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If you ain't reading, I ain't writing
June 29, 2007Does 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.
Is that because I have great freedom with these blogs or is it just because nobody is reading?
Please let me know.
If you don’t, this is probably goodbye joe, me gotta go.
Posted by at 8:43 AM | Permalink | Comments (10)
Pardon the pun, but this sucks
June 28, 2007Free 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.
Earlier this month a superior court judge ordered Wilson to be released, calling the original sentence exactly was it was -- “a grave miscarriage of justice.�
He changed his sentence to a 12-month misdemeanor with credit for time served.
Wilson would not have to register and be marked for life as a sex offender.
So the state has appealed the sentence, but the Georgia Supreme Court isn’t scheduled to hear the case until October.
Investors announced that they would post a $1 million bond to get Wilson out of jail until then.
But another judge said no.
That means three to four more months of jail time for a crime that wasn’t’ a crime.
Pardon the pun -- but this sucks.
Posted by at 8:16 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)
Old farts loved the Best of the Beatles
June 27, 2007The 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.�
John Lennon once said of the early Beatles:
"We were at our best when we were playing in the dance halls of Liverpool and Hamburg. The world never saw that."
Well, Wichita Falls got to see a bit of that on Tuesday night, and it was great.
Pete Best is now 65, but the guy can still rock and roll.
Just keep giving this guy shots of tequila and the show keeps getting better.
And don’t think Pete Best is playing Iron Horse because he’s broke.
When the Beatles’ Anthology was released in 1995, it contained several songs with Best on the drums and he was reportedly compensated with between 1 million and 4 million euro.
He ain’t broke.
Best is still rocking at 65 because he loves the stage.
And the crowd of old farts love him.
Thanks, Danny.
From all us old farts.
Posted by at 8:21 AM | Permalink | Comments (1)
Dumb ass judge gets caught with his pants down
June 26, 2007Roy 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?
I am betting the stupidity is not over.
Roy will appeal this decision.
He will still lose his appeal, but he will keep his job and unless this family has a laywer who is more caring and understanding than most lawyers I know, the $100,000 in fees that they already owe will continue to grow.
Maybe the final chapter in this story will have the Chungs suing Roy for ruining their business and wasting their time.
Put me on that jury and Roy Pearson won’t only be a dumb ass, he will be a broke and out-of-work dumb ass.
Posted by at 8:56 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)
Two weeks with a smoke-free wife
June 22, 2007Today 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.
Although I have quit for more than five years, my wife kept smoking.
My daughter smokes. My son-in-law smokes. Many of our friends smoke.
Everytime we went out, we sat in the smoking section or the bar.
And it never bothered me.
My wife is using Chantix to help her quit.
A girl here at work used it and quit several months ago.
Two weeks without a cigarette is a big deal.
That’s 336 hours.
20,160 minutes.
1,209,600 seconds.
Way to go, Jenee’.
You’re winning.
Posted by at 8:27 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)
Pacman's House of Poles and Police
June 21, 2007And 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.
10. McPasties.
9. Manor of Sexually Abused Runaways
8. Genital Shack
7. Gropa Cabana
6. Club Blackmail
5. House of the Rising Cover Charge
4. Titsylvania
3. Homewreckers
2. Classy Earl’s House of Class and Tits
1. Dreamcrushers.
What do you think?
I kinda like Gropa Cabana.
Or how about Pacman’s House of Poles and Police?
Posted by at 8:36 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)
Stories that should have been on the front page
June 20, 2007Most 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?
“Woman sentenced to prison for sex contract.�
A 41-year-old Michigan woman had to go into the hospital to have surgery, so she signed a pact with her horny boyfriend that allows him to do her 15-year-old daughter until mommy dearest gets back on her feet again.
In the deal, the daughter was allowed to get her body parts pierced, dye her hair and spend the night with her own boyfriend.
“Golfer’s swing sparks grass fire.�
A guy in Nevada tries to hit his ball from some dry rough and strikes something that starts a spark and burns 20 acres.
It took 50 firefighters to spot the fire.
The story didn’t save if the guy saved par or made triple bogey.
“Twin boys watch as dad run over, killed.�
Mama’s boyfriend runs over daddy in a van “following a brawl at a baseball game,� and the 9-year-old boys see it all.
Boyfriend said he was pissed off because the boys had been calling their dad --- “dad.�
He wanted to be called “dad� even though he had been “on and off� mom for 10 years but had never married her.
Now boyfriend goes to prison where he will be calling some other guy “daddy.�
Hey, boss, put these stories on Page 1 and you will sell more papers.
Posted by at 8:26 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)
There's only one true God -- and his name ain't Allah
June 19, 2007Sometimes 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.
All this was prophesized in Genesis when an “angel of the Lord� said of Ishmael:
“He will be a wild donkey of a man;
his hand will be against everyone
and everyone’s hand against him,
and he will live in hostility toward
all his brothers.�
Sorry to say it, but peace ain’t coming anytime soon.
We can pull out of Iraq, but that won’t keep these fools from hating us.
It’s going to be us vs. them until the end of time.
But there is good news.
We are going to win.
Good will defeat bad.
Right will prevail over wrong.
Love will win over hate.
Ask Billy Graham and he will tell you why.
There’s only one true God -- and his name ain’t Allah.
Posted by at 8:47 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)
Daddy, I love you
June 12, 2007This 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.
Sports was my escape. I would spend hours and hours at the sandlot or in the gym. When my team wasn’t practicing, I would find another team to practice with.
Anything was better than going home.
And even at home, I spent my time throwing a rubber ball against the garage and pretending I was Mickey Mantle.
God, why did you give me this Daddy?
Why couldn’t The Mick be my daddy?
I wanted a baseball star for a dad, not some $100-a-week cook.
Daddy was a great cook -- working for places like Bing’s Steak House, Maurice’s Steak House and Lester’s Hickory Inn. But great cooks don’t get their pictures on bubble gum cards.
The work was hard on him. Enduring the heat of those kitchens and standing on his feet eight hours a day.
So when Daddy turned 62, he retired.
Eleven months later -- Nov. 14, 1968 --he was dead.
All retirement did was give him more time to drink.
In 1995, Mickey Mantle called a press conference in Dallas. He apologized for his life.
Mickey Mantle was a drunk.
Drinking had short-circuited his career and then his life.
Mickey died at 63.
All those years I had wanted my Daddy to be Mickey Mantle.
And all of a sudden, I found out that he had been.
Two drunks.
One was just more famous than the other.
Long ago, I forgave my Daddy for what he and his drinking did to me and thanked him for giving me that same love for sports than he always had.
This Father’s Day, I want to add another line to that.
Daddy, I love you.
And I know you always loved me.
We never hugged and said “I love you,� like some fathers and sons -- like I now do with my son and my grandson.
But we always knew, didn’t we?
Today, I want everyone else to know too.
I'm going on vacation again on Wednesday. Be back in a week. --- Nicky G
Posted by at 8:06 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)
So may I introduce to you, the act you's known for all these years: Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band
June 11, 2007It 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.
Sgt. Pepper’s -- which celebrated its 40th birthday last week -- is the most influential album of my lifetime.
Rolling Stone named it the No. 1 album of all-time.
The album cover alone was also the best of all-time.
Where else could you ever see Karl Marx standing side to side with Laurel and Hardy?
Or Alfred Einstein with Horace Debussy “Satch� Jones?
Or Marilyn Monroe and Sigmund Freud?
Yes, I enjoyed the show.
I’m just happy I survived it.
Posted by at 8:48 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)
An airport scam in Oklahoma City?
June 8, 2007It’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.
Before writing this, I called the airport to ask about the parking policy.
The man I talked to said that there is a strip on each parking ticket that is scanned and read by the attendant so no mistakes like this should be made.
But this woman probably doesn’t scan anything until after she takes the money. Then she puts the proper amount in the cash register and the scammed profit in her pocket.
Even better, the airport man that I talked to said the price of parking where I parked is still just 4 dollars a day.
So I should have been charged $16.
The old gal still ripped me off for 4 bucks.
The gig is up.
The man at the airport promised me he would check into it. He took my cell phone number and said he would call back when the mystery is solved.
When he does, I will tell you.
Posted by at 8:45 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)
Vegas is a buffet of boobies
June 7, 2007Brassiere stock must be drooping.
Cleavage is in.
Bras are out.
You don’t have to go into a titty bar anymore to see titties.
They’re all over the mall.
All over the grocery stores.
Even in churches.
I just got back from a Vegas vacation.
Sin City is now a buffet of boobies..
Big ones.
Little ones.
Perky ones.
Tatooed ones.
I loved it.
It’s the best thing Vegas has had to offer since Binion’s $2 steak.
Elvis is dead.
The Rat Pack is, too.
But all of this boobage will help a guy get over it.
I’ve always considered Vegas an adult Disneyland.
Gambling is now only a smart part of the fun.
After all, if all I wanted to do was gamble, I could just over to Devol, Oklahoma.
The lure of Vegas is the unbelievable freedom you feel when you are there.
Women have the freedom to just let it hang out -- and that’s OK with this old guy.
And it’s going to get better.
The day is coming when women will go topless in the streets of Vegas.
I’ll lay you 3-to-1 on that right now.
I just hope Nicky G lives long enough to enjoy it.
Posted by at 8:22 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)
Goodbye, Vermont; Don't let the door hit you in the butt
June 6, 2007Some people in Vermont are demanding secession.
They want their state to no longer be a part of the United States.
“The argument for secession is that the U.S. has become an empire that is essentially ungovernable. It’s too big. It’s too corrupt. And it no longer serves the needs of the citizen,� wrote an editor Vermont Commons, a quarterly newspaper dedicated to secession.
All I can say to that is. . .
Don’t let the door hit you in the butt.
I mean what has Vermont ever given us?
Serial killer Ted Bundy?
Goofball Howard Dean?
Mormons Joseph Smith and Brigham Young?
Lots and lots of maple syrup?
Vermont calls itself a state -- but it’s about as insignificant as a state can get.
Its population -- right at 624,000 -- would rank it the sixth largest city in Texas, just behind Fort Worth.
The largest city in Vermont is Burlington -- 39,148.
Down here, that would make it Haltom City.
The capital of Vermont?
It is forgettable, huh?
Even if you know it, there’s a good chance you can’t spell Montpelier.
Also, what kind of state has a “University of� that doesn’t play football?
The University of Vermont has a women’s field hockey team and competes in alpine and Nordic skiing.
But no football.
Quick, what is the mascot of the University of Vermont?
If you said Catamounts, you are probably related to Ted Bundy or Howard Dean.
Vermont really isn’t into professional sports.
The top team in the “state� is the Vermont Lake Monsters -- a Class A minor league baseball team in Burlington.
So, Vermont, go ahead and secede.
I don’t think anybody’s going to miss you.
Posted by at 8:47 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)
Cheers to the graduates; Jeers to the school
June 5, 2007Back from Vegas with money in my pocket and my ass still attached.
So I guess can say I had a good vacation.
More about that later in the week.
Today I want to talk about last week’s graduation ceremony at Galesburg High School.
In case you didn’t read about it in last Saturday’s paper, Caisha Gayles and four other seniors at the Illinois school were denied their diplomas because their family and friends cheered for them during the commencement.
Gayles got the most media attention because she was an honor student.
My daughter was anything but an honor student -- but when she walked across that stage in 1997, it as certainly something to celebrate.
All those mornings trying to wake her up in time to get to school. . .
If was often like Ali-Frazier at our house.
And for most kids a school week is Monday through Friday.
But for Christy, it was often Monday through Saturday.
She was a regular member of “The Breakfast Club� at Wichita Falls High.
My daughter hated school.
When she was at Cunningham, I dreaded going to those “Family nights� because teachers would call me aside and say “Mr. Gholson, I need to talk to you about your daughter.�
Then at Barwise, she called her one teacher a bitch.
She wanted to quit high school.
But we finally sat down and had a heart-to-heart, daddy-to-daughter chat, and I talked her into staying in school.
So when graduation day came and that girl walked across the stage, I wasn’t about to sit on my hands.
I wanted to raise both arms up “Rocky-style� and shout “Thank God, Thank God, Thank God.�
Strike up the band.
Start a wave.
Streak across the stage.
To hell with dignity and honor.
Let’s party.
My daughter is graduating from high school.
I am sure some of the parents at Galesburg High felt like I did.
Punishing their enthusiasm by denying a kid a diploma is just plain wrong.
Posted by at 8:37 AM | Permalink | Comments (0)
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