Did'ja ever fantasize about bein able to travel back in Time and change somthin? I do! I am reminded of this fantasy several times a week. Now, of course, I think every one wishes they could do some things over again, handle some situation differently, but I'm not talkin bout that kinda thing. I'm talkin bout changin history.

Like, I wish I could go back to that point in Time jus a second before Andy Warhol uttered his now famous cliched expression,

"In the Future, every one will be Famous for fifteen minutes!"

I can't explain why I hate that saying so much, but I do! It's irrational I know. There's no real justification why it should bug me so much, but it does!! For me, it's th worst cliche of all cliches and I jus loathe it. Every time I hear it, which is a lot, it makes me cringe. But ya can't escape it. It's every where. You'll hear some one say somthin, like,
,
"Well. he/she got their fifteen minutes......" and they don't even have to explain what they mean cuz there's no one in th English speaking world at least, who won't know exactly what they mean! I don't like th expression, dammit! And furthermore, I don't like peoples who use it either!

So, my Fantasy is this; in th mili-second before Andy sez this, I sneak up behind him and bash him on th head with a big rock!!! I hit him rilly hard and knock him unconscious! He remains in a coma fer a long time, and when he finally emerges, he goes to complete th thought he had jus before he got knocked kazoo, but now he thinks he's Porky Pig and he looks up and sez,

"Whus up, Doc?"

And some one there writes down what Andy sez upon re-awakening, and so then every one goes around sayin,

"Whus up, doc?"

But sometimes, when I think about this, I have a slight variation on it where I like to think when he wakes up, now he thinks he's Daffy Duck instead, and so he sez, without even thinkin bout it or knowin why,

"Yer Dith-Picable!"

and so peoples say this alla time instead of talkin about, y'know, like, "fifteen minutes". and so then I won't have to listen to that fer the next 30+ years.

It jus depends on what kind of mood I'm in at th time, y'know whut I mean? Like, whether I wanna indulge in th Porky Pig or th Daffy Duck Fantasy?

How bout you boyz and gurlz, do you have fantasies like that too?

th cap'm

Mebbe ya remember a few days ago I put forth th question about whether Yancy Walker was bein straight up with us, vis a vis his views on cell phone usage while driving, or whether he was talkinoutta th side of his mouth. Some peoples wrote back with their thoughts.

***************

"He did identify himself as being from Grain Valley which is like East Independence and you think he might have been speaking Tongue in Cheek? Yeah he has his other Meth dealers to talk with." TD (do I detect some anti-eastern bias here? ch)

"I think he's being straightforward. If he were trying to be ironic, I think he would have signaled his intention somewhere. If he's trying to be tongue-in-cheek, he's way too subtle." th Sally-Gurl (sally! Always on point. always succinct. ch)

"I think Mr. Walker is being serious. sad. I would also bet that as soon as he gets in his car accident while on a call, he changes his stand." linda (i would be glad to be th catalyst fer his change of mind. ch)

"C'mon Charley, you had it right in the first place. The guy is a fucking idiot." josh (watch yer language! this is a family page ch)

"I don't like your tone cap't. It's not like you to show doubt. I don't want to hear this kind of weakness coming from you. It shakes my foundations. LOL." A-Dawg (get a grip man!!!! ch)

"Cap't, I thought by now you of all people would know the difference between stupidity and tongue-in-cheek since you are the Master at it." Steve (yes grasshopper, you speak th Truth. ch)

"I think he's right. I think you're just jealous because you don't know anyone to talk to while you're driving. In fact, no one wants to talk to you anytime." carl (jus cus peoples hang up on me don't necessarily mean they don't wanna talk to me. nyah, nyah, nyah. ch)

"The truth? You can't handle the Truth!!!! Amy (th Truth shall set you free! ch)

"I agree." john (since i asked a question, i'm not sure what john means here? ch)

"What's going on? Normally it's you standing on your soapbox telling us WHAT IT IS! Now you're asking our opinion! Have you stopped taking your meds?" Carl (what soapbox? what meds? where? ch)

I liked this one best.

"Maybe cap't you should spend more time looking into Mr. Walker's intentions and leave the good folks from Kansas alone. We do know where you live you know!" Big D (oh yeah! bring it on clodhopper ch)

***************

By th way, th Star printed my response to Yancy in th letters to th editor today. But no big deal, cuz, like, you already got it from me Personally!!! So, ya know what that means; that means, YER SPECIAL!!!

th cap'm

Curses! Curses! Curses! Why does this shit happen to Me all th time? Huh? I wanna know! I went to cash a check at th bank earlier and needed my driver's license fer ID and searched thru my wallet and discovered I didn't have it. It wasn't in my wallet where it was supposed to be, It wasn't on th floor or under th seats or anywhere in th car. When I got back to th crib, it wasn't any place here either? In other words, I'VE LOST MY FUCKIN DRIVER'S LICENSE!!

I hesitate to even mention it to St. Anthony cuz he's still lookin fer my earring, god knows where? (Ha ha a bit of humor there) I mean, I know he has other clients too and I have no idea when a Being of his Nature finally gets over loaded, over worked, stressed out to th point, where he jus throws his hands up in disgusted frustration and sez,

"Enuff! Enuff already! Dammit, gimme some slack, eh! I'm workin my ass off here. I can only do so much, y'know! Besides everyone else, I got th cap't calling on me nite and day like clock work. 'Hey tony, I lost this, hey Tony, can ya help me find this, hey Tony....' Sheeit, I haven't had a day off in god only knows how long!" ("god only knows how long?" Ha ha That Tony!! He's a card. Ha ha)

Mebbe if I jus sorta mentioned it in casual conversation, like,

"So, yo Tony, like, I was at th bank today and was gonna cash a check, but I couldn't, cuz I seemed to have misplaced my ID, so then I went to Osco's and, man, you'll never guess who I ran into......blah, blah, blah."

And mebbe th subtle mention of my lost driver's license won't seem like a direct request fer intervention, but, still, th fact will register. Th last thing I wanna do is compromise th cordial, friendly relationship I have with him as a result of my continual whining requests fer assistance, cuz altho he is

"he Champion of Lost Things", I also am,

"THE CHAMPION LOSER OF THINGS!"

There's simply no one else around who loses things on a regular, continual, ongoin basis like I do. And believe me, I'm not braggin when I say that either! I take no pride in this dubious claim. Sheeit, I can't remember what Life was like when I wasn't thrashing wildly about, from one room to another, on a daily basis, picking up this, looking under that, goin thru these, searchin fer my glasses, rings, phone, wallet, money, etc, etc,etc, on and on, ad nauseaum. It's disgustin!

Sheeit. I think I'll jus get drunk and stoned and ferget all about it! Jus push it all out th back door of my consciousness into th back yard of my mind and let it jus sit there, til I feel like dealin with it.

Yeah, thas th ticket!

th cap'm

Amerika is Number One! Did you know that th United States spends more money on Defense, (a whopping 455 BILLION dollars) than all other countries in th world combined!!

th cap'm

So whut's th big deal here anyway? Fer th past several days I've been hearin and readin bout this Paul McCartney dude who jus turned 64. So whut!! Sheeit. I turned 64 six months ago and didn't have mobs of peoples beatin feets ta my door askin me probin, in depth questions, like,

"So cap't, what were you thinking the day you turned 64? What was going through your mind at the time?"

Nah, hell no. No buzz at all cept fer a few close friends. So why does this dude rate all th attention? Whut? Did he write a bunch of silly love songs, or somthin?

Well sheeit, hey looky here, like, I wrote some songs myself too, y'know! Like th blues song I wrote fer th 4-6 year old demographic, a crowd largely ignored by th Blues Community. But hey, those little peeples get th Blues too, y'know. Like,

"th Boo-boo Blues".

Fell outta th tree/
And skinned my knee/
Now I got a boo-boo/
And it hurts so Bad/

Now I got a boo-boo/
And I feels so Sad/

Sittin in th Sandbox/
Feelin so down low/
Don't even feel/
like/
Playin no mo/

Got th Lonesome/
Low down/
boo-boo blues/
And it hurts so bad/

Got th boo-boo blues/
And I feel so sad/
I Threw my blanky/
Across th lawn/
Pleese somebody/
Make these boo-boo blues/
Be/
All Gone/

Got th hurtin/
Fer certain/
Boo-boo blues/
And I feels so bad/

and it goes on, y'know with more verses.. And then there's th other one I'm workin on now called,

"Meagan done me wrong/
And stole my crayons too!"

A sad tale of Lost Love and Betrayal. And of course there's my hard-rockin paean to th wonders of Mad Dog.

CELEBRATION OF TH GRAPE

"I'm a Mad Dog Man/
Oh yeah/
Gimme, gimme/
plenty, plenty/
Of that/
MD 20/20/

Cus I'm a Mad Dog Man/

Doan care bout/
no fancy bottle/
Doan care bout no cork/
Jus unscrew that cap/
And/
Gimme a Snort/

Cus hey bro/
I'm A Mad Dog Man/
MD 20/20/
Gimme, gimme/
Plenty, plenty/
Of that Mad Dog/
Twenty-Twenty/

Cus I'm a Mad Dog Man/

Ya can take yer Chardonay/
And yer Sauvignon/
And all yer other/
Fancy wines/
And stick em all/
Where th sun don't shine/

Cus I'm a Mad Dog Man!

and it goes on and on like that in a loud, harsh, screamin Celebratory Ode to th Grape!

But, is th media clamorin fer an interview with me? Does th Music Industry take me serious? Nah! I don't think so! But rilly, thas aw'right with me tho, cuz I'll tell ya, I rilly couldn't take those papparrazi curs doggin me alla time. I'd have ta get a couple of th guyz in th crew ta break some arms and legs. And mebbe after a dozen or so went ta th hospital, they might give me some space, eh! But in th meantime, I'm enjoyin my Anonymity.

th cap'm

P.S. Oh sure, some gurl called me earlier today from th Star wantin ta know if they could publish my letterto th editor, but they've done that before and never ran em, so I'm not holdin my breath.

Th following letter, from one Yancy Walker, was printed in th Thursday edition of th Star.
***************
PEOPLE CAN DRIVE AND TALK

"OK, let's get real. If we are going to ban cell phones because they are a distraction, then please ban smoking while driving, changing the CD player or radio while driving, and resetting the heat or air conditioner while driving-----that distracts some people.
Come on, drivers have learned how to drive and comb their hair while driving, and put on lipstick while at a stoplights. What's the big deal about cell phones all of a sudden? Are people just jealous they don't have one or don't know anyone they can call and talk to while driving?
I've frankly found it keeps me awake if I can talk on the cell phone (with my headphones, of course) while on a long trip.
People just always have to complain about something, I guess.

YW
Grain Valley
****************
OK, when I read that letter my first thought was; what a Fucking Idiot and so I responded with this letter to th Star myself.
******************
Date: Fri, Jun 16, 2006, 3:50pm To: letters@kcstar.com
Subject: Concerning YW and his views on cell phones 6/16

"He wonders if people who complain about drivers using their cellphones aren't jealous cus they don't have one? Or they're jealous cuz they don't know anyone they can call while driving? Oh pleeese. Surely, he can't really be serious?!

He then compares the distraction of changing the CD or radio, or adjusting the heat while driving, to that of driving while chatting on the phone. How absurd! That's like comparing the danger of running across a busy street to doing the hokey-pokey in the middle of it for twenty minutes.

And he says it helps keep him awake while driving on a long trip. I'd say if he needs a phone conversation to keep him awake, he oughta get the hell off the road and get some sleep!

Just about any time you see a driver doing something really stupid, and you wonder what in the world is the matter with them; 9 out of 10 times they'll have a phone stuck in their ear!!!"
*****************
Sat. 6/17

Aw'right, I have read Y's letter several times now, and I'm beginning to wonder if he didn't write th whole thing tongue-in-cheek? I know myself how easy it is to write stuff, assuming peoples know I'm only jokin or bein sarcastic, and yet, oft times, they take me seriously and take me to task th way I did Y.

What do You think?

Is this guy joshin with us? Or is he rilly jus a Fucking Idiot after all? I'm not sure now. How do you read him?

th cap'm

It is a 1941 Mercury-Head Dime, which dangles just below the ear lobe. The surface of the coin has been allowed to tarnish black, however, the base-relief image of Mercury itself is highly polished giving it a cameo-like appearance. If you should spot this earring in someone's ear, apprehend and hold this thug down until I arrive so that I can jump up and down on their head for about ten minutes.
*****************
Day 6, th Crises Deepens

After much futile searching, th capt's earring is still missing. In spite of Supernatural Assistance, no progress has been made to date. As each hour passes, the gloom here at Control Central deepens, altho th cap't hisself remains upbeat and optimistic Sez he,

"I'm not ready to throw in th towel yet. Rome wasn't built in a day, y'know. These things can take time but I'm confident that in the end, the earring will be found intact and functioning. I am not prepared to issue the,

“All we can do now is pray” statement, which signifies, basically, "All is lost."

I also find handfuls of Xanax, Zoloft and Prozac, combined with copious quantities of beer keeps me from getting too depressed. Also, keep in mind I lost this very same eariing for about three months, five years ago, and my landlord found it in th yard, so Hope lives!

th cap'm

In a memoranda sent out today to all schools in Kansas, the Board of Education has announced that any teacher using the S word in the classroom would be subject to suspension and possible termination. The warning noted that "The Facts of Life" could be easily taught without resorting to "'smutty language."

In their efforts to return Morality to the classrooms of Kansas they are sparing no effort. No stone is being left unturned. Every effort is being made. Make no mistake about it; this is a War. Just like the War on Drugs, the War on Terror, this is a War on Immorality and it

Must be won! The stakes are nothing less than the future of the State.

So, they announced their intention to retain the services of Jim and Tammy Faye Baker, who will be delivering a series of lectures on, "The Sanctity of Marriage" and that Marriage, being a Sacred Trust between a Man and a Woman, is never to be betrayed. Altho there is a faction in Kansas who wants that part to read, "between a Man and Women", but no one pays much attention to the Morman element anyway. A bunch of kooks whose teachings were delivered to them by an angel named, "Bony Maroni", fr'chrisake. How can such folks be taken seriously? I mean, c'mon, really!!

The Rev. Jimmy Swaggart will also be making appearances thru out the state class rooms and he will be speaking on,

"The Evils of Women of the Night and the Nasty Things They can make One do!"

largely based on incidents from his own personal life when he was "weak". Surely the Youth of Kansas can benefit from his own struggles with the Demon and his subsequent Triumph.

Then Rev. Phred Phelps of Topeka has been enlisted to help and has dedicated his Ministry to makin Kansas classrooms, "Fag Free Zones". He has promised to remove the Threat of Homosexuality to the youth of Kansas once and for all and to ferret out these Abominations wherever their lairs are. He outlined a program to track down, and identify Faggots, and then Stone them to Death. "So saith th Lord", or so he said. He is currently working on a handbook to be issued to all students which will help them to identify the characteristic traits, mannerisms, musical preferences, fashions, etc. favored by the Homosexual Beasts, so that the students can get involved too in "The Great Crusade" to eliminate these vermin. Students will be able to earn extra credits for displaying their "Kill a Queer for Jesus!" bumper stickers.

Rev. Pat Robertson regretfully declined an offer to participate too, but said he couldn't take the time off at the moment due to his commitment to double his leg pressing from 2,000 to 4,000 lbs. He said he is committed to this project, not out of some kind of personal gain, but rather for the Glory of God. "That's what makes all the pain and effort worthwhile!" he said`.

The memo reminded teachers that they are involved in a Great Struggle for the very Hearts and Souls of Kansas youth and the battle lines are drawn. They cannot sit idly by on the sidelines, but must soldier on to defeat Satan and his Minions! (commonly known as Liberals) That is; if they want to be teachers in Kansas anyway.

God Bless Kansas, and God bless Amerika!! The Land of the FREE and the Home of the Brave.

th cap'm

I understand that the KSBE is going to revamp the entire sex education curriculum. This on the heels of the Board Chair/Person's visit to a classroom a couple of weeks ago to observe first hand what was going on there.

In an interview I conducted with her this afternoon, she said she was "shocked speechless" that students were talking openly about “dirty stuff” right there in the classroom. She said,
"Everyone in that classroom should have had their mouths washed out with soap, including, and especially that teacher! They are teaching this filth to our impressionable children right under our very noses. Words cannot express my shock and indignation!!"

She went on to explain that, as a result of the Board's recent decision, in the future, those classes, starting at the sixth grade, will now be known as, "The Birds and the Bees-101 thru 106". The repugnant word, “sex” is to be eliminated from textbooks altogether.

Advanced courses for seniors such as, 'B and B-106', will deal with the delicate matter of the, “Stork Theory.” The Chair/Person complained that, during her fact-finding mission, thru all of the smut she was subjected to, she never heard even the slightest reference to "the Stork". Not a single word!! She went on to say,

"A reasonable person, listening to that forty minutes of “gutter-mouth tripe” wouldn't even know such a thing existed! What are they thinking? These godless Liberal Human/Secularists have taken control of every aspect of our lives, and it's time we put a Stop to it. Our children's Sense of Morality and Decency demands no less!! I myself grew up learning about, "the Stork", and as you can see, I turned out perfectly fine, thank you very much!"

When this reporter mentioned her reference to "godless secularists" and noted that this issue really had nothing to do with Religion, she retorted,

"Don't try and get smart with me Buster. Everybody knows that God doesn't like pornography. And especially in the classroom. It's in the Bible. If you were to investigate this matter, I'm sure you would find the ACLU lurking some where in the background. Every one knows that their agenda is nothing less than the destruction of our great country as we know it."

I frowned and shook my head slowly in confusion, trying to decipher what she just said, and before I could pursue the point she added that,

"In the future, 'B and B-101' sixth grade classes will be taken on field trips, where they can observe the process of actual bees pollinating actual flowers and such. What better way to teach our youngsters about this delicate subject matter than thru observation of Mother Nature Herself?!"

and as she said this, her face flushed slightly. When I asked if the children might be taken to the local barnyard for more detailed observations, she gasped and stepped back, recoiling in horror, her face flushing crimson red now, hissing that she would not stand and listen to such Depravity.

"s---e---x " she whispered, spelling out the word, "is a very Sacred Institution and I will not tolerate such Disrespectful Vulgarity!"

she replied indignantly as she turned, her face now tomato red, and strode away in a huff, abruptly terminating the interview.

I was left standing there, trying to make some sense of it all, Dazed and Confused once more at events I couldn't fathom and had no control over. As I watched her bustling away, I saw my dream of a Pulitzer trailing behind her like a piece of toilet paper stuck to her shoe. SIGH!

Life was simpler when I was driving my taxi.

th cap'm

P.S. OK, so there you have it boyz and gurlz. Once again, our Yahoo Neighbors to th West will be drawin National attention to our area, puttin themselves in th Spotlight of Ridicule once again, but fer some perverse reason, rather than bein embarrassed, they seem to actually enjoy it. OK now, if yer from Missouri, and think yer one step removed from it all and therefore not tainted; don't get too smug about it, cuz,well sheeit, we're jus a bunch of clod-hoppers our own selves!

By th way, when's th next turnip truck due? I need a ride!

Have any of you other peoples noticed that? Or, is it jus me? Am I th only one it's happening to? Y'know, when I was a teenager it took an ETERNITY to finish high school. Time moved at th pace of a snail. It was soooo slow you could almost see it crawlin along.

Then, it took jus a day short of FOREVER to reach 21. And over a period of time, things started speedin up gradually. Gettin a little faster alla time. Then one day I noticed th CLICKITY....CLACK.... CLICKITY... CLACK of th TIME TRAIN had changed to clickityclackclickityclack. Somebody had shoved th throttle waaay forward while I wasn't lookin.

Now, th weeks fly by so fast, I hardly know one has even started, and then it's next week. Like, I wake up; it's Sunday. I go out to visit my mom on Sundays. I go back to th crib and back to sleep and I wake up and it's Sunday again. I wonder whut happened to th rest of th days of th week? Where did they go? Where was I when they passed? What did I do last week? What happened to March and April and May? Why is Christmas tomorrow? Why was 2005 reduced to a half year?

Rilly!! Do other peoples notice this too, or is it jus happening to me? If so, th persistent question; "WHY? WHY ME?" Is it a plot, a conspiracy? Has somthin happened to my own personal Time/Space/Continuum?

At this rate I'm gonna be dead in a month? Where have all th flowers gone?

th cap'm

OK gang, this is a bummer! Curses! Once again, I have gone and lost my 1941 Mercury-head dime earring! (y'know if in 1966, some one had told me I would someday utter such a thing, I woulda said,

"Whut!! Are you fuckin crazy!!", but times change, eh)

I discovered this loss last Sat. when I looked in th mirror (see more about this below) and somthin jus wasn't quite right. Somthin was outta place or somthin. I kept lookin and suddenly, it hit me, and I thought,

"Wha th Fu.....? Where's my earring? Th diamonds there, but where's th dime? My dime earring isn't hangin from my ear? Where, oh where, might it be?"

At first I wasn't too alarmed. I thought it might be in th bed someplace, but after a thorough search I started to feel th first Pangs of Terror, and I let out a loud keening wail, "OooooooooH Nooooooo!"

Now, after three more days of fruitless searchins, there aren't any more places left to look. I realise I'm gonna need some Supernatural Help here on this caper, so I called on,

Who Else? Thas right. So I yelled out,

"HELLOOOO ST. ANTHONY, it's ME, th cap't. HELP!! HELP! I've lost my Mercury-head dime earring and I can't find it anywhere. Can ya help me out here!"

And almost immediately I heard a loud booming noise but, false alarm. That jus turned out to be my upstairs neighbor bangin on th floor and yellin at me to hold th noise down! Asshole!!

But anyway, I know S.A. heard me and thas whut counts. He usually takes my case within a few days and I'm hopin fer some results in th next week or so. I've had that earring fer 19 years now and I've gotten rather attached to it. I don't like to think about what Life would be like without it? It's scary.

th cap'm

P.S. Y'know that, 'lookin in th mirror thing'? How many movies and shows have ya seen where some character looks at themselves in th mirror, and they keep starin, like, they tryin to look right into their soul or somthin, and they don't like whut they see? But then they go, "Yah, so whut!" and go on out and dismember some other young gurl. It's such a cliche.

I don't think in real life peoples actually do that. Like, stare in th mirror in moments of extreme guilt over somthin, tryin to determine if that monster starin back at em, is really themselves. Well, oh yeah, sure, we've all done that trip on acid or somthin, watchin yer face change and melt and so on, but thas not whut I'm talkin bout.

I think th origin of it all must go back to that ol nursery rhyme,

Mirror! Mirror!/ On the wall/
Who is the Fairest/ Of them all?

Nowadays it's,

Mirror! Mirror!/ On the Wall/
Who is th biggest Ogre/ Of them all?

And th Mirror screams out, albeit silently,

"YOU ARE! YOU ARE!! YER TH BIGGEST OGRE OF THEM ALL!! NYAH, NYAH, NYAH!!!"

HE'S BAAACK! I read in today's paper where our own lovable Clay Chastain is coming back to town. HOORAY! His mission: to bring light rail to Cowtown. If you're like me you have missed seein him with his charts and drawings and petitions at th grocery store, th mall, th library, y'know, wherever peoples gather. I always useta have th disquietin feelin that when iI woke up, Clay would be standin there with his clipboard waitin fer my signature.

Clay sez this time things are gonna be different. He sez he's more mature now. He regrets his former methods and sez he's ashamed of his former egotistical ways. Clay sez,

"I'm much more of a spiritual person and I've gotten closer to God, and I've asked God to guide me. So there's no arrogance, no ego. That has gotten in my way in the past...I'm much more humble now, but I have a passion to help Kansas City."

Chastain sez further,

"I have an honest passion to help my country, the people of Kansas City and the planet."

Aw'right, now looky here, with his new found Spirituality and with God as his consultant, I'm guessin that we're soon gonna have one of th most efficient, sophisticated light rail systems in th world. And thas rilly th only difference between us here in Cowtown and th rest of th World Class Cities like New York, Rome, London, Paris and so on, has been our lack of a light rail system. Soon to be remedied; courtesy of Clay Chastain and his sidekick, God.

Well, all I can say is, it's Visionaries such as Clay and MYSELF fr'instance, who change things. It's our Passion fer th peoples of th Earth that is th catalyst fer Progress. If it wasn't fer peoples like us, Clay and MYSELF, fr'instance, we'd all still be gnawin directly off th bone, instead of gettin our foods at th drive-thru.

So, if yer inclined to chuckle and chortle at Clay's return and to roll yer eyes at th thought...STOP IT DAMMIT.

th cap'm

P.S. As yer all aware, like Clay, I, MYSELF, am constantly on a Quest to better Humankind with my Culinary Tips, my Consumer Hints, my Cultural and Societal Observations. We, th Seers have always done these things without th Kudos and Accolades we deserve. Like cunninglingus, it's Dark and Lonely Work, but some one has to do it.s.

Recently, I was watchin some talk show and Nicolette Sheridan, who ever th hell that is, was on. She is married to MB. She was hypin his new album on which she collaborates with him on one song. On this album Michael covers a dozen Sinatra standards.

She was jus thrilled almost speechless that he would allow her to join him fer one song. As she gushed,
"Can you imagine? To do a duet with him? With that incredible voice of his. And to think he thought I was good enuff to accompany him. Oh, it was an unforgettable experience!"

And so she spent th whole interview ravin about his unbelievable talent, blah, blah, blah. To listen to her ya woulda thought this was th most magnificent piece of music to come out in th last fifty years.

"Can you just imagine? Michael doin Sinatra?! OMG! OMG!"

As a matter of fact, I would rather endure an entire hour of Elton John or Billy Joel or mebbe fingernails bein dragged across a blackboard to ten minutes of Michael Bolton. They used to play his tripe alla time on 106 FM, when it was th Light Jazz station. They called it light Jazz. Ha ha What an oxymoron! Yeah right, like, Light Heavy Metal huh?? Sheeeit, thas th kinda Jazz ya hear in th elevator. or in th waiting room at Dr. Quackers. That same lame-assed station was playin Kenny G. when Michael wasn't beltin em out. Sheeit. Those two poseurs shoulda got together and called themselves "The Kings of Smarm"!

Aw'right, so a couple nites after this bullshit interview, I happened to see an infomercial and it was fer this very same CD, called somthin like, "Michael Bolton Does Frank Sinatra", and he sang snippets of these Sinatra standards. Whooo boy, I have never heard any one anywhere butcher Sinatra th way he did. Oh man, it was unbelievably BAD! I'm tellin ya!! It's a good thing fer MB that OL Blue Eyes is takin th Dirt Nap right now, cuz somthin tells me that he wouldn't have given his blessing to this farce.

This piece of dreck is soo bad there oughta be awarning sticker on that CD sayin,

"WARNING!! WARNING!! Use of this product may induce Projectile Vomiting. Manufacturer is not responsible for Humiliating Incidents that may occur in conjunction with use of this Product."

and it oughta come with it's own Vomit Bag so as to mebbe reduce th numerous lawsuits about ruined clothing and Mental Anguish and so on.

I'm not kiddin here boyz and gurlz; stay away from this piece of crap fer yer own personal well being. If ya should happen to be a Frank Sinatra fan, resist th temptation to hear it jus once, thinkin; how much harm could that do? Cuz, you'll be sorrrry! Take th cap'ts word on this one.

th cap'm

Last nite I was talkin to a gurl who told me that Hunter Thompson was her former boyfriend's sister's daughter's Godfather. Whew!! How bout that? Pretty damned impressive, huh?

Not to be outdone tho, I told her that a gurl I used to date shared th same trash pick up guys as th Kennedys and that I went to th fourth grade with Martin Sheen. I been around too, ya'know!

th cap'm

My good friend Tommy D. told me he heard a couple of weeks ago that Pat Robertson, th Televangelical Idiot, claimed he leg pressed 2,000 lbs. Thas pretty good fer a guy whose in his 70s and th world record is around 1,350 lbs. don'cha think! He heard Pat hisself make this claim on his radio show. Of course god helped him.

I don't know why he and that other fuckhead Fred Phelps of Topeka have never teamed up. What a pair that would make, eh. Whooo boy. Can ya imagine th hi-jinks? Ha ha

And this is also th same Pat Robertson who claimed years ago that he had deflected a major hurricane that was headed fer th East Coast. Yeah, he sent it packing, back out into th ocean. thereby saving th entite East Coast from certain disaster. I guess he was napping when Katrina came along, eh?

Th cap'm

P.S. I hope th folks on th US Olympic Committee are aware of th Treasure we got here. With Pat representin us, we will dominate every pagan-ass infidel country in th world in weight lifting events.

Whew! Whut a nite I had last nite. A guy I hadn't seen fer a long time came inta th saloon. I never liked this dude and always tried not to get into conversations with him cus he is th most boring person ya can imagine! Besides that, because of his mumbling he is almost un-intelligible.

So, he sat next to me. I thought ta myself,

"Oh sheeit! Why me lord? Why, huh?"

Th music was reel loud makin conversation difficult, at best. After th usual preliminary greetings he proceeded straight away to tell me in great boring, banal detail. about a wreck he had seen earlier in th day. I mean, he's tellin me whut th bystanders looked like and what they were wearin, fr'chrisake. No kidding, He went on about this mundane event fer fifteen minutes at least. I dunno, mebbe it was three hours. Sheeit, thas whut happens ta Time around this dude. It slows down to a snails crawl. I wanted ta scream at him ta bring this story ta a fookin conclusion of some kind.

Then he told me about an event at work and then a story bout his car. I couldn't give ya any details, cuz between th loud music and his mumblings thas all i could get. This guy had been there fer thirty minutes and I haven't said a word, other than th occasional, "Hmmm" or "Really?!"

While he was mumbling about his car, this black dude walkin by overheard somethin that piqued his interest and so he started tellin a car story of his own. At first I was glad fer th interruption, but it became very clear instantly that my buddy was articulate compared to this guy. He introduced hisself to us and I had to ask him four different times what his name was? I still don't know. I mean, ya can only ask a guy ta repeat his name so many times, knowhutahnsayin.

So, I just sat back and let these two guys mumble and babble back and forth to each other, about, who knows whut!! I didn't have a clue at any time whut either one of em was talkin about. At one point, th black dude went ta th bathroom and ironically, my buddy sez ta me,

"Ha ha. Y'know Charley, this guy's OK, but I can't understand a word he's sayin. Can you?"

I had ta stifle a chortle. I agreed with him it was hard fer me too.Then I saw another dude come in that I hadn't seen fer prolly ten years, so I excused myself and went over to rap with him instead. Mistake, mistake, mistake! Outta th fryin pan; inta th Fire!

Oh man! Absolutely th only thing I was able to understand from him over th next forty minutes was that he wanted to do a half hour TV show. Ha ha. Thas right. I don't know where that came from? I didn't even know we were talkin bout th TeeVee. Mebbe there was some lead-in some where that I had missed. Now, nothin derogatory here, but jus by way of description, we're talkin bout a 60 y/o black man with almost no teeth left, thus contributin ta th lack of E-nun-ci-ation and he jus wants ta do a half hour TV series, and then he can die in Peace. Doesn't have to be an hour; a half hour will do. He acknowledged tho it wouldn't be easy. I guess it's good ta have dreams, eh? So, I spent another forty minutes mostly thinkin bout 2004 XP14 and noddin my head from time to time to indicate I was still with him.

3 mashed-potato-mouthed-mutherfuckers, back to back, all in one night. Sheeit, thas more than any one should have to deal with.

I'm sittin here right now, lookin fer materials to make a sign I can hold up sayin,

"If ya can't speak clearly so that I can understand ya, please stay th fuck away from me and don't try and engage me in any conversations. Go mumble and babble ta some one else, aw'right. FUCK OFF!! in other words!"

or, y'know, words ta that effect.

I wonder? Is it jus me? Can other peoples hear th sounds peoples like this make and translate that gibberish into speech? I sure as hell can't!

And peoples wonder why I like to sit by myself!!

th cap'm

Dear Sirs/Madams, and everything in between.

GREETINS EARTHLINGS!

I am 2004 XP14. To be a bit more specific, I am an asteroid approximately a half-mile in diameter and I will be arriving in your neighborhood on July 3rd, 06'. Should I decide to stop on your Sphere I will make quite a large BANG, I assure you!!! For those of you who survive, Best of Luck.

(Think of ot this way, if you can survirve an Astreroid Collision, you prolly have "The Right Stuff")

Hope to see you soon,

2004 XP 14 (aka Bob)

******************

My friend Brian hipped me to this Coming Attraction. You may scoff and jeer, but I would suggest you take th next three weeks and do all those things you've always wanted to do in Life, but were just not ever able to do, y'know, like, visit th Flint Hills in Kansas, or whatever. And stop frettin about whose gonna bring th buns to yer cookout on th

Fourth, cuz th Fourth has been cancelled until further notice! Happy Nuclear Winter!

th cap'm

I read in today's paper that there is an official name fer th ailment I've been sufferin from all my life. It's called Intermittent Explosive Disorder. And what a right-on-th-money description too. Darn it all to heck; if only they had published a cure. I have been self administering booze, drugs, yoga, voodoo, meditation, aromatherapy, and all other manner of quackeries tryin to overcome it, but all to no avail.

No matter how resolute my determination each day not to succumb, in th blink of an eye, without even thinkin, it pulls me right back into it. Sheeit. It was a helluva lot easier to quit smoking!

ROAD RAGE!

I have spent my whole life livin with it. Who knows? Mebbe one of these days it's gonna kill me.

th cap'm

If you're wonderin what to get yer dad fer Father's Day, mebbe ya should jus go with th ol stand-by; a nice neck tie. And I saw in today's paper where you can pick up a nice one at Jack Henry's...... STARTING AT ONE HUNDRED AND FORTY FIVE DOLLARS!

Hell, at that rate ya prolly oughta jus go ahead and buy a dozen, y'know, fer like, future gifts!

th cap'm

OK, ya'll, You're at work. The day is ending. You're bored. So try this riddle ta pass some time, and if ya can't quite get yer finger on it, well, sheeit jus ask yer boss ta help. I'm sure he won't mind. He's prolly as bored as you. But one caveat: this may make yer head hurt.

OK, so, here it is.

If the day before the day after tomorrow will be Saturday. And the day after the day before yesterday was Thursday....so whut day is today?

th' cap'm

Ok, ya'll, my friend Katia sent this to me almost two years ago, and as she said at that time,
"This is a good one."

And it still is.

Q: How many Bush Administration officials does it take to change a light bulb?

A: None. There is nothing wrong with the light bulb; its condition is improving every day. Any reports of its lack of incandescence in the War against Darkness are illusional spin from the liberal media. Illuminating rooms is hard work. That light bulb has served honorably, and anything you say against it undermines the lighting effort.

Why do you hate freedom?

th cap'm

While this amusing little joke is not a knee slapper, I thought it wuz kinda funny. I've sent it before and I'm doin it again jes fer th hell of it.

Three gurls get together. They have all three just finished reading Moby Dick and are discussing it.

Th brunette sez,

"You know, it's not reelly about th whale."

Th redhead sez,

"Are you kidding? You mean, it's not about th whale???"

Th blond sez,

"Whut whale???"

(snicker and chortle here)

th' cap't

A couple of weeks ago, my buddy, Lt. Dan picked up a flashlight for me. I told you about th one he demonstrated to me one nite in th saloon. Th first time I saw it I was amazed at how bright it was. It was one of those little ones like you see on a CSI kinda show. Altho very small, it produces a rilly bright light. After I got it I wanted to show it to somebody and, y'know, like, impress them with, like, how fuckin cool I was to have one. I could already hear em thinkin, "Oooh boy, th Capt's got a rilly nifty flashlight. He's jes soo cool!"

And I would jus act real casual bout it, y'know, like, "Ho hum. No big deal. So, like, what's new?"

Jus like havin rilly cool and hip stuff was jus th norm for me. But several days went by without an opportunity to display it. Finally, I decided my mom would be a good person to show it to, cuz, like, she rilly has no idea jus how fookin cool I am.

So, I picked her up on Sunday to take her to lunch for Mother's Day, and don't laugh cuz Town Topic makes some pretty tasty burgers. As I approached her crib I put my flashlight in my shirt pocket so it would be handy, and got out and opened her door for her (thas jes th way I am, kinda old-fashioned in a lotta ways) and when I got in th car I said,

"Hi, how've you been?"

And she said,

"Of fine. By th way, do you need a flashlight?"

And she handed me this little red plastic flashlight she had in her hand!! It was a cheap little give-away that th Visiting Nurses Association had given to all th peoples in her retirement home.

Well, sheeit, even tho my flashlight was th Cadillac to her Dodge Neon flashlight, it pretty much stole th whole element of Surprise I had planned. I tried to conceal my bitter disappointment but, Ten Thousand Curses! Mebbe this was th gods way of dealin with my Hubris.

th cap'm

P.S. If you should want one of these very cool flashlights fer yerself, so others will be envious of you too, th only drawback to em is that; they're only good fer one hour, and th two batteries costs twenty bucks apiece! So I wouldn't be usin it to play flashlight tag with.

I visited my mom today. She lives at Kingswood Manor, a retirement home out on Wornall. She told me she fell recently and was unable to get up, so she called th front desk for some assistance. They went to her apt. immediately and helped her. I thought that was cool.

Til I found out they billed her 65 bucks for their help! Can ya believe that! 65 dollars! I mean, how much time and effort does it take to help an elderly lady to her feet? 65 dollars worth? Nah, I don't think so!

Now I'm not th kinda guy to take advantage of th elderly, and I have nothin but contempt for those who do, so I told my mom th next time she fell, to call me and I'd do it for 30!

th cap'm

Last night, drunken sot that I was, I indulged myself in some “risky Business.” I should have known better, but sometimes the demon alcohol clouds our better judgement, much as the demon weed does, you know whut I mean?

I'm sure you've heard of a, mainly teenage practice called, 'hill hopping', whereby you accelerate your ride to high speed as you crest a hill, sending your vehicle airborne. The Thrill of course comes from the uncertainty of whether you can maintain control when you land and not kill yourself and your fellow thrill seekers.

Well, I the capt. was engaged in a similar caper on my way home last night I call “sidewalk hopping.”

What you do here, as I'm sure you can guess, is you run as fast as you can up a hill, and when you get to the crest, you leap as far as you can, soaring sometimes 4 or 5 feet through the air. And as you are flying through the air, it is appropriate, even de riguer, to yell out a hearty "YAHOOOO" or something similar.

Of course, once again, the landing is what it's all about here, and I wanna tell you, it can get pretty darned tricky. One can scrape one's knees rather badly, if you miscalculate. Oh sure, you could wear some kneepads and eliminate this threat, but then, what the hell would be the point, eh? This is the source of the exhilaration; the uncertainty...the risk... the gamble. THIS…is what it's all about!! SO....this evening, if you find yerself in a particular bold and daring mood, TRY THIS!!

And don't forget the hearty,

"YAHOOOOOO"

It will enhance the experience.

th cap'm

So on Memorial Day, havin nothin special to do I wuz aimlessly drivin around town and I went down to Liberty Memorial and wuz half-assed thinkin bout visitin th WW1 War Museum, but, as ya might expect, it wuz packed and cars were parked all up and down th mall.

So I figured, maybe some other time. And as I wuz leavin, I couldn't help but notice this middle-aged black lady walkin next to th parked cars and draggin a large cross which wuz perched on her shoulders and th cross had a large Amerikan flag tacked to it up near th top.

When I say “draggin,” that's not quite accurate tho, cuz she had two wheels attached to th bottom of th cross makin it a whole lot easier to “pull” along, instead of "drag." Obviously she is still a Novice and hasn't reached th Advanced stage of “Cross Luggin” yet. She had no scourge marks on her at all, and didn't appear to be bloodied either, further confirming her amateur status.

I guess this also means Mel Gibson wuz not involved here in any way. other wise she woulda been a bloody mess, eh. Altho when I stop and think about it, this seems exactly like th kind of thing Mel would do, self-Righteous DEVOUT CHRISTIAN FELLOW that he is. I still can't believe he didn't cast HIMSELF in th role of Jesus in his movie. And I'll bet he's still kickin himself in th ass for not having done so! (IN CASE YA DIDN'T KNOW, I DON'T LIKE MEL GIBSON!)

But anyway, back to th old lady and her Luggage; I will give her credit tho, cuz this cross wuz made out of 4 by 4's. No flimsy 2 by 4's here. It was 8 or 9 ft. long and th cross member wuz prolly 5 ft. wide, so in spite of the "training wheels," a pretty formidable cross. And this was not a big lady either.

At one time I observed her shifting th cross from one shoulder to th other. She appeared to be havin great difficulty doin so. I felt sorry fer her and I thought it wuz kinda tacky that no one stopped and offered to help with her burden. But, not being of that kinda bent myself, I deferred. I figured, if her own fellow Christians wouldn't help her; why in the fuck should a pagan get involved?

I drove past her a couple of times and I was a bit confused as to what her message wuz? I mean, it's not too long after Easter, Right! And I'll bet she wuz inspired in some way by Mel's movie, and possibly even by th Easter Message itself, thus the cross, and it's Memorial Day and so, thus the Amerikan flag attached to it......but the overall Combined Meaning is elusive to me. I don't quite understand what her point was, although ya could come up with a number of possibilities.

After thinkin on it fer a while, mebbe it wuz jus, "God and Country". I dunno but I've personally come to th conclusion that th answer issimpler than that; I think she happens to be jus another GOOFY FUCKIN NUT CASE, nothin more, but thas jes me, y'unnerstan! And hey! No Big Deal, cuz, like, she's got plenty of company. She's jus further proof that all th fuckin goofballs in this country aren't all in Washington, DC. I mean, like, who amongst us hasn't dragged a cross up and down th street before to make a point!!

Well, whatever her motives though, she obviously doesn't have much in thway of business acumen, cuz there wuz plenty of room on that cross fer awhole slew of business logos. Nike, McDonald's, Pennzoil, etc. etc. likeon th race cars, y'know, that sort of thing. It's always nice to have afew corporate sponsors involved to help defray th costs in getting one's vision across to th Multitudes of Morons out there seekin answers to their questions about Life and Existence.

Later on in th afternoon I saw her trudgin up Main St. about twenty blocks away still luggin her load. I gotta say this fer her...Nut or No... ya gotta give the old gal credit fer PERSEVERANCE!!

th cap'm

Perhaps ya'll have read this account before. If so, my apologies, but I'm in a nostalgic mood and reliving some of those "good times", so bear with me.
*****************
Ya ever notice the dearth of female hunters? Why is that, do you suppose? Don't gurls like to kill things too? I mean, whas up with that? I think it may be because they weren't properly trained in childhood like a lot of us guys were.

See, like, early on, I honed my hunting skills as a young boy, armed only with a Daisy Repeater BB rifle and my trusty Boy Scout knife, pitting myself against the wily sparrows and robins that flitted about our neighborhood.

After word of my hunting prowess spread, It didn't take too long before the avian community shunned the tree in my back yard all together, forcing me to go further afield, to my next door neighbors yard in quest of game. Soon, I was known and feared throughout the "hood."

Now, I guess a lot of gurls didn't have those kinds of "early-life experiences." They were no doubt too busy playing with their dolls and such and playing 'dress up', much as they're still doing today I venture. However it occurred to me just recently, like,

"Why can't we all just get together and have some good clean fun?"

So, after pondering this notion for a while, I sent this ad into to the "personals" which I have never done before, looking for that "special someone" to fill that void in my life. Here's the ad I ran,

"SWM Hunter. Looking for intelligent like minded, nurturing female, race not an issue, who shares my Passion for stalking, killing and gutting wild animals such as sparrows, squirrels, rabbits, cows, etc, etc. Must be a caring, sensitive individual with large breasts who is willing to foray to the art gallery or to the local bookstore when we're not out in 'the killing fields.' Please send a large color photo of your current weapons systems to Capt. Hoohah, Great White Hunter at Large."

Well, sheeit, it's been two weeks now and I haven't had a single fucking response. Man, what's th deal here? You try and be a sensitive Third Millennium kind of guy by "reaching out" and trying to "share" and what does it get you? Nada, amigos!! Nada a fucking thing!! It's enough to make ones bile flow like the Amazon during the rainy season, you know whut I mean? Well enuff' of this rancor and bitterness, I am going to share a recollection of happier times with you from the past, This was a superb day.

I had just received an E-Mail from a friend of mine about a hunting trip he just got back from. It seems that Grotor and a couple of friends went out on a cold, rainy, nasty morning in search of some game. From his description of their trip, it sounded to me like a four hour trip from hell with no results, except for the sighting of a German shepard, which, incidentally, they missed! Tsk, tsk. I always recommend a high powered scope for th best results.

Now, the last time I went hunting, I started off the day around 10:30, on a pleasant morning, down at the Classic Cup, in the Country Club Plaza District, with a hearty breakfast of some eggs Benedict, some spinach and cheese quiche, and a robust cup of Lite Almond Mocha Cappuccino to get me going. In case you've never been there before, this is a favorite place for hunters and fishermen to gather, before going out into the wild.

After finishing my repast, I got into the Town Car and directed my driver a couple blocks south to the killing fields, sometimes known as the Loose Park Duck and Goose Pond. He retrieved my various supplies from the trunk including a nice bottle of slightly chilled Merlot, with a bold, yet not audacious nose, and set up a most comfortable lawn chair. He put on a lovely Stravinsky piece on the sound system, and I prepared to do battle with the feral fowls.

There were approximately 35 to 40 Duck/Geese (I had forgotten my Audubon Field Guide, which accounts for the uncertainty in identification.) critters honking and squawking about, as though they didn't have a care in the world. Ha ha. Surprise!

Well, in any case. my man set up my communications system with my hunting partner Capt. Gunther Bohunk. We had decided on using the A-10 Warthog as our weapon of choice. Although it's primary mission is that of "tank killer" we found that it also adapted to the role of “goose killer” very nicely. Using those twin 40 mm mini-guns in the nose, firing a depleted uranium round at a combined rate of 200 rounds a second, it makes a formidable anti-Duck/Goose weapon. Well, you know, if it'll take out a tank, you can pretty much figure what it'll do to a goose, eh! With this dude you never find yourself saying,

"Hey, I think I may have winged him, Ha ha."

Well, I lay back in my lawn chair, sipped at my Merlot, unwrapped a Cuban cigar and figured out the coordinates. I relayed these figures to Lunceford and he cranked up the communications system and relayed the data to Bo, and gave him the Go signal.

On his first pass he came in too high and missed the pond altogether, although he did take out the top three floors of the apartments flanking the park. I was quite dismayed and I'm afraid I rebuked Lunceford rather sharply. I thought it rather cheeky his mild retort that he had given the co-ordinates as instructed, but I good naturedlly made a couple of small corrections, Gunther's next pass was spot on. The whole pond erupted as though a powerful bomb had gone off there. Bits of feather and other duck related debris, drifted down for the next minute or so covering the Town Car with a light dusting of greyish white duck down.

Man!! What a Rush!!! There's nothing quite like the primeval feeling of Elation and Exultation when Man goes up against Beast, and emerges Victorious.

I leaped up out of my chair in a completely spontaneous burst of unrestrained JOY and pumped my fist skyward and let out a hearty, YEAAAH! A veritable Triunph of the Human Spirit. Oh man, th adrenaline was pumping.

Later, after a few relaxing cups of some soothing herbal tea, I did send letters of condolence to the survivors in the apt. building across the way. It's unfortunate that you sometimes have this collateral damage in the Hunting Game, but, hell, Life itself can be Unfortunate sometimes, eh! Es la Verdad, no? What are we going to do? Give up our Sport because of a few malcontents? Ban Hunting or something! No and No and No, I don't hardly think so!!

And you know what; even though there were no pieces of duck to eat, oreven to ritually rub a bit of blood on our cheeks, it didn't really matter. Cuz that wasn't the whole point. The main thing was,
THE THRILL OF THE KILL!

And, what a THRILL it was!!!

Like I said, boyz and gurlz, a Superb day! All our days should be thus, eh?

th cap'm

Yep! That would be, none other than, Moi. Not only wuz I a gang-banger, I wuz in fact El Supremo of my set. Numero Uno. I ran th show. We were th "Gumer Street Gangsters" (thas pronounced goom-er, as in boomer) of Dayton, Ohio. Our turf wuz th West side of Smithville Road. Guys on th East side of Smithville; they were th Enemy!

This wuz in 1951. We were th hooligans of th hood and I wuz th head hooligan. We all went ta Holy Rosary and we were all in th fourth and fifth grades. There were eight or nine of us mobbed up. When we decided ta form up, everybody wanted my older brother Earl ta be Prez since he wuz th toughest, but I thought I deserved ta be prez cuz I wuz th smartest. Like, heavy-hitters are a dime a dozen, dig, but I figured an Organization needed some grey matter at th top, y'know whut I mean. When I mentioned that very thing, th guyz looked at me and said,

"Whut th heck are youse talkin about? Grey matter? Whas sat?"

And I said, "Youse guys jus made my case fer me!"

Y'see, after all, I had been Honor Student Of The Year (* see below) at Mount Sacred Heart Military Academy in th first grade. I figured I wuz pretty hot shit, y'know. No one else could make that claim. No one else had ever been Honor Student of The Year. So I laid th situation out fer em in no uncertain terms, terms they could unnerstan.

"If I can't be Pres I'm not gonna play!"

Y'know, I gave em an Ultimatum! What an asshole, right?! Ha ha. Somebody suggested they oughta punch me out which is xactly whut my bro wuz gettin ready ta do when cooler heads prevailed. Mine that is. I suggested a compromise, namely that I be Pres and my bro could be Vice Pres, And so it came ta pass.

However it didn't take too long before I realised, that Earl wuz in fact th real Boss, and I wuz jus a figurehead.

This rankled me, so every now and then I felt th need ta assert my Authority. I figured peoples got ta show th Pres a certain amount of respect, right?

We had our clubhouse in whut used ta be th coal bin in our basement. So, one time I wuz tryin ta conduct a meeting there and fuckin Rossi kept cuttin up, foolin around, gigglin and whisperin, and payin no attention ta me at all. I wuz tryin ta run down a new secret code I had developed, Ya know how that goes in th gang biz; in any gang worth a hill of beans, ya gotta have a secret code. It's de rigeur.

So I'm standin there at th blackboard tryin ta splain how it wuz gonna work and that damned Rossi pushed me. I warned him. I warned him ta knock that crap off or there'd be serious consequences, but he jus kept it up.

Man, that fuckin Rossi pushed me; he pushed me too far, Rossi did! I had ta take action. He forced me ta. It wuzn't so much that he wuzn't respectin ME, but that he wuz disrespectin th Office of Th Presidency. (does that sound familiar?) So I acted, not in my own interest, but in th interest of th

So, I had th guys drag Rossi out of th clubhouse into th basement where I had him tied ta one of th support poles and I forced Tommy Green (Rossi and Tommy were tight) ta lay th leather on im. Fer th record, it wuz only a stick with a piece of rope tied ta it, but it worked very nicely. I figured a good flogging might take a bit of th surliness out of him. Sheeit, I woulda keelhauled, if we'd had a keel!!!

Well, Tommy had barely gotten started on im and Rossi started bawlin like a baby, and then that fuckin pussy Tommy started bawlin even louder than Rossi. He wuz weak, Tommy wuz. I began ta wonder If Tommy had th balls ta be a Gumer Street Boy or not, so then I had him tied ta another pole and I got Robin ta administer th Justice. Man, my basement sounded like a pig slaughter house with all th squealin goin on. In short order, my mom heard all th commotion and came down ta see whut wuz goin on and Rossi and Tommy were both cryin and carryin on and sayin,

"Mrs Dreck, make th cap't stop. I'm gonna tell my mommy. Whine! Whine! Boo hoo hoo."

Sheeit, it wuz disgustin, I'm tellin ya. Guys in my crew breakin down like that. My mom made us untie em and they both went tearin up th stairs, gettin outta Dodge, whinin and cryin and bawlin th whole time.

My mom sez,

"You jus wait til your Daddy comes home young man. You're gonna get a whippin you won't ferget."

And, whew! Wuz she right, cuz I do still remember it 54 years later. Oh man, my ol man got out th special belt he used fer Class A offenses. This wuz a rilly heavy thick plastic belt that took yer skin away with it on th backstroke. Wow. I took a lickin, I wanna tell ya!

In spite of th welts and bruises I figured it wuz worth it ta insure Order and Respect within th ranks, ya dig! I can tell ya one thing, altho Rossi and Tommy couldn't conceal smug grins when they saw my legs and backside, I never had any trouble with em again, vis a vis Insubordination.

Now, Skipper!! That SOB. He jus about brought th whole Organization down. But thas another matter fer another day.

th cap'm

* by th way, that gives me a good idea fer my own bumper sticker ta put ta counter all those other assholes braggin bout their punk ass Honor Roll students they tell everyone about with their bumper stckers, I'm gonna get one that sez,

"Honor Student Of The Year,1st Grade 1947!"

Whadda'ya think? Do ya think peoples behind me will be impressed enuff ta honk or somethin?

OK, where was I? Oh yeah. RESPONSIBILIY. Dammit! It's time peoples started acceptin Responsibility fer their Irresponsible ways, Y'know whut I mean!

Like whut happened ta me last nite! I'm lookin at this dried up rice scattered all over and stuck ta my kitchen floor.....and whose fault is that ya ask? Whose gonna take Responsibility fer that? Well, shit we all know who oughta; but will th guilty parties acknowledge it? Hell no! But I'm gonna hold em responsible!! I'm not goonna let em walk on this one.

I'm gonna sue th manufacturer of that pot, with it's shoddily designed and ill manufactured handle. There is an obvious design flaw there, otherwise I would never have dropped it in th first place, would I? Of course not. They need ta accept Responsibility!

Awright, next; those assholes who manufactured th dishwasher unit. Jus how hard would it be fer them ta install an air bag on that door, huh? Y'know, if they can send a man ta th moon, why can't they put a fookin air bag on th dishwasher door? Tth answer is; they could if they wanted! If nothin else they could at least pad th damn thing so as ta minimize injuries ta consumers such as myself who happen ta occasionally fall on their appliance. But nooo. Obviously, Consumer Safety is not high on their list of priorities, is it? It's time fer them ta accept Responsibility.

OK, even though th bartender where I imbibed earlier in th evening is a good friend of mine, it is blatantly apparent that he over-served me. Fr'instance, witness my crashin about the kitchen, unable ta maintain my perpendicularity and fallin on th dishwasher door. Hardly th actions of a sober person, eh?. One doesn't fall on their head fer no apparent reason, do they? Th answer ta this one is simple once again; it's NO. It's time he accepts Responsibility.

Now then. there is th owner of th joint, who also happens ta be a friend of mine, BUT, he needs ta be sued fer showin such bad judgement in th hiring of his personnel. HE needs ta accept Responsibility!

Whut about th those peoples who make that Budweiser? I'm talking Anheuser-Busch Brewing Co. Said product of which I consumed waay too much. There is no notice on those bottles sayin,

"Warning! Warning! The Surgeon General advises that excessive use of this product may cause one to drop their rice bowls and fall on the dishwasher!!"

Nada word. Oh sure, there's a caution there about pregnant women and drivin vehicles, but, do I look like a pregnant woman? And th answer ta that my friends is, once again, NO! Whut good does that do me at 4 in th morning!! They need ta take Responsibility.

And I know I might be stretching it here a bit, but there may be some way ta even connect th makers of th Uncle Ben's Rice product ta this debacle? They could do somethin! Mebbe a simple warning such as,

"Warning! Warning! The Surgeon General advises against the use of this product in conjunction with Irresponsible Manufacturers of badly designed Appliances while under the influence of Intoxicating Beverages sold by Irresponsible Brewers and served by Irresponsible Bartenders in Joints owned by Irresponsibe Owners" or, y'know, somethin ta that effect. Peoples jus don't want ta accept Responsibility fer their irresponsible ways!!

Whut is with peoples anyway? I jus don't get it! We have apparently become a Nation of peoples who always wanta point th Finger of Blame at some one else. Sheeit.

th cap'm

It wuz one of those nites. Yeah, it wuz one of those nites! Whut I'm talkin bout is; last night I came home and decided ta fix myself some victuals as I am often wont ta do early of a morn.

THIS wuz a mistake boyz and gurlz. We know from past kitchen experiences under similar circumstances, that of all peoples I shoulda known better than ta step into th kitchen in my drunken loon condition. Whut wuz I thinkin? Like, do we never learn from our past mistakes? Are we doomed ta commit th same follies over and over ad nauseaum, a la Santayana?

Well, it would seem so. My misadventure started when I attempted ta remove a large pot of previously prepared rice from th icebox, (sometimes known as a refrigerator) Somethin went horribly wrong. It happened so fast I don't even know how it happened; but I lost my grip and I wound up with this cauldron of rice crashin all over th kitchen floor. It wuz rice rice here, rice rice there, rice rice everywhere! Oh McDonald, it wuz a fookin mess! My first thought wuz, naturally,

"Oh sheeit! Whut am I gonna eat now?"

and while I wuz contemplatin that, plus tryin ta figure out how ta deal with th mess, I wuz so heavy into thought that I completely forgot ta maintain my balance (this is not an unusual occurrence) and found myself careening over backwards landin on th open door of my dishwasher, crunchin it all th way ta th floor. This is a position it wuzn't originally designed ta execute.

I deftly rolled off th door over on ta my hands and knees, and managed ta obtain a wobbly, mostly perpendicular stance usin th solidity of th wall as an aid from which ta observe th damage. Curses! Th fuckin dishwasher door wouldn't close now. Fortunately th utility closet wuz only steps away and I just happened ta have a "dishwasher door closing implement" there. (sometimes known as a hammer)

Well, after nine or ten hearty whacks, I managed ta get it closed and locked into place. Not so strangely, it looked pretty beat up when I got done. Ha ha. I'm hopin my landlord, who lives upstairs doesn't get too inquisitive as ta why I wuz hammerin at 4 in th morning? Whut a mess!! I got rice everywhere and I had no way of dealin with it at all, cuz th last time I moved, I purposely left my shovel behind. I had gotten tired of luggin th damned thing around from place ta place fer years on th off chance I might need it someday ta bury somethin in th backyard. It never occurred ta me that someday, I might need it ta move a mountain of rice.

Now........ here I am with this mountain of rice and no shovel ta work with. Ya might say, ta use th old cliche, "that I wuz up shit-creek without a shovel" or somthin like that. Finally, in a moment of rare clarity, I decided that mebbe I should forego th whole eatin project and try and deal with it on th morrow cuz I felt that th ability ta be able ta stand upright without usin any walls would make th clean-up effort all so much easier. So, usin th steadyin effect of th walls as an aid, I made it ta my rack fer my appointment with Morpheus.

to be continued......Th Consequences; Accepting Responsibility

th cap'm

Last nite, at th saloon, I happened ta overhear an interesting and informative bit of information about astronomy. Oh sure, one can get a well rounded education from watchin th Teevee nof course, but if ya listen carefully, ya can always learn somthin from a nite at th tavern too.

This young amateur astronomer dude was tryin ta explain ta his Astro-ignorant cohort how ta see Mars in th evening sky. He said,

"All you have to do is; look into the South-East and when you find Alpha-Romero; look just to the left of it and there it is!!!"

OK...now have ya got that boyz and gurlz? Accordin ta that dude, th amateur astronomer, tryin ta impress his date with his broad range of knowledge; it's jus ta th left of Alpha-Romero!

And that greatly simplifies th search, cuz as we all know, thas th constellation that looks like that stylish Eye-talian sports car.

th cap'm

P.S. And my apologies fer referring to his gurlfriend as Astro-ignorant. That was completely uncalled for and totally unfair on my part. After all, while he was gettin his college education, she didn't have th time or luxury of learnin meaningless crap like that cus in Home Economics she was too busy learnin how ta efficiently schezhule her hours so as ta have some time fer th babies after cleanin th house, and doin th laundry and moppin th floors, and foldin her spouses underwear and balancin th family budget and darnin socks and knittin sweaters and bakin cookies and shovelin th snow and, fixin her hubby's favorite meal, y'know, and lotsa other stuff like thet. One of these days tho, gurls will be able ta do a lot of things that men do now. Mark my words, it's gonna happen.

Well, I mean ta a certain extent anyways, I mean, it's not like some little girlie's gonna be racin in th Indianapolis 500 or bein a Marine, or a firefighter, or a cop, or astronaut or things like thet, but they will be playin soccer and stuff. Now, ya might be thinkin, "Oh pshaw! Never happen." but keep in mind, I have an uncanny knack fer seein trends and extrapolatin on whut they portend fer th future. They don't refer ta me as 'th Seer' fer nothin, y'know!