Scroll Down …ain’t nothin’ stoppin’ you but fear and common sense.
Nestor and me are Netflix subscribers…any of you regulars out there know that already. And like me and Nestor you probably know that the pickins’ get a little slim after a month or so, which is how we decided to watch the Burt Reynolds and John Voight classic “Deliverance”.
It still holds up well…and as an aside so does “Butch Cassidy and the Sundance kid” But, don’t get me started there.
At any rate, everybody knows the famous scene where Ned Beatty gets duked and made to squeal like a pig by a gel toothed mountain man. He finishes, zips up and then his runnin’ partner decides Ol’ John Voight has… to use a venacular evidently familiar among the mountain set, a “pretty mouth”
Trouble is, Burt Reynolds has been witnessing all this from the river bank and has prepared a steel tipped razor arrow in his power bow and is about to administer a perfect “center shot” generally considered lethal.
Shhiiing…perfect shot, straight thru that son of a bitch.
It was then, and wouldn’t you know it, up runs the liberal straight Democrat ticket voting guitar boy card board cutout touchy feely fuckstick to ask “Is there anything we can do for him”…he dies later in the movie, high point for me…just sayin’.
Drew…that was his name…didn’t care about ol’ Ned who just got ass rammed, or the escaped hillbilly who in all likelyhood would circle back later and kill all of them…no, he was worried about old “green teeth”….don’t that just beat all.
My point is, these aren’t our beliefs these are Hollywoods’ beliefs, there is a Drew in every story…but, luckily for us… not in real life, in real life we bury that fucking ass ramming hillbilly and piss on the goddamned mound.
Love me some Shirley Temple…America’s Sweetheart. Cute as a three holed button.
Not sure where I’m going with this one. My life is getting complicated again. Turns out I have some inheritance coming. Just enough to fight over.
Guess who lives furthest away from the loot.
I always knew this day was coming, and honestly, it’s playing out just like I thought it would. I hate being right all the time.
My sister is cleaning out the house my Mom was renting. She’s currently unemployed…unless you count Lesbian wedding documentaries. I somehow doubt that the IRS has been allowed to count them.
Apparently, she was able to liberate enough free time to rifle through my Mothers belongings and award herself a late model Toyota van and an equal share of the the bank accounts for her trouble. There is an executor, but, evidently that don’t mean nuttin these days.
We have become a lawless society. Rotting from the head down.
Well, I gotta go… Nestor is coming by with a box of those frozen pizza roll deals…woo hoo.
Been away for awhile. My Mom died. Nothing a time machine can’t cure. Gonna pick up some PVC and bailing wire tomorrow. And more Tecate.
My Mom was pretty sure I was the funniest person on Earth. The joke is on her.
Insert rimshot here.
It’s a drum thing…look it up…Catskills.
I am special. She was right about that. I was enrolled in special classes and everything and in addition received some very special extra curricular attention…(see my article on wood shop teachers)
It got better…eventually
Cynthia C…you know, from the law library…she was very supportive, as was Miss Robin.
She’s a good egg…they both are.
Anybody remember how to fold a paper swan?
Just got another missive from Cambria Bicycle Outfitters…seems that Giro has a new helmet out. The Aspect…suggested retail price tag of one hundred and seventy five dollars.
Lets get sumpin’ straight right outta the hatch. There ain’t nothing you can do to a bicycle helmet other than have Troy Lee paint it right in front of you that would make it intrinsically worth more than twenty bucks.
Nothing. Nothing at all. It’s foam and fucking plastic.
Did you know that you throw em away after kissing the pavement just once. It’s true.
The trendies like em though. Same crowd that’s at them damn Zoo concerts.
The free range chicken crowd, Know them by their deeds.
I’m getting old. I could use some head protection.
The other one.
Miss Robin, Nestor and I made it out to the Friday night concert at the zoo…hmmm.
Audience participation and long effin’ name dropping stories…doesn’t this chick have any regular friends?
Perla Batalla, wonderful singer, but, in my opinion talent looking for a genre. She sang my favorite song…Koo Koo Karoo Paloma….butchered it. It’s intended to be a duet. Sang some Pete Seeger too, and lots of Leonard Cohen…like I say, talent looking for a genre.
Sang Volver too, already had a speech prepared for the occasion. Something along the lines of how it wouldn’t be hard to get “this crowd” to sing along. Ostensibly because, you know, being in Albuquerque, of course, the audience would be teaming with Hispanics….it wasn’t, just pretty much Nestor and some tattooed kid doing community service.
Don’t get me wrong I like white people, I’m white too, I’m not proud of it, but, esta verdad amigos…esta verdad.
Pedro…the great white dope.
As some of you might recall Nestor and I made a short trip to San Antonio last month. We went thru the border checkpoints. Heading into Texas smooth sailing… leaving El Paso was another story.
With twenty thousand of these orphan refugees pouring in weekly this prick was snarling at me. I didn’t answer any of his questions, I just kept asking if I was free to go, eventually, I was. Thank you Infowars. And Youtube. “How to refuse a border checkpoint”
A lot of people don’t know it, but, there’s a battle on for your mind. In Nestor’s case it will simply be a short skirmish.
He’s a little simple that one, but, a good egg.
It’s alright to be itty bitty…whew, the freeways…I was not prepared. Smartphone peppering me with unsolicited advice, ratting me out with tattletale beeps everytime I exceed the posted speed limit…sheesh. What a life I’m living.
Just went out and had bad huevos rancheros in a colorful local setting, it’s what I do.
I did, however, spend a delightful early part of the day with my daughter and grandson down to the Riverwalk yesterday. It was even better than I expected. Year and a half and he’s dippin’ chips in the salsa, straight off…that’s my boy.
We had street tacos, well, I knew you guys were gonna ask.
A lot of white people in Albuquerque walk around pretty scared of the locals, you know, the brown people. You won’t feel any safer here.
I embrace it. Don’t fight the universe, go with the flow.
I’m straight up Peckerwood too…they always seem to like me.
The Bexar County courthouse is quite the piece of architecture. It’s pronounced “Bear.” You know, just like on our neighboring section on Craigslist M seeking M. There, it means fat hairy guy with a small wiener trying to get in touch with his feminine side.
Nothing wrong with that. Like I say. You can’t fight the universe.