Saturday, July 29, 2006

Wierd Wanda

Funny how something can spark an old memory.

I just thought about the fact that we had TV in Vietnam. Our own armed forces network up at good ol' Quang Tri. We could watch cartoons, the news. I remember seeing the 'Thrilla in Manila' live. Can't remember who won, although I believe Ali did..
Little bitty, probably 19 inch, portable with rabbit ears. Quang Tri had their own broadcasting studio. We could watch the air force weather people tell us it was either raining like a sumbitch, or that it was hot and dusty with 40 mph winds.

Don't let anyone fool you. Vietnam can be damn cold at 58 degrees, windy and raining so long there is mold growing on everything. Some one had a small portable cloths dryer he'd gotten from somewhere and bliss can surely be described as putting on warm dry socks. Almost better than sex although it's been so long for me that I'm thinking dry warm socks wins. They say your memory is the second thing to go and I forget what went first.

Anyway, back to the point of this little narrative. We did have the farthest North TV station in South Vietnam. And to keep the boys occupied when not raping and pillaging, they had a combination cartoon and weather show.

Now not all the americans over there were in the military. The good old USO is always there to boost the morale of the troops. So there were acutally round eyed american women over there. Not strictly camp followers per se. And not necessarily the prettiest you've ever seen. But, they were a reminder that there were better things than smelling burning JP-4 and shit in the morning.

Weird Wanda Wonderful hosted the 'Roger Ramjet cartoon show' every afternoon about 2pm. She had a side kick that our unit had provided. A skull would sit on a barstool beside her and she would speak to him. A straight man if you will for her girlish attempts at humour. She called him Wilbur. She'd ask "Wilbur do you want to watch a Roger Ramjet Cartoon?" He'd answer " Gee Wanda that's wonderful".

Maybe you had to be there to appreciate the show.

Wanda had a crush on Lt. Hunter, and he on her.

He was shot out of the sky NW of Kha Shan by a 12.5 mm.

One more little tendril around my soul.

Monday, July 24, 2006


Just to show some few doubters that the 50 # of tomatoes is real.

And I need to go pick some more before the wife gets home.

Maybe I'll take down the fence and let the wascully wabbits have it.

Friday, July 21, 2006

Is that a Gun in your pocket?

Or are you just glad to see me?

Always glad to to see an ass like yours darlin'.

A-man had nothing on me. Went out this evening and picked 50 pounds of ripe, or nearly so, tomatoes off of 8 plants. Not to mention the mess of okra, a dozen cukes, 2 cantalopes, 1 1/2 pecks of cherry tomatoes, an a good mess of snap beans.

To put in prespective, I had just picked the garden 2 days ago.

Thursday, July 20, 2006

Who Knows?

Who knows what evil lurks in the hearts of men?
The Shadow knows.

And thanks to the wonders of modern communication, we all know if we allow ourselves to look at the blackness around us.

TV, the internet, movies, newspapers, infojournalism, all of these and more bring the most evil, sickening, disgusting and vile images either in print or visual, into our homes on an almost daily basis.,2933,204583,00.html,2933,204601,00.html

If there is a hell such a those bible thumpers say, I hope there is an especially fiery place for such vermin as the rats who commit these crimes.

But, what of the blackness inside each of us?

I have pulled the trigger on fellow human beings. Seen them fall. Sent rockets punching thru torsos ripping them into unidentifiable bits of flesh.

I've witnessed ARVN troops abusing the bodies of female NVA soldiers by sticking their pointed little yellow peckers into every natural and scrapnel created hole they could find, after we finished our gun run.

I've seen dead bodies by the side of the road, left out in the tropical sun, to bloat and then to wither to shrunken shells when the gas leaves them.

War, you may say. Justifable at the time. But what of the images that come at other times?

I've imagined squeezing the trigger on someone who I preceive as doing me wrong.

I know how to kill with a knife so as to rip the heart and lungs to shreds, without causing the moans and gurgling of someones throat after having slit it from ear to ear.

I've read the writings of Poe, H. P. Lovecraft, that gargole that lives in Maine. Seen the thought processes of Oliver Stone brought to life on the silver screen.

The decision has already been made as to what to do to an intruder in my home, or to someone who harms one single hair of a loved ones head.

Do we profit by knowing what might be? By knowing what evil lurks within? Mankind doesn't seem to have improved in some respects over the thousands of years of recorded history. Despots have slaughtered their millions. Pol Pot, Idi Amin, Saddam Huessain, Stalin, Hitler, Mao Tae Tsung. These are only some of the ones who have lived and slaughtered within my lifetime. Who is to say that they couldn't do the same if given the chance. Power corrupts. Absolute power corrupts absolutly. What causes one person to become a Billy Graham, and another to become a Mohammaud. One can value anothers life and rights and another to care only for power over others.

Is it that one can control themself, and the other wants only to control others?

There are within me black spots. Fertile as Wisconsin bottom land. Capable of growing either briars or roses.

Think I'll stick with Kudzu. The blooms smell sweeter. As I try to hide within its shadows.

Monday, July 10, 2006

Ol' Moose

I haven't thought of him in years. The spousal unit and youngest Daughter were scratching thru the boxes of pictures yesterday, and lo and behold who should appear but Ol' Moose.

I bought him while running the dairy farm years ago to breed our young holstein heifers to.
To ease the birthing process the first time since black angus normally throw smaller calves.

What a stud he was as you can see. Muscular as hell and horney as all get out.
We'd put a new bunch of young heifers in the pasture with him and as soon as they would come in heat he would have a new girlfriend. Stay right with them. Wrinkling his nose up when sniffing to see if they were ready. Lick it out of his nostrils with his tongue when they inevitably pissed on his nose.

After a few week with a new group he would be as bald on the top of his head as a billard ball.
Give him a couple of months of light duty and the hair would come out again

Every once in a while we would turn him in with one of the mature cows which we couldn't catch using AI, to see if he could get the job done.

Now you should have seen that. Picture Ol' Moose standing at most 4 1/2 feet on his stubby legs beside one of those big holstein cows standing nearly 6 feet at the hips. A sight to behold as he tried his damnedest to levitate his bulk up high enough to reach the object of his desire. If the old girl was really feeling the heat she would look back at him as if to say, "What's the matter with you "girly" boy"?

Not to be defeated Moose would keep at it, finally herding her around the lot until he had her backed up in a ditch which would allow him to pop that vaulting pole of a pecker to her. You had to give him credit for persistance.

Ol' Moose wouldn't let a little thing like a barbed wire fence stand in the way of a little romance either. Just let him get the slighest wiff of quim on a light spring breeze from a quarter mile away and he would just walk up to the fence, put his head between the strands of wire and simply walk thru, oblivious to the tiny scratches of the 1/2 inch long barbs. Many is the time we had to herd him back to his own pasture and hope he'd stay long enough for us to artifically inseminate the "in heat" cow.

This wandering eye of his finally got him in trouble one day. He was standing around one fine day surrounded by his young herem, when on the breeze came the unmistakeable, tantilizing arouma of estrus. His head came up and off he went, once more, into the breech, duty and pussy calling him.

Now you have to realize that unlike males of the human variety, a bull will generally leave his sword in the sheath untill time for action. This precludes it getting caught in the briars and brambles, and most especially barbed wire fences.

Not this time however. At approximatly half mast he made his usual stroll thru the fence.
Barbs and his bull hood engaged each other with disasterous results. Back into the sheath went his weapon. Blood poured forth and continued to run for a couple of days while he walked around kinda hunched over, all thoughts of romance purged from his mind.

While he eventually healed, he never again tried to crawl thru a barbed wire fence. He would however, stand on one side and call to his beloved of the moment. Much like Romeo calling softly to Julliet.

The Devil's beating his wife

“The devil’s beating his wife”

That’s what my mother would say anytime we’d get rain and the sun was shining.

I hadn’t thought of that in a while. Just came to mind when the wife asked me if my truck windows were up, because it had started raining, and I had to trudge outside in my slippers to roll them up.

Of course I said that I had deliberately left them down to dare the rain to come over the kudzu patch. No way, no how would I be so dumb as to leave them down accidentally.

Of course if we had a garage or carport there would be no problem. House plans call for a garage, but then it also calls for the first floor to be built over the basement.
One of these days… one of these days. I can hear my wife now….”I’ll believe it when I see it. After so many years in this basement, the kids all moved out, if the father-in-law didn’t live here we would be rambling around like two peas in a box car.

If we ever do build the top floor on this house we’d probably have to rent the basement out to 4 families of Mexicans in order to pay the power bill.

Men, don’t let your wife pick out the house plan. They have no idea of square footage.

Of course they’re not to blame. For years we’ve been telling them that this much…….

>I………………………………………I <

is eight inches.

Bless their little gullible hearts.

No kudzu there.

Tuesday, July 04, 2006

Happy 4th

One more 4th of July has arrived. A time of parades, fireworks, going to the lake, getting drunk, jumping in the pool. barbeques, and in general a free day off from work for millions especially government agencies. This year because it comes on a tuesday many took off from friday thru today.
Hopefully a few will take a moment to reflect on the reason for the day. Many blog posts will and have been written about it. One that caused me to think is .
I tend to get a little morose about the whole thing because too many people are working overtime to destroy what little freedoms we have left under that docoment and the Constitution which was written 11 years later.
People often seem too interested in the vague pursuit of happiness rather than protecting LIFE & LIBERTY.
Just my opinion, but it's one of the reasons for the tangles of doubt, depression and worry in my life.

On the upside, I'll be traveling down to Loganville to swim in the pool, see the spousal unit who is house sitting said pool, visit with the grandchildren and some of the children and their spousal units.
Have a great 4th of July, and take a moment to reflect on some of the reasons our forefathers pledged Their Lives, Their Fortunes and Their Sacred HONOR to fight to leave us the freedom we so cherish.

The okra needs picking, and beans too. They'll just have to wait.