Tripping Daisy Rises From Deep Ellum

Deep Ellum is a legendary Dallas neighborhood where great music has sprouted like stray grass growing between chunks of asphalt on a lost highway.

Early in the last century, music legends like Leadbelly, Lightning Hopkins, Bessie Smith, Robert Johnson and others played in the gin joints and speakeasies of Deep Ellum.  Poor white trash and working-class blacks eked out an existence that seemed to slide downhill as the Great Depression arrived.  Among the denizens of the decaying district were the outlaw duo of Bonnie and Clyde, and machine gun toting bank robber Pretty Boy Floyd, who laid low in rented rooms and caroused the night clubs there while the Texas Rangers and G Men sought them elsewhere.

After several decades of impoverishment, a few intrepid souls started to revive Deep Ellum, starting in the 1970s.  Hippies, co-ops, small music venues and art galleries opened and closed like one-day flowers.  The music scene started to make a comeback.

Around the time that grunge music started to make waves in Seattle, the Deep Ellum scene was resonating to a new beat churned out by local bands like the Toadies, Butthole Surfers, and Tripping Daisy.  If the folks who run the city of Dallas had appreciated what was going on in their backyard, the Texas sound might have carried the day.  Instead, they continued to oppress and arrest the mushroom trippers and potheads who gravitated to the groovy scene, and Seattle became the “Next Big Thing” while the Dallas music scene became more of an underground subculture which went largely unappreciated by the unwashed masses.

Tripping Daisy formed around 1990. The original lineup was composed of lead singer/guitarist Tim Delaughter along with Jeff Bouck (drums), Wes Berggren (guitar) and Mark Pirro (bass).  Delaughter (rhymes with daughter) became the band’s prime mover, although the profound influence of Wes Berggren deserves attention.

The son of legendary Texas club musician Don Beggren of the Sweetgrass Band, Wes was brought up hippie-style in the East Texas village of Malakoff.  His parents raised two sons, Wes and his brother Andy, who later became a doctor.

During their childhood, the boys were never given a bunch of rules to obey.  They were allowed to do whatever they chose, and both became excellent scholars and accomplished at whatever they set their hands to. Described as a musical prodigy, Wes was a drum major and class valedictorian at Malakoff High School, and received a college scholarship based on his academic prowess.

Wes was a cerebral influence on the other members of Tripping Daisy, and was regarded as the group’s stalwart for his intuitive talent and innovative ideas.  Delaughter seems to have been  profoundly influenced by his friend and mentor, and experienced a tremendous expansion of his own creative ability during the entire time the two worked together.
Tim doesn’t speak often of his early years as a musician.  Influenced heavily by the music of the 70s, and perhaps by his own adventures with acid and other psychedelic substances, he brought a visual element to the band’s shows that soon earned them a fanatical following in the clubs around Dallas.

At their early shows, the band used a 1960s Bell and Howell projector to superimpose a psychedelic slideshow on the stage and the band.  This bit of old-school wizardry, combined with the powerful range of original rock tunes the band composed, set them apart from the hair bands and imitative cover bands that dominated the local club scene. During their first year, Tripping Daisy became one of the hottest bands in Dallas, and after only two years, they were hearing their music on KDGE in Dallas.

Later that year, Tripping Daisy released their first album, “Bill” on the Dallas-based Dragon label.  The album was a big hit in Dallas, and led to a bidding war among several major record labels who wanted to sign the group.  Island Records signed Tripping Daisy in early 1993 and the group started working on their first national release, the hit album which became “I Am An Elastic Firecracker.”

The band quickly became a major attraction on the college rock circuit, boosted by appearances on MTV. Packed houses ensued in hot music towns like Tampa, Athens, LA, Seattle, and Houston.  The bands’ most popular release was “I Got A Girl” which continues to be one of the most popular music videos ever released on MTV.

The arrangements were taken to a more advanced level on this album, but fade in comparison to the improvements on their next release, “Jesus Hits Like the Atom Bomb.” Delaughter really found his niche as a vocalist and songwriter on this album. Though minimalist in some respects, the album is characterized by an interesting fragmentary songwriting style, where a song can go from one idea to a completely different other, and still achieve a seamless quality. Laced with powerful melodies in tracks like “Field Day Jitters” “Your Socks Have No Name” and “About the Movies”, the album was outstanding – but the label was having troubles of its’ own, and failed to properly support the release. Soon after, Island Records, embroiled in their own internal turmoil, allowed their contract to expire.

The group’s  future was forever doomed when guitarist Berggren was tragically found dead due to an overdose in October of 1998. Shortly after Berggren’s death Tripping Daisy released a self-titled album in early 1999 on Delaughter’s own label, Good Records. That final album  featured Berggren’s father Don playing a Fender Rhodes on the unfinished “Soothing Jubilee.”

The final album was warm and symphonic with beautiful instrumentation and playful lyrics, including a new version of “One Through Four,” a song featured on “Bill.” The re-recorded edition showed the astonishing progress the band had made in 6 years.

Delaughter spent the next couple of years getting married and starting a family. However, he and the remaining members of Tripping Daisy soon found the lure of a return irresistible.

The result was the Dallas symphonic pop group The Polyphonic Spree, a group consisting of over 20 musicians which continues to tour and record.

GATOR

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The assassination of reporter Michael Hastings:

On Thursday, June 20th, it was reported that a reporter had died in a fiery crash in Los Angeles. The reporter was Michael Hastings, one of the greatest investigative journalists of modern times.
According to news reports, Hastings was speeding down a side street, ran a red light, and crashed head-on into a tree.  The late-model Mercedes he was driving exploded, according to witnesses who heard the blast, then came running outside to find the vehicle engulfed in a huge fireball.
There were no skid marks found at the accident scene.
That’s the news we got here in the USA, from all of the major networks and newspapers.
But that is not the story that is being told in other places around the globe. An intelligence report circulating in Moscow reportedly claims that the award-winning journalist was assassinated by a drone strike while he was desperately attempting to reach what he believed would be a safe haven at the Israeli Consulate in Los Angeles.  Eyewitness accounts report not one, but two speeding cars, leading to speculation that Hastings was being pursued by another vehicle.
Hastings was instrumental in destroying the careers of two of Americas top war leaders, Generals Stanley McChrystal and David Petraeus, along with earning the ire of former US Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, whose top aide, Philippe Reines, told Hastings last September to “Fuck off” and “Have a good life” after being questioned about Clinton’s role in what is referred to as the Benghazi Attack which killed 4 Americans in Libya including US Ambassador J. Christopher Stevens.  Hastings 2010 Rolling Stone article “The Runaway General” is credited with being the impetus behind the downfall of General McChrystal, and his 2012 BuzzFeed News Service article “The Sins Of General David Petraeus” likewise helped in the savaging of General Petraeus, whom Hastings said had “seduced America and should never have been trusted by the American people.”
The Russian report says that Hastings was pursued by the drone, and that a Russian satellite tracked the drone from the time it lifted off at Camp Pendleton.  The report identifies the drone type as an unmanned Shadowhawk, manufactured by Vanguard for the US Navy.
Many residents of the neighborhood where the incident occurred were awakened by an explosion and have provided testimony which conflicts with the official story.  Although the media reported that Hastings’ vehicle was destroyed after it slammed into a palm tree, eyewitnesses and photos taken at the scene clearly indicate otherwise.
Photographs of the crash scene reveal that the car Hastings was in did not experience a high-speed crash. There was no major impact damage to the front of the car. The damage was mostly confined to the rear of the vehicle. The engine was blown out through the front of the car, landing over 100 feet away, which indicates that some type of explosion originated from the rear of the vehicle.
The only possible internal source of such an explosion would have been the gas tank, but there are two problems with that theory: First, gasoline could not under any circumstances have generated an explosion powerful enough to propel the engine such a distance. Second, photos released of the scene clearly show the gas tank lying on the ground near the car, fully intact.
At the time of his death, Hastings was busy investigating the Obama administration’s use of the NSA to spy on Americans telephone and internet communications.  He had reportedly been in contact with former CIA and NSA whistleblower analyst Edward Snowden, whom many consider the “most wanted man in America” for his releasing of top-secret documents detailing Obama’s growing police state and widespread use of warrantless wiretapping.
The significance of Hastings contact with Snowden lies in Obama’s being able to assassinate any American he so chooses without charges or trial, an authority which was in March confirmed by US Attorney General Eric Holder, who in a letter to the US Congress stated: “President Barack Obama has the legal authority to unleash deadly force – such as drone strikes – against Americans on U.S. soil without first putting them on trial.”
Only hours before his death, Hastings told attorney Jennifer Robinson that he was concerned that the FBI was investigating him and following him.  After the crash, the Los Angeles FBI office released a statement claiming that Hastings had not been under investigation.  This was quickly proven false when the Los Angeles County Medical Examiner announced that Hastings charred body had been identified using fingerprints supplied by the FBI.  Why would the FBI have the fingerprints of a man with no criminal record, unless he was the subject of an investigation?
Given the NSA leaks and the widespread surveillance of FOX News and the Associated Press, it would be surprising if Hastings’ regular coverage of the sleaze and criminality that suffuses American politics had not brought him under investigation and subject to regular surveillance.
Beginning with his coverage of the 2008 presidential primaries, Hastings earned a reputation for stepping on powerful toes. His article on that campaign for GQ called former New York mayor Rudy Giuliani a “maniac” who would “casually invoke violence and warfare.” Similarly, McCain’s campaign was based on the belief “that they can lie to our faces and we’ll swallow it.” Hillary’s campaign meanwhile employed “cunning racism,” according to Hastings.
The piece that he was most famous for was his 2010 profile of General McChrystal, who was then commander of NATO forces in Afghanistan. The article revealed the derision among top military officers toward the Obama administration which provided a catalyst for the shift of top command, in which McChrystal was replaced by General David Petraeus. General Petraeus then oversaw the intensification and widespread expansion of drone bombings in Afghanistan.
Hastings reported receiving death threats on a number of occasions, specifically mentioning that a staffer of General McChrystal had told him “We will hunt you down and kill you if we don‘t like what you write” during the time he was working on that story.
In an April 2012 article in Rolling Stone “The Rise of the Killer Drones,” Hastings reviewed the use of drones as a tool of extrajudicial assassination. In the article he notes the casual destruction of evidence, and reports that the majority of strikes are not based on targeting “known terrorists” but simply bombing anonymous people engaged in “suspicious behavior.”
One of his most recent articles dealt with a former CIA station chief in Algeria. “The Spy Who Cracked Up in the Cold” described the career of Andrew Warren who joined the CIA in 1997 and became deeply involved in torture in various countries across the Middle East and North Africa. Despite suffering from significant alcohol and drug abuse problems, Warren was appointed station chief in Algeria. He was removed two years later, based on charges of sexual assault.
His last article on BuzzFeed, “Why Democrats Love to Spy On Americans,” published on June 7, noted that the revelations of Glenn Greenwald and NSA whistleblower Snowden had exposed the party as an unscrupulous “gang of civil liberty opportunists” operating without principle.
At the time of his death, Hastings was also working on a story about Jill Kelley’s lawsuit against the FBI and Department of Defense. Kelley claims that those organizations leaked her identity as part of General Petraeus’ resignation as director of the CIA last year.
Those who would have a motive for killing Michael Hastings are confined to the government of the United States. He had no other enemies. Within the government, he was hated and feared by Republicans and Democrats alike, because he exposed the truth, wherever it led him.
Thomas Jefferson once said; “Were it left to me to decide whether we should have a government without newspapers, or newspapers without a government, I should not hesitate for a moment to prefer the latter.” Jefferson understood the role of the press in keeping our government honest. He knew that only a free press could prevent our government from eventually becoming abusive.
Michael Hastings was murdered while supporting that principle.  Now that you know, that’s one more person they will have to kill someday in a similar fashion.

GATOR

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Gator’s Rant: Dealing with the Mean Drunk

Dealing with a “mean drunk” is one of the most difficult things you may ever do. It is a dangerous task, and can quickly turn nasty.

There are a limited number of ways to deal with someone who has reached the stage of “flipping” and sprouting horns – and just when everything was starting to go so well…

First, you can fight back. Get right up in their face and tell ‘em to back the fuck off. Tell ‘em you ain’t going to take that shit off anybody so back down or back it up.

The fight occurs next, followed by cops, jail, bail, lawyers, and court. If you don’t mind the legal hassles, option #1 sounds like it might even be fun to kick the bigmouth’s ass.

Second, you can vanish.  Excuse yourself to the restroom and then fade away like a well-oiled genie. Slip out the back, Jack.

This method has its’ problems.  For example, if the place you are leaving from is your own home, your possessions might be at risk. If it is a bar, everyone will think you’re a “pussy” for backing down from a fight.  If the mean drunk is someone you care about, you are abandoning them in their hour of peril. So this one only works well with mean drunks who you don’t really give a fuck what happens to.

Third, try and reason with them.

You know, talk them down a bit. Reassure them that all is well. Soothe them.

This is the most common method used, and is also the least successful of them all.

First off, in a mean drunken state, they are going to think you are being condescending.  It does not matter how sincere you are. In fact, the more sincere you are, the more condescending it’s going to sound to a mean drunk.  Your well-ordered reason is going to be interpreted as something like “I am superior to you, and I also despise you.”

So they are not going to listen to all of your high-sounding bullshit, and they are simply going to continue to get further enraged by whatever you say to them.

Over the years, I have used all of these three primary methods of dealing with mean drunks. For the most part, all three have failed, sometimes catastrophically.

I have recently discovered a fourth method that works far better than any of the above. Nothing is 100%, but this one comes pretty damned close.

I have discovered that when a person reaches the “mean” stage, they might remain in that stage for hours, unless someone who sees what is happening intervenes.

At the mean drunk stage, bartenders must cut the drinker off. Unfortunately, this leaves them stranded at a very bad stage of drinking.

If you take away the booze at the mean drunk stage, it will continue until the person passes out a few hours later. During those hours, they might wreak havoc in one way or another.

The smart thing to do is to move them quickly through the mean drunk phase into the next stage.  Maybe the next stage they enter will be the lovey dovey stage, or the crying stage or the braggart stage or the pass out stage.

It could be anything, but it will surely be an improvement over the mean drinking stage.

So buy a mean drunk two shots as soon as they first show any belligerence. The effect is remarkable. I tried it on a friend who I will call Bill, since that’s his real name. Here is our actual conversation at the bar:

 

BILL: Goddam newspaper guys killing all the motherfuckin trees and now the deer ain’t got no cover and the huntin is all jacked up… Caint git no deer, arta hunt newspaper guys.”

ME: Bartender, double-shots of your cheapest actual whiskey for both of us.
Three minutes later…

BILL: Ashtroes cincha menchit figgen giddy-up gotdam em all.

ME: Love the Astros. Keep it up, Bill.

 

So next time you have to deal with a mean drunk, give this new method a try and see if it does any good.

(GATOR)

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A Streetcar Named Deceit…

Some time during the next 30 years, there will probably be some type of local mass-transit that runs on electricity, much like trolley cars and streetcars did sixty years ago.  It will cost hundreds of millions of dollars to build.  When this system is finally in place, we will be exactly where we once were, with little to show for over 100 years of “progress” in transportation.
The blame rightfully belongs to those bankrupt geniuses at General Motors.
In the 1950s, there were electric trolley operations in Galveston, Houston, Baytown, Pasadena, South Houston, and many smaller towns in the vicinity.  The same was true in all of the populated areas of the United States.  All cities and even most small towns had electric streetcars.
You could hop on a trolley car for a nickel and ride nearly anywhere in town. The cars of that era were wonderful even by today’s standards. They didn’t pollute the air. They were comfortable, attractive, roomy, reliable, and safe.
There were between 1,200 on 1,500 such systems operating in the United States.
So, where did they go?  Did people just stop riding them because cars and gas were so cheap?
Did they become not economically viable for some reason? Were they costing more than they were worth?  Did they fall to the budget axes?
No. Streetcar systems were popular and economical in every city where they existed, right up to their last day of service.  The people who relied on them never wanted to see them go. But there were those who wanted to see the end of the trolley, and who were willing to spend hundreds of millions of dollars to see it happen.
Starting in the 1920s, General Motors and others hatched a scheme to replace rail transportation with road transportation.  The key players included Firestone, Shell, Mack Trucks, and other large corporations who had a vested interest in seeing rail traffic moved to highways.
City by city, they used straw corporations to buy up local trolley systems. The largest of these was a newly-formed company called National City Lines, which bought the streetcar lines in over 80 cities.  National City was directly funded and financed by GM and their partners.
National City Lines would buy a streetcar line, then start dismantling it, replacing the trolleys with buses, Of course those buses were General Motors buses, with Firestone tires on them.  They filled up with Shell gasoline.  In some cities, where the lines could not be bought, GM simply bought off local politicians by giving them new Cadillacs in exchange for supporting a switch to bus service.  In other instances, the company paid analysts and “experts” to publicly encourage the switch to gas power as a more efficient way to move people and freight. It never was.
The scheme was hatched in the early 1920s in Detroit. In 1921, General Motors lost a whopping $65 million – about $1 billion in today‘s money.  The company was on the brink of complete ruin.  The financial gurus at GM advised that the automobile market was saturated.  Everyone who wanted or needed a car already had one. In those days, only one person in ten owned a car, and most people – over 90% – traveled by rail,  In fact, local rail service was the primary competition for General Motors and the auto industry as a whole.  If rail transportation could somehow be made to disappear, people would be forced to either buy a car or ride a bus.
The following year, GM mastermind Alfred P Sloane Jr. formed a special group at General Motors for the express purpose of  replacing railways with cars, trucks, and buses.
General Motors used a variety of measures, including freight leverage. GM, for decades, was the nation’s largest shipper of freight over railroads. By wielding freight traffic as a club, GM was able to persuade railroads to abandon their electric rail subsidiaries. Among these was the Southern Pacific Railroad, owner of Los Angeles’ Pacific Electric, the world’s largest trolley operator, with 1,500 miles of track in southern California. Back then, you could live well in Los Angeles without a car. The streetcars went everywhere. Another victim was the New York Central Railroad, owner of the New York State Railways, 600 miles of street railways and interurban lines in upstate New York. Another was the New Haven Railroad, owner of 1,500 miles of trolley lines in New York, Connecticut, Rhode Island and Massachusetts.  All were coerced into converting their passenger lines over to buses.  This was before air conditioning, and those buses were cramped, hot, and smelly contraptions that often broke down.  The trolleys were open-air vehicles, and quite roomy. For the passengers, it was a giant step backwards.
As the largest depositor in the nation’s leading banks, GM also used financial leverage over the electric railways, which relied heavily on those banks to supply their capital needs. According to U.S. Department of Justice documents, officials of GM visited the banks used by railways in Houston, Galveston, Philadelphia, Dallas, Kansas City and other locations, and, by offering them millions in additional deposits, persuaded their rail clients to convert to motor vehicles.
Where these measures failed, GM formed holding companies to buy up and motorize the railways directly. Thus, it helped create, organize, and finance United Cities Motor Transit as a wholly owned GM subsidiary, as well as Greyhound, Rex Finance, Omnibus Corporation, National City Lines, Pacific City Lines, American City Lines, City Coach Lines, Manning Transportation and numerous other concerns, which acquired rail systems across the country, including those in New York City, Los Angeles, Chicago, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Washington, St. Louis, Salt Lake City, Sacramento, San Diego and Oakland.
With officials of Greyhound and National City, it helped acquire and dismantle the $50 million North Shore Line, the fastest electric service in the world, providing Wisconsin’s lakeshore cities and Chicago’s northern suburbs with high-speed access to the downtown loop. Working with a pack of notorious gangsters, General Motors helped purchase and scrap the excellent system of street railways serving Minneapolis-St. Paul.
And where rail systems were publicly owned and could not be bought, like the municipal railway of St. Petersburg, Florida, GM bribed their officials instead, according to FBI files.
GM admitted, in court documents, that by the mid-1950s, its agents had canvassed more than 1,000 electric railways and that, of these, they had motorized 90 percent, more than 900 systems.
Since this conspiracy destroyed a very efficient and beneficial industry, there was antitrust action taken – but all that came of the proceedings were fines of $5,000 for each company involved and a fine of $1 for the treasurer of GM, who oversaw much of National City Lines’ operations.
So now you know why you have to sit in gridlocked traffic on the freeway, Now you know why an efficient and economical public service was done away with and replaced with a less-efficient form of transportation.  Now you know why those poor bastards in New York City have to chase down taxicabs to go anywhere. And now you know why we have to go back to square one and start over at the same place we were 65 years ago to fix our public transportation.
All because some greedy motherfuckers decided that what was good for America was NOT good for General Motors.  It ranks as one of the most Machiavellian plots in the long and sordid history of corporate America.  And it’s going to cost billions just to get back to where we were.
Now that you know the truth, that’s one more person they’ll someday have to kill…           GATOR

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Make Me Laugh & I Will Buy You A Beer

An older man had met a younger woman, but unfortunately he was unable to last very long before he would orgasm during sex. A caring man, he was worried that he was disappointing his new lover, so he called his doctor for advice. The doc told him that masturbating before sex often helped men last longer during the act. The man decided, “What the hell, I’ll try it.”
He spent the rest of the day thinking about where to do it. He couldn’t do it in his office. He thought about the restroom, but that was too open. He considered an alley, but figured that was too unsafe. Finally, he realized his solution. On his way home, he pulled his truck over on the side of the highway. He got out and crawled underneath as if he was examining the truck. Satisfied with the privacy, he undid his pants and started to masturbate. He closed his eyes and thought of his lover. As he grew closer to orgasm, he felt a quick tug at the bottom of his pants. Not wanting to lose his mental fantasy or the orgasm, he kept his eyes shut and replied, “What?” He heard, “This is the police. What the hell are you doing?” The man replied, “I’m checking out the rear axle, it’s busted.” The cop says, “Well, you better check your brakes too, because your truck rolled down the hill 5 minutes ago.”

A guy goes to a supermarket and notices a beautiful blonde who waves at him and says hello. He’s rather taken back, because he can’t place where he knows her from, so he asks, “Do you know me?” To which she replies, “I think you’re the father of one of my kids.”
Now he thinks back to the only time he has ever been unfaithful to his wife and says, “Oh my God, are you the stripper from my bachelor party that I laid on the pool table with all my buddies watching, while your partner whipped me with wet celery and then stuck a carrot in my butt?” She replies, “No, I’m your son’s math teacher.”

A monkey is sitting in a tree, smoking a joint, when a lizard walks past. The lizard looks up and says to the monkey “Hey! what are you doing?” The monkey says “Smoking a joint, come up and join me, my cold-blooded friend.”
So the lizard climbs up and sits next to the monkey and they have another joint. After a while the lizard says his mouth is ‘dry’, and that he’s going to get a drink from the river.
At the riverbank, the lizard is so stoned that he leans too far over and falls in. A Crocodile sees this and swims over to the stoned lizard, helping him to the side.
He then asks the lizard, “What’s the matter with you?!” The lizard explains to the crocodile that he was sitting in the tree, smoking a joint with his new monkey friend. He then explained how his mouth got dry, and that he was so wasted that, when he went to get a drink from the river, he fell in!
The inquisitive crocodile says he has to check this out. He walks into the jungle and finds the tree where the monkey is sitting, finishing a joint. He looks up and says “Hey, MONKEY!” The Monkey looks down and says “FUUUUUCK, DUDE……. how much water did you drink?”

Well Wally gets home late one night and Linda, his wife, says “Where the hell have you been?” Wally replies “I was out getting a tattoo!”
“A tattoo”? She frowned. “What kind of tattoo did you get?”
“I got a hundred dollar bill on my pecker!” he said proudly.
“What the hell were you thinking”? She said, shaking her head in disgust. “Why on earth would you get a hundred dollar bill tattooed on your hootie?”
“Well, one, I like to watch my money grow. Two, once in a while I like to play with my money. Three, I like how money feels in my hand. And, lastly, instead of you going out shopping, you can stay right here at home and blow a hundred bucks anytime you want.”

A five year old boy and his grandfather are sitting on the front porch
together, when grandpa pulls a beer out of a cooler. the little boy asked,
“Grandpa, can I have a beer?” Grandpa replied, “Can your dick touch your ass?”
The little boy answered no. Grandpa said “Then you’re not man enough to have a beer.”
A little later Grandpa lights up a cigar. The little boy asked, “Grandpa, can I have a cigar?” Once again, Grandpa asked, “Can your dick touch your ass?”
The little boy answered no, again. Grandpa said, “Then your not man enough to have a cigar.” A little later, the little boy came out of the house with a cookie.
Grandpa asked, “Can I have a cookie?”
The boy asked “Can your dick touch your ass?”
Grandpa replied, “Hell yeah my dick can touch my ass!”
The boy replied, “Then go fuck yourself, Grandma made these cookies for me!”

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It Really Happened…

Kemah Collector Obtains Historic Pair Of Pants
A pair of pants once owned by a nephew of Howard Hughes has been purchased on eBay by a Kemah collector.
Fred Elliman has one of the largest trouser collections in the greater Houston area, including a pair of Bermuda shorts worn by Rodney Dangerfield, and a pair of yellow spandex bicycle shorts that once belonged to John Travolta.
The Hughes pants reportedly had been owned by Rodney Hughes, a distant relative of the legendary recluse who died in 1977.
They are size 38 x 31 gray flannel, made by Wolf Brothers of Miami, Florida.
The winning bid was $67.00 including shipping. “It’s a bargain” Elliman said, noting that similar items can go as high as $2,500 and more. “I’m looking forward to displaying them, once they‘ve been cleaned.”
The pants may have sold for a lower price because they are somewhat soiled, with what appears to be rather large “skid marks.”

Son Sues His Own Momma Over Lotto Winnings
A League City woman who won $3 million in the lottery last year is being sued in Superior Court by her son, who claims he is entitled to some of her winnings.
Jeannie Rabble, 53, was working as a part-time pet nanny last September when she found out that she had picked the winning numbers in the state lotto.
Mrs. Rabble did not move out of her trailer or buy a new car with the winnings.  According to court papers filed by the plaintiff in the lawsuit, she bought a diamond encrusted gold crack pipe and started smoking the drug all day and night.  She even neglected buying groceries and stopped doing laundry.
Luther Rabble, Jeannie’s 22 year-old son, says that he tried to help his mother manage her money, but quit after she hit him with an aluminum baseball bat and threatened him with a shotgun.
In the lawsuit, Luther seeks to be compensated for the work he did in trying to get her affairs in order.  He is also asking the court to declare Jeannie Rabble incompetent, and make him the trustee of her money.
In a telephone interview, Jeannie denies most of what her son says in the lawsuit.  She claims the device referred to as a crack pipe is actually an incense burner, and that her son is simply trying to steal her money. “I did nail that little bastard with a ball-bat, that part is true” she said.
The case will be heard in the fall.

Helium-Filled Bounce House Shot Down By Air Force Drone
Kirby Burby thought he had a great idea for his daughter’s 11th birthday party in Alvin last month: Rent a bounce house, then fill it with helium instead of plain old air.
“I figured it might try to float off, so I tied it down to some yard furniture and filled it up.” he said afterwards, “Then it took off, chairs and all, straight up into the sky.”
Luckily, no one was inside when the liftoff occurred.  The floating collection of objects was detected about 30 minutes later by the radars located at Ellington Field, and a drone was scrambled to identify the object.
Lieutenant Ken Fogelman operated the MQ-1B Predator drone which was launched to intercept and identify.
“As soon ad I got a good look at it on the screen, I knew exactly what it was,” Fogelman said, “and since it presented a navigation hazard, I blasted the shit out of it.”
The rental agency has charged Burby $4,000 in replacement costs, and he may also receive a fine up to $25,000 from the FAA.

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Phil Ochs – The Singing Journalist

West Texas was a place of suffering during the Great Depression.  A Jewish doctor of Polish descent arrived there with his wife in 1938, after being sent from New  Jersey  by his employer, the United States Army.  Jacob and Gertrude Ochs settled in El Paso, where their son Phil was born into a world about to go to war in December of 1940.

Phil Ochs at Newport

 

Phil would become a tremendous influence, a tragic figure, and later, a forgotten man,
Raised in the 1940s and 1950s, he was an admirer of John Wayne and World War II hero-turned-actor Audie Murphy (as well as James Dean), and as a boy seemed to accept a lot of the notions that Wayne and Murphy stood for.  At 16, Ochs chose to attend Staunton Military Academy in Virginia. He lived the life of a cadet successfully for two years before entering Ohio State University in 1958. Music had already begun to attract him, and he’d developed an interest in country music, which later helped provide his introduction to folk music. It was while at Ohio State that he was introduced to the songs of Woody Guthrie, Lee Hays, and Pete Seeger, and the protest tradition they represented.  He bought a guitar for $6 and taught himself to play it in his spare time.
By the end of the 1950s, Phil was leading protests on campus against mandatory ROTC training. Ochs moved from Ohio to New York in the early ’60s and was soon a prolific writer of the protest songs then in vogue. His initial recording efforts were heard on compilations for Broadside, Folkways, and Vanguard (which recorded him at the Newport Folk Festival).
A songwriter and singer who was cast in the Woody Guthrie and Pete Seegar mold, Phil spent his career in the shadow of Bob Dylan.  Unlike Dylan, who remained aloof regarding the social issues of the time, Phil was a true believer, dedicated to making the world a better place through the power of music.  He believed in the causes he sang about, and this may have been his downfall. Phil considered himself to be a journalist whose medium was that of song.  He used his gift to tell stories that were relevant and important.
In contrast to Dylan, who was an enigmatic media star after 1964 – Ochs assumed the role of outlaw, writing and performing songs that told the unvarnished truth.  His sincere voice made every word count, and he made his meaning quite clear.
In “Here’s To The State Of Mississippi” he tackles racism and violence:
And here’s to the cops of Mississippi
They’re chewing their tobacco as they lock the prison door
Their bellies bounce inside them when they knock you to the floor
No they don’t like taking prisoners in their private little war
Behind their broken badges there are murderers and more.”
In “The Cannons Of Christianity” Phil took on religious hypocrisy.
His anti-war songs were the best ever written, including “I Ain’t Marching Anymore”, “Chaplain Of The War”, and many others.
His songs about the justice system showed a deep insight into the social problems lurking there, including ideas that only became a subject for serious discussion many years later, like false confessions, the subject of “The Confession” – the first verse of which says:
There’s nothing as cold as the freeze in your soul at the moment when you are arrested.
There’s nothing as real as the iron and steel on the handcuffs when you protested.
You race through the night in a prison of fright as you head for a quicksand of questions.
And children unborn will see you in scorn if ever you make a confession.
Ochs moved many to a fresh round of tears about President Kennedy with “Crucifixion.”
Because his lyrics were controversial, and contained open references to such taboos as smoking marijuana, his recordings were relegated to “undergound” radio stations and counterculture record shops. But for all of his outlaw reputation – which began coalescing around him as early as 1965 in some establishment circles – his work ended up infiltrating high school classrooms through the songs “The Highwayman” and “The Bells” the latter an extraordinarily early intersection between folk song and art song.  Eventually he too would follow Dylan into electric music and more personal and romantic compositions.
But Ochs had something extra, even in those years: Street credibility among the people who cared – where Dylan, due to his own various personal situations, spent much of the late ’60s as an enigmatic recluse, respected for his songs but rather unknowable and remote.
Ochs was in Chicago for the 1968 Democratic National Convention, when thousands of young citizens (supported by a few brave politicians) took to the streets to scream “Enough!” about the Vietnam War, and were brutally suppressed by the police under orders from the city’s mayor. He even ended up as a witness at the subsequent conspiracy trial of the seven alleged conspirators behind the demonstration. And no matter how far his style advanced, and how complex his songwriting became, he never abandoned his involvement with the issues he believed in.
Apart from American involvement in the Vietnam War, which dragged on into the mid-’70s, he saw many of the causes that he cared about move toward some measure of fulfillment as the 1970s dawned; but personal problems, including clinical depression and alcoholism, left him drained, psychologically and musically.
By the middle of the decade he found there was nothing left inside, and he finally died by his own hand in 1976. It was only after his tragic tailspin and eventual death that he was properly appreciated as one of the most sincere and humane songwriters of his day, whether detailing political atrocities or more poetic concerns.  As the decades have passed, he has been largely forgotten, but in his era, Phil Ochs was one of the most influential of American songwriters.

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Gator’s Rant: Adopting A Mutt From The Doggie Jail

Why is it so hard to adopt a dog from the dog pound?  I can buy a dog on Craigslist or at a pet store, and take him home right away. But when you try to adopt a pet at the pound, they are so careful about who is allowed to adopt that I am sure many people just give up and find their animals elsewhere.
I recently adopted a nice little doggle from the Humane Society in Galveston.  They were wonderful people and very helpful, but it was still a complicated procedure.  I even had to have a police officer visit my home to look around and make sure it would be a safe and proper environment for little Pookey to crap on.  The whole process took over a week.
Yeah, I know that there are some people who would adopt a pet, then mistreat it.  Nobody wants that to happen. But even with all of their caution, it will still happen sometimes.
The kind of people who make bad pet parents might not be able to get a stamp of approval from the Humane Society or the SPCA, but they will nevertheless get the pets they want, one way or another. They will buy them from dealers and private sellers. Heck, they will even steal them.
It’s normal to spend over $50 to adopt a cat from the pound. They are as careful about cats as they are about dogs.  If you can’t convince them that you are going to be a good Cat Daddy, they will not let you take one home.
Meanwhile, there are free kittens available everywhere, and nobody wants to know how many square feet of carpet that cat will have to sharpen his claws on.
You might remember Whiskerville Animal Sanctuary, the private shelter in Texas City where the animals were neglected, and a court case finally resulted in an Animal Cruelty conviction against Mrs. Wydell Dixon.
Although she was vilified in the press, Mrs. Dixon was (and is) an animal lover who spent her life savings creating a sanctuary for cats.
Unfortunately, she ran out of money and couldn’t maintain the population of animals which accumulated there. As things went from bad to worse, she couldn’t bring herself to close up and turn the cats over to another agency where some of the cats might be “put to sleep” so she tried to keep things going the best she could. Catastrophic failure was the end result.
But even when things were at their very worst, it was never easy to adopt at Whiskerville.
It ought to be very simple to adopt a cat.
If you can fog a mirror and show ID, they ought to shake your hand and congratulate you quickly, before you change your mind.
If you’re broke, they ought to let you take him free, just to get him off taxpayer support.
There is no demand for cats.  In many places they outnumber the human population.  In San Leon, there are eight cats for every person.  Cats who are homeless are referred to as “feral” cats. Most of them started off with a pink ribbon around their necks as a gift to some little brat who whined “Momma I wont a kitty!” As soon as they were big enough to piss on everything and claw up some priceless antiques, they were taken for a ride.
It ought to be easy to adopt a dog. ID and proof of address should be enough.
I realize that this would cause a few cases of animal abuse from time to time.  But isn’t that already the case?  Overall, more pets would find loving homes.
The thing that pissed me off at the pound was how many pit bulls and pit bull mixes are there.  This is because of all the morons who get a pit bull to authenticate their status as uneducated rednecks, then get evicted from the trailer park and “dump” their dog on the side of the road somewhere.
There are lots of jackasses out there who get pits bulls and intentionally train them from puppies to be mean and aggressive.
These dogs end up at the Humane Society or SPCA, where an occasional inbred fuckjob with a swastika tattoo will show up and ask if any pit bulls are available for adoption…
Hey, on second thought, maybe they should screen people who want to adopt.

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The Truth About Waco – An Eyewitness Account

Hello, my name is David Thibodeaux. I was one of only nine survivors of Waco – 74 men, women and children died – and I’ve devoted the last few years to understanding what happened. Here is how I ended up in Waco, and the truth about what really happened there:
Back in 1990 I had been drumming in a local rock band. I needed some new sticks, and on the way to a gig stopped in at the music store. Seeing the sticks in my hand, two strangers introduced themselves and asked if I was in a band. The two were Koresh and Steve Schneider. Schneider gave me his card and I handed it back. The backside was full of Bible verses. “You guys are a Christian band,” I said, uninterested. But after some small talk, I took the card back, and a few days later gave him a call. Over the next few weeks I hung out with Koresh and some other musicians in his band. I got to know David and was somewhat impressed. Having never paid much attention to the Bible, I was astonished to find that it actually did have some relevance to my life.
That fall I went to Waco to play music and meet the larger community. The people at Mount Carmel were extremely involved in knowing and learning the Bible. People have made it seem as if Mount Carmel came out of nowhere. In fact, Koresh was the third leader of a community that spun off from the Seventh Day Adventists in the 1930s. They had been living outside of Waco since 1933. The people around Koresh came from many backgrounds. One irony of Waco is that right-wing extremists and racists look to Mount Carmel as a beacon. If they realized that so many of us were black, Asian and Latino, and that we despised their hateful politics and anger, they would probably feel betrayed. We weren’t political at all – just Bible students.
We had a “live and let live” attitude that had allowed us to get along well with our neighbors for over 60 years. We certainly weren’t as isolated as people seem to think. We shopped in town, worked in the community, and our band played weekend gigs in Waco nightclubs. I worked as a bartender in Waco and I doubt a single customer would tell you that I stood out in any way.
Many have suggested that Koresh was a Jim Jones-like madman. He wasn’t. He had no plans for mass suicide. In contrast to Jones, Koresh allowed members to leave at any time, and many of them did, even during the siege. But many stayed, too, not because we had to, but because we wanted to. We felt the FBI and ATF had been dishonest from the start.
Few Americans realize that on February 28, 1993 when ATF agents in National Guard helicopters zoomed in on Mount Carmel Center, they did so with guns blazing. The initial raid, in which four ATF agents and six Davidians were killed, was a publicity stunt for the 20/20 television show, who were there to document it. ATF employees would later admit the underlying charges were “a complete fabrication.” Everyone knew David Koresh hated drugs. Charges that we were assembling an arsenal of weapons to be used against the government were equally off-base. We had nothing to hide. In fact, weeks before the raid, Koresh offered the ATF the opportunity to come out to Mount Carmel and inspect the building and every single weapon we had. They refused.
The most disturbing allegation was that we were engaging in child abuse there. The children of Mount Carmel were treasured, and they were a vital part of our small society. Occasionally kids were paddled for misbehaving, but the strict rule was they could never be paddled in anger. The parents did the paddling themselves. Our kids were happy, healthy, and well cared for. The biggest lie, though, is the government’s claim that we set the building fire ourselves, to commit suicide.
On the April morning when the FBI finally made its move, we had been under siege for 51 days.
It was the coldest spring in Texas history that year. The FBI had cut off our power, so we had to heat the building with kerosene lamps. It was kerosene from these lamps and the storage canisters, spilled as a result of collapsing walls and FBI munitions fire, that is cited as evidence that we doused Mount Carmel with an intent of burning it. The 400 rounds of CS gas that the FBI shot into Mount Carmel was mixed with methylene chloride, which is flammable and can explode. The United States and 130 other countries signed the Chemical Weapons Convention banning the use of CS gas in war. Apparently there is no prohibition against its use against American citizens. The amount of gas the FBI shot into Mount Carmel was twice the density considered life threatening to an adult and even more dangerous for little children.
I never heard any discussion of suicide or starting fires. If we wanted to kill ourselves, we would not have waited 51 cold, hungry, scary days to do it.  It remains hard for me to clearly remember what happened after the tanks made their move. Walls collapsed, the building shook, gas billowed in and the air was full of terrible sounds: the hiss of gas, the shattering of windows, the bang of exploding rockets, the raw squeal of tank tracks. There were screams of children and the gasps and sobs of those who could not protect themselves from the noxious CS. This continued for hours. Inside, the notion of leaving seemed insane; with tanks smashing through your walls and rockets smashing through the windows, our very human reaction was not to walk out into a hail of death, but to find a safe corner and pray. As the tanks rolled in and began smashing holes in the building and spraying gas into the building, the FBI loudspeakers blared, “This is not an assault! This is not an assault!” It was a very surreal and personal apocalypse.
Around noon I heard someone yell, “Fire!” I thought first of the women and children, whom I had been separated from. I tried desperately to make my way to them, but it was impossible: rubble blocked off passageways, and the fire was spreading quickly. I dropped to my knees to pray, and the wall next to me erupted in flame. I smelled my singed hair and screamed. Community member Derek Lovelock, who had ended up in the same place as me, ran through a hole in the wall and I followed. Moments later, the building exploded.
In the years since the fire, I’ve tried desperately to find out what really happened. What I’ve discovered is disturbing. There is convincing evidence that the FBI did more than just create the conditions for a deadly inferno. The disclosures about the use of pyrotechnic weapons and incendiary flares show that they might have actually sparked the blaze. A Defense Department document says that members of a US Army Delta Force unit were present at the siege. The military is barred by law from domestic police work.  Infrared images taken from surveillance planes indicate that the FBI was – despite its denials – firing shots into the building and shooting at Branch Davidians who tried to flee. There are photographs that show one of the metal double-doors at the entrance riddled with bullet indentations that could only have come from shooters outside Mount Carmel.
Tapes of the negotiations between the FBI and Koresh catch government agents lying about details big and small, as if they wanted the discussions to fail, and wanted only an excuse to attack.
There are other questions: Why did the FBI call the local hospital hours before the fire and ask how many beds were available in its burn unit? Why did it not allow firefighters in? What did the FBI negotiator mean when he threateningly said we “should buy some fire insurance”? Why did the FBI not allow anyone access to the crime scene, despite their promise to the Texas Rangers that they would be allowed to inspect first? Why did they ever raid the compound to begin with, since no charges from the original warrant were ever filed or substantiated?
I often wonder why I survived the blaze. Perhaps it was to be some sort of a witness.
Federal agents conducted a police raid that wasn’t necessary based on charges that would never stand up in any US court. They refused to negotiate in good faith, played horrible sounds of animals being slaughtered for weeks, and finally set our home on fire.
These actions caused 74 innocent Texans to die horrific deaths. They also inspired a number of extremists – people like Oklahoma City bomber Timothy McVeigh.
Every April I remember what happened at Waco and pray to God that it will never happen again. This is why our military should never be involved in police work, and why our police should not be further militarized by drones and combat training.  (DAVID THIBODEAUX)

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Ghosts Of The Coast: Local Haunted Places

Whether you believe in ghosts or not, most people enjoy a good ghost story. Here are a few for your enjoyment. We have the good (or bad) fortune to live in one of America’s most haunted areas. There are numerous ghost tours in the Houston and Galveston area, as entrepreneurs vie to earn a buck off the disembodied. Some of them are expert, some are just entrepreneurs.
The original paranormal investigator of area hauntings is the “Ghost Man”, a local musician who has conducted a casual tour of haunted locations in Galveston for many years. CNN/Today listed him as one of the top 5 “Ghost Tours” in the US, but he just laughs about it and says he does it as a hobby. Television appearances of the Ghost Man and his descriptions of hauntings indicate more interest in the history and identity of ghosts, than in the manifestations themselves. For our skeptical purposes, that worked out just right. The Ghost Man was not our primary source, but he was a lot of help in gathering background for this article, especially the Island locations. There are many more hauntings than we can list. These are the ones we have the most information about:
GALVESTON ISLAND:
The “Face” On The Wall: The scariest haunted location on the Island is simply referred to as “The Face”. You may have seen the story about it on Unsolved Mysteries. There is a building located on UTMB property that was constructed in 1972. Shortly after the building was completed, a man’s face appeared on the masonry in the center of the west side of the building. UTMB asked the original contractor to sandblast the masonry to remove the evil-looking visage, and it was done. Pete Klein was paid $100 to remove the face, and lost several times that amount after having to rent equipment and purchase a new compressor. An employee quit halfway through the job, saying he couldn’t look at the face. Klein finished the job himself. The face was gone. However, within a couple of weeks, the face reappeared on another panel of masonry on the same wall. Some say it was the same face, some say it wasn’t. All say the faces were similar though. Reports say that several efforts at removing the image again only served to make it even clearer. The only attempt to remove the second face that we can document happened in 1993, when maintenance workers sandblasted the face on two successive days with no results. Their efforts were prompted by the death of a nursing student. She and a friend had parked their car on Harborside Drive to get a look at the face, which had become something of an attraction. While they sat there, the car slipped out of gear and rolled backwards into the bay. One of the girls died. The face is still there. It is inside a fenced area with “No Trespassing” signs, and UTMB will not allow anyone near it. Some have said the face is that of pirate Jean LaFitte, because it faces his old homesite. Others believe a different story. Before the building was constructed, the lot was inhabited by a homeless man who had once been a sea captain. When construction began, he was evicted from the site by UTMB security. The contractors then bulldozed his shack and all his possessions into the bay, to level the site. Having lost the memorabilia of his lifetime, including a family and children overseas, he soon drank himself to death, swearing vengeance and vitriol. Some believe it is his face on the wall. A psychic hired by a television station in the 1990’s visited the site and began babbling hysterically on live television about bodies being buried nearby. Paranormal investigators say the haunting at this location is evil and dangerous, and advise people not to visit.
Ashton Villa – has been called the most haunted place in America, because there has been so much well-documented supernatural phenomena there. Most of the haunting has to do with Bettie Brown, eccentric daughter of a wealthy businessman. Poltergeist-like activity has been reported, including locks opening and closing and switches turning on and off. Bettie was an unusual woman for her time, a liberated, artistic, and attractive woman who smoked cigars and drove wildly through Galveston in her automobile.
Market Building – The old Trolley Station Market Building on the Strand has a long history of apparitions, dating back at least to 1900. The ghost of a young girl plays with a ball and sings songs in the back stairwell. Civil War era soldiers have been seen in the windows. A loft inside the gift shop on the first floor has cold spots that defy all logic.
Haunted Hotels: Shortly after the Galvez Hotel opened in 1910, a honeymooning couple engaged room #500. The man was killed by a car while carrying luggage up to the room. The bride killed herself with a derringer after hearing that her new husband had died. Since then, room #500 has been the scene of many reports of a woman crying.
The Tremont House Hotel also has a haunting, dating back to 1871, when a hotel called the Belmont occupied the site. In that year, a salesman staying at the Belmont won a large sum of money gambling nearby. When he returned to his room, he was robbed and killed. Although he was killed on the fourth floor, it is the bar area downstairs that has been most active, with glasses jumping off shelves and similar paranormal events.
THE MAINLAND:
Haunted High Schools: Clear Creek High School in League City is a location where several people have reported spectral forms sitting in a gazebo outside the band hall and auditorium. The gazebo commemorates students who have died while attending the school. The auditorium at LaMarque High is also said to be haunted, particularly the fifth and sixth rows, where a janitor working on a ladder fell to his death in 1979.
Haunted bridge: In 1956, a young man who attended Texas City High School decided to join the Air Force to avoid accepting responsibility for a local girl’s pregnancy. After boot camp, he returned for a few days leave before reporting to San Antonio. The girl, who had given birth to a boy only a month before, heard that the young airman was partying with friends at an old iron bridge that still exists on FM 519 in Hitchcock. She borrowed a car and took the infant to the site. She confronted the man and tried to get him to hold the baby, but he refused to take the child. The hysterical woman threw the infant off the bridge, where it died. Witnesses have reported hearing the sound of a baby crying at the location.
Accident Victim on Hwy 146: There is an apparent haunting of Highway 146, directly north of the Dickinson Bayou Bridge. The junction at the foot of the bridge is probably the most dangerous in Galveston County. Numerous wrecks and several fatalities have occurred there over the years. A slender woman with dark hair has been seen beside the road by motorists, particularly at night or in the evening. Several persons report pulling over to offer a ride, only to find she had vanished. The possible identity of this ghost is not known.
Girl Scout Camp: Seabrook’s Camp Casa Mare – Two campers fell into an old well and were trapped in 1986, and one of them suffocated. It has since been covered, but many report they still hear someone screaming and clawing to get out.  Also, the dorm nearest to the shore is a site where poltergeist activity has been reported. Lights and showers turn on and off and campers report hearing things.
As I said at the start, there are many more hauntings in the area. The hauntings by 1900 Storm victims are numerous and well documented.  Ghosts seem to get tired of haunting places after a few years, and move on. This is why we hear no reports of ghosts of the cannibals who once lived here, or even of their victims.
As for me, I will continue to haunt the local clubs. There is nothing spooky about the “spirits” I prefer to investigate – they are found inside of whiskey bottles…     (GATOR)

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Make Me Laugh & I Will Buy You A Beer

A married couple have been stranded on a deserted island for many years. One day another man washes up on shore. He and the wife become attracted to each other right away, but realize they must be creative if they are to engage in any hanky-panky. The husband, however, is very glad to see the second man there. “Now we will be able to have three people doing eight hour shifts in the watchtower, rather than two people doing 12-hour shifts.”
The newcomer is only too happy to help and in fact volunteers to do the first shift. He climbs
up the tower to stand watch. Soon the couple on the ground are placing stones in a circle to
make a fire to cook supper. The second man yells down, “Hey, no screwing!” They yell back,
“We’re not screwing!” A few minutes later they start to put driftwood into the stone circle. Again the second man yells down, “Hey, no screwing!” Again they yell back, “We’re not screwing!” Later they are putting palm leaves on the roof of their shack to patch leaks. Once again the second man yells down, “Hey, I said no screwing!” They yell back, “We’re not screwing!”
Eventually the shift is over and the second man climbs down from the tower to be replaced by the husband. He’s not even halfway up before the wife and her new friend are hard at it. The husband looks out from the tower and says, “Son-of-a-gun. From up here it DOES look like they’re screwing.

A wife arrived home after a long shopping trip, and was horrified to find her husband in bed with a young, lovely thing.
Just as she was about to storm out of the house, her husband stopped her with these words:
“Before you leave, I want you to hear how this all came about. Driving home, I saw this young
girl, looking poor and tired, I offered her a ride. She was hungry, so I brought her home and fed her some of the roast you had forgotten about in the refrigerator.
Her shoes were worn out so I gave her a pair of your shoes you didn’t wear because they were
out of style. She was cold so I gave her that new birthday sweater you never wore even once
because the color didn’t suit you. Her slacks were worn out so I gave her a pair of yours that you don’t fit into anymore.
Then as she was about to leave the house, she paused and asked,
‘Is there anything else that your wife doesn’t use anymore?’
“And so, here we are!”

There were two gay guys living together. One of them lacked chest hair and it seemed to become a real problem for him.
So, one day he decided to visit the doctor to see why he had no chest hair and if there was anything he could do about it.
Well, the doctor said there was nothing wrong with the guy, and really the only thing he could do to try and stimulate hair growth was to smother Vaseline all over his chest daily.
The guy was elated. He went home and immediately smothered his chest in Vaseline. When his partner came home and jumped into bed with him, he felt the Vaseline and asked, “What in the hell are you doing?”
“The doctor said if I put Vaseline on my chest I might be able to grow some hair”
“You idiot,” said his partner, “Think about it. If that were true you’d have a pony tail coming out of your ass by now.”

Dave and Harry were swimming. They saw a pregnant woman drowning and quickly pulled her to safety. Dave starts giving her a mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Harry opens her legs and puts his mouth on her genitalia.
Dave: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING??!
Harry: You save the mother, I’ll save the baby!

A DEA Agent stopped at a ranch in Texas and talked to an old rancher. He told the rancher, “I need to inspect your ranch for illegally grown drugs.” The rancher said, “okay, but don’t go into that field over there…”, as he pointed out the location.
The DEA Agent verbally exploded and said, “look mister, I have the authority of the federal government with me!” Reaching into his rear back pocket, the arrogant officer removed his badge and proudly displayed it to the rancher. “See this fucking badge?! This badge means I can go wherever I want… On any land! No questions asked, no answers given! Do you understand old man?!”
The rancher kindly nodded, apologized, and went about his chores. Moments later, the rancher heard loud screams, he looked up and saw the DEA agent running for his life, being chased by the ranchers big Santa Gertrudis Bull…… With every step the bull was gaining ground on the officer, and it was likely that he’d sure enough get gored before he reached safety. The officer was clearly terrified. The old rancher threw down his tools, ran as fast as he could to the fence, and yelled at the top of his lungs…..
“YOUR BADGE! SHOW HIM YOUR FUCKING BADGE!”

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It Really Happened…

Giant Ring Of Marijuana Smoke Discovered In Space
NASA astronomers have something new to look upon in the night sky, courtesy of marijuana smokers from around the world.
Sky-watchers have spotted a faint ring of gray marijuana smoke orbiting our planet.
The ring extends about half way to the moon and can only be seen through a telescope at this time.
NASA Public Affairs spokesperson Kimberly Burke issued a statement which read in part::
“We know the gas giant planets–Jupiter, Saturn, Uranus and Neptune all have rings. Now our own planet has a small ring too.”
NASA scientists performed mass spectrographs on the ring and made the astonishing discovery during March.
“When someone exhales a puff of marijuana smoke, the smoke just keeps going up in the sky – apparently all the way to outer space” said Dr. Harold Druller of the Johnson Space Center’s research staff.
Astronomers believe the ring is growing every day and it will soon be visible without a telescope.

Illegal Aliens Caught Crossing Border Using Circus Cannon
In an item that qualifies for the Just When You Thought You’d Heard It All Department comes some astounding news from the city country music singer Marty Robbins sang about in his hit “El Paso.”
A member of the United States Border Patrol has informed Gator Press that he recently discovered a brand new method by which illegal aliens are entering into the U.S.
The agent said that  while he was patrolling an area down by the Rio Grande, the river that separates Texas from Mexico, he spotted a long, bright shiny object. As he looked through his binoculars he noticed that the object appeared to be a cannon, like the ones used by circus performers.
The agent said that as he sat and surveyed the situation intently, the cannon suddenly resonated with a loud boom and he actually saw a man, who appeared to be about 5-foot-2-inches tall, shoot out of the cannon and fly over the river onto the U.S. side.
The agent quickly followed the human cannonball and saw him as he hurried to get out of a huge mobile safety net that had been set up among some bushes on the US side.
The officer tried to follow him but the human cannonball jumped on the back of a waiting Harley Davidson which drove off at a high rate of speed toward New Mexico.
Officials from Mexico’s Bureau of Border Relations were asked by U.S. Immigration officials to investigate the huge cannon.
They reported that they thoroughly searched the area, and could not locate the so called circus cannon anywhere.

New Study Reveals That New Studies Are Overrated
A recent study conducted at the University of Texas has concluded that studies are really not that informative and that those who study studies, though studious, studied too much.
Speaking from his study, Professor Jason Barlow, who studied studies while a student at  East Texas Truckers Academy said:
“Studying studies, especially new studies is stupendous however, to be honest, after a few days another study, a newer study, replaces the former study, thus making the original new study no longer new; just a study.
“I confirm and concur that this new study that studied new studies is correct, however, since this article was written and subsequently published, that new study is no longer new and has undoubtedly been replaced by a newer more up to date study.”

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THE FIRST ELECTRIC LEAD GUITARIST – T-BONE WALKER


His real name was Aaron Thibodeaux Walker. The nickname “T-Bone” is a bastardization of his middle name. He was born in Linden, Texas in 1910, and died in 1975. Walker was the first guitar player ever to play behind his head while doing splits, play with his teeth, etc.


His shows were often populated with musicians wanting to learn his methods. He was a “guitar player’s guitar player” and a great entertainer as well. He played gigs at now-defunct clubs all over Texas, including Galveston during the high-stakes gambling era.
Suffice it to say that Walker is the inventor of modern electric lead guitar. He was the first to amplify smoking guitar lead solos for public consumption, as early as 1940, and thus initiated a revolution so total that it has become universal.
BB King called him his primary influence. Gatemouth Brown, Pee Wee Crayton, Goree Carter, Pete Mayes, and other Texas guitars followed in his wake during the 40’s and 50’s. The lead guitar work invented and performed by early Texas guitarists became the basis for what we now call classic rock. Easily the earliest and most innovative of them all was T Bone Walker. He could sing, dance (he was paid to dance professionally in Hollywood in the 1930s), and play. He composed music regularly on various instruments.
It seemed to come natural, they say. His stepfather, Marco Washington, played bass fiddle with the Dallas String Band, and T-Bone followed his stepdad’s example by learning every stringed instrument he could lay his talented hands on. One notable visitor to the band’s jam sessions was the legendary Blind Lemon Jefferson. During the early ’20s, Walker led the sightless guitarist from bar to bar as the older man played for tips. Jefferson would “work it” with the guitar for drinks, while T-Bone “worked it” with the ladies.
Walker was exposed to some truly outstanding guitar talent during his formative years: In addition to Jefferson, jazz great Charlie Christian was one of his regular playing partners.
In 1929, T-Bone recorded his first record, a 78 rpm for Columbia, “Wichita Falls Blues”, backed by “Trinity River Blues,”
The sessions were recorded in Dallas, and Walker was billed as Oak Cliff T-Bone. Pianist Douglas Fernell was his musical partner for the disc. Unfortunately, it didn’t sell many copies.
T-Bone headed to Los Angeles during the mid-’30s, where he bummed around with various groups. Around 1939, he concocted an electric guitar and amp setup, an unheard-of device. It was built out of old radio parts, and produced an eerie sound that no one had yet heard. T-Bone played clubs with his daring new toy after assembling his own small 5 piece combo. His show featured acrobatic stage moves, playing behind his back, and other crowd-pleasers.
The show was a sensation, and booking agents in southern California couldn’t get enough of the talented Texan and his brand new style. He was widely copied by competitors.
Capitol Records was a small label in 1942, when Walker signed on and cut “Mean Old World” and “I Got a Break Baby” with boogie master Freddie Slack hammering the 88s. This was the first sign of the T-Bone Walker that electric guitar aficionados know, his fluid, elegant riffs and mellow, burnished vocals set a standard that all generations of electric guitar soloists would measure themselves by.
Chicago’s Rhumboogie Club served as Walker’s home away from home for a few years. He even cut a few sides for the joint’s house label in 1945 under the direction of pianist Marl Young. Walker signed with L.A.-based Black & White Records in 1946 and proceeded to amass a stunning legacy.  The immortal “Call It Stormy Monday (But Tuesday Is Just as Bad)” was the product of a 1947 Black & White date with Teddy Buckner on trumpet and invaluable pianist Lloyd Glenn in the backing quintet. Many of T-Bone’s finest recordings were smoky after-hours blues, though an occasional up-tempo entry – “T-Bone Jumps Again,” a storming instrumental from the same date, for example, prove that he wasn’t just first – he was also one of the fastest guitarists, and would be considered so even by today’s standards.
Walker recorded prolifically, with classics like the often-covered “T-Bone Shuffle”, “West Side Baby”, “Glamour Girl”, “Strollin’ with Bones”, “The Hustle Is On,” “Cold Cold Feeling,” “Blue Mood,” “Vida Lee” (named for his wife), “Party Girl,” and, from a 1952 New Orleans jaunt, “Railroad Station Blues”. For a dozen years he produced hit after hit. Then, suddenly, the hits stopped coming. The Elvis/Beatles era seemed to derail his career.
With his stage antics and persona, T-Bone never had trouble getting gigs. People who attended his shows always left talking about how great he was. He liked to chase women, but couldn’t do so at home under his wife’s watchful eye, so he gladly toured a lot from 1960-74, playing a lot of $500 club dates (I hasten to add, that was good money in those days.)
Good Feelin’, a 1970 release on Polydor, won a Grammy for the guitarist, though it doesn’t rank with his best efforts. A five-song appearance on a 1973 set for Reprise, Very Rare, was also a disappointment. Persistent ulcers and a 1974 stroke slowed Walker’s career to a crawl, and he passed away in 1975.
No amount of writing can convey the importance of what T-Bone Walker gave to blues and rock guitar players. He was the first true lead guitarist, and he was also undeniably one of the very best.  He was the first lead guitarist to put on a show that left crowds awed and amazed.

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Gator’s Rant: It pisses me off when…

It pisses me off when I hear someone whining about how wrong it is about gay people getting married, and the term “the sanctity of marriage” is used.
Yes, we can’t let homosexuals get married. But in all fifty states, it is legal for a murderer or a child molester to get married. Any fucked up crackhead can get married. Any variety of low life piece of shit can get hitched. But not if they’re gay, because we must protect the “sanctity” of this institution.
What in fuck is wrong with people? If this is an issue of sanctity, how about we first stop serial killers and baby rapers from getting married?
It pisses me off when I am invited to attend a seminar.  I jumped out of the rat race years ago, because I didn’t want to attend meetings with dickheads wearing suits. Now you want me to pay to get into some banquet room at a motel and listen to some bullshit spiel about the latest multi-level fuckjob scam?
I don’t care to hear about “wealth building” schemes or other methods devised to get my money out of my pockets.
Sadly, it is always a friend or relative who invites me to attend one of these scamfests.
One of the rules I live by: I refuse to attend any seminar, at any hotel, at any time.

It pisses me off when I see some clown wearing a giant belt buckle, I like to go up and ask incredulously… “Excuse me Sir, Which wrestling federation are you the champion of?”

It pisses me off when I hear some cat-lover talking about how much better cats are than dogs. Cat owners may disagree, and cite all kinds of “evidence” that cats are actually smarter because of their instinctive talents despite a stubborn resistance to training, but if a human child can’t be trained, we call him “learning disabled.” We don’t say that he’s too aristocratic to accept instruction. Cat lovers, show me some seeing-eye guide cats, and then I’ll be impressed. Until then, dogs rule.
Besides, cats tend to carry toxoplasma gondii, and I’ve already got enough things to worry about without mind-altering parasites.

It pisses me off when… A grown man starts talking about the “men’s rights” movement. Traditionally men have been protectors and benefactors of the rest of society. Like the men who stayed behind on the Titanic, we know this sometimes means we will get the short end of the stick. In fact, some of us are proud of it. It is a notion called chivalry.
Today, what we have are millions of men  who think the biggest problem with society is the loss of the white Christian male power structure. They are threatened by Muslims, feminists, blacks, atheists, gays, and any other group that threatens this supremacy. Listen up sissy boys: A feminist, Mexican, or atheist can’t stop you from being a man. Only you can do that by whining about it. Stop crying, you pussies!

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Make Me Laugh & I Will Buy You A Beer…

A wife was in bed with her lover when she heard her husband’s key in the door.
“Stay where you are,” she said. “He’s so drunk he won’t even notice you’re in bed with me.” Sure enough, the husband lurched into bed none the wiser, but a few minutes later, through a drunken haze, he saw six feet sticking out at the end of the bed.
He turned to his wife with a puzzled look: “Hey, there are six feet in this bed. There should only be four. What’s going on?”
“Nonsense,” said the wife. “You’re so drunk you miscounted. Get out of bed and try again. You can see better from over there.” The husband climbed out of bed and counted. “One, two, three, four. I’ll be damned, you’re right, you know.”

After a long night buying a hot chick drinks, Joe took advantage by giving her a ride home.
After the walk to the door, the woman asked Joe in for a nightcap…
One thing led to another and before you know it, Joe was naked.
After making great love Joe rolled over, pulled out a cigarette from his jeans and searched for his lighter.
Unable to find it, Joe asked the girl if she had one at hand.
“There might be some matches in the top drawer.”, she said. He opened the drawer of the bedside table and found a box of matches sitting neatly on top of a framed picture of another man. Naturally, Joe began to worry.
“Is this your husband?” he inquired nervously.
“No, silly,” she replied, snuggling up to him.
“Your boyfriend then?” he asked.
“No, not at all,” she said, nibbling away at his ear.
“Well, who is he then?” demanded Joe bewildered.
Calmly, the girl replied, “That’s me before the operation.”

A blonde went to her doctor complaining about pain in all her joints. The Doctor went through a whole series of tests and couldn’t find anything wrong with her.
After he had explained this to her he said: “There has to be something else, have you recently changed anything in your lifestyle”?
She said, “Well, the only thing I know of is that I started making love Doggie Style, could that be causing it”?
The Doctor said, “Maybe, why don’t you stop it and see if you improve”?
She said, “I can’t stop, that’s the only way my dog knows how to do it”.

A guy is sitting at a bar when he sees this gorgeous woman waiting for her date.
He decides to go over and put the move on her.
‘I think you’re wasting your time, I’m only interested in women’ said the woman.
‘Oh come on, I bet I can change your mind’ said the guy. After ten minutes of the guy pestering her, she finally had enough.
‘OK’ said the woman ‘I’ll sleep with you if you can do anything for me that my vibrator can’t!’
‘OK, bartender get this lady a drink’ he said. ‘let’s see your vibrator do that?’

Little Red Riding Hood is skipping down the road when she sees the Big Bad Wolf crouched down behind a log.
“My, what big eyes you have, Mr. Wolf,” says Little Red Riding Hood.
The surprised wolf jumps up and runs away.
Further down the road Little Red Riding Hood sees the wolf again; this time he is crouched behind a tree stump.
“My, what big ears you have Mr. Wolf,” says Little Red Riding Hood.
Again the foiled wolf jumps up and runs away.
About 2 miles down the road, Little Red Riding Hood sees the wolf again, this time crouched down behind a road sign.
“My, what big teeth you have Mr. Wolf,” taunts Little Red Riding Hood.
With that the Big Bad Wolf jumps up and screams,
“Will you get lost kid? I’m trying to take a shit!”

A young woman in the sleazy part of old Galveston was so  depressed that she decided to end her life by throwing herself into the  harbor. She went down to the docks and was about to leap into  the water when a handsome young sailor saw her tottering on the edge of  the pier. He took pity on her and said, “Look, you have so much to  live for. I’m off to Europe in the morning and if you like, I can stow you away on my ship. I’ll take good care of you and bring you food every day.” Moving closer, he slipped his arm around her shoulder and added, I’ll keep you happy, and you’ll keep me happy.” The girl nodded yes.  After all, what did she have to lose? Perhaps a fresh start in Europe would  give her life new meaning.
That night, the sailor brought her aboard and  hid her in a lifeboat. From then on, every night he brought her a sandwich and a piece of fruit, and they made passionate love until  dawn.
Three weeks later, during a routine inspection, she  was discovered by the captain.
“What are you doing here?” he asked. “I’ve got an arrangement with one of the sailors,” she explained.  “I get food and a free trip to Europe , and he’s screwing me.”
“He sure the hell  is,” the captain said. “This is the Bolivar  Ferry…”

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