)  – Boss , you want Vladmir… I mean Mayor Bloomberg here to take her out and let her sleep with the fishes?

Obama – No, you ignorant cracker! Besides the mafia does that not the Mayor of New York.

1 (22)

Biden  (talking directly to Bloomberg) So can you do that dance where it looks like you are squatting down and trying to kick a football at the same time?

Bloomberg – I’m not Vladmir Putin, Dammit!

Biden – Ooooh witness protection, huh?

Bloomberg (looking at Obama) – Why did you pick this fool?

Obama – Cause if I get impeached, there aint no way they are going to remove me from office for him to take over.

Biden – Plus I know where the best burger joints are.

Bloomberg – Burgers are illegal in New York…. or they are going to be.2 (6)

At this time Hillary gets up and begins wondering around the room, looking under lamps, chair cushions, behind pictures and under the presidents desk.

Obama – Hillary? What are you doing?

Hillary – I know there has to be some of Bill’s stash hidden in here, somewhere.

Feinstein (pulls a tiny hand rolled cigarette looking item from her purse) – Here dear, have one of mine.. (Looks around the room) What? I have a prescription for this.

Bloomberg – Smoking is illegal in New York…. or it will be.

Biden (looking at Bloomber) – Hey Bloomers, don’t Bogart that joint man.

Joe Biden

Obama – Do it like I do my politics folks.

Schumer – What?

Biden – He means puff, puff, pass, dumbass.

Tune in next time when we hear John Kerry and Al Gore say, in unison – Hey smoking marijuana leads to global warming.





All of my life I’ve been hearing about how I need to get my priorities straight.
Heck I don’t even know what my priorities are, much how to straighten them out.

I decided that I would do some research and try to straighten them out, in the event they were found to be crooked.
I questioned my wife as to what priorities were, only to receive her ‘Good grief you’re about ignorant’ look.

After helping her get her eyes rolled back into the proper perspective, I decided it would probably be best to search elsewhere for the answer.

Walking out the door and deciding it was such a nice day I took a little drive, which caused me to pass right by the Over the Cliff Bar and Grill.
The Over the Cliff Bar and Grill  was so named because the special of the day was whatever fell from the cliff that hung out over the bar.

Inside, I was met by the bartender. A  tall wiry built fellow with several scars, tattoos and at least four teeth, his name was Lude,  I’m not sure if he was named that for the way he tries to pick up women or for his use of prescription medications, or maybe both.
The only woman in two states that could tolerate him for more than fifteen minutes sober or drunk was Lynette the barmaid, short order cook, waitress, part-time bouncer, and taxidermist, if things got to rough for Lude he would holler for her to take care of it.

There was many a time when I would walk in and see Lynette throwing a poor slob out with one hand while skinning a slightly flatter than usual possum with her other hand and teeth.
Lynette was the only person I knew who carried a recipe book with her to the zoo.

On two occasions I actually saw the softer side of Lynette. One was  when child had wrecked his bicycle in front of the bar.
“Splat!  A little tobaccy juice works wonders on scrapes like that, why my paw used to do that for us if’n a bobcat or something got a holt of us.” She would say raising her leg up so the kid could see the scars on her calf.

The other occasion was when a stranger informed her that she was the prettiest woman he’d seen in a while, which lasted right up until she found out he had just gotten out of prison, and the bar was his first stop.

As I found a decent barstool and sat down she walked up and slapped me on the back so hard my eyes bulged out about three inches from my face.

“Armadillo’s the special today.” She said with a grin.

“No thanks.” I replied, putting my eyes back into their respective sockets. “I just ate a few minutes ago.”

“Bet it wasn’t as good as my cooking.” She said.

Knowing when to avoid a confrontation is one thing betraying my wife’s cooking is another, I prepared myself for the lumps that were about to come, looked her dead in the eye and said. “Of course not, why you’re the best cook in the whole world.”

“Yep and you had all better remember that.” She said looking around the bar.

I learned never argue with any one that can skin an alligator, with a nail file while whistling.

“Well are ya just gonna set there with that stupid look on yer face or are ya gonna order something?” She asked.

“I’ll have a beer.” I said.

“You look like you’re in deep thought about something.” Lude said looking up from the magazine he was reading.

“Yeah I’m trying to get my priorities straight but I don’t seem to know what they are.”

“Priorities?  Boy that’s kinda deep.  Hey, Lynette what are priorities?” Lude responded.

“What the hell do I look like a damn dictionary?” She asked.

“Dang I haven’t seen her like this in a while, what’s she in such a good mood for?” I asked.

“Her sister that won the lottery is coming to visit and she’s supposed to be bringing her a big check. She’s been happy as a lark like that all day.”

“What was that thing she mentioned looking like?” I asked.

“Some kinda bird or something I suppose.” Lude responded.

“It’s a book ya idiots,” She yelled from behind a pile of animal skins. “Ya know the kind ya look words up and it tells ya what they mean. Aw hell, ya couldn’t spell priorities no how, it means stuff ya have to do by means of which is the most important.”

After a moment or two of deep thought, which culminated with my falling off the barstool, I realized that my first priority was to quit falling asleep on barstools.

After getting that one straight I decided to head for the house, and see what other priorities I could come up with.

After about fifteen minutes worth of thinking which as fate would have it, was the exact time that it took to get to the house from the bar, I decided that my first priority should be to clean out my tackle box.

As I studied my tackle box, I realized that I should make sure of which lures I used and which ones I didn’t. Wanting to be precise I decided to go fishing just as sort of a way to be sure of what to keep and what to discard into my other box. While making the long walk out to my truck I realized that I couldn’t go fishing without a fishing license, so I figured I would have to make a stop by the store on my way to the creek.

I cranked up my old Chevy fishing truck and drove slowly to the store upon arriving at the store I realized that my first priority should have been to fix the brakes on the old truck.  Luckily no damage was done to the telephone pole that I ran into while executing my emergency stopping procedure. By the time I had gotten into the store and had renewed my fishing license word had already gotten out about the phone pole, being a man of priorities I knew that I had to leave before the phone people got there.

Starting my old fishing truck I headed out for the creek after crossing two ditches, a backyard or two, and Old man Richardson’s concrete barrier fence, I arrived at the creek. As I winched my truck out of the creek I noticed the cable was a bit frayed so I thought that replacing it should be my first priority when I got home.

After an uneventful episode of fishing, I loaded up my gear and decided to head for home.  Upon my arrival I accidentally ran over the mailbox in front of our house. I wasn’t too worried about it since old man Richardson was having enough of a conniption about his fence and his nervous cattle that he wouldn’t notice his mailbox.

My wife looked at me as I walked through the door as if she were surprised to see me back alive again. She always looks that way when I drive my fishing truck.

“Where have you been?” she asked, in her usual I see I can’t collect on my insurance policy yet, tone of voice.

“I’ve been out getting my priorities straight.” I said.

Oh really!” She said with just a hint of sarcasm in her voice.

“Yep, and I’m going to start on them right away.”

“Well I hope one of them is fixing old man Richardson’s fence, where you ran through it a while ago.”

“Heck it aint like his cows ever come to this side of the pasture anymore.” I replied

“He does seem to have some weird cows.” She said sarcastically.

“Yes, yes he does” I agreed.

“Well I reckon while I’m fixing the fence I may as well replace his mail box too.”

“Why don’t you fix the brakes on that truck while you’re at it?” She asked.

To someone that doesn’t fish there is no comprehension of the true meaning of fishing trucks.

After fixing the mailbox, I walked over to the fence, it was actually a concrete barrier that for some reason only separated my property from the Richardson farm. Luckily the barrier had only been ran over and was knocked out of place by about thirty feet, so all I had to do was move it back in place, Unlike the last time when the barrier had disintegrated upon collision with the front of my fishing truck.

Old Man Richardson came strolling across his pasture just as I was finishing up with his fence.

I could tell just by the look on his face that his religion was wearing a might thin.

Why don’t you fix them brakes on that truck?” He asked. “And quit running over everything in God’s creation.”

“Well that is one of my priorities.” I said, I didn’t tell him I just couldn’t remember which one.

“My cows is so shook up they only give cheese these days.” He informed me.

“Great, I’ll take five pounds of cheddar.” I said trying to lighten the moment.

I would never have thought that a ninety-eight year old man with emphysema could run that fast for that long. After about a quarter of a mile he dropped the pry bar he was chasing me with, and after about another quarter mile he stopped running. Judging from the language he used, I think he dropped his religion right after the cheese remark.

After fixing the fence and the mailbox and helping get Mr. Richardson into the ambulance, which wasn’t a pretty sight.

“Boy that old feller sure puts up a fight when we try to get that straight jacket on him.
I guess he’s to that age when he goes out of his head farely regularly.
Talking bout flying trucks, anti aircraft guns, and neighbors from hell.
He also said something about wanting to skin you alive.”  Said one of the paramedics.

“He sure is a strange bird.” Said the other.

“He goes into these little tirades every now and then.” I said.

“Yeah we see he has a history of nervous breakdowns.” The first paramedic said. “You believe he told us his cows were giving cheese instead of milk.”

“Heh heh heh,” I laughed. “Everybody knows you have to make the cheese from milk, I think he just needs to get his priorities straight.”

I think I’ll make fixing the brakes on that fishing truck my first priority, right after I finish my nap.

The Night Before Christmas


Twas the night before Christmas and all through the rooms,
not a creature was stirring, we were all out of spoons


The children were hung by the chimney with care,
in hopes that Saint Nicholas soon would be there.


The baby was nestled all snug in her bed,
while roaches and spiders crawled over her head


I wore pajamas and my old lady a gown,
as we both crawled in bed about to get down


When out on the lawn arose such a clatter,
I leapt from the loft and fell down the ladder


Away to the window I flew like the Flash,
tore apart the shutters and threw up on the sash


As I stuck out my neck and looked at my shed,
down came the window on top of my head


When what to my bulging eyes should I see,
but a man on a sleigh running into a tree


The plump little driver so clumsy and slow,
yelled to his reindeer, ‘Dammit let’s go’


More faster than turtles his reindeer they came,
as he screamed and he shouted and called them bad names


On Dasher, on Dancer, on Donder and Blitzen,
on Comet, on Ajax, on Agnew and Nixon


To the top of the porch, to the top of the wall,
now dash away, crash away, smash away all


The prancing and pawing of each tiny hoof,
could clearly be heard as they all peed on my roof


As I pulled in my head and was turning around,
head first came Saint Nick as he crashed to the ground


He was covered in ashes from his hat to his shoes,
and gagging and wheezing and smelling like booze


Though his bag was filled with brand new toys,
he took all we had and made not a noise


In his bag was a hatchet I hoped was for me,
but before I could stop him, he chopped down our tree


Then laying his finger aside of his nose,
a bright yellow mucous from his nostrils he blows


Then away through the door, he screamed as he sped,
‘Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead’


What Is The Value Of A Human Life.

Our recent member of the ARBAA (American Redneck Brotherhood Association of America) Prof  Smithers Snodley (Phd. MA. MD. PIOA “Okay the PIOA stands for pain in our asses”) asked at our last meeting “What is the value of a human life?”

Now granted when this clown stated in his application, under favorite beer, that he preferred a nice Pinot Noir, we should have known better than to accept him into our fold.
But hey, we are a club of inclusion, not exclusion, just ask Dave and his “wife” Elliot.

“What is the value of a human life?” he asked again. “I’ll tell you what it is.” He said with a sip of his wine. (Yeah he sips wine, from a glass, one of them spindly little glasses that have that long glass part between the part you actually drink from and the bottom of the glass, got one of them there cork screw things too.)

“The value of a human life is an idea.” Snodley said looking around the room.
“The idea that you have political differences, religious differences, status differences, the idea that you are willing to kill to take from someone else, the idea that your country needs to invade another country, the idea that your religion is worth killing others for.” He paused long enough to take a sip from his glass and then continued on. “Thousands of people die each year, not for money, but for an idea. Yes my brethren the value of a human life is simply an idea.” 

After Snodley finally shut up, we sat there in silence for a few minutes looking at each other and wishing to hell that Floyd hadn’t of thought the black ball was a licorice jelly bean.

Finally Ray spoke up and said. “The value of a human life is somewheres upwards of thirty eight cents.”
“How do you figure that?” Snodley asked. 

“Didn’t they teach you math at that Ivory league university you attended?” Ray asked.

“Math? How pray tell does math figure in to the value of a human life.” Snodley asked.

“Well, figure it this way, a box of twenty forty caliber shells cost me  seven dollars and sixty cents.”

“What does that have to do with my original question?” Snodley asked, rolling his eyes.

Well you figure seven dollars and sixty cents works out to 38 cents apiece and when some idiot gets the idea that he is going to break into my home and do me harm, he is going to be greeted by upwards of 38 cents.” 

“What does that have to do with philosophy?” Snodley asked wide eyed. 

“The barrel of a gun has caused many a man to change his religion one way or another.” Floyd chimed in.

I don’t think ol Professor Snodley will return to any more ARBAA meetings, and if we ever figure out what uncouth louts are he might not want to.

One Fine Day In The Oval Office

We enter the oval office to see Barack Obama, Harry Reid, Nancy Pelosi and Joe Biden sitting in a circle talking.

Obama – Today is a good day to be a social…..I mean democrat guys. My latest speech drew tons of applause and set the tone for my next four years in office.

Pelosi – Yes my lord, the people are loving you once again, you and that other guy are now tied in the polls.

Reid – Did you according to the latest polls democrats are favoring you more than the repelicans are favoring ol what’s his name?

Biden – Who?

Reid – You know, he who will not be named?

Biden – Who, who will not be named?

Reid – That other guy?

Biden – What other guy?

Reid – Dangit Joe! Romney!

Biden – Dangit Joe Romney? He sounds like a boxer.

Pelosi – Joe you blithering idiot, it’s Mitt Romney?

Obama (puts his fingers in his ears) Unnnnngggghhhh!

Pelosi – Now look what you have done, you have upset the great one.

Biden – I didn’t do that. Someone else did.

Reid – Joe that only applies to republicans that own a business.

Biden – Republicans that own businesses upset the boss?

Pelosi – Joe if you don’t shut up I am going to go out of my mind.

Biden – Well as long as you go out of the room to do, we  all saw that time you went out of your clothes and it was horrible.

Reid – Yeah that put a whole new perspective on a sagging economy.

Pelosi – Well I never.

Reid – Nancy you never stopped.

Obama – Dammit! Yall shut up. This is about me. Me. Me. Get It! This aint about none of you losers. This is about me.

Biden – Hey Big Baboo, Mitt Romney is talking on that box thingy again.

Reid – For the last time it’s a television, Joe.

Biden – Oh.

Obama – Shut up and let me hear what the clown has to say.

Romney (over the television) – For him to say that you didn’t build your business is ludicrous and seriously it shows exactly what kind of person he is……

Obama – Oh yeah, well release your tax returns so we can see what kind of person you are.

Romney (still on the air) – The democrats are calling for me to release more tax returns and to that I say, RELEASE YOUR COLLEGE TRANSCRIPTS MR. OBAMA! Release those fast and furious documents. Release your student loan documents. Then I will consider releasing more of my tax returns.

Obama – Call the DNC and tell them to lay off Mitt’s tax return stuff.

Biden – You tell em bosseroo.

Pelosi – He can’t do that, that’s not fair expecting you to adhere to the same rules he does.

Reid – Yeah. Who does he think he is.

Biden – And I bet he don’t even have a teleprompter.

Obama – Well we will straighten him out come the next election.

Reid – Exactly! As  I was saying the recent polls show that democrats favor you at 60% where only two-thirds of republicans favor Romney, so you are stronger with your followers than Romney is with his.

Biden – But isn’t two-thirds the equivalent of 66 and one-third percent?

Obama – Oh now you develop an I.Q.

Biden – I may not be able to spell I.Q. or Jobs either but I can do some cyphering.

Pelosi – Calm down Jethro.

Biden – Keep your shirt on Nancy.

Reid – I got to side with Joe on this one.

Obama – I second that motion.

Pelosi – So what is our next move when people want to know who the someone else was that built these businesses for all these people. If they didn’t build them for themselves.

Obama – Well I haven’t figured it that far yet.

Biden – We could always say it was Bush.

Reid – Bush?

Biden – Yeah we blame him for everything else why not blame him for building these businesses.

Obama – Sounds like a plan. Call the RTPs and have them get it ready.

Pelosi –  RTPs?

Biden – Royal Teleprompter Programmers.

Obama – Well it really is a no brainer, if the American people do not re-elect me then it proves that they are all as stupid as I say they are.

Biden – Don’t worry boss, we have the USBBWU on our side.

Obama – Who?

Biden – The United States Ballot Box Workers Union.

Obama – I knew I picked you for some reason or another.

Tune in next time when we hear Biden say – Hey Bosserooni, I forgot to mention the USBBWU was one of the unions whose pay you cut through your bailout plan.

Childhood Memories – Bicycling

About a half a million years ago or so it seems I was a kid.  A essential part of my being a kid took place in the mid to late 1970’s and involved bicycles.
When school would let out for the Summer, you had two basic things to do. The first was to work in the garden along with your normal chores and the other was to ride your bike.

When all the chores were done or we didn’t have to work in the garden, my older brother and I would hook up with some of our friends and go ride bikes. 
On this particular day  my brother Tony, another guy named Tony, my best friend Frankie and I took off our goal was to ride down to the little community of Coal Springs which was about seven miles from our house.
The only problem with getting to Coal Springs is that you had to ride down Laxative Mountain.

Laxative Mountain got it’s name from the fact that the road was so steep and so curvy that if it didn’t scare the crap out of you then nothing would.

On this morning we all met up at the other guy named Tony’s house where he and I made a trade on a bicycle, I traded and older bicycle to him for a newer three speed bicycle that I would later learn had no brakes.

After finishing up our trade we headed toward Coal Springs, laughing and joking and occasionally running each other off the road into ditches, mailboxes, and road sign posts, we finally reached the top of Laxative Mountain.

My older brother was the first to start down the steep, curvy hillside, followed by Tony, and Frankie, as I had been the most recent recipient of a head on crash with a mailbox I brought up the rear.

Since none of us used brakes on a regular basis, it was on the side of the mountain that I discovered my recent upgrade in bicycles had none.

Frankie was the first person I passed as he had stopped to talk to some workers putting in new sign posts on the hill,  except for the lack of brakes I too would have stopped.
As I flew by the Tonys, I screamed to my brother “How do I stop this thing?”

He replied “Gear down.”  Okay here’s where I add a not, gearing down does not work on bicycles and the old three speed bicycles that have the shifter built onto the nut bar requires that you take one hand off the handle bars to use the shifter.
When going down Laxative or any other mountain this is not a good idea.
I made it through the first two curves without much trouble, but the main steep slope was ahead of me and with it came a sharp curve at the bottom of the mountain.

It was at the bottom of the mountain I realized that the road went one way and I another as I sailed across a bank, skipped like a stone across a pond, and landed in a heap of tangled bicycle, flesh and barbedwire (from a fence that I encountered somewhere in all of that).
By the time I my trail of destruction ended and I came to a complete stop, my brother and friends were there.
I of course was there as well spitting out tree bark, barbed wire, bugs, and a catfish. 
You would think someone’s brother coming up on them covered in blood from head to toe from the multitude of scratches and cuts I had, would ask “Are you okay?”
Not my brother.

Nope, the first thing my brother said was “Mom’s going to kill you for ruining your shirt and shoes, and tearing the patches off them britches.”
You would think my friends would ask “Are you okay?”
Nope, not my friends the first thing the other Tony said was, “I found what’s left of your shoe over by the ditch. Man, your mom is going to kill you.”
My friend Frankie finally arrived and all he could say was, “What’s that smell?”

After walking into the woods so that I could check myself thoroughly I was pleased to find that Laxative Mountain had not live up to it’s name with me on this particular incident.
Straightening out the front forks on my bike we carried on.

We arrived at the Coal Springs grocery about twenty minutes later where I hosed myself off, drank a cold drink (soda, pop, coke, or whatever you prefer to call them) and prepared for the journey back home.
The funny thing is that I was more afraid of  arriving home and facing mom than I was when I was going off the mountain.

Needless to say she didn’t kill me, although she did add a little insult to injury or maybe it was a little more injury to injury over the fact that I had ruined my clothes. 



You just get bored. I’m talking about really bored.



Well maybe not this kind of bored…



But bored enough that you just sit back and think about how all your dreams go up in smoke.

Or you just can’t remember what time of the year it is.


So you have to sit back and think about what you want to accomplish.

Then it hits you.

You realize what it was and it makes you happy.
Dr. McCoy and Captain Kirk

So you run right out to try it.


You tell your friends “Hold my beer and watch this”.


Of course it doesn’t work, and everything crashed down around you.

and then you wind up right back at the start bored again.

But then you just decide to heck with it. I’ll watch


Or maybe this
Or possibly

This boring post was brought to you by the fine folks over at Bass Pro Shops

and also Cooltan Tan-Through Swimwear

The Greatest Football Coach of All Time

Before there was Joe Paterno, before there was Bobby Bowden, before there was Paul Bryant,  but after there was Alonzo Stagg, there was Woodrow Gribs.

Woodrow Gribs, born in Mudslip Mississippi  in 1907 and coached until his untimely death in 1968 at the age of 43. 

Woodrow Gribs was a master of defense, special teams, rerouting math and making whiskey.

His first coaching job was the 1931 Mudslip Mud Puppies PeeWee Football Team, Gribs compiled a 35 and 0 record during his time of coaching them. His Mud Puppy defense never gave up a point and in nine games his defense never allowed the other team to cross their own 35 yard line. Team captain Orson “Rocco” McFeely would say playing for Coach Gribs was his dream come true.

As word began to spread about the PeeWee Mud Puppies, offers for other coaching jobs came his way.

In 1932, a young college dean Frank Moorbeer, of Creaky Mountain State Community College offered a head coaching position to Woodrow Gribs, Even though Creaky Mountain State did not have a football team.

When asked why he went to Woodrow Gribs, Mr Moorbeer would explain; “We’s on a limited budget and a coach what makes his own whiskey would sure save us a hell of a lot of money.”

Although Woodrow Gribs did not have a formal education, having retired from schooling at the age of ten, to pursue his dream of becoming the master brewer at Slim Watkins whiskey still, he accepted the position.
To meet the education requirements Coach Gribs would attend class in the mornings to earn his degree and would assemble a coaching staff and football team after school.
It was hard work but Coach Gribs accomplished it all in less than two weeks.
When trying to choose a mascot, Coach Gribs told the student body; “We going to have a team what is tougher than a hogs nuts.”
Thus the Oysters of Creaky Mountain were born.

During his first season as head coach, Coach Gribs suffered his first defeat from the University of Waffle Falls (also known as Waffle U), a 3-0 shocker. He would later say that they cheated by putting lard on the ball before every kickoff causing his return men to fumble. It would be one of 4 losses in his collegiate career and the only time they would lose to the hated Waffle U.

The 1932 squad would however end the season with a 6 and 1 record with 4 of his opponents being shut out.

His 1933 team fared much better with a perfect 8-0 record, shutting out three opponents and allowing only one team to score more than 3 points. One of the shut outs was a revenge match against the hated Waffle U, when Gribs and the Creaky Mountain Oysters stunned them with a 76 – 0 beatdown, causing the head coach of Waffle Falls to leap from a cliff midway through the third quarter. 
When asked why he refused to end the game at half time when the score was 38 – 0, Coach Gribs said “The greased us last year, so we’re going to fry their asses this year.”

Coach Gribs would shock the world however when his 1966 team would compile a 14-0 record in only 9 games.

During the 1967 season,  the NCAA came calling with a list of complaints;
Complaint number one was that one player, particularly previous team captain, Otis “Rocco” Muldoon, had played four previous years as Orvis “Rocco” Mahoney, and the four years before that as Orville “Rocco” Macdabney.
A complaint which was vehemently denied by Coach Gribs and current team captain, Opie “Rocco ” Muldowney.

It was also brought up by the NCAA that the 1966 team only played 9 games but yet had a 14-0 record.
Gribs shrugged that complaint off by simply stating  “The ass whupping we gave some of them boys was so bad them record keepers thought they got whupped twice.”

The investigation began to fizzle when two of the NCAA investigators were caught in photographs taking money from a Waffle Falls booster.

Two other NCAA investigators would be caught in compromising positions, one with a Thai hooker and the other with a goat.

Although cleared of any wrong doings, the investigation took it’s toll on Creaky Mountain State and on Coach Gribs, whose 1967 team would have a mediocre season with 11 wins and 0 losses but they allowed all of their opponents to score at least 3 points.

Before the 1968 team could take the field, strong rains washed Creaky Mountain University, Coach Gribs and his moonshine still, off the side of the mountain, killing Coach  Gribs and causing injury, harm and heartbreak to several other people and a small farming community at the foot of the mountain.
During the funeral services one mourner would say ” I don’t know much about football, but that there Gribs feller sure made some good whiskey.”

Creaky Mountain State would never be rebuilt and the Creaky Mountain Oysters would never play another game. Compiling one of the greatest records in all of college football with  354 wins and just 4 losses all of which are debatable. Defeating their hated rival Waffle Falls University 36 of 37 times. Along with those wins came 26 Division IIIa-1/2 National Championships.

When former Waffle Falls Chancellor, James Stickinbutt, became head of the NCAA, they would re-open the investigation of Creaky Mountain U and without anyone being able to defend themselves and all the records having been destroyed in the avalanche and whiskey still explosion, the entire history of the Creaky Mountain Oysters would be stricken from the record books.
A victory for Waffle Falls University and Stickenbutt, that would be short lived.
Waffle Falls University would itself fall victim to nature when the school would be shut down due to almost the whole student body being attacked and bitten by a migrating, ravaging, hoard of angry rabid weasels.

Shortly after televising the NCAA event in which he ceremoniously removed Creaky Mountain from the annals of football history, James Stickenbutt was ironically found dead in Mudslip Mississippi, the hometown of Coach Gribs.
He had apparently been shot 27 times, stabbed another 190 times, his throat was cut and when he was found his body had been chained to concrete blocks and tossed off a bridge.
Sheriff Orwell “Rocco” McCarney would go on record as saying “Worst damn case of suicide I ever saw.” 
The statue of Coach Woodrow Gribs and his whiskey still can be found in the town square of Mudslip Mississippi, if you can just find Mudslip Mississippi.