Y'know, like, five years ago I bought a wallet fer th' first time in over twenty years. Thas' right, it had been twenty years since th' last time I owned one. I got tired of losin' my money on th' floor alla' time as I reached inta' my pocket ta' pull out some cash. I wuz soo proud of it and tried ta' show it ta' anyone I came in contact with, but peoples jus' didn't seem ta' be interested. I ran inta' a Wall of Indifference. They couldn't care less. I said,

"Fine! Ya' constantly wanta' show me pics of yer dogs and cats but ya' don't wanta' look at my new wallet, eh? Well, Kiss off!"

And they said, "But sheeit, cap't, it's jus a godam wallet! Whas' th' big deal?"

And I replied, "Hey well sheeit, Milo is jus' another godam dog, but ya' wanta' show me pics of him alla' time! Whadda' ya think, like, I've never seen a fookin' dog before!?"

I'm not bitter or anythin', y'know, cuz, like, that wuz five years ago. Life goes on.

So. like, I jus' bought a new wallet a few days ago, but this time I wuz kinda low-key 'bout it, rememberin' th' apathy and indifference I experienced last time and so I only mentioned it ta' a few peoples, and yet, some how, Word on th' Street spread that I wuz packin' some “new leather.”

This time, I had several peoples who came up ta' me, totally unsolicited, and wanted ta' actually see it, and then made, whut appeared ta' me ta' be some rather insincere, complementary exclamations. Y' know, like,

"Ohmigod Cap't! Like, it's just soooooo fookin' cool", and, "Gee whiz cap't. Thas' rilly somthin! Whut a wallet!!"

Y'know and stuff like that. Hey ese, I knew they wuz jus' playin me, I wuz hip ta' that, but, whut bothered me; wuz one individual in particular, a guy who I only know casually, and who has always aroused a certain suspicion in me. I have always suspected him of being The MAN. He tried ta' make an apparently off hand, casual reference to the “secret compartment.”

Whoa!!! Alarm bells went off on my head, y'know, kinda like ya' get on a submarine jus' before ya' dive. AOOOOOGA! AOOOOGA! That loud klaxon sound. My mouth went dry. My heart started poundin. My pulse wuz racin' and I wuz weak-kneed. And I thought ta' myself, "Yo man, this is some Good shit!"

Awright, awright, never mind bout that — back ta' my story.

How did he know 'bout th' secret compartment? I dunno. I jus' discovered it myself on Sunday. I tried ta' remain calm and nonchalant. I told him that, at this point in time, I could neither confirm, nor deny the existence of such a compartment and that I would have no further comment.

My mind slipped inta' neutral tryin' ta' figure out how he had got on ta' me? Then, it slipped again. It's been doing that lately, slippin' in and out of gear. Then, suddenly, I remembered mentionin' th' possibility of th' wallet, like, maybe, havin' that kind of capability in an email I had sent out, shortly after purchasin' same.

That mus' be it. We never rilly know jus' how secure these communications are, do we? We don't know whut agencies, domestic or foreign, may be monitorin' whut we assume ta' be private communications.
Of course that's it! No doubt, deep in th' bowels of th' earth, in a bunker underneath Ft. Detrick, Maryland, headquarters of th' NSA, a computer triggered by th' buzzwords, "secret compartment" alerted officials there, who promptly sent one of their minions ta' investigate. Ta' find out whut I know...and when I first knew it. Ta' find out whut kind of data I am I am carryin' around that would justify a secret compartment.

But, as ta' whut I know? Well sheeit, peoples who know me will tell ya' that I consistently maintain that I, "don't know much". They always come up to me and say, "Hey Capt. Whadda'ya' know?"

And I alla' time say, "Not much!"

Ask anybody! So, I think I have been consistent there. I mean, I've never once said, "Oh man, I know a lot! No shit, ese, ya' wouldn't believe th' secrets I'm carryin' here in my wallet!"

No, no. never.

Well, ta' make a long story short, I stepped away from this dude and immediately fled back to my crib, where I pulled th' shades and activated th' perimeter defenses. I don't think it wuz jus' a co-incidence either that a black helicopter jus' happened ta' be flyin' over my house as I pulled inta' th' driveway. Fer th' moment, I am going ta' ensconce myself here, livin' off th' can of tuna and the crackers I bought fer th' Last Apocalypse. (I knew they would come in handy some day. Now if I could only find some use fer all this plastic sheeting and duct tape)

Well perhaps I can jus' lay low and re-enter Society when this has all blown over. However, this poses another problem, since I jus' got a nasty letter from Society earlier this afternoon informin' me that I am in arrears...and that if I don't make a Contribution soon..... they are going ta' cancel my membership!

Sheeit! It's jus' one fookin' thing after another, ihn't it?

th' capt.

Awright. it's that time of th' year again; whut we call th' Holiday Season, y'know, a time of Best Wishes and Good Cheer.

As ya'll prolly know tho, I am a graduate of th' Scrooge School of Philosophy. But I'm talkin' 'bout th' early Scrooge stuff. I disavow whut he became later on in life. Whut th' hail happened to this guy?

One of my contacts on th' street told me he saw Scrooge at th' mall yesterday with some gimpy kid in tow, maxing out his credit cards! Whas up wit dat? It's hard ta' figure. I have also been told that he now pays a living wage ta' his employees, with time and a half fer overtime, and he even has a health insurance plan fr'christ sake, and ta' top it off, he has now made his business handicap accessable, even tho he didn't have'ta cuz he wuz already grandfathered in. Th' guy did a complete 180! It's all too much! Th' mind reels. It's like I'm havin' a bad dream, y'know whut ahm sayin'!

Well anyway, once again, my annual, "Bah! Humbug!"

th' cap't

P.S. Keep this jus' between you and me but I got a claymore rigged up on th' roof. Man, is somebody in fer a surprise this year! Ha ha

This is sooo weird, but I wuz lyin' here thinkin' and jus' nonchalantly drummed my fingers on my head and it made a really hollow sound. I took notice of this. This is not a sound associated with my head. So, I knocked louder, y'know using my fist like ya' might on a door and it went, "Thunk, Thunk, Thunk". Th' very same exact sound ya' would get if ya' thumped on an empty wooden box. No kiddin'.

Or like that sound ya' get when ya' thump a real good watermelon.

Whas' uo with dat? I mean, I know my ear is stopped up and all, but why, oh why, should my head sound like an empty wooden box? Or a watermellon?

I gotta' tell ya', I am not comfortable with th' implications of this at all!!

th' cap't

Ta' Krakel or ta' Crunch? THAT is the Question! Today I picked up at the store a bar of Nestle's candy called “Crunch” which is described on the package as, "Milk chocolate with crisped rice". I also picked up a Hershey candy bar called "Krakel" which is described as, "Crisped rice in milk chocolate".

Do ya' see th' difference there boyz and gurlz? See, one is, “Milk chocolate with crisped rice”...and the other is, “Crisped rice with milk chocolate'. Yeah, I know, it's kinda confusing, isn't it?

Well, anyway, th' Crunch had a softer, better tastin' chocolate flavor, but upon reading the back of th' package, in teeny-tiny print it says that it has "been made on a machine that also processes peanuts."

So if yer one of those peanut allergic peoples, ya' might wanta' use jus' a bit of caution there, cuz that Crunch bar JUS' MIGHT KILL YA'!!!

I Hope this helps ya' make th' decision thas's right fer You!

the cap't,

P.S. Andy shoulda' warned us 'bout this. Course, he can't do it all by himself. Thas' why I'm here, ta fill in those gaps Andy misses from time ta' time.

I suppose , like myself, ya' read in th' papers, or heard on th' TeeVee news that Clint Eastwood's, daughter's, boyfriend wuz found dead in a ski resort in Colorado. There wuz an appalin' lack of detail there and I wuz also pretty disappointed that none of th' press as far as I 'cn figure, has bothered ta' ask Clint Eastwood's, daughter's, boy friend's, room mate whether he thought Clint Eastwood's daughter..... wuz

hot.....or not? And these peoples call them selves Journalists? Sheeit!!

th cap't

I’ve had an earache fer several days now. Not havin' any kinda medical insurance, I sought help; where else, but th' Internet, right?

Th' internet provides a way ta' get advice on our mental and physical health needs, along with financial, legal and jus' about any issue ya' get a problem with, but don't have th' wherewithal ta' get professional assistance. Thank god, how would we get along without it!

So, one of th' earache remedies I came across involved puttin' warm urine, as in, thas' right, URINE, in th' achin' ear, and pluggin' it up with a ball of cotton. They stressed that it should be “fresh” ???? I had ta' stop and think 'bout that fer a second, cuz like, I mean, do some peoples store “stale urine” about their cribs in case of future earaches? I dunno, but hey, who am I ta' question other peoples unorthodox behaviors?

I have mentioned this “cure” ta' some friends and associates in th' odd conversation here and there and, oddly enuff, I have had several of them volunteer ta' piss in my ear!

Maybe ya' were thinkin' along th' same lines, huh? Well, uh, if so, thanks fer th' offer y'know, but, um, like, I think I'll take an El Paso on that fer now OK?

I think I'll jus' try ta' 'tough it out'. so ta' speak. But hey, I 'preciate th' offer ta' help and all, and look here, if YOU, or one of yer loved ones should ever get an ear ache yerself, why hey, don't hesitate ta' call. OK!? I mean, thas' whut friends are fer, right? Ta' piss in yer ear every now and then, cuz this is not th' sorta' thing ya' approach strangers on th' street about, ya' know whut ahm sayin'!

th cap’t

I read somthin' recently about Hummers (th' vehicle kind) and their owners and why they liked them. Not all of course, but many of these critters do have a certain smug, superior attitude towards th' rest of us, and this one gurl, after describin' how she liked ta' sit waay up high there, above all th' proles y'know, in their sooo common, tacky little cars, whut she liked best 'bout it wuz, in her words,

"I KNOW IF I RUN INTO SOMETHING, I'M GOING TO WIN!"

And this, I think. pretty much summarises th' attitude so many of these SUV critters drive with, as in, "GET OUTTA' MY WAY OR I'LL RUN YER ASS OVER!!"

And I likes ta' challenge 'em on that. Kinda like th' old 'chickie run'. Ya' remember those? Nostalgia fer th' old days. Ha ha. I don't think young kids still do that today, do they? Now they go "hill hoppin'” or somthin'!

Likely one of these days I'm gonna encounter a "hard case"...y'know, some Labrador Retriever ownin' mom whose Cub Scout, Honor Roll kid jus' lost THE Most Important Game of th' season and whose whole world has jus' crumbled around her, and is now gonna take it out on this jerk who refuses ta' move over, and is then gonna' consequently squash me like a bug. Oh well, whut can one do but live out their destiny, eh!

It will give added grist ta' those who ponder my epitaph,

Th' Cap't, 11/16/41---???
"Whut th' fuck wuz that all about?"

th' cap't

If a dog barks his head off in th' forest, and no Human hears him; is he still a “Bad Dog”?

If a dog manages to get to Heaven, can it sit on th' sofa? Or is it gonna be th' same old story? And if so, why?

th' cap't

Y'know, years ago my pet Rock thought he wuz actually a child. Yeah no kiddin'. At least thas' whut his piano teacher told me!

But sheeit ese, I didn't go out and put it on no steenkin' bumper sticker, y'know. cuz I figured, besides myself, who else actually gives a shit!! See whut I mean 'bout those bumper stickers!

th cap't

I wuz drivin' down th' road a little while ago and I got behind this giant SUV and on th' rear window there wuz a large Amerikan waving-flag decal and next ta' it, wuz a yellow “supporting the troops ribbon” decal and on th' bumper, a sticker that said, "UNITED WE STAND," and also in th' rear window, a sign that said, “I'M PROUD OF MY CUB SCOUT.”

This reference ta' th' Cub Scouts clinched it fer me; No question 'bout it, I wuz definitely followin' a PATRIOT! Not yer average ersatz patriot, mind you, but a REAL AMERIKAN PATRIOT. As I went by her, I couldn't resist givin' her th' ol' one finger salute. Ha ha. I know, I know, but I jus' couldn't resist. I'm sure she prolly made me fer some kinda' rat bastard Commie.

I hadn't even quit chucklin' when jus' seconds later I got behind another SUV and it had th' obligatory yellow ribbon sticker, and it also had a sign in th' rear window, but this one said,

"Labrador Retrievers Rule.
Other dogs Drool."

Sheeit. Give me a fookin' break, eh! I mean, Whut is it with these SUV owners and their lame-ass notices, and signs and bumper stickers? Do they think that us un-SUV peons really give a shit 'bout their Cub Scouts and their Honor Student Brats and their Labs and Rhodesian Ridgebacks? I personally think that it oughta' be perfectly legal ta' take yer bottles, bricks, y'know, whutever ya' cn' find on yer floorboard of yer rusted-out monkey-shit brown Vega, and hurl them thru th' windshields of Pompous, Arrogant Sonsuvbitches such as these.

On th' other hand some of my best amigos drive vehicles such as these, but I'm not talkin' bout them; I'm talkin' bout those OTHERS, and besides, should ya' be throwin' objects at them, they would be likely ta' run yer Vega inta' a bridge abutment, and then back up and run over whut's left...so be judicious in yer actions, eh?

Personally I find young, blond-haired bimbos wearin' shades and rappin' on their cell phones ta' be fairly risk-free targets of my ire. Jus' make sure they're not wearin' a rugby jersey.

th' capt

Man, they should have touted that show as, "Lame-ass Ed Bradley chats with Lame-ass Bob Dylan about Absolutely Nothin' fer 15 boring, banal minutes!" That woulda' pretty well described th' Charade. Ed Bradley wuz jus' almost gushin' with th' thrill of jus' talkin' with Bob Dylan. I expected him any minute ta' go, "Golly gee, I never thought that some day I'd actually be talikin' ta' Bob Dylan. nyuk, nyuk. Hey ma, lookit' me!!"

I wuz embarrassed fer him. They were both pathetic. Bob Dylan displayed all th' Warmth, Intelligence and Humanity of a socially challenged Turd. Ed Bradley made Larry King look Brutal by comparison!! It wuz soooo Lame. It wuz so Pathetic!

Whut's happened ta' 60 Minutes? Years ago they wouldn't have run pieces of “fluff” like this, and so many others like it. Sigh!

th' cap't

Did'ja happen ta' see Ed Bradley's interview with Dylan last Sunday on 60 Minutes? It wuz his first TV interview in almost 20 years. BFD!

My question is; "So whut th' fuck wuz that all about?" (which incidentally is whut I want my epitaph ta' read) Cuz I don't know anything more 'bout Bob Dylan than I did before. If whut we saw and heard there in that 15 minute segment wuz th' best they could cull from th' entire interview, I can't even imagine how boring and banal th' rest of it musta' been.

Whadda' waste of my time. Sheeit. If Bob doesn't grant another interview fer th' next twenty years, based on this one, I kinda doubt we'd be missing much!

th' cap't

Whut were yew doin' on that infamous Sunday morn when ya' firsrt heard th' news? Myself, I wuz lying there in th' crib, jus' chillin' y'know, when th' news first came over th' radio.

Sheeit, I gotta' admit tho, up until that point, like a lot of other amerikans, I had never even heard of Pearl Harbor before.

Hell, I thought a 'sneaky jap' wuz some kinda mixed drink, y'konw whut I mean! So I wuzn't too concerned. Well, sheeit, y'know, like I wuz only three weeks old and I had other, more important things on my mind at th'time, y'know, like, "Hey yo, Mama, when's breakfast?"

th' cap'tn

RE: Tin Men, th' movie. I checked this out from th' library a while back. Richard Dreyfus and Danny DeVito play two aluminum siding salesmen, hence th' title. It wuz made in ‘87, but th' story takes place in Baltimore in 1963. So, th' look of th' movie is 1963, y'know, th' cars, th' hair styles, th' neighborhoods, th' bars, th' background music, etc, etc. These two guys get in an on-going feud as a result of an auto accident and so are vandalising each other's cars back and forth and committin' all kinds of mayhem on each other thru th' whole movie.

Th' thing is tho, that Danny DeVito's character goes off inta' a long rant about Richard Dreyfus and whut a jerk he is and he finishes it off and says ta' his buddy,

"Ya' know whut ahm sayin!" in an exasperated, frustrated tone of voice.

Well, th' first time I heard him say this, it slipped right by me, cuz it sounded perfectly natural fer him ta' say it, and I didn't think anything about it, but after a couple more times, it occurred ta' me; somethin's not right here, and then it hit me...white people didn't use that expression in 1963! Nope! Not at all. As a matter of fact, even black people said at that time,

"Ya' unnerstan' whut ahm sayin'!" not "Ya' know whut 'ahm sayin'!" That came later.

It always amuses me how directors and th' production peoples whose responsibility it is ta' accurately create th' atmosphere of an era, who go ta' all this time and trouble and expense, then turn around and have their characters using modern slang or idiomatic expressions that were not in use at that time. I expect them ta' get those kinda details right. Did this not occur ta' any one on that set? After DeVito's character said this expression it wouldn't have been any more outta' place fer his buddy ta' have replied,
"I know thas' raht!!"

th' cap't

P.S. If ya' think I'm smokin' ya' bout this, I challenge ya' ta' find a movie that wuz actually made in 1963 or earlier, where a character uses this expression. But in spite of that nitpickin' lil' detail, I did enjoy th' movie tho, cuz there wuz a lotta' stuff there that reminded me of when I useta' be a "bookman" (encyclopedia salesman) in ‘60-‘61 thru out Georgia and N. Florida, workin' on a road crew, travelin' ta' a different little bump in th' road town each nite. After a nite of “bumpin' on wood'”(knockin' on doors), we useta' go ta' th' bars and trade stories 'bout scams we'd pulled on “mooches” (prospective customers) in th' past, or ol' legendary bookmen jus' like th' “tin men” in th' movie did. They got that part right. Brought back some memories of times gone by, when I wuz young and dumb, but too dumb ta' know it, ya' know whut 'ahm sayin'!

So, like today, I bought a couple of tires, installed a new battery, tied th' driver’s door shut with some wire, climbed in thru th' passenger door, hit th' starter and...Fired up th' Mustang!!!

VROOOM...VROOOM!

Cool! Mashed th' pedal ta' th' floor and VROOOOOOOOOOM...ooooh, it wuz loud. let off th' gas and it SNAPPED..CRACKLED and POPPED a bit as it settled down.

So, I took it fer a little breakdown cruise. Ooouuiee shit Jus' like ol times and altho it looks pretty crummy from th' left side, y'know, bein' all bashed in and all, it'll still get rubber shiftin' from 1st ta' second at 50! I like it like that. So th' wreck didn't hurt th' performance one bit, and after all, thas' whut it's all about, right?

Now all I gotta' do is pry th' rear fender out a bit cuz it scrapes th' tire sometimes and maybe weld th' driver's door shut cuz th' flimsy wire I used ta' tie it shut won't last very long and I'm back in business!

In th' future tho, I'm gonna be a bit more careful drivin' home early of a morn' on a wet slippery street, cuz I learned my lesson 'bout that Yes-sir-eee. Lookin' back I take some comfort in knowin' that, that which didn't kill me has made me stronger and wiser. Yea verily.

th' cap't

P.S. Should ya' wanta' drag race tho, lemme know, cuz I'm still game! But les' jus' do it on a dry street, huh?

Ya' know th' old Chinese Proverb that goes, "The longest Journey begins with a single step."

Yeah, well, thas' all well and good and profound and all, but ya' notice a crucial bit of info is still missin' here; like, which fookin' direction ya' should go in? See, thas' th' important thing. Ya' cn' even go backwards, if ya' want, as long as yer headed in th' right direction.

So, th' next time YOU set out on a Journey, determine this factor first. Yer trip will be so much more enjoyable.

th' cap't

I wrote a pretty scathing, sarcastic letter ta' th' University News, th' school paper over there at yer UMKC. I took offense ta' a comment I read in a review of the food at Mike's Tavern. Although their man liked th' food and was generally positive, whut pissed me off was this remark:

"Now, I was terribly un-enthralled with the blue-collar clientele of the bar but I now know these curious strangers are on to something."

See, this pompous, condescendin', arrogant attitude needed ta' be addressed, talikin' bout bein' "terribly un-enthralled with the blue-collar clientele" and describin' them as, "curious strangers" as though he were observin' some weird species never encountered before. Y'know.

So I did. Strongly too, I might add! I think I referred at one point to their reviewer as an, "arrogant, snot-nosed, pampered, punk-ass Brat!" y'know, and stuff like that.

It wuz only after sendin' my thoughts about this asshole that I discovered that this article wuz written almost two years ago!! Sheeit. Ha ha. Yeah, I know. I know, whut wuz I thinkin'? I'm sure th' current peoples workin' there now prolly weren't even there when this clown wrote this and are prolly wonderin' whut this insane person (that would be moi) is rantin' about? I feel a bit stupid (so, like, whut's new, eh?) ta' have gone 'off' th' way I did 'bout somthin that wuz written almost two years ago, ya know whut ahm sayin'! Oh well, maybe I'll provide a couple of chuckles tomorrow fer 'em as they try and make some sense of it.

th' cap't

P.S. Damn, don'cha wish sometimes ya' could go back in time, like, even jus' a couple of minutes, and not hit that "Send" button!!

Oh shit! Curses. Ten thousand curses.

When I wrote about th' news station becoming number one I wrote it as KMBC. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. I meant KCTV 5. Sheeit. Now some asshole from Channel 5 is gonna' be stickin' a mike in my face sayin',

"Cap't, what were you thinking when you mis-identified us? What was going thu your mind at th' time?"

And all I'll be able ta' come up with is a lame, "Gee, I dunno."

And they'll be sayin' shit like, "Well, don't you think you ought to get your facts staight before you start bad-mouthing people?"

And th' only retort I will have is a quote from Dick Cheney as in, "Go fuck yourself!"

th cap't

Did'ja happen ta' see in yesterday's paper where KMBC-TV (Channel 5) LIVE..LATE BREAKING..INVESTIGATIVE news is now number 1 in th' city, passing longtime rival and perennial ratings champ, Channel 9.

This is absolutely disgusting cuz Channel 5 epitomises everything that's bad about th' news. Th' Sensationalism of every godam thing. These assholes regularly interview 5 and 6 year olds about th' fire, th shooting, th' car wreck, whatever. They stick cameras in peoples faces who've jus' discovered their home has burned to th' ground and ask them,

"What was going thru your mind when you realised that everything you own in th' world had gone up in flames?" and th' camera comes in fer a close-up while th' victim chokes back tears. Or "What were you thinking when the police said they had found your daughter’s mutilated body in the river?"

Typical crap like that. But, ya' know whut...evidently it works. Channel 5, th' Jerry Springer of local news. Fuckin' ridiculous!!

th' cap't

Have you guys seen th' giant burger that Hardee's is offerin' now?

Hardee's is sayin', "Fuck a bunch of low carb, low calorie bullshit". They're not lookin' fer those peoples. No, they got somebody else in mind. They got a burger thas' got TWO 1/3 lb. pattys, four pieces of cheese, four bacon strips, plus th' usual lettuce, tomato and onions.

This dude goes fer $5.70-80 cents and has 1,490 calories. Thas' roughly yer average couch-potato's needs in one session. Have ya' seen one? I mean, it's gigantic!! Th' only person I cn' see bein' able ta' take a bite of one would be, maybe, Julia Roberts. and it would be a challenge even fer her.

th cap't

OK. Jus' saw this in today's paper, Julia (thas' Julia Roberts who jus' had twins over th' weekend) named the gurl part of th' twin set, "Hazel Patricia". Yeah, thas' right, "Hazel" (Ha ha poor kid!) And th' guy's full name is Phinneaus Walter. She rilly shoulda' waited til she came down from th' drugs before she did that namin' thing, don'cha think?

Even tho it's only been a few days I've had enuff. Julia and I are done. Thas' it! I'm sorry, but I jus' can't go thru with it. No more! No more. I've already had more than I cn' take. I never liked that big ugly mouthed gurl anyway. She reminds me of Barbara Streisand in th' way that peoples talk about how beautiful she is, when it seems obvious ta' me that in fact, she's not beautiful at all. As a matter of fact; she's Ugly! She's got a BIG ugly mouth, (Martha Raye had nothin' on this gurl) an ugly nose and an ugly face. So, whut's beautiful about her I ask? Absolutely nothin'!

And I like Streisand! How anyone could ever say Streisand wuz beautiful is beyond me. Those eyes so close together, with those ugly eyebrows and with that giant ugly nose in th' middle, and jus' beneath that, that gaping mouth. Yeech!

In spite of th' fact that peoples talked 'bout how beautiful she wuz, I kinda doubt if there were too many gurls sittin' round thinkin', "Gee, I wish I wuz beautiful like Barbara Streisand. I wish I looked jus' like her." Nah, I don't think so! And yet they persisted with their foolishness. Sometimes somebody needs ta' tell th' Emperor he don't have no clothes on, but noooooo...she would still be introduced, "And now...here's th' beautiful and talented..Barbara Streisand!!" Course, I guess they couldn't really say, "And now, here's a mother's worst nightmare, th' GOD-UGLY, but talented......"

Well anyway, I don't wanta' talk 'bout Julia no more. Ya'll have'ta' rely on th' daily paper, and th' tabloids and th' TV, but don't fret, cuz, like, ya'll still be hearin' plenty mo 'bout her, I guarantee it. Her publicity peoples aren't gonna let you ferget 'bout her and th' twins. And I'll bet that within' a week, two at th' most, ya'll be seein' her on Letterman's dog and pony show. Oh yeah. they'll be sittin' there tradin' "bringin' up baby anecdotes" and it'll be so fookin' Cute ya'll jus' wanta' Puke! No shit.

I'm sure Julia will no doubt have a pic of her lying there in bed with her two little adorable bambinos, cradled in her arms, one on each side and she'll have a gaping smile from ear ta' ear with all those teeth bared. It'll be th' most precious picture ya' ever saw. Th' audience will all go, "Ooooh" and "Aaaaah" and then she'll get a round of applause and then Dave will jus' happen ta' have th' latest picture of Harry (thas' his son's name in case ya've been off-planet th' last year) and again there'll be ooohin' and ahhin' and clappin' and carryin' on and Dave and Julia will be jus' be beamin' and congratulatin' each other and th' audience will continue ta' clap and cheer. It's gonna be one of those, "don't miss TV moments" so, don't miss it boyz and gurlz!

But, take th' cap'ts advice, have yer barf bag handy tho.... cuz yer gonna' l need it.

th cap't

Did'ja happen ta' see Andy Rooney on 60 Minutes this past Sunday? He went off on a rant on th' worthlessness and impracticality of pennies. One of th' reasons I like Andy so much is that we are so often in agreement on various things. It's pretty seldom we diverge.

Perhaps ya' recall I wrote 'bout this very thing jus' a few months ago in a hard hitting piece (“a hard hitting piece,” Ha ha, I like that) called, "Pennies from Heaven" on whut I also believe is th' absurdity of clingin' ta' pennies.

A very good friend of mine recently stooped over ta' pick up a penny. I kidded him about it, but he defended his action sayin', "Hey, it's still money." I think he still remembers th' old school sayin, "A penny saved is a penny earned." But my thinkin' is that that school let out about forty years ago. I mean, there wuz a time when that penny wuz worth somethin'...but, sheeit, that wuz a long time ago. Sheeit, ya' can hardly buy anything with a dime today! So... whut th' hell good is a penny?

"Pennies!! Whut are they good for? Absolutely NOTHIN!!"

When some one says ta' me, "A penny fer yer thoughts," my reaction is, "A penny? Ya' think ya' can buy my thoughts fer a steenking penny? Fuck you!"

So once again, Andy and I are in synch! We seldom diverge. I like Andy's rants. He takes a close look and dissects a lot of th' customs, mores, and absurdities of our culture and forces us ta' stop and think 'bout all th' bullshit around us that we jus' take fer granted and never really pause ta' consider. Ordinary things that go right by us without so much as a thought.

Listening ta' Andy Rooney all these years has taught me ta' look at things just a little closer, ta' pay jus' a bit more attention ta' th' details, ta' be jus' a bit more mindful. Like, I stayed home one nite last week and watched th' TV from 8 PM til 3 AM and during that time I watched 294 commercials! 294 Commercials! I counted 'em. Many of them I saw 8-10 times. Kinda hard ta' stay very mindful after that. Ha ha.

We are constantly bombarded by these bits of propaganda and mis-information so much, so often, over and over and over, ad infinitum, that we become programmed to think and act in ways without even realising why we are doing so. You go to th' store and pick up an item where you have a choice of a score of similar products, but without even thinking about it, you pick up th' one with th' catchy jingle, or th' one you heard about 60 times in th' last week, altho you may not consciously remember it at th' time.

Andy brings those things ta' out attention. I thank him fer that.

th' cap't

David Letterman's very first joke in his monologue on Monday nite wuz about Our Ms. Julia. And I saw in today's paper that Julia wuz 37 years old when she had her twins, which consisted of a boy and a gurl. She has won one Oscar in 2000 for Erin Brockovitch and her husband's name is Danny Moder (we don't hear too much about him do we?) and he's 35 years old and is a camera man.

My contacts on th' street (Huggy Bear) tell me that she wuz unable to make th' premier for her latest movie Closer cuz she wuz busy tryin' ta' think of baby names. Obviously, as yer well aware of, this is a time consumin' process and not ta' be taken lightly and so doesn't leave a whole lotta' time to be attendin' a buncha' premiers and stuff. Ya' know whut ahm sayin'! I'm jus' glad ta' see Julia keeps everything in perspective and has her priorities straight. Naming babies is serious business, whereas attendin' premiers is jus' a bunch of fluff, and Our Ms. Julia knows that!

From whut my sources tell me, she named the boy “Phinnaeus.” While I'm not one ta' criticise Our Ms. Julia, I think she shoulda' thought on that one just a bit more, eh? But, whut th' hell, she's Julia Roberts and she can damn well name her kid any godam thing she wants'ta and I'll defend her right ta' do so!! After all, this is a democracy, ya' know!

And altho maybe not as important as th' WMDs, this is jus' another one of th' reasons why we are in Iraq today. Thas' right. Protectin' those freedoms that we sometimes don't think about and jus' take fer granted.

And looky here, jus' cuz we haven't found any of those WMDs yet; that don't mean they aren't there! Iraq is a big country y'know, and since Our Leader and Our Vice Leader still insist they're there, well, sheeit, thas' good enuff fer me. I mean, they wouldn't lie ta' us would they!

And anothry thing, ya' gotta give that godam Saddam credit, even tho ya' might hate him, cuz he fooled 'em all; th' UN Inspectors, th' Amerikan military peoples who have been searchin fer a year and a half, he fooled 'em all cuz he hid those suckers Really good, th' crafty bastard! And as fer those naysayers, I say,
"You jus' prove they aren't there huh? Go ahead, prove it!!"

Well anyway, I'm not sure whut she named th' gurl baby (we're back ta' Our Ms. Julia) at this time, but ya' know th' cap't will hip ya' ta' it jus' as soon as that info becomes available, cuz I know it's jus' as important ta' you, as it is ta' me and th' rest of th' nation.

th' cap't

P.S. And by th' way, speakin' of assholes, Fuck Osama bin Laden and th' rest of th' steenking terrorists if they think they're gonna distract us from th' things we hold dear. They're jus' jealous cuz they don't hav'a Julia Roberts of their own!

A flood of relief swept over me today as I read on th' second page of th' paper that Julia Roberts had twins yesterday morning. Oh man!! This wuz great news fer me, and of course fer scores of millions of other Amerikans who are deeply interested in events in th' life of Julia Roberts.

I have been tense and under a lot of stress about this fer several weeks now. Finally, I feel as though a heavy burden has been lifted from my shoulders, don' you? Well of course you do!

A spokesperson from the hospital said, "Mother and babies are doing great". Once again, Whew! Another sigh of relief. I wuz weak-kneed with anxiety til I read that. I wuz keenly disappointed though that they did not release the twins weights or other details. Whas' up wit dat? Jeeze, th' way those media assholes tease us with incomplete and insufficient information jus' rilly irritates me, ya' know whut I mean?

And hey, don't even get me started on how the biased Left-wing, Liberal media buries a story of national interest like this on page two! I beg yer pardon?

Well, no big surprise there I guess, I mean, whadda'ya
expect from a bunch of Commies!!

th' cap'n

I REMEMBERED WRITING ABOUT JACK BEFORE AND I FOUND THIS. I WROTE THIS AS YOU CAN SEE BACK IN MAY ‘03. IF IT SOUNDS REDUNDANT, WELL IT'S BECAUSE I'M PRETTY CONSISTENT IN MY FEELINGS ABOUT JACK. AS YOU WILL NOTICE THE SITUATIONS ARE VERY SIMILAR AS WELL AS ARE MY THOUGHTS ABOUT IT.

Last night in the bar, I was watching the Lakers vs Spurs game. Since there was no sound, I was reading the captions. Here was a highly agitated Jack Nicholson jumping in the officials face. See, Jack gets to sit right down on the floor where the coaches and players sit.

So, he's jumping up and screaming in their faces about calls he didn't like. He's calling players over to give them words of encouragement. They finally threatened to evict him from the stadium. He retorted that he spend a LOT, and he emphasized a LOT of good money for his seat and if anyone tried to evict HIM, he would sue their asses off. See, he's Jack Nicholson, famous actor/celebrity. He doesn't have to conform to the rules for the “small peoples,” that is, peoples like you and me. He's SPECIAL!!!

Had i been in charge of security there last night, I would have said, "FUCK YOU JACK! TAKE A HIKE!!?" and then I would have hustled his ass out and tossed him out the door onto the sidewalk, just like one does a cantankerous and obnoxious drunk, and I would have said. "Go make another movie with Adam Sandler, ya fuckin' asshole!"

They didn't do this though. Instead, the camera kept zooming in on Jack’s face so we could see his reaction to everything that was happening. He got way more face time than did either one of the coaches, and the announcers would say things like, "Gee, I wonder what Jack thought about that call?”

Who gives a Shit what Jack thinks? As far as i'm concerned jack, you can kiss my ass!

the cap't

DO YA' NOTICE TH' SIMILARITIES, EVEN THO TH' TWO NIGHTS ARE A YEAR AND A HALF APART? ONCE AGAIN, fuck Jack Nicholson!

Last night, they had a really good blues band at th' bar. When I wuzn't watchin' Jack Nicholson's reactions ta' the Laker's game on th' TV, I wuz watchin' peoples dancin'. There wuz this one guy, who is a total asshole, I promise you, he is an obnoxious, annoying drunk of th' first magnitude, and yet he is a fantastic dancer. No jive, he is really good, and it made me so pissed ta' watch him cuz he's such an asshole. If ya' watched him dance, he's cool. You'd think, "Wow, that dude can really dance" and you'd never suspect whut a fuckin' moron he is.

It pissed me off ta' watch him knowin' whut a mook he is, see, cuz I myself can't dance a lick. And here's this absolute jerk...who's got all th' moves. It ain't right. How come I can't dance like that? He's an asshole, but he can dance; I'm not an asshole but I can't. Sheeit. Where is th' justice in that? And to those peoples who say, "But wait a minute cap't, first of all, who says you're not an asshole? Cuz you are!"

I say, "Fuck you. You're th' asshole." and they go,

"No you're th' asshole." and I go,

"No you're th' asshole" and they...well you know how it goes.

Well, back ta' this lack of ability dancin' thing.

When I wuz in th' fourth grade in Montgomery, AL, we had ta' learn ta' square dance. Oh it wuz a bitch! I jus' couldn't get a handle on it at all. Ya' know, all that do-se-do shit. And like, "swing yer partner round and round". Sheeit, I swung Lucy crashin' right into th' desks. After that, none of th' gurls wanted ta' be my partner cuz they knew they wuz goin' fer a fling. I knew, even then, at eight years old, this dancin' thing wuz (if I might use a sports cliche here) gonna 'come back ta' haunt me' me later in life.

And sure enuff, it did; in th' seventh grade at Kubasaki Jr. High on Okinawa. They're havin these 'sock hops'. Whut a bummer. I'm tryin ta' learn these complicated dance steps, like th' “fox trot” and the “waltz” and I got this book with these diagrams and I'm moving up and shiftin' ta' the right, and then, back and shift ta' th' left and makin' this “square” ya' know. But it wuzn't very smooth nor graceful atall.

And then they would do that “'bunny hop” thing. Whoa. Peoples wuz kickin' ta th' right while I wuz kickin' ta th' left, so then I'd kick ta' th' right and they'd kick ta' th' left. Man, I could fuck up a “bunny hop” line!! Peoples would whisper, "Somebody take Charley outside fer a cigarette so we can do th' bunny hop."

I eventually caught on, and spent most of th' time at th' “sock hops” outside with th' rest of the 'hoody' guys. A practice which would continue later on.

So when I got ta' high school in California, and then, my senior year in Germany, they wuz doin' some kinda jitter-bug thing which wuz y'know, waaay beyond my capabilities. So, I wuz one of those guys who went ta' th' dances tanked up outta' my mind, gettin' inta fights and gettin' thrown outta' th' dance and havin ta' report ta' th' Vice Principle's office Monday mornin'. And they'd say,

"Charley, why ya' gotta alla time be causin' trouble and carryin on?"

Ya'know, and I'd say, "Well sheet, I can't dance!"

As tho that explained everythin! Ha ha.

Over th' years I thought 'bout goin' ta' one of those Arthur Murray Dance studios, y'know, justa' maybe learn ta' 'slow dance' but then when I came down, and my head cleared up, I knew I'd jus' flunk out any way!! Fuck a buncha' Arthur Murray!

Dammit. Somebody, and I don't know which one of those Deities, is responsible fer that stuff, but they musta' called in sick that day cuz they forgot ta' give me my “music gene.” Music jus' doesn't 'move' me th' way it does most people. I can't really “feel” it. No wonder I can't dance!! Hell, I jus' quit goin' ta' concerts twenty years ago, cuz like I jus wanted ta HEAR th' music; that wuz enuff fer me, but, nooooo...all these other peoples around me are jumpin' up and down and clapping and wavin' their arms and shakin' all about, y'know, carryin' on like a bunch of heathens. I'm thinkin,

"Sheeit, why can't we jus' sit here and LISTEN ta th' music? Huh, why?"

I always felt so foolish when I tried ta' join in, like, I wuz INVOLVED!! Like, there wuz somthin' happenin' in this music that made me clap off beat. It wuz a lot like that leg kickin' thing with th' bunny hop. Sheeit, if peoples hadn't passed th' occasional joint down th' row I wouldn've gone, period!

Well sheeit I guess there's no point in whinin' and snivellin' 'bout it now at this stage of th' game, eh?
But damnit, it still pisses me off!

th cap'tt

Like, Ho- hum!

th' cap't

tI jus' read this book yesterday by a guy I went ta' an Amerikan High School with in 1959 in Wiesbaden, Germany. I didn't really know him then cuz we ran in very different crews. His dad wuz a Major General (thas' two stars) and so he wuz a typical military brat, always cognizant that his dad's rank set him apart from everybody else. Military kids are always keenly aware of their own father's military ranking viz a viz their friends father's rank. It has a kinda 'trickle down' effect.

He of course wuz a good student, participatin' in all th' rituals and bullshit expected of a general's son. Whereas my friends and I were only interested in raisin' hell and gettin' drunk every night, which wuz simple ta' do cuz th' Germans didn't give a shit how old ya' were, as long as ya' had th' deutschmarks ta' pay fer yer beer. At that time, beer wuz a dime a glass. Ya' could go downtown, get drunk on yer ass, play th' jukebox, stop and have some bratwurst and potato salad on th' way home, and all fer about two bucks. Can ya' dig that!!

My buddies and I couldn't care less about H.H. Arnold High School (named after General Henry 'Hap' Arnold, WW II Army Air Force Commander for Europe) or its traditions. Th' first day of school, my partners and I were standin' in th' middle of a hallway and some kid came up and said, "Hey, I know you guys are new, but you better not let the seniors catch you standin' there."

And my buddy said, "Whyszat?"

And th' kid said, "Cuz you're standing on the school emblem. No body is allowd to walk across or

stand there."
And we looked down and there wuz a mosaic of an Indian ("The Warriors") embedded in th' floor. And we said, "Fuck off punk! We'll stand any godam place we wanta!. Tell that ta' th' fuckin' seniors."

Well, it turns out, none of th' other seniors wanted ta' press th' issue with us. So, after that, we made it a point ta' meet there every morning before school, and within' a couple of weeks, even th' freshmen were walikin' over th' Warrior. Ha ha. We had destroyed a long standin' tradition almost overnight. Well, see, all of us had been uprooted from different schools in th' states where we had wanted ta' graduate, and we resented like hell bein' there in godam Germany. So, we didn't give a shit about H.H. Arnold high school and it's lame-ass traditions.

As a matter of fact, they created a special detention hall for us, cuz durin' sports games between our school and other Amerikan schools, they let school out early so every one could go ta' th game, but we always sat on the Visitors side and cheered for our opponents. This didn't set too well with our peers or th' faculty. We said,

"Fuck you! We'll sit where ever th' hell we wanta!"

They accused us of not havin' 'school spirit'. Ha ha. Sheeeit. Hey ese, we had plenty 'school spirit', th' problem wuz...it jus' wuzn't fer our own school! Ha ha.

OK, OK, scuse me, I digress. Well anyway, today, James Carroll, as ya' may know writes a column for the Boston Globe, and has also written 8 or 9 novels.

His book of a couple of years ago, American Requiem, an auto-biographical screed, largely about his relationship with his dad, was excellent in his portrayal of the conflicts any military kid has dealin' with a uber-authoritarian father-figure. In his case, a two-star general. (ya' don't get two stars on yer collar askin' a lot of questions. See, whutever th' situation, ya' jus' say, YES SIR, RIGHT AWAY...SIR!!!) There wuz a lot there that those of us who went thru that same kind of experience can identify with. Ditto a lotta' stuff in The Great Santini.

This book tho, Secret Father, is fiction and I suppose would be called a Cold War mystery/thriller. It takes place, partly in Wiesbaden, but mostly in Berlin in 1961, jus' weeks before th' Berlin Wall went up. The central character there is an 18-year-old dorm student at H.H. Arnold H.S. whose best friend is th' son of a major general. He mentions drinking with friends at th' Zimmertal in Wiesbaden. I don't recall that joint but I do remember a place called the “Zillertal” tho which we just referred to as “the zoo.” A lot of us hung out there in ‘59. All these young American teenagers, as young as 8th graders, drinkin' and partyin' and then throw in all th' young GI's tryin' ta' score with 'em. It wuz a wild and crazy time, I cn' tell ya'!

His character also mentions his English teacher Mrs. Klein which wuz a thinly veiled reference ta Mrs. Kleinschmidt, one of two English teachers at school.

His mention of her brought back memories of th' other English teacher, Mrs. Hirsh, who I had for English. I loved Mrs. Hirsh. I remember her with great fondness and respect. She wuz a really special teacher. (I cn' tell ya' one thing; she definitely would not approve of my spelin'! Ha ha)

Had it not been for Mrs. Hirsh's patience and tolerance I would not have graduated when I did. She went way overboard in allowin' me to make up crucial tests I had missed as a result of spending th' afternoon at the Grauerstein, a local bierstube near school. (I spent many an afternoon there in lieu of classes. Ha ha) She let me turn in homework assignments late. She really put out a lot of effort for me. Mrs. Hirsh simply refused ta' let me flunk myself, and therefore, not graduate. She musta' made me her Special Project fer ‘59. It seemed like it wuz more important ta' her that I graduate, than it wuz ta' me.

Damn, I have wished so many times over the years I could have thanked her properly. At th' time tho I didn't fully realise how much I owed her.

Well, anyway, I enjoyed th' book, if for no more reason than it made me think of her again and those carefree teenage days in Deutschland in 'th late ‘50s. If ya' happen ta' see it or American Requiem at th' library, pick it up; I think you'll like it.

th' cap't

Hey, look here, jus' cuz one “bad apple” in Minnesota happened ta' waste 6 or 7 fellow hunters in a minor dispute, I see no big reason fer th' anti-gun whackos ta' be whinin' and complainin', and moanin' and groanin', but ya' know how those freaks are!

I mean, if ya've ever been huntin' yerself then ya' know that automatic assault rifles and rocket propelled grenades, etc, etc, are essential when trackin' and huntin' vicious and dangerous deer. So, whut's th' big deal?

th cap't