Archive for June, 2007

Does anybody out there still read these blogs?
Please, I really need to know.
I have this strange feeling that I’m talking to myself.
And believe me, I have better things to do with my mornings that to write stuff that nobody gives a rat’s ass about.
If I were to say that I read “Heather Has Two Mommies? and was really looking forward to the sequel, “Heather Has Three Mommies,? would anyone run tell Robert Jeffress on me?
I need something to stir up readership.
I have said written lots and lots of naughty words — but nobody ever complains.
I have criticized the newspaper I work for numerous times — once even talked about shooting my boss — and I still have a job.
I told you I think George W is the worst president in the history of this country and promised to vote on any Democrat who runs — yet no right wingers are calling me down.

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I love the wheelin and dealin of the NBA draft. I’m still down on the NBA season after the Spurs won the whole thing, but the draft gets me a little excited again.
Before the night is over I’m sure will see something like 5 superstars, 8 draftees and 1 GM get traded. The GM should get fired, but Boston is Boston.
Greg Odem looks amazing as does Kevin Durant. I just want to see the guys play. I don’t care much about their vertical jumps or their ability to bench press 185 fresh out of high school (you know it should be high school, but that’s a different blog).
It might be cool to like the Blazers again, aka Clyde. And the Supersonics — Kemp and Payton —might be mentioned in a rap song before long. (Thanks Ice Cube – “Good Day”)

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Free Genarlow Wilson.
This guy has been locked in jail for more than two years.
He shouldn’t have been there more than two minutes.
His “crime? is aggravated child molestation.
But Wilson is no child molester.
He had a 3.2 grade point average in high school.
He was an excellent athlete.
He had no criminal record.
But on the day he was scheduled to take his SAT test, Wilson was arrested.
He was charged with rape, but the jury threw that out and instead convicted him of aggravated child molestation with a mandatory sentence of 10 years.
Wilson is not a criminal. All he did is what 99 percent of all 17-year-old boys would do if given the chance.
He let a girl perform oral sex on him at a New Year’s Party.
He was 17.
She was 15.
The sex was consensual.

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Just wanted to brag a little and show some photos of my son. He’s almost 5 months now, and these were taken about two months ago. Come on, who doesn’t love baby pictures?
Enjoy.

This is the newest rap concert to come to Wichita Falls, and I hope it’s not the last.
D.J. UNK and E-Class are second class rappers, but that’s what you have to endure to get to the good stuff.
Most of the performers that have come to Wichita Falls haven’t exactly been top of the line artists. I don’t blame anybody expect Wichita Falls music fans – you broke bums.

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The Pete Best Band played its first gig in Texas on Tuesday night — right here in Hooterville Falls.
They are playing in Dallas tonight, in Austin on Thursday and in Houston on Friday before heading off to the Mirage in Vegas next week.
But we got ’em first.
A big round of applause for Danny Ahern.
To have one of the original Beatles on stage right here in downtown H. Falls is a big deal.
The Iron Horse was rocking with a lot of old farts like me — and a few young whipper snappers too.
We all show up for guys like Peter Tork and Leon Russell and Pete Best.
If you are too young to know who Pete Best is, well, he was the drummer for Paul, John and George for two years. After an audition at Abbey Road Studios in 1962, he was fired and replaced by Ringo Starr.
Nobody knows for sure why the Beatles fired him.
Some say it was because he was too much of a longer and didn’t mix with Paul, John and George.
Some say it was because he refused to have a mop-top haircut like the other three.
Ringo once implied in Playboy that it was because Best was a drug user. That ended up in a libel suit that was settled out of court.
Some say he was fired because he was too popular with the girls.
Best was considered by many of the ladies to be the best-looking Beatle.
After he was fired, girls used to chant:
“Pete Forever…Ringo Never.?

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Roy Pearson won’t be getting any of the $67 million he was at first asking for.
The idiot judge won’t even get a piece of the $54 million he decided to settle for.
In fact, old Roy ain’t getting squat.
Nada.
Nil.
Nichts.
Niente.
Not a damn dime.
Now would someone please disbar this dumb ass?
Roy Pearson is a judge in Washington, D.C., who sued the Chungs — a family of Korean immigrants — because they didn’t get his pair of pants altered in one day.
The Chungs — owners of Custom Cleaners — offered to give him his pants back, but the judge said “no deal.?
He would rather have $67 million.
Then he decided to give the Chungs a break. All he wanted was $54 million.
He sued because Custom Cleaners promised one-day service and had a “satisfaction guaranteed? sign in its window. That, he said, violated the Consumer Protection Act.
But on Monday, Roy was caught with his pants down.
A real judge — the superior court kind — ruled that not only was she not giving this guy any money. She was making him pay all the court costs.
The judge loses.
American ustice prevails.
Or did it?

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Today at 12:45 p.m., my wife will be smoke-free for two weeks.
For some of you, that might seem like no big deal.
But if you smoke or have ever smoked, you know how hard it is to quit.
I started smoking when I was 18. Thought it was cool.
By the time I was 56, I was smoking better than two packs a day.
Then at the end of February, 2002, I smoked my last cigarette.
So I have now been smoke-free for five years and four months.
I did it with Welbutrin — an antidepressant that sometimes helps a person quit smoking.
It doesn’t work with everyone, and doctors don’t really know why it works with anyone.
But it worked with me.
I had tried to quit many times during the 38 years that I smoked, but nothing worked until Welbutrin.
And I didn’t even stay on the drug very long.
Its side effects was making me goofy — or goofier. I was having long conversations — sometimes even debates — with myself.

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And if you read his rap sheet, you will quickly see that a whole lot of Pacman’s problems start in strip clubs.
The guy obviously is a sucker for a good lap dance.
The Titans maybe should have got the hint that he had a problem when he asked for his multi-million dollar signing bonus to be paid in all one-dollar bills.
Strip clubs just never were my thing.
Oh, when I was a kid, I always wanted to go to the Colony Club in Dallas and see Chris Colt and her “45’s.? I finally got to do that soon after I turned 21.
Pasties took all of the fun out of it.
A lot of the bars started having topless dancers during the 1970’s, but after awhile, you don’t even notice them.
I never went to Babe’s. Is it still open?
I haven’t even been to Maximus, although I really love their ads on their sports page every day.
As I was checking out Web sites doing research for this blog, I ran across a list of the 10 worst names for strip clubs.
Check it out — I am sure Pacman Jones has been to all of them.

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Most days the paper just bores me.
I yawn at the front page; scan through the obits and check out sports.
There’s not a lot of controversy right now, so even Sound Off and Letters to the Editor are pretty dull.
But if you buy a paper today, you get your 50 cents worth on just one page.
Check out all the good stuff on Page 4A.
“Wallet found 43 years later; contents intact.?
A 70-year-old California man gets his billfold back. Construction workers found it jammed between the metal casings of a radiator in a vacant movie theater.
There was no money in it, but his “charge cards? still were.
I don’t remember anybody having credit cards in 1964.
“Family of 4 found dead at popular park.?
Another story out of California.
If a guy wants to murder his wife and kids and then swallow a bullet, why does he have to take them to Wally World to do it?
I wish these idiots would try suicide-murder rather than murder-suicide.
Shoot yourself first dumb ass and save a lot of lives.
“Body of woman missing from morgue?
A morgue in Chicago has lost the body of a 64-year-old woman.
How in the heck can you lose a corpse?
Did anybody look between the metal casings of the radiator?

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I hit a home run last night at a baseball field I played at when I was a kid. It was actually the first of its kind for me.
My wife, my brother, my brother’s girlfriend and I went out to Sheppard’s baseball fields and hit a little BP – that’s batting practice for the ladies.
It was fun. I haven’t stepped on those fields since I was a kid. It was a little nostalgic, but not too much. The fields aren’t as pretty as they used to be. My brother is a semi-grounds keeper for the athletic programs on base and I told him he was doing a crappy job. He replied that it wasn’t baseball season anymore.
They still looked crappy.

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Sometimes things seem so screwed up that we can quickly forget that we are blessed to live in the greatest country in the world.
Despite all our warts, this is still the GOOD old USA.
That thought really hit me last week while I was watching a national news show.
The first story was about Hamas taking over the Gaza Strip.
The video showed a bunch of terrorists in ski masks firing rifles all over the place.
The next story was about the death of Billy Graham’s wife, Ruth.
The great Christian evangelist called her his soulmate; his life partner; his best friend.
What a striking contrast.
The hate of Hamas and the love of Billy Graham.
Then it struck me.
The war on terrorism is good vs. bad.
And we are the good guys.
It’s a war of right vs. wrong.
And we are right.

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Check this out. I’m hoping the Cavs pull off the greatest comeback of all time, so enjoy.

What’s the deal America? Men wearing makeup? Are we collective guys actually primping with Cover Girl?
Tell me it ain’t true. I would rather wear my own blood then wear makeup, unless I was going on TV of course.
I heard this little story on ESPN this morning. It struck me as odd that the guy’s guys’ channel would touch on such a topic, but maybe they were desperate?
The story, I guess, came from Forbes magazine. Something about you have to have money to wear it, I’m not sure. But I plan on getting to the bottom of this potential disaster.

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This Father’s Day blog is one of my favorites. I hope you enjoy the re-run.
They said that the only difference between an alcoholic and a drunk is that the drunks don’t go to meetings.
That officially makes my Daddy a drunk.
He never went to any AA meetings. There was nothing anonymous about him and his alcohol.
He got off work at 4 p.m., so at 4:05 p.m. every day, you could find Daddy and his buddies sitting on their favorite barstools at the Bar-L or Lee’s or Tuck Inn or the Snack Shack or some other popular downtown watering hole.
And for the next eight hours, those old cooks and crooks would drink cheap whiskey from half pint bottles and chase it with draw beer.
Then they would all somehow drive home and pass out — sometimes in the car, sometimes on the toilet, sometimes on the couch. Once in a blue moon, Daddy made it to bed, always in his clothes, always with a cigarette burning.
As a kid, I never went to sleep at night until I knew that cigarette was out. He would drop it. I would pick it up and rub it out in an ash tray.
There was a time in my life when I hated Daddy for all those nights and other things that made a boy’s life hell.
He ignored me.
He discouraged me.
He embarrassed me.

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What an interesting ending. That’s all I can really say. The final episode — the one to end it all — had its ups and downs.
Listening to everyone and their goomah debating their love/hatred/disappointment/enjoyment with the finale to end all finales has been an event. Only one thing from the show had any conclusion. Phil Leotardo is out as New York boss, way out.
He’s only got some tire tracks to worry about. No open casket for that guy. I chuckled a little when his head was run over and the on-looker puked. What a way to die if you ask me.
I’m glad nobody else did though….

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It was 40 years ago today. . .
I was sitting in a buddy’s apartment, and he said:
“Man you gotta hear this.?
It was introduction to Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band.
And life for at least the next five years was never the same.
Because “Man, you gotta hear this? soon became “Man, you gotta smoke this? and then “Man you gotta drop this.?
It is hard to imagine one album changing a whole generation.
But Sgt. Pepper’s did.
What’s cool for the Beatles must be cool for us.
They told us so in Sgt. Pepper’s.
Paul sang:
“Found my way upstairs and had a smoke. Somebody spoke, and I went into a dream?
Ringo told us:
“I get high with a little help from my friends.?
Paul and John sang:
“I’d love to turn you on.?
If you believe Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds was only a song about a classmate of John Lennon’s son Julian, then you haven’t been paying attention.
Lucy.
Sky.
Diamonds.
The initials tell you what this song is all about.
Picture yourself in a boat on a river,
With tangerine trees and marmalade skies.
Somebody calls you, you answer quite slowly,
A girl with kaleidoscope eyes.
Cellophane flowers of yellow and green,
Towering over your head.
Look for the girl with the sun in her eyes,
And she’s gone.

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It’s not exactly Danny Oceanish, but I think I have uncovered a scam at the Oklahoma City Airport.
While exiting from my Vegas vacation last week, I handed my parking ticket to the attendant in the “cash? booth and was told I owed $25.
The last time I was at this airport, a couple of years ago, parking in the outside shuttle lot was $4 a day. So I asked the woman in the booth, how much it costs to park.
She told me $5 a day.
That’s still a bargain in today’s world of high-priced airports (like DFW), but there was a problem.
I had only parked four days.
Four times $5 is just $20.
Remember this little old lady had told me $25.
So I questioned the charge.
“Well, you arrived here on 5-26 and you are leaving on 5-31. That’s five days. 25 dollars,? she told me.
I had looked over the parking ticket before I gave it to her.
“No ma’am,? I replied. “I arrived on 5-27.?
She said something like “oh, yeah? and handed me back $5.
Never did I see her run my ticket through any kind of scanner to get the exact total.
It was as if she were just guessing what I owed.
A few miles down the road, the light bulb in my head came on.
“That old woman is running a scam.?
If she overcharged everyone she sees 5 bucks, probably nine of out 10 would not even question the charge. And the ones, who do, like me, would just shrug it off as an honest mistake.
That $45 profit for every 10 cars.
Say it takes three minutes per car — that figures out at $90 an hour.
$720 bonus for an eight-hour shift.
Five days a week — 3,600 smackers.

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She’s free at last. Free at last.
I bet the jail workers have that exact sentiment. I don’t know if anybody could put up with the whiniest woman to walk the face of the earth in the past 2,000 years.
After about 72 hours behind bars, the princess du jour was released and is set to finish out her confinement at her mansion I’m guessing.
The coolest thing in all this is the good ol’ boy ankle bracelet. And I know for sure nothing ankle bracelet matches slut clothes and $1,000 high heels.

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