I Stand Alone

Oh?! Whoa! It's downright criminal that this song wasn't played on the radio at least half as much as Stairway To Heaven or Freebird. Not that there's anything wrong with those great songs. I just can't help but wonder how songs like this ever get overlooked. I mean, c'mon! I thought 'instant classic' the first time I heard it.

I'm back! Again! Hurray! Where's My Parade?

Update! Okay, it seems to work in IE (which I already have but hardly ever use). So this buys Blogger a temporary reprieve from The Wrath Of USS Ben! Based on a true story.

Sun Shine Again

Well...I reckon I was sicker than I thought.

Little darkish humor there. An inside joke you might say. Really. I'm smiling right now.

Okay, I realize no one new to this blog would get it without reading some backstory here (re: archives). All I can say is I can't guarantee it is funny enough to read my archives, and if you do you may disagree about the funny factor of sickness, but if you do (disagree) the yoke is on you. :^)

Then again, some of you new guys reading this blog may still not get it. Well, perhaps you weren't put on this earth to get it (another paraphrased inside joke that Big Trouble In Little China afishyendos will appreciate).

And no, I'm not gonna explain it (Hint: it was a Lopan line).
Man. I really miss villains like Lopan. Most villains nowdays are so boring and flat.
Lopan had style and substance...after he married the two green-eyed ladies and drank some blood from one of them that is.

My point is, he is memorable. Everyone appreciates a good villain. The problem with todays villains (and heroes, for that matter) is they are almost all cliches or cardboard cutouts.

But I diegrasp (little gallows humor there).

It might seem strange (might?) that I'm taking this tack on Easter but there is a good (maybe not necessarily good, per se, at least not in a literal sense) reason for it (500 free One Cosmos At Sea credits to the first one who guesses the right answer...to, um, use in my online store!...after I build one...and stock it).

You know, I had some videos linked in here for you guys to watch that sort of helps fill in some blanks (and live ammo also).
However, it's not showing and I have no idea why. Almost no idea (blog...er. Cough. Sucks. Cough).

Anyhow...if it doesn't appear later or if it does, Happy Easter and Happy Passover!
The Lord is risen and an empty tomb bears witness!
Blessed be the name of our God!

I'm truly blessed and thankful to Him for what he has done for me (and for the deviled eggs)!

Um, you did send the deviled eggs, didn't you Lord? Just kidding (but You know that).
Ha ha. I'm glad we can laugh about it.

Okay, I finally figured out what I did wrong, so without further delay I'll return you to the previously scheduled programming. Reprogramming actually.
Hope you like these as much as I do. :^)




Incidently, these vids may give you a clue as to where I have been lately.


Is there a reason why these guys ain't as well known as the Eagles or Lynyrd Skynyrd? I sure can't think of one.

Like Dial Up In A Bullet That's Just Been Fired

Finally got DSL 1.5! Hurray! (Canned applause for the hearing impaired or for those who don't know that's a cue to applaud). Super duper fast. Faster than thought. Well, my thought anyways. And really, that's as fast as it needs to be.

Now if only there was a feature to do away with the typing part...and talking...like a mental projection thingy or E-SP for short. Might not want that to include pictures though.

"Hey guys! Here's my latest nightmare."

"Wait, where did everyone go?"

"Okay, I admit it's actually worse than Helen Thomas, Roseanne, Nancy Pelosi and Michael Moore combined but that's why they call it a nightmare."

"Guys?"

But other than that it would be nice. Plus, I could say stuff without talking.

Thought quotes:

No, I can't talk right now my wife is throwing stuff at me.

Sorry, my mind is just not into it today (or any other day you psycho...um, did I just think that out loud?).

It's not you, it's my mind.

Damn, my wife says we need more alone time (meaning: turn the computer off and watch this stupid movie).

End thought quotes.

Anyways, I admit there could be a few kinks to work out but it would still be nifty. I said kinks without the y! No, I'm not being defensive! Do you kiss your mother with those thoughts?

I said end thought quotes! Ahem.

Does that mean I'll blog more and comment more at your blogs and stuff?
Unfortunately for you guys, aye, that I will. :^)

Nail Call

After a record breaking snow storm, followed by ice and high winds (which have continued) and repeated power outages it was time for me to make a Walmart run.

As I pulled into Wallys I mentally growled.

"Grr..."

Skully, my faithful sidekick raised his head and looked at me quizzically.

"Just thinking out loud boy," I said, looking for a parking place that was closer than Tim Tebow's 80 yard touchdown pass that defeated the Steelers in OT (ha!).

Not that I'm agin walkin' you understand, but the peripheral neuropathy in my feet has reached a milestone in pain and sustained pain categories and walking seems to aggravate it.
Plus, I like pulling within range of the cameras (close enough for store security to act) in case anyone tries to steal Skully who would probably go quietly if any potential thieves offered a quality meat product or a burger from McDonalds.

Thankfully, I didn't have long to look as someone pulled out just as I was trying another lane near the store.

After assuring Skully that I would, indeed return and wasn't abandoning him I hobbled to the store tryin' not to wince at the melee happenning in my feet between two gangs of cats...with flamethrowers.

"Awooooooo!" Skully lamented in his sadest howl yet.

Don't turn around, you'll just encourage him, I thought.

"Awooaaaaaaa!"

Did I mention that Skully has abandonment issues despite the fact that I never have abandoned him? Yet.

"Woowoowahooeeeoohee!"

Skully has the amazing ability to change up his howls which can sound quite comical at times and yet, still forlorn at the same time.
Incidently, this is yet another reason I try to find a fairly close parking space.

As I entered the store I growled again under my breath, "grr."

It looked like the day after Thansgiving/Christmas sale crowd but worse.
Nothin' like power outages to get folks into Walmart for some panic shoppin'.
I wasn't here for any emergency supplies, being prepared and all. Just low on a few things that we didn't really need and nails.

What? Nails? I read the list again. Nails- One and 1/4 inch- Brad.

Who the hell is Brad? Oh she must mean the brand. Some guy named Brad does fake nails? I wondered. Whatever.

I decided to get the nails first, since it was in the section of the store I really try to avoid at all costs.
The female section. One of the female sections to be more precise.
The sooner I got it over with the better.

It took me awhile but I finally found the fake nail section. There were nails everywhere.
Too many nails. French nails (wheres the damn American nails?), couture nails, designer nails, toe nails (ugh), goth nails (I don't get it).
The nails went on forever it seemed.

Okay, take a deep breath, time to regroup, I thought. I'll simply narrow the search down by looking for one and 1/4 inch...which seems rather long, and Brad.

Several minutes later...

This is taking forever. Why do they print everything so small on these things? I wondered, taking my glasses off (I opted not to take the bi focals (not that there's anything wrong with that).

Now I'm in my furtive glancing mode. Because I don't belong here. No man belong here.

Fine, I'll just look for Brad first, I thought.

Longest minutes later...no Brad.

Okay, one and 1/4 inch then.

This is odd, I don't recal Patti ever having nails that long. And she has never asked me to look for fake nails before.
The female unmentionables yes (what a nightmare!), but not nails. She never wore them except for a few times that I recall in our 30 plus years of marriage.

Maybe it's a metaphor, I pondered. But a metaphor for what? Getting her claws out? Was that it? Is she sending me a message? Have I pissed her off lately?
Eh, maybe it's nothin'.

Or maybe it's not.

This is stupid, I thought, dialing Patti on my cell phone.

One ringy dingy...busy signal. I try again. One ringy dingy...busy signal.

"Grr!" I hate Sprint! I shouted, hopefully in my mind.

I walked around and tried again, repeatedly, with the same results.

Stupid, no good, #^%$&**@ phone!

Then my phone rang. It was Patti.

"Hello?" I answered in my best Inspector Clouseau voice.

"Hey handsome, you at Walmart yet?"

"Aye. Got here awhile ago. About the..." I replied.

"Can you add chex mix to the list, the blue bag, and see if they have any sun dried tomatoes and..." Patti said.

"Roger wilco. About those..."

"Oh, and let me know when you get near the yarn section because I want you to find, just a minute that's my sister calling. Call me back when you get there," she said.

"Wait! Don't hang up! The nails!" I answered, but it was too late.

Crap. And they say men don't listen.

I tried my luck again at the nail section hoping I would stumble upon the ones she wanted.

Why does she always include something that's hard to find? I wondered, not for the first time. Why?

I waited five minutes and called Patti back.

One ringy dingy...busy signal. "Arrgh!" I said.

Oh crap, did I say that out loud? Women were staring at me. Or at least it seemed like they were staring at me, with a look that said "you don't belong here."

I tried to look like I wasn't shopping for nails for me and I wouldn't be here if my wife hadn't sent me. Really. But that's difficult to say with a look.

Every lady I saw seemed to express outrage and disdain at my unwanted presence in the nail section so I left. I abandoned my search.

I tried Patti again as I walked towards the chex mix section.

One ringy dingy...two ringy dingy! (yay! It's working! Three ringy dingy...busy signal.

I hate you Sprint. Assholes.

Then my phone rang. Patti!

"Hey Babe!" I replied.

"Why didn't you call me back?" Patti asked.

"I tried! Several times!" I replied.

"Well, my phone didn't ring," she said.

"It's Sprint's fault!" I replied defensively.

"I never have a problem with reception," Patti said.

"Maybe they like you," I answered cooly.

"Well, sometimes I do I suppose. Are you near the yarn?" She asked.

"Wait! About the nails!" I replied.

"Yes?"

"I can't find the Brad brand. And are you sure you want one and 1/4 inch?" I asked.

"Yes, I wrote it down on the list. That brand was there last time I got nails," Patti said.

I took a deep breath.

"They ain't here now," I replied through clenched gums (I'm supposed to get teeth in a few months so I'll be able to clench them. Hurray!).

"See if you can find someone to help you," Patti offered.

Yeah right, in this crowd? I thought.

"Okay, I'm looking," I replied.

"Call me back when you..." Patti began.

"No! Don't hang up! I might not reach you again. Stay on the line! Are you there? Hello?" I replied, panicky.

"I'm here," Patti said, laughing.

Yeah, real funny. Hardy har har, I thought.

"look, I don't see a Wally employee anywhere. Let me go back to the nail section and I'll give you some brand names and stuff," I replied.

"Okay, but no longer than one and 1/4 inches because I don't want to crack the frames," Patti said.

What? What's she talking about? I wondered as I made my way to the nail section.
They have nails longer than one and a quarter inches?

"Alright," I replied, intent on getting to the nail section through the thick crowd.

Thicker than Denoson's chili, I mused. With beans.

"Also, don't get any nails with a big head. Only the small heads," Patti continued.

I froze and almost got kneed by a little old lady driving one of those go cart carts.
She glared at me like I was an idiot as she swerved around me.

"Ha ha ha ha!" I laughed.

"What's so funny?" Patti asked.

"Ha ha! You mean nail nails, right? The kind you hammer? Ha ha haaa hee hee haw!" I replied, trying to talk over my laughing.

The crowd avoided me, no doubt concluding I was insane.

"Yes! Nail nails, ha ha ha! You thought I meant fake nails? Ha ha!" Patti answered.

"Yeah. I can't believe I didn't make the connection earlier, ha ha!"

"I never get fake nails," Patti said.

"I know. I thought that was odd. Do they even make them that long?" I asked.

"Maybe," Patti replied, snickering. "You're like Clouseau. Something weird always happens to you, ha ha!"

"Yeah, tell me about it. It would be odd if nothin' did happen out of the ordinary," I said.

"That's because you're an extraordinary guy," Patti said.

"Aw shucks," I replied. It felt like my face was turning red.

"Are you blushing?" Patti asked.

"No. I don't know, there's no mirrors around here," I quipped.

"You're a funny guy," she said.

"Can I forgo the yarn section then?" I asked.

Eventually, I got everything, and thankfully, I only spent around 15 minutes in line.
As I approached our van I could see Skully jumping up and down excitedly.

"Good to see you too boy," I said as I opened the door.
"Let's get the hell outta here! What do you say? Wanna listen to some Molly Hatchet?"

Skully likes Molly Hatchet. He has good taste in music.

Merry Christmas! Imopup style.

I-mo-pup...I-mo-pup...I-mo-pup...

As Imopup gathers her undead, dachsi mummy army and trys to take over the world (or get free snacks (preferably made of meat) anytime she wants...which is all the time (hey, did you notice the parenthesis within the parentheses? Imopup made me do it)) I hope you all have a blessed Christmas and a healthy New Year!

I made a resolution not to make resolutions but to do them...quietly...without braggin'. Assuming I actually do them. You know how that is. But I intend to. It's just that, if I actually do the resolutions I can't tell you guys.

So you will hafta ask. Hmm, I think I found a resolution and humblebillity loophole here.
But first, I hope Santa got you what you wanted this Christmas. If not, don't be so subtle next year.
Remember, Santa likes go getters. But he doesn't like assouls so don't be an assoul about it.

I want a Mossberg 590 (holds 8 rounds plus 1 in the chamber)! But I'll be happy with grog. Meanin' I'll settle...if I have to.

BTW, one of my resolutions may be to get a mossberg 590. May be. Not sayin' it is or nothin'.
I'm assuming I ain't gettin' the 590 this Christmas because none of the gifts are big enough (although one is big enough for shotgun shells...but it's not so fun without the shotgun. However, remember that Lone Ranger episode where he had bullets but no gun and he used some rocks to fire a bullet off and get the bad guy)?

So maybe shotgun shells are fun without the gun. I dunno. I'll have Skully give it a whirl if I do get the shells. He likes doing stuff like that. Especially after eggnog.

I know it will be a good Christmas, even without the 590. Because I got a beautiful wife and great kids (who can't make it here this year but that's what phones are for)...and, of course, Imopup and her minion, Skully (her brother) who are busy taking over the world as we speak.

In the meantime, don't panic, enjoy your eggnog or hot buttered rums or whathaveyou and enjoy the show.
Besides, we all know that Imopup is mucho better than the current cur that pretends to be a leader taking yet another exhausting vacation.

So elect Imopup for President and get a complimentary milkbone (all the minions are getting one)! Just tell the store clerks Imopup sent ya (offer may not be applicable to every store so ask your loco store clek today).

Oh, and thanks you guys for reading my pulp non-fiction drivel. I hope to write much more (which may or may not be a resolution, I can't say) in the future.
There's still a few stories left in this ol' geezers repetoire just itchin' to set sail on the high seas and I aim to bring as many as possible to this blog. Exclusively!

Merry Christmas!

Jukebox Jive

The Dive was my home away from home, home bein' the USS Duluth (LPD-6).
Home was at Todd Shipyards, Long Beach, for refurbishing, circa 1980.
It smelled like haze gray paint dust, the acrid burnin' of welding, and B.O. to name a few of the more fascinating odors.

Hey, I'm not one of those putzes that think my shit don't stink 'cause it does.
It's just that I tend to lose my fascination for these specific fascinating odors rather quickly.
It's not personal or nothin'. Just somethin' that crews in the yards hafta put up with.

Needless to say I spent all my off time at a Dive located at the Pike, which had seen better days.
I picked this particular dive because they had a jukebox with decent tunes and a pool table or two.

The Dive had an interesting clientel. Sailors, cowboys, kickers, bikers and shipyard workers.
Heh. Like I said, it was very interesting and not a nice place for the faint of heart.
Although there was at least one fight a night it was, all things considered, relatively peaceful there.
I mean, there were some unwritten but strongly enforced rules.

Anyone brandishing a knife, brass knuckles, a club, etc., could expect a baseball bat over the head by the owner of The Dive.
That is, if the concerned citizens in the immediate area didn't beat the shit out of the perp first.

The owner preferred anyone wantin' to fight to take it outside, and many did.
But sometimes there was a spontaneous fight and it was usually over before anyone could say "take it outside."

I'm not sure why I felt sort of at home there. Or as much as I could feel at home.
Hell, 31 years later I still don't feel completely at home at home, but I do have more of a peace of mind than I used to.

Anyways, there was some odd quirks about The Dive and the nice folks that hung out there.
One of those quirks was a singalong.

Okay, no one dared call it that out loud, but it was true...when some songs, not many, played on the jukebox. A jukebox chock full of a mixture of country, rock, country rock, hard rock, easy rock, blues, etc.. And virtually all of them were good songs. Whoever picked them out (probably the owner) had a good ear.

Two that immediately spring to mind were David Allan Coe songs.

Now, Coe was considered (and still is) the most outlawy singer outlaw there was/is.
He's an ex-con, he's never been accused of bein' politically correct, and he's wrote some purty controversial songs (to put it mildly).
Some have called him a racist, but it's a weak accusation considering he got in several fights in prison for having a black friend not to mention his drummer is black.

Anyone that thinks Coe is a racist would hafta call most rap singers and black comedians racist too for using the same words.
I think those who call him racist miss the forest for the trees and are too caught up on certain blacklisted words (words he grew up with), and blaclisted only if a white guy uses them.
Context is important. What is Coe actually sayin' in his controversial songs?

I bet those who accuse him of racism have no idea, 'cause after seeing that one word they are blind to everything else.
Why don't they accuse black artists of racism for sayin' cracker or cracka?
Ain't those non pc words? Bunch of hypocrites is why.
Be that as it may, I don't feel oppressed or insulted if someone calls me a cracker and I even laugh at some of the context it's performed in.

In response to the racist accusations Coe said: "anyone who listens to my songs and thinks I'm a racist is full of shit."

These two songs ain't what I would call controversial. At least not by any true sense of the word. Although they may hurt the delicate sensibilities of the pc gustapos.
Here they are:

Whatever you might think about Coe he could definitely write some good tunes...tunes that a lot of folks will sing along to.

Surprisingly, most of my fellow beer tastin' patrons could carry a tune.
Those who couldn't were...ahem, "encouraged" to whisper the words.
Those who couldn't take the not so subtle hints to not sing along got there ass kicked in an orderly fashion.
The system worked and everyone enjoyed the singalongs.

Long Haired Redneck

Country deejays knows that I'm an outlaw
They'd never come to see me in this dive
Where bikers stare at cowboys who are laughing at the hippies
Who are praying they'll get outta here alive

The loud mouth in the corner's gettin' to me
Talking 'bout my earrings and my hair
I guess he ain't read the signs that say I been to prison
Someone ought to warn him 'fore I knock him off his chair

'Cause my longhair just can't cover up my red neck
I've won every fight, I've ever fought
Hey, I don't need some turkey telling me that I ain't country
And sayin' I ain't worth the damned ol' ticket that he bought

'Cause I can sing all them songs about Texas
And I still do all the sad ones that I know
They tell me, I look like Merle Haggard
And sound a lot like David Allan Coe

And the bar maid in the last town that we played in
Knew the words to every song I'd wrote
She said, Jimmy Rabbit turned her on to my last album
Just about the time the jukebox broke

Yeah, Johny Cash helped me get out of prison
Long before Rodriguez stole that goat
I've been the Rhinestone Cowboy for so long, I can't remember
And I can do you every song, Hank Williams ever wrote

And I can sing all them songs about Texas
And I still do all the sad ones that I know
I can't help it, I look like Merle Haggard
And I sound a lot like David Allan Coe

But the country deejays, all think I'm an outlaw
And they'd never come to see me in this dive
Where bikers stare at cowboys who are laughing at the hippies
Who are praying they'll get out of here alive

The loud mouth in the corner's gettin' to me
Talking 'bout my earrings and my hair...


You Never Even Called Me By My Name

It was all that I could do to keep from cryin'
Sometimes it seems so useless to remain
You don't have to call me darlin', darlin'
You never even call me by my name.

You don't have to call me Waylon Jennings
And you don't have to call me Charlie Pride.
You don't have to call me Merle Haggard, anymore.
Even though your on my fightin' side.

And I'll hang around as long as you will let me
And I never minded standin' in the rain.
You don't have to call me darlin', darlin'
You never even call me by my name.

I've heard my name a few times in your phone book
I've seen it on signs where I've laid
But the only time I know, I'll hear David Allan Coe
Is when Jesus has his final judgement day.

Well, a friend of mine named Steve Goodman wrote that song
and he told me it was the perfect country and western song
I wrote him back a letter and told him it was NOT the perfect
country and western song because he hadn't said anything about
Momma, or trains, or trucks, or prison, or gettin' drunk.
Well, he sat down and wrote another verse to the song and he sent
it to me and after reading it, I realized that my friend had written
the perfect country and western song. And I felt obliged to include it
on this album. The last verse goes like this here:

Well, I was drunk the day my Mom got outta prison.
And I went to pick her up in the rain.
But, before I could get to the station in my pickup truck
She got runned over by a damned old train.

So I'll hang around as long as you will let me
And I never minded standin' in the rain. No,
You don't have to call me darlin', darlin'
You never even call me, I wonder why you don't call me
Why don't you ever call me by my name.

Come to think of it, these singalongs that no one would ever call singalongs in The Dive made it a fun place to drink.
If it weren't for the songs on that jukebox there would've be a helluva lot more fights.