Xpress Line …

Yesterday, weather was good, so we made a Bacon Run to China-World.  Great deal of traffic on the Super Slab, the low prices on gasoline has started to show up as a plus for the consumer.  They can actually afford to go somewhere now.

I saw this at China-World and thought it would be a good deal, so we bought a package and brought it home, I really cannot remember what the price of the item was. Continue reading

A Little Off The Ears

Often checking the bathroom mirror early in the morning can be a sobering experience. I am standing there and I am wondering, “Why is Willard Scott staring back at me, it is not my birthday!”

So, as it was either get a haircut or a dog license, I chose to make the six mile drive to town.

Buell’s barbershop in El Reno, Oklahoma (small town America, the last vast great stronghold of good community living) is an interesting place on most days.

A place where the patrons will request of the barber that he does not give them “a summer-time haircut, because it is still purty-nippy outside” and you can catch up on all the latest.

Where else could you hear about the guy in Texas who mistakenly used a loaded gun to scratch his back last Thursday and ended up shooting himself? He wasn’t unhappy though, according to the story teller. His reason being; that day he had lots of gold-bond powder in his underpants.

Stepping outside, the cool air of the morning, feels a little bit different on the back of my recently shaved neck and head. The sign in the window reads, “You can have sexy hair, now only $10.95.” Sucker born every minute, I know for a fact, that at age 63 sexy hair, most hair, is a thing of the past. I grow hair in my ears now, not on my head. Even the barber inquired, “You want me to trim those eyebrows?”

Evidently “One continuous eyebrow is no longer accepted as cool in America anymore.”

Snatching a big breath of country air, I venture out to the interstate for a quick snack of an Angus Burger at McDonalds.  No visible sores on the kid, and his acme isn’t all that bad, I figure it is going to be a good day.  In the corner and old man is busy cleaning tables, the new work from the cradle to the grave policy in American fast food joints is in effect. I get in line next to an old woman and fish out my money clip.

The elderly woman, small and frail, looks about 75 or 80 steps up to the counter and in a small voice says, “I would like a hamburger, small order of fries, and a small coke, please.” The kid behind the counter says, “You want cheese with that?”

She says, “I want a hamburger, small order of fries, and a small coke sonny.”

The kid looks at her and says, “You want a large order of fries?” The old woman turns and looks at me and in a crisp voice inquires of me, “Am I speaking English?”

I reply, “Yes mama, yes you certainly are.”

She then tells the kid ONE MORE TIME … “I want a hamburger, small order of fries, and a small coke sonny. If’n I wanted cheese, I would’ve asked for a cheeseburger, if I wanted large fries I would have asked for large fries.”

Mr. future CEO then asks, “You want a large coke?”

The old lady turns to me one more time and says, “I must be invisible or something.” She then turns and walks out, in no apparent hurry, Mama shuffles off to the nearest exit, with I suppose, her ravenous appetite in check.

The sad part about all this is … I know just how she feels on some days bless her heart, and often I secretly wish that I could be just that … Invisible.

Taking it one step further, I bet you do too.


The Morning After

Is it possible for one to experience or suffer “election deprivation or withdrawal symptoms?”  Do we have any learned or medical experts who read this blog that could take some time today to weigh in on this important lofty subject?  Here is an idea, I could give it to Margaret & Helen, and they could simply ask the question, “Does anyone think it is okay to eat flowers?” and they would get 657 answers in thirty minutes.

It surely doesn’t work that way over here.

It is nice that all this political stuff is winding down, good to be back in the “real world.”  Where you can strip off all of your clothes, walk down the street waiving a machete and firing an Uzi into the air, and terrified citizens will phone the police and report:  “There’s a naked person outside!” Of course you smile and say to yourself, “This Okie is nuts” but gun sales and ammo are on the rise in America as we speak.

While we are on the subject of weapons.

The Bush Administration announced today that they have a new secret weapon in the war on Terror.  It destroys people but it leaves all the real estate in place, it is called “The Stock Market.”  No good huh?

Okay how about … What is the latest dope on Wall Street?

Allan Greenspan.

I just finished reading a new survey and it was kind of surprising (mildly depressing) and it implies that “Baby Boomers” are more prone to commit suicide.  But I don’t want this to be a downer sort of piece, so I am saving it for Thanksgiving.  But as I am a Baby Boomer a war baby, it did interest me.  There have been times in my life where I actually considered suicide, but I procrastinate a lot, and never followed thru on it.

Say what you want about it, but it saved my life.

But when you stop and look at your prospects after fifty, why wouldn’t you think about it.  Who wants to look forward to being an old geezer in America, someone like myself, old people that are forced to wear comfortable, loose fitting, armpit revealing sleeveless undershirts, Bermuda shorts.  The black socks and brown shoes, with the little baggy thing around the mid-section to carry your cellphone, Bi-focals, car keys, medicine.  That is enough to make any normal male depressed enough to stick his head in the oven on just about any day of the week.

So there is another thing that I am going to have to learn how to cope with ….

Uh ….  Wait, its right on the tip of my tongue, I just had it.

Talked to Cup Cake (The bride) and she didn’t see any concern, which is surprising as we are both the same age, and half-the time when we are leaving the house for a trip to the buffet, I have to tell her that she has her bra on backwards.  I guess men and women are just different.

I will say “Where did you get this cake?” and she will say, “What is wrong with it?” Then I say something like, “How did you get that bruise on your toe?” and she will reply, “I kicked a chair.”

Ask a man the very same question and he will say “Some idiot left a chair in the middle of the room.”

What other important issues of the 21st century do we need to discuss in this brief moment this day?  As we plow thru another Creative Endeavors fact-less post.  I am apprehensive about the future, I don’t cotton to change much in my old age, which is a nice way of saying; change makes me anxious, apprehensive, and nervous as all get out.

Mr. Obama may like it but I don’t like change and I don’t rush to embrace it.

As I mature…I’ve learned that you cannot make someone love you. All you can do is stalk them and hope they panic and give in. I’ve learned that you shouldn’t compare yourself to others – they are more screwed up than you think. I’ve learned we are responsible for what we do, unless we are celebrities or politicians.  As much as I hate to admit it, things are different in my life now.

My grandson just yesterday asked me, “When you die what happens to you?” So I gave him the Okie scientific version I said, “Son, when you die they put you in the ground, cover you with a whole bunch of red Okie dirt, and the worms eat your body.” Now I know that sounds awful cruel and insensitive, but it is better than the current observations that surround us.  That we all die, and we go to hell and burn eternally, so I didn’t tell him that, ’cause I didn’t want to upset him.

Let’s be realistic, not everyone is going to heaven.  Speaking of heaven?  When I go to heaven, I want to see my grandpa again.  But he better have lost all that nose hair and that old-man smell.

Honesty is important in this day and age.  Just ask any Savings & Loan officer, new car specialist or Oil Man. You should be honest and frank with your children, grandchildren, and it also pays to remember, they are the people who pick out your nursing home in the end.

As my doctor would say, “Go with that … Let’s expand on this one Don, find your happy place!”

Life is good in America!  I believe you should live each and every day as if it is your last, which is why I don’t have any clean laundry, because come on, who wants to wash clothes on the last day of their life?

You know this is the first day without the irritating e-mail alert, I have it turned off, also I have the stereo headphones on, cranked up to about 9.5 (who wants to talk to grand-daughters anyway) and I have already “almost relaxed.”  845 words and I am still cranking on the keys, all is at peace in my world.

Bloggers Unite!  You too can write like this!  I will share my secrets of the web with you …. Snack on Halloween Candy at 6AM in the morning and the words just flow!

Here is something to consider.  I bet living in a nudist colony takes all the fun out of Halloween.  Now I can put “nudist colony” in my tags and attract fifty new readers!  Hah!  For centuries, people thought the moon was made of green cheese.  Then the astronauts found that the moon is really a big hard rock.  Which coincidentally if you think about it, is what cheese turns to if you let it set out on the counter.

India is going or trying to go to the moon.  Wouldn’t it be neat if they actually went up there and found all the hubcaps missing off the lunar Lander we left up there.  That would be a gas!  Even better would be the press conference where Bush tries to explain it to everyone … the uh, Looonar Lunder has all the uh … the … uh, uh … I have funded a new committee to pool their ignorance and we will get back to you on this soon.

Ahhhhhh, Sunshine in my world.  Not writing about death, gloom, economic meltdown, scumbag politicians, dirty egg sucking dog bankers is good for your spirit early in the morning!

Almost as good as being immersed in a good book, reading all of those pages, getting inspired.  I reach out and hit speed dial on my phone to call my old teacher and thank her.  That is, I used to, until she got an unlisted number. Reading is good for you, much better than television …..

  • It’s nice to be important, but it is also important to be nice
  • (Tony Dow from the Leave It To Beaver Show)
  • Book ’em Dano, Murder One
  • (Steve McGarret Hawaii Five O)
  • Why are these women running?
  • (David Hasslehoff … who cares?  Let them girls run!)
  • Where in the world is the remote?

As I have more than likely bored all of you too the point of crying, I guess it is time to shut this puppy down and move on to other pressing concerns.  I am working on a new piece, “Farming for the Government or How I got my position as Serf.” But don’t have most of the details worked out at this time.

Uh … I will get back to you on this soon.

So here I sit, quietly humming “Dunka-shane, dunka-shane, o’baby dunka-shane” and wondering how come Wayne Newton isn’t as popular a singer as some people think he should be.  Then, I remembered, it is because he sucks.  Now that wasn’t nice … apologize … Okay, he isn’t all that great.

One more day and the weekend is approaching, I am ready.

A new administration is being formed as we speak, and soon, we can all close our eyes and visualize world peace for an hour or so over our morning coffee.  Imagine how serene and peaceful that will be until the looting starts.

I have to run (I will be here two and one-half days just typing in all the tags!)

This concludes this report from your uncouth Creative Endeavor reporter in the Heartland (which is a nice way of saying strange, clumsy, lacking polish and grace, awkward and uncultivated in manner or behavior or just downright rude) …  But gee whiz guys …. No one is perfect.

“Dunka -shane, dunka-shane, o’baby dunka-shane”


Mysteries of life

A great many things in this life just do not make sense.  I was thinking about that this very morning and I thought I might share some of it with you.

Take those birds, Swallows, every year, they just keep coming on back to Capistrano or some other place out in California.  That is a mystery to me.

Or those horse’s that are born white and then they turn coal black when they reach maturity.

Recently Radio Girl turned me on to an interesting blog site that is entitled  “Margaret & Helen” and they are a mystery to me.

Are they really eighty years old as they claim and writing this blog with the help of their grandchildren or are they conning everyone into believing they are so.

Immensely popular they are a good read and a mystery to me, I shall follow them in the future with some skepticism.  But that is nothing new, I am suspicious of everyone and everything, just ask my birth mother she will tell you.  I enjoy their page.  It makes me ever mindful of the conversations and musings in the late afternoon that I shared with my grandparents who are now long gone. Get some time today, trot over there and give their read a glance over, some good stuff there.

Back to the mysteries of life.  The roots go down and the plant goes up, life, that is a mystery.  This guy, Joe The Plumber, as I understand it, he doesn’t have a license, so why do they say he is a plumber?  That is a mystery.  How can the cable company remember to send me a bill each month, but cannot remember the password on my site?  Here is another that just irks the ____ out of me, why does this sucker change fonts in the middle of an article, does it all the time!  WordPress.com surely a mystery if there ever was one.

“Pick a number between one and five.”  Got it?  Is it three?  Nine times out of ten, when you ask someone to do this, they will pick the number three.  Why?  Because they perceive the number three as the middle, another mystery of life.

A word of precaution here, this number thing only works with adults.  If you do it with your five year old grandson, give him the choice, ask him to pick the number, and then ask what the number is, he will most likely reply, ‘It’s MY number Grandpa, go get your own.” You have been warned.

More red cars are sold in America than any other color.  A red used car will sell for MORE money than other cars.  Red Is For Lovers

Women in red has always been a mystery to me.  A new psychological study has just been released about romantic attraction and it suggest that red attire makes men unwittingly more attracted to women. To study the effect of color on behavior, psychologists as the University of Rochester in New York conducted five experiments and analyzed mens responses to photographs of women in various situations.

They would in turn frame the photo’s in red or have the women wearing red in the photo’s as they were displayed. In every case, men rated the women in red frames or wearing red as considerably more attractive and sexually desirable than the same women with other colors.

So if you want to attract your man …… Put on that red dress baby, ‘cause we goin’ out tonight, put on that red dress baby, case some fool might wanna fight

Sampson and Delilah were a mystery.  So was Cleopatra and Marc Anthony.  Two strong and robust men, brought down in their prime by a woman.  Which brings me to Sarah and McSame, a broadly satirical political comedy of sorts with an improbable plot, this truly is a mystery to me.

I can remember the first time I was given word of it and my measured response was … Are you kidding me, what were you thinking?

Wonder if Sarah was wearing red when Old man Mr. McSame took her down by the creek, under the stately Cotton Wood tree in Sedona Arizona, to ask for her hand in their unholy alliance in the mysterious world of politics.

I guess I will always wonder about that one for sure.


Skinny Dipping With Grandpa

Mail has run and the box was empty, last weekend being Grandparents Day I had waited for the kids to send their mama something but they didn’t.  I had fortunately, had the forethought to go to the HallMark Store and purchase a card for her and I gave her a grandmother card.

I cannot stand it when they ignore her like that.  She is a good grandmother and she ought to get some recognition for the excellent job that she does.  Grandpa’s on the other hand, we don’t need a card, we are resigned to our station in life, which is to fill the void on crankiness and gruff exteriors, we don’t require a card.

An elderly man in Florida had owned a large farm for several years.  He had a large pond in the back and it was properly shaped for swimming, so he fixed it up nice with a picnic table, horseshoe courts, and some apple and peach trees.  One evening the old farmer decided to go down to the pond as he had not been there for awhile, and look it over.  He grabbed a five-gallon bucket to bring back some fruit and headed on down.

As he neared the pond, he heard voice shouting and laughing with glee.  As he came closer, he saw it was a group of young women skinny-dippin in his pond.  He made the women aware of his presence and they all went to the deep end.  One of the girls shouted to him, “We are not coming out until you leave!”

The old man frowned, ‘I didn’t come down here to watch you ladies swim naked or make you get out of the pond unclothed.”  Holding the bucket up he said, “I am here to feed the alligator.”

Some old timers are still pretty quick thinking on their feet.  We are not all in the same class, some of us despite the years, are still pretty speedy on the uptake, we are not all a bunch of old geezers and sedimentary rocks.  And we can still take care of business …..

Then there is the Rambo Granny of Melbourne, Australia.

Gun-toting granny Ava Estelle, 81, was so ticked-off when two thugs raped her 18 year old granddaughter, that she literally tracked them down and then shot off their testicles!

The old lady spent a week hunting those men down, and when she found them, she took revenge on them in her own special way, said Melbourne police investigator Evan Delp.  Then the grand-mommy took a taxi to the nearest police station, laid the gun on the sergeant’s desk and told him as calm as he could be:  “Those bastards will never rape anybody again, by God.”

Cops say convicted rapist and robber Davis Furth, 33, lost both his penis and his testicles when outraged Ava opened fire in the motel room with a 9mm pistol where he and his former cell mate Stanley Thomas, 29, were holed up.

The wrinkled avenger also blew Thomas’ testicles to kingdom come, but doctors managed to save his mangled penis, police said.  “The one guy, Thomas, didn’t lose his manhood, but the doctore I talked to said he won’t be using it the way he used to use it.  Both men are still in pretty bad shape, but I think they’re just happy to be alive after what they’ve been through.”

(Do you think so? I mean really … Do you think so?)

The Rambo granny swung into action August 21, after her granddaughter Debbie was carjacked and raped in broad daylight by two knife-wielding creeps in a section of town bordering on skid row.  “When I saw the look on my Debbie’s face that night in the hospital, I decided right then and there, I was going to go out and get those bastards myself, ‘cause I figured the Law would go easy on them, recalled the retired library worker.”

It just begs to ask … I wonder what she did to people who brought back a book late?

And I wasn’t scared of them either – because I’ve got me a gun and I have been shooting on my life.  I wasn’t dumb enough to turn it in when the law changed about owning one.”  So, using a police artists’ sketch of the suspects and Debbie’s description of the sicko’s, tough-as-nails Ava spent seven days prowling the wino-infested neighborhood where the crime took place till she spotted the ill-fated rapists entering their flophouse hotel.  “I knew it was them the minute I saw ’em but I shot a picture of them anyway and took it back to Debbie and she said sure as ____ it was them the oldster recalled. So I went back to that hotel and found their room and knocked on the door, and the minute the big one opened the door, I shot him right square between the legs, right where it would hurt him most, you know.”

(Trust me Grandma, I know!)

Then I went in and I shot the other one, as he backed up pleading to me to spare him.  Then I simply went down to the police station and turned myself in.

Now baffled lawmen down-under, are trying to figure out exactly how to deal with the vigilante Granny.  “What she did was wrong, and she broke the law, but it is difficult to throw an 81 year old woman in prison, especially when some three million people in the city want to nominate her for Mayor.”

We might be old and slow by most young peoples’ standards … but don’t count us out yet.


Parting shot: “The nicest thing about the future is that it always starts tomorrow.”