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I need to start sleeping in later. This getting up at four AM to: 1) let the mutts out; and, 2) pour the first cup of coffee down my throat is getting dangerous. I'm not fully brain functional at that hour. This morning as the coffee was brewing and the mutts were pounding at the door to come back in, I opened the WTOP.com web site (based in Washington, DC). WTOP is a 24-hour news radio station with a great web site with lots of information and news from all over the world.
So, there I am...squinting at my laptop, wondering if the dogs are being attacked by Goatman (there seemed to be a particular urgency in their desire to come back in) when I see the headline, "Man buns can lead to hair loss, experts say". Now, that had my attention! Of all, the things I've lost over the years, I miss my hair the most. Oh yes, I used to have beautiful hair...long and flowing. I told myself, "Wait, my booty isn't that big, is it?" But then...I realized that the article's headline didn't say anything about big manly booties...maybe mine was too small. I stumbled over to the coffeemaker, pouring myself that first of cup of coffee while trying to make sense of what I'd just read and mumbling to myself that I should have cats instead of dogs. After a couple sips of coffee, I looked again (with brain now fully firing) at the article and realized that I had missed part of the title. It was actually, "Top-knots, man buns can lead to hair loss, experts say"...well, that certainly cleared things up (NOT)! When I clicked the link I was treated to a picture of Jennifer Lopez (I think) with her head turned as she waves to her adoring fans. She has a big ol' bun/top knot atop her head with the rest of her hair pulled tightly back toward the bun. "Ohhhh," I thought to myself, "Now I get it." The article is about hair styles...something I really don't have to worry about these days. I left to go let the mutts in as I was afraid that faithful hound Sooner would start throwing rocks through the window if I didn't. Turns out, they were just anxious to get their morning treat of Beggin' Strips...those bacon-ish looking things that are made of who knows what. The article informed me that the top-knot is a very popular hairstyle among the rich and famous in Hollywood (whose motto translated from the Latin is "Hey, we're from a different planet than the rest of you!"), where A-listers, male and female, wear their hair that way. The article indicated that if you're male, it's a "man bun"...aren't you glad you read this blog? The trouble with man buns and top-knots is that apparently people are going bald because of the damage done to hair follicles when the hair is pulled back tight against the skull. The result is something called traction alopecia which is a medical term for your hair ain't growing back. Mine, the medical profession calls male pattern baldness, a medical term for my hair ain't growing back. One expert hairstylist was quoted as saying that the trick to avoiding going bald is to wear the top-knot in different spots. Huh...guess that means one should tie the bun on the side of the head occasionally...kind of a Princess Leia look. I suppose you could also tie it on the front of your head, maybe with a sharp blade protruding from it. That way, you could lower your head and use it as a weapon should the need arise! It just strikes me as odd that people with a perfectly nice head of hair would do something that they know will inevitably damage said hair. But, as I said, it's nothing I'll ever have to worry about so I guess I'll stop. Or, will I? I'm going to have to call Cousin Fred in western Arkansas to discuss this with him. He is after all, a serial entrepreneur. Maybe, the answer is a fake top-knot that you somehow clip on to your head. Hell...maybe that would work for those of us who are follicly-challenged! No hair on the skull to be seen, but you have a really hip-looking man bun! And, maybe, just maybe we can get insurance providers up to and including Medicare to pay for them! We'll push them as mental health aides for improving one's self-esteem (that's our story and we're sticking to it). Oh, for product names (and I'm just throwing these out there) how about "Bunilicious" or the "Bunsy"? I guess truth in advertising would lead to something like "Big-Hairy-Ball-For-Your-Head"...no, no, too long and the jingle would likely be censored. Eh, Cousin Fred will come up with something. Okay, so I'm off to call Cousin Fred and get him working on this. More to follow (I'm sure). Happy Monday, everybody! I was happy to awaken this morning to find that the predicted apocalypse did not materialize despite a blood-red-super-moon-eclipse-once-or-twice-maybe-three-times-in-a-lifetime event last night. Granted, I'm color blind, but the only thing I saw that was actually blood red was the red wine I spilled on myself trying to keep the gnats from swimming in my glass.
Okay, so there's another crisis behind us. Whew...next! Oh, yes, there it is lurking in the corner (no, not creepy presidential candidates). There was an AP article in Sunday's Woodward News about how the state board of education has now issued 842 emergency teaching certificates this year, a number that exceeds the entire total of certificates issued over the past four years! If you're unaware, an emergency teaching certificate is a fancy way of saying the state will waive basic education and/or training requirements. Teacher butts in seats is what we're talking about. As is often the case in this state, when the government does something stupid they do something else to cover their tracks. Think of it as the Oklahoma version of Newton's Law which in this case states, "for every action there is an equally stupid and opposite follow-on action." With regard to the news of issuance of emergency teaching certificates, the reaction is that the state board also announced that it will launch a 60-member Teacher Shortage Task Force, which supposedly over the next year will study the problem and recommend solutions. Uh huh, the problem is 1) they don't pay teachers enough in this state; and, 2) the state legislature is made up of the largest collection of morons in one location (someone notify Guinness Book of World Records please) who keeps coming up with solutions of its own that are sheer stupidity. Those of you who are faithful readers know that I am no fan of the culture of mediocrity that makes up our state legislature. I have derided nearly every attempt the dummies on North Lincoln Boulevard in Oklahoma City have made at fixing the education crisis in this state. Let's see there was the magnanimous announcement of a pay raise for teachers, the fine print of which was that the increase would come from teachers' pension fund. Judas priest...that will help you to recruit new teachers (NOT) when they realize the state is robbing Peter to pay Paul. Eventually, the pension fund will run out, dumbasses! They used to lock up the likes of Jimmy Hoffa and others for stealing from union pension funds, maybe elected officials should be held to a similar standard. And, that announcement was followed almost immediately by state legislation being signed into law that makes it legal for teachers to carry guns onto school property. Presumably, so that state educators can start holding up the kids for their lunch money to help make ends meet. Let's see...oh, there was a recent proposal by our own state senator Bryce Marlatt who wants to pull money from the $1 BILLION tobacco trust fund to pay for teacher raises, etc. The Tulsa World thought that was a bad idea, we at CCB aren't so sure. At least Senator Marlatt had come up with something that made a little sense. It will never fly though...the Oklahoma Attorney General already robs the tobacco trust fund of millions for his personal slush fund that no one will admit to. He calls it the Evidence Fund...whatever the hell that is. And, I realize that those of you (me included) who don't have kids in school right now tend to think, "Eh, who cares? Just don't raise my taxes...I don't have a stake in this fight!" Yeah, well, guess what...you do. At the rate things are going, the state of Oklahoma will produce an entire generation of woefully undereducated kids who won't be able to function in an increasingly complex world. It should matter to you. These are the people who will eventually become the workforce of Oklahoma, providing services and filling jobs that will daily impact our lives. Just sayin... So it is that the state bored (sic) of education will spend the next 12 months (and who knows how many $$$$$s) sorting out the causes and possible solutions to the state's education crisis. In the end, even if they come up with a solution it has to go to the morons in the state legislature for approval and funding. That won't happen. Those dummies haven't done anything substantive since statehood. Do I have the answers? Nope. Wish I did. Hopefully, somewhere along the way, someone will come up with something that doesn't involved short-sighted, politically motivated solutions. This entire state's future is at stake! Happy Friday everyone! Gorgeous day taking shape here at the compound. Weekend weather with the exception of Saturday (scattered thunder-boomers in the forecast) looks great as well.
Interestingly, it’s a quiet weekend here. Those of us who are zombie-like devotees of the cult that is Oklahoma Football get a bye this week. Hopefully, the Stoops brothers will have a BBQ or something and make nice. I’m kind of glad to see Mike up in the booth now rather than down on the field. It was just troubling when a camera would turn toward the sideline when the game wasn’t going well and there were the Stoops brothers arguing with one another. Somehow I don’t think that being up in the booth is doing anything to keep Mike calmer, but at least Brother Bob can remove his headset if he wants and not listen to Brother Mike’s rants. Here’s an actual conversation caught on tape during the Tulsa game between the Stoops in the booth and an actual coaching assistant on the field: Actual Coaching Assistant: “Coach Stoops! Your brother wants to talk to you!” Big Game Bob: “I’m busy! What’s he want?” Actual Coaching Assistant: “He says he has an important message for you!” Big Game Bob: “Tell him to leave a message!” Actual Coaching Assistant: “He says he has to tell you in person!” <Taking the headset from the Actual Coaching Assistant, Big Game Bob puts it on> Big Game Bob: “WHAT?” Stoops in the Booth: “#@$% you, you *&#$ing #@$&! Thhhhppppphhhhhttttt!” Remember kids, you heard it here first. I had it in my head that there was a fall home show this weekend in Cosmic City, but a check of the paper this morning says nothing of the sort. So I guess I’m left to my own devices…seldom a good plan. Believe there’s a gun show at the conference center next weekend, which of course is the start of OU’s Big XII conference play against West Virginia (whose state motto translated from the Latin is, “Tell me again why we’re in the Big XII?”). No doubt it will be another 11AM game so I’ll have to run through the gun show and then back home for the game. Sometimes it’s hard work being a zombie-like cult devotee! Will probably head out on the bike Sunday since it appears to be less chance of rainy weather. Call me a fair weather biker if you will, but there is NOTHING in the world worse than being on a motorcycle in a pouring rain. Especially when the water begins to accumulate inside your boots and your feet turn to ice. So it is, I guess that Robin Hohweiler, former Blue Angel will become Robin Hohweiler, wannabe Hell’s Angel. Hahaha, just kidding…they wouldn’t have me. I ride a metric…oh, and faint at the sight of a tattoo gun. I considered driving down to Oklahoma City today for the Oklahoma State Fair since the Trump will be making his Oklahoma “debut” this afternoon. As all of you dedicated readers of this blog (all ten of you…our stock is rising) well know, the Trump made his first appearance in Oklahoma in late August with the Apocalypse Now flying circus stunt down Main Street in Shattuck. I tried to contact Kevin Ogle late yesterday to point out that he was incorrectly informing the public about this being Trump’s first visit to the Sooner State. Oddly, he won’t return my calls. I attempted to contact Hector, the Trump’s able campaign assistant to see if he could get me up on stage for the appearance, but even he won’t return my calls. Eh well, no Oklahoma City for me today. Guess we’ll prepare for open mic night here at the compound this evening. Bring refreshments…plenty of guitars, basses, amplifiers, sound system, and ukes already here. Oh, but no bagpipes, you’ll have to bring your own. I’ll do my best to channel my inner-Hendrix by playing the Strat left-handed (and upside down) while simultaneously humping the amplifier for feedback…it’ll be great! It’s been a great couple of days here at the compound. We’ve had some rain, which always makes compound-dwellers happy. I even got the first real feedback on my book and it was great feedback (okay, it was from a relative, but it was the first feedback I’ve gotten)! No unexpected bills in the mail. All in all, not a bad couple of days (knock wood three times).
Also, had some time yesterday to figure out what I want for a new grill since mine was stolen in Virginia…should have locked it up in the garage. Thieves abound and they’re breeding like rats, I’m tellin’ ya! My grill choices are narrowing. I’ve always used a Weber kettle which I always tell people I can do anything on one of those that someone else could do with a much more expensive grill. I’ve cooked a whole turkey on it (do one every Thanksgiving). I’ve smoked meats (requires a special Robin technique). I’ve grilled and BBQed just about everything on a kettle grill. My only complaint is that cooking space is kind of limited. If you’re cooking for a lot of people, it can be kind of a harrowing experience. So, when I saw the Oklahoma Joe Longhorn offset smoker grill I was pretty excited. I thought I’d finally stumbled onto my Weber kettle alternative. I was impressed with the thick gauge of steel used (always a problem with the offset grills made in China…they rust out too quickly). All of the seams appeared tight. There is almost 1,100 square inches of cooking surface in the thing…along with the required headroom to cook a turkey. I thought I had finally found my new grill. But then… I came back home and started looking at videos on YouTube and was quickly disappointed. It seems that the original Oklahoma Joe people sold their company to the Char-Broil people. Ugh. As soon as I heard that I knew I wouldn’t be buying an Oklahoma Joe smoker grill. Char-Broil is notorious for mediocre grills that rust faster than they can cook. Char-Broil is also noted for porous welds that would probably qualify (to quote from a first year college Microbiology text) as a semi-permeable membrane. Still, I thought, okay maybe this is like Ford stepping up to take over Jaguar…no…bad example. Ford ruined Jaguar. But, I hung in there watching video after video. Every poster said the same thing…Char-Broil has ruined the Oklahoma Joe line. Purchasers were forced to make modifications to the grills…on and on. Needless to say, I’m back to the Weber kettle grill. I’ll stick with what I know best. The new ones even have a thermometer built into the lid…no more holding hand over the open vent and counting the seconds until flesh began to cook to guess the temp. Life is looking up, I’m telling you! But, I digress… Back to my day (it is, after all, all about me). I missed the trash pick-up this morning (the truck was freakin’ early), but they actually came back and picked it up once I got my lazy rear end (and the barrel of trash) out there. As I was rolling the trash barrel down our long driveway and out to the road…we’re set back quite a ways from the road (this is a fortified compound you know)...off to the northeast I could hear a cacophony of unhappy cattle. I figured the neighbors off in that direction were probably separating calves from cows. That always gets them stirred up (the cattle, not the neighbors). For some reason, all the noise got me to thinking about PBR, a sport I’ve been following for a few years now. If you’re unfamiliar, PBR stands for professional bull riders. The circuit was started by nine-time world champion rodeo cowboy Ty Murray back in the early 90’s. The PBR season culminates in late October with the PBR World Finals in Las Vegas. Imagine…four days of bulls, beer, booze, and Vegas baby! Every year that I’ve following PBR events, I’ve always told myself I’m headed to Vegas for the finals, but I never seem to make it. Figure since I’m living here now, I’ll definitely try to get there next year (I’m half a continent closer). When I was in the Navy, there was a group of people that I knew who made it to the Denver Stock Show (aka, National Western Stock Show) every January for a few days. It wasn’t that they were necessarily interested in livestock, it was just a great excuse to get together with old friends and hang out for a few days. So, if you’re interested in heading to Vegas next October, let me know. Maybe by then I will have figured out the grill thing. Throughout the course of this blog, I’ve made no secret of my personal deep-seated aversion to things that go bump in the night. Specifically: rats, bats, and snakes top my list of those creatures best stayed away from. The problem is, the compound is smack dab in the heart of rat, bat, and snake territory.
And these things seem to seek me out…take, for instance, the photo below as evidence. I was standing in a pasture near the compound in early September when I happened to look down and see a man-eating bull snake (pituophis catenifer sayi for you egg-headed snake lovers…creeps that you are) passing near my feet. Obviously (and fortunately), said snake was in a hurry to get somewhere (hopefully away from me) so our encounter was brief. Despite having a weapon on my belt, I was faster with the iPhone camera than I was the gun. Guess I’m getting old and weird…there was a time when I would simply have started blasting. Instead I managed to shoot a pic and then run out of there screaming like a 12-year-old girl. Someone needs to develop an iPhone app that would fire a laser and set dangerous reptiles on fire. Note to self…start an app development project. I moved here from Virginia where it is (and I’m NOT making this part up) illegal to kill snakes. Seriously. I know of an instance where a home owner came home (it’s what homeowners do) to find an eastern diamondback rattlesnake coiled up in front of his door. Said homeowner quickly dispatched said snake and then made the mistake of calling animal control to notify them that there were venomous snakes lurking about. Soon thereafter he was arrested for his “villainous” act (of bravery). That’s when I learned that, for whatever reason, it is illegal to kill snakes in Ol’ Virginny. Go figure. I guess the old three-S rule would apply there…shoot, shovel, and shut-up. It was also in Virginia where I made the life-altering, traumatic mistake of attending an outdoor blues concert one summer. As we sat in lawn chairs listening to music, I began to notice something diving at the heads of people around me. I soon realized that I had only to look straight up to see that said somethings were also diving at my head. Turns out, they were bats! A local leaned over to inform me that the bats were really diving for the mosquitoes above our heads. Bullsh*t! I’d almost rather suffer the West Nile Virus than let furry flying rabid rodents make dive bombing runs on my cabeza! Again, I ran from the site after muttering to my host that I just realized I had forgotten my underwear (it’s also illegal in Virginia to go commando – okay, that part I made up…almost no one in Virginia wears undies…except maybe Baptist preachers on Sundays). I considered raising chickens for eggs here at the compound, but then I recalled my father’s tales of fighting bull snakes for eggs in the hen house when he was a kid. I’ll let the good folks at United Supermarkets fight the snakes for eggs. Apparently, this creepy crawly thing is indelibly etched in my DNA. My sister, for example, is terrified (that word somehow really doesn’t do justice to her level of fear) of spiders. Always has been. Every night before she would go to bed, someone had to go in to inspect her bedroom for any arachnoids that might be lying in wait to pounce on her as she slept. Fortunately, for me, fear of spiders has never really been a major concern. Very fortunately, in fact…can you imagine the damage you would do in the house firing 9mm slugs at a spider crawling up a wall? I recently came across an article on the Huffington Post web site that described an encounter between a woman and spider with disastrous consequences. Seems our alleged victim was backing her American-made vehicle out of her driveway in Indiana when she noticed a spider on her shoulder. This poor woman smartly threw open her door and leapt out onto the ground with the vehicle still rolling backwards. She’s a panicked genius, I’m tellin’ ya! The woman’s 9-year-old son moved from the backseat in an attempt to hit the brakes and stop the car, but instead hit the gas pedal propelling the vehicle into the street where it hit a passing school bus. Fortunately, there were no passengers on the bus. The bus driver was not injured. Our 9-year-old Jeff Gordon suffered minor head damage and was taken to the hospital. Let’s review, shall we? What have we learned today? 1) Always pack a weapon and an iPhone. You never know when you’ll next have to shoot your way out of a snake den and can shoot video of your demise if the weapon misfires. 2) Always remember the three-S rule…shoot, shovel, shut-up. 3) The only good snake is a dead snake. 4) Bats belong in caves, not in your hair…oh, and mosquitoes are our friends. 5) Spray down the inside of your car with spider poison before starting it every morning. 6) Stay the hell out of Indiana…seriously, stay away. Happy Tuesday, everyone! I was in Amarillo (whose city motto taken from the Latin is, “Gateway to Lubbock”) over the weekend for the Western Swing Music Society of the Southwest’s (WSMSS) version of Woodstock without the naked mud-covered hippies, overflowing Port-o-Johns, or burning hamburger stands.
If you were looking for that sort of entertainment you had only to go next door to the Holiday Inn Express where hotel management had drained the indoor pool and turned it into a mud-filled mosh pond for the annual Summer of Shove Fest. Music was provided by our own local favorite, Wiley Piemore and the Prairie Dawgs who were dishing out their best effort at neo-punk. Given the advanced age of the mosh participants, the festival certainly had the most apropos sponsor, the Clyde Gilmore Orthopedic Surgical Clinic (ten locations in Texas). Co-sponsor was Great Plains Waterbed Outlet (one location in Amarillo). I spent most of my time over at the WSMSS hotel, a decidedly staid bunch. And while we’re on the subject of advanced age and beer (I know, I know…I need to work on my segues), during my recent trip to the East Coast to retrieve my motorcycle and file a theft report on my grills, my traveling companion (aka, the Dad) and I visited one of those craft beer pubs that are springing up everywhere. Having lived in the Pacific Northwest for several years where beer nerds outnumber teetotalers by a 9:1 margin, I consider myself something of a snob when it comes to craft brews. In fact, there was a time when I considered partnering with a friend of mine who was home brewing a fine ale. We were going to call it Pukin’ Dog Ale. Figured it would be popular with the college crowd. If that caught on, we even imagined a light beer called Dry Heavin’ Puppy. But, I digress… By the way, if you want to have a little fun (and possibly start a brawl) when visiting one of these places, be sure to tell your waiter/waitress that you want Falstaff in a rusted steel can. When the manager threatens bodily harm, simply say, “This is a beer pub, isn’t it?” Sorry, a little beer humor there for you…very little. The food at the place we had chosen was actually very good. The beer, not so much. First of all, there were probably two dozen beers on tap in the place. I told the waitress to indulge herself as long as whatever she brought was a lager. She looked confused and handed me an iPad-like device that made comparisons for what you want with what they want you to have. I entered the word “lager” and the iPad app told me I would simply “love” their Boothill Sexual Chocolate Ale. Hmmmmm…I figured the app wouldn’t lie, so we ordered two Boothills. It was, in a word, barfilicious. Next we tried a variety of Belgian wheat beer I’d never heard of, but being fond of Belgian wheat beer I figured I couldn’t wrong, right? When will I learn? It just seems to me that with all the modern “improvements” that craft brewers are making to a refreshing adult beverage that has helped ugly people have sex since at least the fifth millennium BC, we’re going backwards. Or, maybe that’s just me. Maybe there really are people who like chocolate beer, raspberry beer, or Kona coffee flavored beer. Probably the same people who can’t live without an $8.90 cup of flavored coffee every morning. Just sayin’… And, as long as I’m on a rant about beer, I have to say I was (dare I say) hopeful after reading last week that a move to modernize Oklahoma’s antiquated and laughable alcohol laws make actually be gaining some traction. Apparently, the trade group that represents Oklahoma liquor stores agreed to go with the flow (pun intended, nyuk nyuk) regarding changes to proposed legislation that allow among other things, single-strength, refrigerated beer in ALL retail settings. Oops, now I’ve done it. I used the “L” word. There’s the biggest stumbling block to my pickling my liver if I so choose (I’m going for a nice crisp Kosher variety). The friggin’ Oklahoma legislature, aka the morons who “work” at North Lincoln Blvd. See, the way this works is that the morons in Oklahoma City have to agree to let it go on a ballot in November 2016. That requires ACTION (look it up, legislators) on their part during their 2016 legislative session (which only lasts six months though they get paid for twelve). If last year’s session was any indication…with such important legislation passed like making switchblades legal in Oklahoma…we’re screwed. So, let’s cross our fingers and hope that there are enough booze hounds in the state legislature (they like to pretend they aren’t) to at least get it to a vote by the people. Of course, getting it passed in a general election will be another hurdle, but baby steps first. I smell reform…and it smells like an icy cold 12-point Belgian wheat that I can sip as I gaze out across the plains surrounding the compound. Eternally hopeful and optimistic, I am (not to mention a sucker). Friends, have you ever read the “Woodward Police, Fire Reports” in the Woodward News (whose motto taken from the Latin is “your business is our business”), whenever they feel like publishing them? Okay, actually they’ve been pretty good about it lately…exposing Cosmic City’s seamy underbelly on a weekly basis. I believe I’ve commented before what a freak parade our favorite NW Oklahoma town can really be!
Oh sure…there’s the usual traffic stops often based 10 minutes apart in the reports. City has to make some dough somehow. Without the revenue from making people’s lives just a bit more miserable, I guess the city mangler (sic) would have to start extorting cash from children under the age of 10 if they want to put their bicycles on the mean streets of Woodward in order for him to pay for more “beautification” projects for downtown. Here’s a hint, pal…there’s little traffic downtown because everyone is using Oklahoma Ave as a by-pass. Do you ever get up from your desk and go outside? But then, interspersed among the traffic stops are some real gems that deserve a closer look and a decided “huh?” I’ve taken the liberty (thank you, Woodward News) of citing some of the juicier tidbits from yesterday’s (9/16) paper (insert theme from “Dragnet” here). Oh, and I’ve added my unseemly and unsolicited commentary in bold. Friday, September 11: 2:20AM – Vandalism report, person punched passenger side window out of car. Wow…now that is a manly man/woman. Seriously, they make tools for punching out car glass in an emergency that includes a 440 steel spike! Well, this perpetrator wasn’t hard to find. He’s/she’s the one that showed up at the emergency room of Woodward Regional Hospital (or whatever the hell they call it now) with a fist the size of a cantaloupe and all the firmness of a bag of water. 7:36AM – Kitten needs to be picked up. Huh? And what would you have the police do with said alleged kitten? I obviously missed something here. 12:50PM – Person at station to make larceny report on brother’s phone being stolen. Again, huh? So why didn’t the brother come in to make his own report. I’m wondering if the person at the station had something to do with his brother’s phone’s disappearance and he’s trying to cover his tracks. 1:02PM – Person said someone is in her house holding her front door shut. Ah ha! Note the close proximity of time. Mystery solved. I bet it’s the brother whose phone was stolen! That’s why he didn’t make his own report to the police…he was busy! 2:44PM – Person needed animal control to come by and get raccoon out of cage. Now there’s a genuine 911 emergency if ever I’ve heard one. Hint, raccoon cager…open the door to the cage. 4:38PM – Person reporting a brown dog showed up on his property and it was not being very friendly. Uh huh. Okay, so a stray dog shows up at your door and you’re going report it as not being very friendly. Here’s a hint…STAY INSIDE! The police are on their way…they have nothing better to do! Sheesh! <okay, replay the theme from “Dragnet” cuz it’s about to get really freaky> Saturday, September 12: 1:10PM – Report of person wearing a cape and feathers in his hair and acting strangely, area around 9th and Oklahoma. Hmmmm…okay, first of all, this earns our FREAK OF THE WEEK Award! Now, let’s see if we can figure out what’s going on here, shall we? It could be: 1) Woodward News is located on the northwest corner of that intersection. Perhaps it’s the News’ editor who has finally tipped over the edge and has gone home to Jerome (probably after editing one too many police reports); 2) City offices (including the police station) are located on the NE corner of that intersection. Perhaps it’s the city mangler (sic) trying to raise money for more well-thought-out civic projects by jumping out into traffic and holding people up as they wait too long for uncontrolled traffic lights to change color (psssst…police dispatcher…get up out of your chair and go see what’s going on); 3) Walgreens drug store is on the SW corner of that intersection. Maybe our caped, feathered crusader is waiting for his psychotropic prescription to be filled…hurry pharmacist, hurry; or, 4) this is my illegitimate son…honestly, this sounds like some of the weird crap I used to do. I don’t recall wearing feathers in my hair though the cape and acting strangely is definitely some Robin DNA. 11:25PM – Pickup driving slowly through area, pulling into alley, shutting lights off, then driving off again. Let’s see…late night on a Saturday. It would be interesting to know if there is a teenage girl living somewhere in the vicinity of where Batman Junior is prowling about. I’m betting the driver of the pickup is probably making rounds while texting, “…I’m right behind your house. Come out…” Monday, September 14: 1:49PM – Person threatening to destroy items that were stolen if she doesn’t get $1,000. Seriously? Extortion? Wonder what the stolen items were? And did the extortionee pay off the extortioner? Too little information to properly comment here. Let’s be careful out there! My Tuesday morning was spent working on the screenplay I’m writing for the upcoming Twister Alley Film Festival. It’s a heartwarming tale about two lesser prairie chickens who manage to outwit a witless hunter bent on bearing witness to having feathery-footed fowl for dinner.
Okay not really, but it’s a better idea than what I am working on. Hey, it’s not easy writing a screenplay from scratch. Plus, there’s that whole must-be-formatted-a certain-way thing. Yeesh…people are so picky. Years ago, I wrote a screenplay based on a novel and that was a lot easier. Essentially, I used every fifth page of the book and threw out the rest. See…easy. Maybe I should try writing my screenplay idea out as a story and then convert it to a screenplay…nah, not enough time. Entries are due to the festival organizers by the end of December. Stupid screenplay. So anyway, that was my morning…sitting in the backyard here at the compound staring off into blue sky as the pad of paper on my lap was ripped to shreds by near hurricane-force winds. I didn’t get very far along as you may surmise. At noon, I was on the motorcycle trying my best to get somewhere though it was a bit tough going east or west with near hurricane-force winds straight out of the south (and hell) forcing me to lean the bike 45 degrees into the wind just to keep it on the road. The afternoon, though, now that was quality time. We are still unpacking boxes of crap we brought from the east coast. Oh sure, there’s mostly boxes of essentials, including countless DVDs of Laurel and Hardy shorts, John Wayne movies, Clint Eastwood movies, etc. El Niño-Mel Schmiño, I’m prepared for a bad winter…don’t you watch Happy Hands Morgan in the afternoon? (We’re all gonna die!) He’ll probably have everyone drive to Boston when the snows come. While living on the east coast over the past ten years, I would spend my weekends frequenting estate sales/auctions and/or yard sales looking for quality items that I could resell. I didn’t actually have a retail space from which I could sell stuff…instead, I became an eBay rat. In case you haven’t noticed though eBay moved from being the world’s biggest flea market to something else. Once they started making life tough for little guys like me, it just wasn’t worth it anymore. I’ve always had my hand in buying and then selling quality junk. My best experience doing that was while living in Southern California. There, those pesky Californians have year-round swap meets. It’s a quality junk dealer’s dreamscape. Most of the crap was sold before I could even unload it at the site…people were pulling it out of the back of my pickup and shoving cash into my hands. I WAS LIVING THE DREAM, I’M TELLIN’ YA! Of course, the flip side of that is that you’re living in Southern California, which other than the generally great weather (70 degrees and sunny on Christmas day)…there’s the traffic, the cost of living, the crime, the friggin’ earthquakes (ain’t got nothing on central Oklahoma tho…just sayin’). But, I digress… So it was that I kept unpacking boxes yesterday afternoon and acting all surprised and excited when I unboxed one of my estate sale treasures that followed me from Virginia. I started thinking I could actually get something going here if I had the right location to sell from. I could maybe set up shop along Highway 183 headed out of town to get the most traffic. Or, maybe I could just hire out that gazillion-dollar events center over at the fairgrounds since they don’t seem to fill it very often and turn it into a weekly indoor flea market. I’ll bet after a few weeks of me filling their space with quality junk sellers, the Woodward County Commissioners would allow a flag with my face to be raised on the unused flag pole that they denied to local veterans (no money there, I guess). Eh, I still like the idea of opening a retail space along Williams Avenue somewhere and truly live the Fred Sanford life. Every morning my friends, Bubba, Grady, and Rollo can stop by for coffee and gossip. Maybe I can get the nephew to be Lamont. Hey now…he even has a big truck that we can use to haul treasures from all over the country. I’m telling you this has possibilities. I’ll get Cousin Fred from Western Arkansas involved. He’ll work the counter while I’m in back drinking (coffee) with my pals and Nephew Lamont is out working the truck. I’ll bet if I ask nicely, my sister would do the Aunt Esther thing. You know, come through the store swinging her purse and chasing us “fish-eyed heathens” out the door. Actually, the sister enjoys buying quality junk as much as I do and she’s very creative. She’d be really great at re-purposing quality junk into flea market chic! Hey…as an added bonus, I’ll sell bootleg BBQ out the backdoor. Of course, that assumes I’m finally able to settle on a new grill and IT DOESN’T GET STOLEN before I can get it assembled. For every quarter-rack of ribs and Robin’s (aka, Fred) special coleslaw that someone buys, I’ll throw in a genuine stainless steel (ignore the rust spots) surgical probe (made in Pakistan) with the Oklahoma state motto (“sic semper looney-toons”) engraved backwards on the handle. I bought 4,000 of them at an estate sale down in Vici last week. Can’t pass up a bargain! Happy Monday, everybody! I’m just back from a weeklong trip to the East Coast to retrieve my motorcycle and (I thought) my BBQ grills. Fortunately, the motorcycle was still safely located in the garage. Unfortunately, someone had made off with my grills. Darn…and I was soooo looking forward to making pork butt again. Eh well, grills come and grills go, I guess. I just hope whoever misappropriated them uses them well.
While driving to Virginia and then back to Oklahoma, one thing became very apparent. Namely, there is a huge delta between the prices of gas in Woodward and other places in the country including other spots in Oklahoma! Why? How is it that gas prices in Woodward are so darned high? Here’s an example…in eastern Oklahoma, right off the interstate at one place we paid $1.95 per gallon. We found pretty much the same thing throughout Tennessee. That is a .34 cent difference between what you can find in Woodward today. Hell, yesterday I drove into Canadian, Texas and filled my tank for just a bit over $2.00 per gallon. Canadian, Texas…truly the center of nowhere. Now, that $2.29 per gallon in Woodward (as of this morning) is certainly less than the $2.59 per gallon it was just a few weeks ago so things are headed in the right direction. Does anyone else smell collusion among station owners in Woodward? I do. And speaking of colluding…well okay, not really, but I couldn’t think of a better segue. You long-time fans of this blog (at last count, there are four of you including the woman who keeps sending me email insisting that I based Kat, the female character in my book, on her – trust me, lady…you weren’t inspiration for anything), but I digress. Long-time readers may remember back in April a posting I did regarding how people in Oklahoma City have sex with their clothes on. For those of you too lazy to follow the link and read the original posting, here are the highlights (or lowlights depending on your point of view). Seems there were two decidedly inebriated lovers in OKC who decided to take up humping on the front lawn of their house on a heavily traveled street in NW OKC. Eventually, after several calls to 911 reporting two people having sex in front of a house, they were arrested for being drunk and indecent in public. Guess that was the best OCPD could come up with at the moment (bet there isn’t a law on the books in OKC about humping with clothes on, if there were, every teenager in Central Oklahoma would be a felon). I pondered the question at the time as to whether they were so drunk they didn’t realize they still had their clothes on. Regardless, I pointed out at the end of the post that, clothed or not, OCPD views spontaneous humpage while liquored up as a heinous crime. I would have thought that was enough coverage of that subject, but no. Ohhhh nooooo. Turn with me now toward Norfolk, Virginia where another couple took public sex to a new level entirely. Imagine if you will you’re coming out of the local shopping mall. It’s a beautiful late summer Wednesday afternoon. You’re sipping your Orange Julius and congratulating yourself on calling in sick for work that day. Stupid bald-headed, big-eared boss…bet he wishes he could sip an Orange Julius. You’re looking through the iMessages on your iPhone, reading all of the texts of “hope you’re okay” and “get well soon” from your co-workers. Oh sure, maybe you pushed it a bit by telling the receptionist when you called in sick that you are convinced that you have a terminal case of obstipation brought on by fecal impaction (see, that Time-Life Hypochondria Series of books did finally come in handy). By the time anyone figures it out, you will either be back to work (“I’m cured! Better living through modern chemistry!”) or you’ll milk it for another day off (assuming it doesn’t rain tomorrow). You’re making your way across the parking lot to where you parked when you see a small group of people gathered near your car. People have their smart phones in hand recording something. Not one to miss a chance to sell an iPhone-produced video to the local news at 4, 5, 6 and/or the special edition at 7PM, you start rolling camera like an erstwhile German film producer with a new monocle. As you push through the crowd, you can’t hardly believe what you’re seeing, but there it is. Big as day. In broad daylight. A near naked female seated atop what appears to be a male corpse humping away for all she’s worth. You immediately press “Record” not wanting to miss a single hump telling yourself that you’ll change your name to Otto (if you’re male) or Frieda (if you’re female). Achtung! Aktion! So, it seems that a really trashed (read as blotto drunk) couple tried to “make love” in the middle of a parking lot of a shopping mall in the Norfolk, VA area. The actual news report of the incident can be located here (definitely worth watching) – don’t worry, the parts have been blurred out. Parts is parts, after all. They probably should have blurred out the participants’ faces as well…just sayin’. According to WTKR News Channel 3 in Hampton Roads, VA, police arrived to find the woman bouncing on top of her (apparently) unconscious male partner. She was arrested for public (pubic?) drunkenness, but later released on bond. More charges may follow. She was apparently so drunk (how drunk was she?) that she didn’t realize she was being watched. Wow, now that is drunk! The thing that kills me is that the male participant wasn’t charged with anything. Seems to me it takes two to tango, but what the hell do I know. I’m betting he spotted the cops turning into the parking lot and made like he had passed out. He was taken to a hospital and later released. So, boys and girls, what have we learned here today? 1) Alcohol apparently reduces whatever inhibitions you might have to ZERO; 2) Humping in a parking lot in summer can cause severe burns and a bad case of roadrash; 3) When the cops show up, act like you’re unconscious they’ll feel sorry for you and not Taser your parts; and, 4) Whatever else you do, be sure to go on local news to explain yourself (your defense attorney will love that). Ed. Note: Chief Blogger Robin is wrapping up his trip to the east coast today and will return full time on Monday. Today finds him in western Arkansas visiting with Cousin Fred. Today's post falls in line with yesterday's post and was first published in April.
We at CCB are beginning to notice a rather frightening trend wherein the females of our species appear to be doing their best to eliminate the males of our species. It’s as though they’re adapting from the practices of praying mantises (mantisi?), wherein the female mantis bites off the head of the male mantis once the lovin’ (read as breeding) is over. I offer as evidence the CCB post of March 31st, in which a woman in Ohio attempted to stab her partner in the groin for eating all the salsa in the house. The CCB Institute for the Study of Female Histrionics (CCBIFTSOFH) has undertaken a study of this disturbing behavior and will publish a comprehensive publication of its findings. We at CCB are committed to getting to the bottom (pun intended) of this and will provide you, our dedicated followers (all none of you), with updates as they become available. CCBIFTSOFH has deployed a team of scientists to Japan to follow up on a story we found on the Huffington Post web site this morning. We at CCB warn readers that what follows is not pretty. In fact, you could say it’s a real shitty situation (nyuk, nyuk). It seems that on the afternoon of April 12th, in Otaku, Japan, a husband allegedly went to the bathroom and left behind an allegedly intolerable bad odor. And now, the man’s alleged wife is allegedly facing attempted murder charges. What, you say? Shouldn’t Stinky Pete (the alleged culprit) be facing attempted murder charges (What? You never heard of silent, but deadly?)? It seems that the aftermath of Stinky Pete’s poo party (SPPP) was so horrendous as to put his household in a state of near mayhem to the point that the couple’s three year old son, who needed to use the facilities, was put off completely. Stinky Pete probably upset and embarrassed that so much was being made of his signature eau de toilet (sic) that he grabbed his son and physically put him on the toilet WITHOUT WASHING HIS HANDS…now, there’s a crime against humanity! And while I’m on the subject of pigs who don’t wash after making doody, let me address the hordes of you who sit on the toilet and text while performing a bowel movement (scientific term). THAT is without a doubt as disgusting if not more so than not thoroughly washing your hands afterwards! I only wish I could send a text to the person that they’re texting and say something like, “Oh, you know…Kevin was sending you that text about how he can’t wait to get his hands all over you…that was just before he wiped his ass! P.S., he just left the men’s room without washing his hands.” I suspect the texting windfalls for service providers in this country would abruptly end. But I digress… So apparently Stinky Pete grabbing the kid and trying to restore some semblance of order to his household was too much for Mrs. Pete who grabbed a knife and attacked her odor-proliferating noxious gas ridden husband. This left said stinker with a 7-inch gash to the left side of his face. Mrs. Pete denies actually trying to kill her husband. Hmmmm…guess she just wants him to wash his hands and maybe use the toilet at the gas station down the street from now on. So there it is, Case #2 for our intrepid CCBIFTSOFH team to investigate, analyze, and give the ol’ sniff test. |
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