One of my subscriptions to youtube posted a new video today. They sing "Happiness is a Warm Gun!" Sung by Frenchy.
Me and Bogus Bob loved this song back in the day....of wine and roses.
I am always amazed at how music transcends age, cultures, etc. Rock on, Frenchy.
Tuesday, August 26, 2008
Monday, August 25, 2008
"Things Have Changed"
Back in the cro-magnon days of my early adulthood, the following product would have been outlawed. But not today. What is it? Perhaps you've seen the ad on tv?
What's the buzz all about? Pun intended and appears in the following video.
What's the buzz all about? Pun intended and appears in the following video.
Sunday, August 24, 2008
"I've Had Enough!"
I've worked in the food-biz for too fucking long. There I said it. I've had enough!
Tonite I dealt with the same shit that replays itself over and over. I was once again accused of "picking at" someone. Well. when I tell you 2-3 times to do something and you deliberately have your own agenda, then, yes, there will be a problem. It's called "I'm the boss and you ain't." It's a simple concept really. Follow my instructions or get the fuck out of my sight.
Hre's a tale from yesteryear! Same old worn-out story:
November 16, 2004
It was an ordinary day.
The weather is getting colder and strawberries are once again out of season. Happens every Thanksgiving, eh?
There were beaucoup problems at work. They don't call it H.W. for nothing. Everything seemed out of synch. Nothing worked just right or was broken. A little off-kilter. And some of my passive-aggressive team members tried to "show-out." Meaning they weren't on their best behavior and wanted to engage me in their chaos to which I didn't want to be a party.
"Why are you always pickin' on me?" Susie, the silverware roller asked in the afternoon.
"Susie, I'm not picking on you, but when you wipe your mouth on your apron, I have to say something."
Susie just looked at me in disbelief. She doesn't like to be told anything and likes to do whatever she wants. She does enjoy the role of victim. I am no psych0, er, analyst but this is one layman's opinion.
Later....
"Susie, be sure and wash your hands when you use your hands to wipe the voluminous sweat off your face." I politely scolded.
"Is there anything else that's wrong, while I'm standing here?" she said in her most perfect p.a. tone.
"Yes, Susie. I'm sorry but I need you to wear a hair net. And please remove your apron, the one with the bright cherry stains and black carbon build-up. It doesn't look good to the guests." I countered meekly.
Later....
Susie is trying to get on my "good" side.
"The people using the bathroom must be eating the toilet paper. Second role today," she said to me as I was working in my office dutifully perusing the holiday orders.
"Ha ha, that's a good one, Susie." I said. Hopefully, she knows to wash her hands after a trip to the lavatory I privately mused.
Later me and Susie's paths met again....
"Susie, can you help us serve the guests out here on the firing, er, serving line? Please!"
"Be right there," she said wiping her dripping forehead with her own personal towel.
"Susie. Be sure and wash your hands before you serve the guests, please!"
"But I didn't touch my hands to my face."
"Susie. I'm sorry if you feel I'm picking on you, but that towel of yours is a haven for bacteria. And you must wash your hands."
Well, Susie didn't like what was said. Made a u-turn away from me and made a beeline to the team member's bathroom. She soon emerged and relunctantly helped with the guests.
At 9 p.m., Susie left the building, allah Elvis, without getting checked out. She intentionally, er, forgot to wipe her shelves. And she left two loads of dirty laundry [ apologies to Don Henley-sorry, couldn't resist ] scattered about.
She's off for two days, so when I engage her on Friday for today's indiscretions, it will probably go like this:
"Susie, I hate to even bring this up, but you forgot to check out with me Tuesday. And in your haste to get home, you forgot to do a few of your duties."
"GET OFF MY BACK! Quit pickin' on me. Boo hoo hoo."
It's just been one of those days. Susie; the light fixture that tripped the breakers; Peter Potwasher's personal dilemma, which caused him to leave early, etc.; And when the fry cook let the drain run over.....
Farewell and adieu, v.c.
P.S. Maybe tomorrow will be better.
Tonite I dealt with the same shit that replays itself over and over. I was once again accused of "picking at" someone. Well. when I tell you 2-3 times to do something and you deliberately have your own agenda, then, yes, there will be a problem. It's called "I'm the boss and you ain't." It's a simple concept really. Follow my instructions or get the fuck out of my sight.
Hre's a tale from yesteryear! Same old worn-out story:
November 16, 2004
It was an ordinary day.
The weather is getting colder and strawberries are once again out of season. Happens every Thanksgiving, eh?
There were beaucoup problems at work. They don't call it H.W. for nothing. Everything seemed out of synch. Nothing worked just right or was broken. A little off-kilter. And some of my passive-aggressive team members tried to "show-out." Meaning they weren't on their best behavior and wanted to engage me in their chaos to which I didn't want to be a party.
"Why are you always pickin' on me?" Susie, the silverware roller asked in the afternoon.
"Susie, I'm not picking on you, but when you wipe your mouth on your apron, I have to say something."
Susie just looked at me in disbelief. She doesn't like to be told anything and likes to do whatever she wants. She does enjoy the role of victim. I am no psych0, er, analyst but this is one layman's opinion.
Later....
"Susie, be sure and wash your hands when you use your hands to wipe the voluminous sweat off your face." I politely scolded.
"Is there anything else that's wrong, while I'm standing here?" she said in her most perfect p.a. tone.
"Yes, Susie. I'm sorry but I need you to wear a hair net. And please remove your apron, the one with the bright cherry stains and black carbon build-up. It doesn't look good to the guests." I countered meekly.
Later....
Susie is trying to get on my "good" side.
"The people using the bathroom must be eating the toilet paper. Second role today," she said to me as I was working in my office dutifully perusing the holiday orders.
"Ha ha, that's a good one, Susie." I said. Hopefully, she knows to wash her hands after a trip to the lavatory I privately mused.
Later me and Susie's paths met again....
"Susie, can you help us serve the guests out here on the firing, er, serving line? Please!"
"Be right there," she said wiping her dripping forehead with her own personal towel.
"Susie. Be sure and wash your hands before you serve the guests, please!"
"But I didn't touch my hands to my face."
"Susie. I'm sorry if you feel I'm picking on you, but that towel of yours is a haven for bacteria. And you must wash your hands."
Well, Susie didn't like what was said. Made a u-turn away from me and made a beeline to the team member's bathroom. She soon emerged and relunctantly helped with the guests.
At 9 p.m., Susie left the building, allah Elvis, without getting checked out. She intentionally, er, forgot to wipe her shelves. And she left two loads of dirty laundry [ apologies to Don Henley-sorry, couldn't resist ] scattered about.
She's off for two days, so when I engage her on Friday for today's indiscretions, it will probably go like this:
"Susie, I hate to even bring this up, but you forgot to check out with me Tuesday. And in your haste to get home, you forgot to do a few of your duties."
"GET OFF MY BACK! Quit pickin' on me. Boo hoo hoo."
It's just been one of those days. Susie; the light fixture that tripped the breakers; Peter Potwasher's personal dilemma, which caused him to leave early, etc.; And when the fry cook let the drain run over.....
Farewell and adieu, v.c.
P.S. Maybe tomorrow will be better.
Monday, August 18, 2008
The Love You Take Is Equal To The Love You make!"
Simple line but ain't it the truth? I put these clips on here so I can have them for handy reference and frequent viewing by yours truly.
This is a good one from 2002. Paul has put together quite a nice little band. And the drummer is dynamic to say the least.
August 17th was my sis's birthday. So happy birthday, sis, you liberal bedwetter you. Apologies to Boortz, who coined the phrase. And here's hoping you had a peace demonstration to attend or a human rights regalia.
Altho you never venture here hope you had a good one-and many more to come.
You say it's your birthday-well it's my birthday, too, v.c.
This is a good one from 2002. Paul has put together quite a nice little band. And the drummer is dynamic to say the least.
August 17th was my sis's birthday. So happy birthday, sis, you liberal bedwetter you. Apologies to Boortz, who coined the phrase. And here's hoping you had a peace demonstration to attend or a human rights regalia.
Altho you never venture here hope you had a good one-and many more to come.
You say it's your birthday-well it's my birthday, too, v.c.
Friday, August 15, 2008
"Aunt Mad Chronicles"
On the left side of Golden Pond there's a list of posts per year. 2005 being my heyday when I penned over one thousand forays. I was really hooked-line and sinker. Evidently.
As the years go by my obsession has abated-for lack of a better word. For whatever reason, tonight I decided to peruse some of my earlier works and came upon this one about my Aunt Madeline. And the really nice comments from hoots, Slippery, and the bbq man. What was surprising was that the hootster thought I had plagiarized my foray into the infantile. What a compliment, eh?
Here are the comments-the story to follow:
Hoots said...
Outstanding, Cat.
One of your best pieces. Altogether different from your usual schtick. Makes me wonder if you plagiarized it from someplace.
Whatever vein you tapped for this one, you need to find it again and tap some more.
Getting free of HW has liberated your writing ability among other things. Inhale deeply and strut.
7:24 AM
Anonymous said...
I agree with hoots. I want to hear more about Aunt Mad, goddammit!
Slippery
9:02 AM
vietnamcatfish said...
Thanks Hoots and Slippery, It was a departure from my usual forays.
Plagiarized? Every word was written by yours truly. Aunt Mad was quite a character and loved me dearly. She died in 1970. I miss her.
Ye old truth is stranger than fiction comes to mind concerning Aunt Mad. I grew up listening to "squeeze my sponge," "Edowah Diddley," and all of the others.
Thanks for the kind words, guys. Part II will write itself.
1:24 AM
IBBQ4YOU2 said...
Now you are getting down to bidness! After all, isn't it the purpose of having a blog, to be able to write? You have the ability and have shown it off. Now lets see some more good stuff like the "Aunt Mad Chronicles." It is only the tip of the iceberg. You posess a wealth ability to entertain with the written word. Enough of the posted pictures and links. I would rather wait a week for a story like this than to peruse pictures and comments about them daily. K?
Of course it would probably be better if you submitted your manuscripts to a publisher first.............. But then I wouldn't have the pleasure to read this stuff without paying first!
Great entertainment, Thanks catfish!
8:11 PM
Originally entitled: "The Fish as a Yuppie, er, Guppie"
Friday, December 16, 2005
"The Fish As A Yuppie, er, Guppie"
My Aunt Mad was a hoot, a closet nudist, and had big titties. She was proud of them and used to dust them with powder she purchased at Bloomingdales.
She could also pee for minutes.
"I gotta squeeze my sponge," she used to say on one of our jaunts to the country in her Chevy Bel-Air. We wouldn't bother looking for a gas station. She would pull over on the side of the road, find a grassy noll, squat, and pee, er, squeeze her sponge for minutes, it seemed.
"Want a banana split, l'il fella," she always asked as we headed to Monday's Lake. I'm guessing here, but my weight fluctuations and addiction to sugar may have been formulated here. I would get a banana split on the way, and another one on the way back.
Monday's Lake was deep into the country and took an hour to get there, motoring down the interstate. A tree hung over a small creek. And perfect for an adolescent in search of adventures. Sometimes we'd take Bogus Bobby with us, but when he almost drowned in another lake a few years prior, and Aunt Mad had to make a daring rescue to save his life, we didn't always bring him along.
"Don't slam the door....Goddammit, I told 'em not to slam the goddamn door."
Aunt Mad would pick us up after school in her chevy. Me and Bogus in the front. Sheena and Sandra in the back seat. Sandra was tall for her age but infamous for slamming the goddamn door. It would make Aunt Mad, well, mad. Really mad.
Sheena, my kindergarten love, would slam the goddamn door each time she departed the back seat. And Aunt Mad never failed to get pissed and begin her diatribe. She always wanted to know aloud why they "slammed the goddamn door." But it happened every day on the way home from school, so she should have been expecting it.
I would always sit there as my friends departed the Bel-Air hoping they wouldn't slam "the goddamn door," but like clockwork, the goddamn door would get slammed. In hindsight walking home would have been a more viable option, or perhaps I could have said, "Sandra, Sheena, don't slam the goddamn door when you get out the car, cos Aunt Mad don't like it when you slam the goddamn door."
"I'll show you mine, if you'll show me yours."
Bogus was 11 months older than me. He lived next door, and I would see him from afar and vice-versa, but we didn't really meet until we enrolled in Guilotine Elementary as kindergarteners. On the first day of school we walked home with our moms and instantly became best buddies. We were at that curious age and I asked to see his heiney if he showed me his. So we ventured out to the abandoned warehouse behind my upstairs apartment and showed each other our buttox. Not sure where Aunt Mad was, but this time frame precluded the slamming of the goddamn door.
"I'll never buy you another goddamn gingerbread man again."
Aunt Mad had taken me and Bogus Bobby to Sears and told us to stay in the car while she purchased a quick item.
"Stay in the car; I'll be right back."
Well, kids can be kids so we thumbed our noses at Aunt Mad's instructions and left the car. We went into Sears and rode the escalators up and down. We were so enthralled in our adventures that we lost track of time. When we returned to the car, Aunt Mad was pissed more than I had ever seen her. I wished Sheena and Sandra were there to slam the goddamn car doors to divert her attention, but, alas, they were nowhere to be found.
"Get in the goddamn car."
We whimpered into the back seat.
"Where have you been, god dammit. I told you to stay in the goddamn car. I had the goddamn police looking for you. Won't listen to a goddamn thing. You [ me ] are the most hard-headed kid I've ever seen.
"Eat these goddamn gingerbread men, cos I ain't ever buying you another goddamn thing." [ throws the goddamn sack of gingerbread men into the goddamn back seat ]
I was feeling bad, guilty, and sad. I knew she would buy me more gingerbread men with the little raisins for eyes and buttons down its front, but we-I- had let her down. And I felt bad. Not sure how Bogie felt. But we heard a lot more god damns before we got home.
"I'm gonna shave my head and go down the railroad backwards."
One of Aunt Mad's favorite sayings. It was said in a humourous vein, but it meant all options had been exhausted, and the only recourse was shaving one's head and going down the railroad backwards.
"Your goddamn dinner will be ready in a jiffy."
I turned on the old black and white t.v. to watch "Amos and Andy," as Aunt Mad made us dinner in her quaint, crackerbox kitchen. Country fried steak with Heinz 57, cream style corn, crinkle-cut fries, rolls with the seeds on top drenched in butter and iced tea was the standard fare Monday nite's at Aunt Mad's house. The tv lineup included "The Lucy Show," "Red Skelton," and "Petticoat Junction." Ah, memories. btw, Aunt Mad was a goddamn good cook, as well.
"She ain't here. She's gone to Edowah Diddly."
Prank call. Solicitation. Long lost friend or relative. It didn't matter to Aunt Mad when an unwanted caller tried to ring her house via the telephone.
"Heetomahotomastinkarinkyfarmerdinkysallybunkawinktomanipcatsingsongkittywontchacowmeo."
No one in the family knew what in the hell this phrase meant or whether she invented it or not, but Aunt Mad reached icon status by muttering this sing-song phrase way back inna day.
Aunt Mad was a hoot, an icon, and my Great Aunt. She loved me dearly. And I loved her. Even if she did intimidate with all the "GODDAMNS." Big titties and all. Closet nudist? Maybe in the next installment.
Posted by vietnamcatfish at 12:42 AM 4 comments Links to this post
As the years go by my obsession has abated-for lack of a better word. For whatever reason, tonight I decided to peruse some of my earlier works and came upon this one about my Aunt Madeline. And the really nice comments from hoots, Slippery, and the bbq man. What was surprising was that the hootster thought I had plagiarized my foray into the infantile. What a compliment, eh?
Here are the comments-the story to follow:
Hoots said...
Outstanding, Cat.
One of your best pieces. Altogether different from your usual schtick. Makes me wonder if you plagiarized it from someplace.
Whatever vein you tapped for this one, you need to find it again and tap some more.
Getting free of HW has liberated your writing ability among other things. Inhale deeply and strut.
7:24 AM
Anonymous said...
I agree with hoots. I want to hear more about Aunt Mad, goddammit!
Slippery
9:02 AM
vietnamcatfish said...
Thanks Hoots and Slippery, It was a departure from my usual forays.
Plagiarized? Every word was written by yours truly. Aunt Mad was quite a character and loved me dearly. She died in 1970. I miss her.
Ye old truth is stranger than fiction comes to mind concerning Aunt Mad. I grew up listening to "squeeze my sponge," "Edowah Diddley," and all of the others.
Thanks for the kind words, guys. Part II will write itself.
1:24 AM
IBBQ4YOU2 said...
Now you are getting down to bidness! After all, isn't it the purpose of having a blog, to be able to write? You have the ability and have shown it off. Now lets see some more good stuff like the "Aunt Mad Chronicles." It is only the tip of the iceberg. You posess a wealth ability to entertain with the written word. Enough of the posted pictures and links. I would rather wait a week for a story like this than to peruse pictures and comments about them daily. K?
Of course it would probably be better if you submitted your manuscripts to a publisher first.............. But then I wouldn't have the pleasure to read this stuff without paying first!
Great entertainment, Thanks catfish!
8:11 PM
Originally entitled: "The Fish as a Yuppie, er, Guppie"
Friday, December 16, 2005
"The Fish As A Yuppie, er, Guppie"
My Aunt Mad was a hoot, a closet nudist, and had big titties. She was proud of them and used to dust them with powder she purchased at Bloomingdales.
She could also pee for minutes.
"I gotta squeeze my sponge," she used to say on one of our jaunts to the country in her Chevy Bel-Air. We wouldn't bother looking for a gas station. She would pull over on the side of the road, find a grassy noll, squat, and pee, er, squeeze her sponge for minutes, it seemed.
"Want a banana split, l'il fella," she always asked as we headed to Monday's Lake. I'm guessing here, but my weight fluctuations and addiction to sugar may have been formulated here. I would get a banana split on the way, and another one on the way back.
Monday's Lake was deep into the country and took an hour to get there, motoring down the interstate. A tree hung over a small creek. And perfect for an adolescent in search of adventures. Sometimes we'd take Bogus Bobby with us, but when he almost drowned in another lake a few years prior, and Aunt Mad had to make a daring rescue to save his life, we didn't always bring him along.
"Don't slam the door....Goddammit, I told 'em not to slam the goddamn door."
Aunt Mad would pick us up after school in her chevy. Me and Bogus in the front. Sheena and Sandra in the back seat. Sandra was tall for her age but infamous for slamming the goddamn door. It would make Aunt Mad, well, mad. Really mad.
Sheena, my kindergarten love, would slam the goddamn door each time she departed the back seat. And Aunt Mad never failed to get pissed and begin her diatribe. She always wanted to know aloud why they "slammed the goddamn door." But it happened every day on the way home from school, so she should have been expecting it.
I would always sit there as my friends departed the Bel-Air hoping they wouldn't slam "the goddamn door," but like clockwork, the goddamn door would get slammed. In hindsight walking home would have been a more viable option, or perhaps I could have said, "Sandra, Sheena, don't slam the goddamn door when you get out the car, cos Aunt Mad don't like it when you slam the goddamn door."
"I'll show you mine, if you'll show me yours."
Bogus was 11 months older than me. He lived next door, and I would see him from afar and vice-versa, but we didn't really meet until we enrolled in Guilotine Elementary as kindergarteners. On the first day of school we walked home with our moms and instantly became best buddies. We were at that curious age and I asked to see his heiney if he showed me his. So we ventured out to the abandoned warehouse behind my upstairs apartment and showed each other our buttox. Not sure where Aunt Mad was, but this time frame precluded the slamming of the goddamn door.
"I'll never buy you another goddamn gingerbread man again."
Aunt Mad had taken me and Bogus Bobby to Sears and told us to stay in the car while she purchased a quick item.
"Stay in the car; I'll be right back."
Well, kids can be kids so we thumbed our noses at Aunt Mad's instructions and left the car. We went into Sears and rode the escalators up and down. We were so enthralled in our adventures that we lost track of time. When we returned to the car, Aunt Mad was pissed more than I had ever seen her. I wished Sheena and Sandra were there to slam the goddamn car doors to divert her attention, but, alas, they were nowhere to be found.
"Get in the goddamn car."
We whimpered into the back seat.
"Where have you been, god dammit. I told you to stay in the goddamn car. I had the goddamn police looking for you. Won't listen to a goddamn thing. You [ me ] are the most hard-headed kid I've ever seen.
"Eat these goddamn gingerbread men, cos I ain't ever buying you another goddamn thing." [ throws the goddamn sack of gingerbread men into the goddamn back seat ]
I was feeling bad, guilty, and sad. I knew she would buy me more gingerbread men with the little raisins for eyes and buttons down its front, but we-I- had let her down. And I felt bad. Not sure how Bogie felt. But we heard a lot more god damns before we got home.
"I'm gonna shave my head and go down the railroad backwards."
One of Aunt Mad's favorite sayings. It was said in a humourous vein, but it meant all options had been exhausted, and the only recourse was shaving one's head and going down the railroad backwards.
"Your goddamn dinner will be ready in a jiffy."
I turned on the old black and white t.v. to watch "Amos and Andy," as Aunt Mad made us dinner in her quaint, crackerbox kitchen. Country fried steak with Heinz 57, cream style corn, crinkle-cut fries, rolls with the seeds on top drenched in butter and iced tea was the standard fare Monday nite's at Aunt Mad's house. The tv lineup included "The Lucy Show," "Red Skelton," and "Petticoat Junction." Ah, memories. btw, Aunt Mad was a goddamn good cook, as well.
"She ain't here. She's gone to Edowah Diddly."
Prank call. Solicitation. Long lost friend or relative. It didn't matter to Aunt Mad when an unwanted caller tried to ring her house via the telephone.
"Heetomahotomastinkarinkyfarmerdinkysallybunkawinktomanipcatsingsongkittywontchacowmeo."
No one in the family knew what in the hell this phrase meant or whether she invented it or not, but Aunt Mad reached icon status by muttering this sing-song phrase way back inna day.
Aunt Mad was a hoot, an icon, and my Great Aunt. She loved me dearly. And I loved her. Even if she did intimidate with all the "GODDAMNS." Big titties and all. Closet nudist? Maybe in the next installment.
Posted by vietnamcatfish at 12:42 AM 4 comments Links to this post
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
"Almost Cut My Pear! Er, Hair"
Saturday, August 12, 2006
"Snippets From The Readers"
The Pond gets comments from time to time. Slippery is good for one every now and then. My friend, Marty, who hails from Boca Raton makes his presence felt every fortnight or less. And the hootster, aka hootsbuddy, sends an occassional reply whenever the Pond tickles his fancy. With an obscure relic from back inna day.
And my old classmate from Rowdy High, Steverino, threw in his 2 cents worth a few forays ago. editor's note: Steverino enjoys the moniker inflicted upon him by the writer of G.P. [ yours truly ]
The enigmatic pictru offers his insights on a semi-regular basis. Although I have no clue to his identity-well, once I thought he may be the director/screenwriter of "Godzilla 1985" or the special effects guru, allah Ray Harryhausen, for some cinematic treasures such as "The Thing," the remake from John "Halloween" Carpenter; or "The Fly," another remake from b.i.t.d. "Help me! Help me!" [ words uttered at the end of the original saga by the scientist, who's stuck in a spider web, and whose experiments have gone awry. ]
And then there's Rock Head on loan from Texarkana or as they used to categorize the villanous masked rasslers: from parts unknown. He also leaves a snippet on an irregular schedule.
Sometimes readers fly under the radar screen and send in their comments privately. My recent post entitled "The Last Plantation" brought some interesting mail from two readers, one from my liberal sis who resides in windy San Fran; and Shirley, who lives in Hawaii:
v.c. . . .VERY interesting blog . . .You've GOT to find a way to publish this really odd twist w/the guy who (thankfully!) beat CMcKinney . . .what an embarrassment this kook was to Georgia . . .what an interesting story . . .the way this fellow came all the around that crazy initerstate to help you . . .and how he was REWARDED for this???
I'll listent to the sounds you sent when I get back there and plug in my microphone . . .I've shared your blog with several folks . . .I just LOVE that McKinney section .. .what a crazy lady . . .
shirley
and:
Dear v.c., Ironically Cynthia McKinny has been a hero of mine for several years.
I am sorry she lost! I have a picture of her that I cherish and have seen her several times in San Francisco and Berkeley. Maybe she'll move to Bay Area where she'll be welcome
by most people. She belongs to a group out here called "Sisters of Fire". Olga
Anyone surprised by sis's comments. Two different views. Shirley=crazy lady. Olga, er, Sis=hero of mine.
Well, it just goes to show you, there's divergent opinions out there. Here on the Pond, we appreciate all of the replies, even the far-left ones espoused by my darling sister.
It's what makes the world go 'round, eh? v.c.
P.S. What else stands out here? Well, there were no 78-year-old blue-haired grannies on the list. There were no families traveling with children. There were no young mothers with children in tow. From boortz.com on the ridiculous non-profiling of Middle-East denizens at American airports. All of the London bombing suspects were well, uh, Muslim.
P.S.S. Slippery, how was the CSNY concert? The account I read said a good bit of folks left the arena when the boys broke into "Let's Impeach the President." Btw, did they croon "Almost Cut My [ avocado ] Pear, er, Hair? One of my favorites from CSNY.
Posted by vietnamcatfish at 11:30 AM 1 comments Links to this post
"Snippets From The Readers"
The Pond gets comments from time to time. Slippery is good for one every now and then. My friend, Marty, who hails from Boca Raton makes his presence felt every fortnight or less. And the hootster, aka hootsbuddy, sends an occassional reply whenever the Pond tickles his fancy. With an obscure relic from back inna day.
And my old classmate from Rowdy High, Steverino, threw in his 2 cents worth a few forays ago. editor's note: Steverino enjoys the moniker inflicted upon him by the writer of G.P. [ yours truly ]
The enigmatic pictru offers his insights on a semi-regular basis. Although I have no clue to his identity-well, once I thought he may be the director/screenwriter of "Godzilla 1985" or the special effects guru, allah Ray Harryhausen, for some cinematic treasures such as "The Thing," the remake from John "Halloween" Carpenter; or "The Fly," another remake from b.i.t.d. "Help me! Help me!" [ words uttered at the end of the original saga by the scientist, who's stuck in a spider web, and whose experiments have gone awry. ]
And then there's Rock Head on loan from Texarkana or as they used to categorize the villanous masked rasslers: from parts unknown. He also leaves a snippet on an irregular schedule.
Sometimes readers fly under the radar screen and send in their comments privately. My recent post entitled "The Last Plantation" brought some interesting mail from two readers, one from my liberal sis who resides in windy San Fran; and Shirley, who lives in Hawaii:
v.c. . . .VERY interesting blog . . .You've GOT to find a way to publish this really odd twist w/the guy who (thankfully!) beat CMcKinney . . .what an embarrassment this kook was to Georgia . . .what an interesting story . . .the way this fellow came all the around that crazy initerstate to help you . . .and how he was REWARDED for this???
I'll listent to the sounds you sent when I get back there and plug in my microphone . . .I've shared your blog with several folks . . .I just LOVE that McKinney section .. .what a crazy lady . . .
shirley
and:
Dear v.c., Ironically Cynthia McKinny has been a hero of mine for several years.
I am sorry she lost! I have a picture of her that I cherish and have seen her several times in San Francisco and Berkeley. Maybe she'll move to Bay Area where she'll be welcome
by most people. She belongs to a group out here called "Sisters of Fire". Olga
Anyone surprised by sis's comments. Two different views. Shirley=crazy lady. Olga, er, Sis=hero of mine.
Well, it just goes to show you, there's divergent opinions out there. Here on the Pond, we appreciate all of the replies, even the far-left ones espoused by my darling sister.
It's what makes the world go 'round, eh? v.c.
P.S. What else stands out here? Well, there were no 78-year-old blue-haired grannies on the list. There were no families traveling with children. There were no young mothers with children in tow. From boortz.com on the ridiculous non-profiling of Middle-East denizens at American airports. All of the London bombing suspects were well, uh, Muslim.
P.S.S. Slippery, how was the CSNY concert? The account I read said a good bit of folks left the arena when the boys broke into "Let's Impeach the President." Btw, did they croon "Almost Cut My [ avocado ] Pear, er, Hair? One of my favorites from CSNY.
Posted by vietnamcatfish at 11:30 AM 1 comments Links to this post
Monday, August 11, 2008
"Rules and Regulations! Who Needs 'Em?"
Vintage footage from '68. When we all began discovering that Ozzie and Harriet and Ward and June et al were fantasy characters.
Hoots, did you attend Chicago circa '68? Or were you sitting at a Woolworth's counter instead?
We can change the world? v.c.
Hoots, did you attend Chicago circa '68? Or were you sitting at a Woolworth's counter instead?
We can change the world? v.c.
Sunday, August 10, 2008
"And That's The Way It Was"
What a week. John Edwards had an affair. What a cretinoid? Look that 1 up in ur Funk and Wagnalls. And now he will be villified by all of the so-called up-right citizenry.
Bernie Mac dead at 50. Pneumonia. Wow!
And Heath Ledger's performance as the Joker lives on in "The Dark Knight."
And the Hootster is writing a letter to MSNBC complaining about corporate greed. Hey, I gave my ex company a recipe which made them millions in sales, and I ain't received a penny yet. Bitter? Mad? Damn tooting I am.
And that's the way it was, 8-8-08. v.c.
P.S. Oh yeah, and the Braves have won 3 games in a row. In Arizona of all places. Can they complete the sweep?
P.S.S. No comments on my last foray. Two girls and a cup. Did anyone watch? Disgusting, eh? The following video is a follow-up. And it is not in good taste. But funny. What can I say?
Bernie Mac dead at 50. Pneumonia. Wow!
And Heath Ledger's performance as the Joker lives on in "The Dark Knight."
And the Hootster is writing a letter to MSNBC complaining about corporate greed. Hey, I gave my ex company a recipe which made them millions in sales, and I ain't received a penny yet. Bitter? Mad? Damn tooting I am.
And that's the way it was, 8-8-08. v.c.
P.S. Oh yeah, and the Braves have won 3 games in a row. In Arizona of all places. Can they complete the sweep?
P.S.S. No comments on my last foray. Two girls and a cup. Did anyone watch? Disgusting, eh? The following video is a follow-up. And it is not in good taste. But funny. What can I say?
Thursday, August 07, 2008
"Two Girls; One Cup"
This video ain't for the faint of heart. It's bizarre, nasty, and gross with a capital "G." So you have been warned. Proceed with caution. The Kermit the Frog video is his reaction to the video while he's watching.
It's one of those videos that is sweeping the nation ( lol ), and because normal people like you and me are watching, it makes it ok. Kinda like when it suddenly became chic to watch Linda Lovelace in "Deep Throat" at your local theatre.
The Kermit video has over 4 million hits. There are other videos ( via u-tube ) with reactions to what they are viewing.
Remember, you have been warned.
It's one of those videos that is sweeping the nation ( lol ), and because normal people like you and me are watching, it makes it ok. Kinda like when it suddenly became chic to watch Linda Lovelace in "Deep Throat" at your local theatre.
The Kermit video has over 4 million hits. There are other videos ( via u-tube ) with reactions to what they are viewing.
Remember, you have been warned.
Monday, August 04, 2008
"Skip Caray Dies In His Sleep"
This is a sad story. The Skipster died in his sleep Sunday at his Atlanta home, the Braves announced. He was 68.
A part of me has died, as well. I have known him for over 30 years. Grew up with him.
Tim Tucker has a nice article about the longtime Atlanta Braves announcer:
He made the call when Sid Bream scored on Francisco Cabrera's pinch-hit to win the National League Championship Series for the Braves in 1992: "Here comes Bream! Here's the throw to the plate! He iiiiiiiisssssssss ... safe! Braves win! Braves win! Braves win! Braves win! ... Braves win!"
And he made the call in the late innings of a lousy game in the lost season of 1979: "You have our permission to turn off the TV and go to bed now ... as long as you promise to patronize our sponsors."
Thanks Skip. And say hello to your dad for me, v.c.
A part of me has died, as well. I have known him for over 30 years. Grew up with him.
Tim Tucker has a nice article about the longtime Atlanta Braves announcer:
He made the call when Sid Bream scored on Francisco Cabrera's pinch-hit to win the National League Championship Series for the Braves in 1992: "Here comes Bream! Here's the throw to the plate! He iiiiiiiisssssssss ... safe! Braves win! Braves win! Braves win! Braves win! ... Braves win!"
And he made the call in the late innings of a lousy game in the lost season of 1979: "You have our permission to turn off the TV and go to bed now ... as long as you promise to patronize our sponsors."
Thanks Skip. And say hello to your dad for me, v.c.
Saturday, August 02, 2008
Friday, August 01, 2008
"Epiphany"
As I sit here imbibing and listening to the Eagles, i.e. "Victim Of Love," I'm having an epiphany. To wit, I gotta get my shit together. Pretty much concise and to the point, eh?
I've never had my shit together-don't see how I'm gonna accomplish said fact at such a late date-but, hey, why not? Eh?
But there's always hope. Lose ur dreams and you will lose your mind-in love unkind so saith the sage aka Aerosmith. Drug addicts who turned the corner. See Steven Tyler for more details. Fuck this keyboard which gets stuck on its long and winding road.
I've got the "Hotel California" cd. Every song is a hit. Fuck! These guys were/are good.
I talked to my youngest son tonight and asked him if he liked the Eagles. His reply to wit:
"Not at all!"
O.K.!
I told him we couldn't be related. Must be the mailman's son. Or the dairy man who left the bottles.
I saw "Batman Begins" 2 night. What a clever and insightful-huh?-movie that one is, as the "n" key sticks for the hundreth time. And it's pissin me off. Big time.
As he rambles on attempting to reach a zenith in imbibedom.
On a non-related thought: Fuck the political parties! Obama Shmama. Kinda trendy to like him. The next JFK? Yeh, right. What a fairy tale. You want realism? Watch "Shark Week" on the Discovery Channel. Now that's real! But putting all ur eggs in Obama's basket is like deluding urself of reality. "Batman Begins" is more believable.
I'm getting bored with my diatribe, so I'm gonna close.
And curse Sir Walter Raleigh-he was such a stupid get, v.c.
I've never had my shit together-don't see how I'm gonna accomplish said fact at such a late date-but, hey, why not? Eh?
But there's always hope. Lose ur dreams and you will lose your mind-in love unkind so saith the sage aka Aerosmith. Drug addicts who turned the corner. See Steven Tyler for more details. Fuck this keyboard which gets stuck on its long and winding road.
I've got the "Hotel California" cd. Every song is a hit. Fuck! These guys were/are good.
I talked to my youngest son tonight and asked him if he liked the Eagles. His reply to wit:
"Not at all!"
O.K.!
I told him we couldn't be related. Must be the mailman's son. Or the dairy man who left the bottles.
I saw "Batman Begins" 2 night. What a clever and insightful-huh?-movie that one is, as the "n" key sticks for the hundreth time. And it's pissin me off. Big time.
As he rambles on attempting to reach a zenith in imbibedom.
On a non-related thought: Fuck the political parties! Obama Shmama. Kinda trendy to like him. The next JFK? Yeh, right. What a fairy tale. You want realism? Watch "Shark Week" on the Discovery Channel. Now that's real! But putting all ur eggs in Obama's basket is like deluding urself of reality. "Batman Begins" is more believable.
I'm getting bored with my diatribe, so I'm gonna close.
And curse Sir Walter Raleigh-he was such a stupid get, v.c.
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