I got a brand new bag

If you like the fine postings here at GASP then you might wanna check out my new blog, Mr. Marshall's Freaky Deekies, www.mrmarshallsfreakydeekys.blogspot.com, because it's a hoot.

New words for today: froe and rive. A froe is a cutting implement used back in the day. Rive is a verb and descibes the action derived from cutting wood with a froe. When one rives something he basically sheers the wood with the froe. Some reallyolder houses-- late 1700's-- have riven lathe work behind the plaster. This is how people would make interior walls before they had electric saws. Newer homes have mill-produced lathe wood.

Feel smarter? Me too. Now go out there and guard!

Colder than what?

Today was the coldest day in September for Lexington, KY since 1892. How bout that shit? My neighbor, commenting about the drastic drop in temperature, stated " It's colder than a well diggers ass!" I really don't think it was that cold. Of course, never having been up a well digger's ass I guess I really could not say for sure.

Stephen Hawking, the world's greatest living genius says, "Any physical theory is always provisional, in the sense that it is only a hypothesis: you can never prove it. No matter how many times the results of experiments agree with some theory, you can never be sure that the next time the result will not contradict the theory."

My neighbor, Sammy Jack Vittitow, made the hypothesis that a well digger's ass is pretty damn cold. I don't know of any well diggers in my area. So this hypothesis will have to go unproven and provisional in context.

If anybody knows where I could locate a well digger who would be accomodating enough to volunteer for a clinical study concerning thermal variances of the posterior please respond to this blog.

Although the former hypothesis could not be proven, it was sure to say that it was NOT hotter than two possums in a mailbox or-- Eight indians in a covered wagon.

Guard Against the Insanity. Fight Santana Proliferation.

I remember a time...

I remember a time when I had time to do fun things like write some stuff in my blog. But now it seems the man has got a hold of me.

Word for the day: panacea

Where the Hell is Ben and his Blog?

Where the hell has Ben and his blog, whrsmymnd.blogspot.com, gone too? Gasp! Maybe the secret police got him for all his subversive and anti-war rhetoric!

Or maybe the boogey man finally got him.

Whatever. It sure was nice to get an inside look at life across the pond. Maybe I'll march over there tomorrow and knock on Tony Blair's front door and kick him in the nuts and demand they let Ben go Free!

Maybe Tony Blair IS the boogey man!

Just imagine the inhumane torture he might be subjected to. GASP! No! Not-- gulp-- SaNTana!
Anything but, please.

Noir your heart out!

Dames. Now there's a tempermental creature if there ever was one. I've known dames that would make a man curl up in a ball and weep cuz he knew he didn't stand a chance of makin' her-- let alone pleasin her. I'm talkin' bout the high class broads that glide 6 inches above the ground. The kind of gal that nations go to war over. Hell, that guy Homer wrote a book about one. They'll eat a man up and spit 'm out just cuz they can.

But to be fair--I mean these are 'sposed to be 'unbiased' times we's livin' in-- I seen the sweetest angel darlins' turn into the most wretched and hateful hags 'cuz a man got to her most prized possession-- her heart. Yeh, then the bastard jus' tosses it out the window like an empty bottle of beer an leaves her heart shattered in a million pieces.

My sister's a prime example. She hates my guts-- hadn't laid eyes on her or spoke to her or nothin' in ten years. Yeh, but she hates everyone's guts, see. She was 'sposed to marry this real smooth guy-- said he was into real estate development.

Well she had a lil' nestegg saved up see. She worked for this doctor in the city for a long, long time and he and her had a real close relationship if y'know what I mean. I don't think his wife appreciated it too much but they were both older than dirt anyways. So when he finally kicked the can he lef' her enogh dough so she could buy a house an' live real comfortable like.

Shortly afterwards she met this smooth guy an' he wined her and dined her and then six months in to the relationsip he persuaded her to give 'm her money for a business investment that would make 'dem both millionares. The bastard hightailed it the very next week. Left her high an' dry. Wadn't much I could do seein's how I was finishin' my vacation in Eddyville.

Of course she weren't no spring chicken when all this happened. After that she jus' lost her youth as they say. When I got out I went an' visited her an' she wudn't even answer the door. Jus' sat there in her rockin' chair in her flat watchin' the picture box and cursin' every man she ever knew under her breath. Because you see, she didn't care as much about the money that was gone as she did about the man who stole her heart.

Probably didn't help much seein's how the old man lef' us when she was only five. 'Course by that time I had already been kicked out the house an' was out on the streets makin' a name for myself. Yeah I was a real firecracker in those days-- didn't care 'bout no one 'cept myself.
Sometimes I wish I could make it up to her somehow.

One thing's for sure if I ever catch up with the smooth talkin' sonofabitch that broke my lil' sister's heart I'll break his knees and then some.

Noir your heart out

I had been living the straight man's life just long enough; long enough for those wanderin' thoughts to come creepin back in to my head. It was real hard for a guy like me not to stray from the beaten path-- 'Cause I guy like me always wants more.

Guess I got my head in the clouds-- jus' like mamma always said. She would say things like, "If you could realize you ain't nothing special you might amount to something someday!"

But I look around and I see some guy and he's window shopping with his cute lil' wife and their lil' kiddie and I'm thinkin'-- this guy aint happy. Jus' look at him--miserable as hell.

Oh sure he's got more than me-- home-cooked meal when he comes home from work an' a nice big arm chair to sit in and a wife who loves him in the middle of the night but that ain't what he really wants.

While he's sitting there with Junior on his lap drinkin' his beer, he's thinkin' about that ol' chap of his back in college that went off to China or Peru or somethin' like that and made it big in Silver bullion or diamonds or tropical medicines or something.

And he starts to think, "what have I done"? And he starts to regret. And he starts to get angry deep inside because he knows he can never go back.

The stray dog may not have a pot to piss in but at least he's free to roam.

Flogging A Dead Horse

Perhaps I was being a little too harsh on my last post. Definitely not focused enuff which continues to plague my writing. That's why I have this blog, too strengthen my writing skills and try to form developed thoughts.

Well, forget Christians for a second. Throughout history society has looked down on others that were different. I just can't understand why we perceive ourselves as an advanced society yet we continue to look for scapegoats. We continue to form our intuitions based on heresay and rhetoric.

Millions of people have been massacred because of this perplexing habit yet we never stop and ask ourselves, "How do I know what I know?".

I know people who are so racist against black people yet they grew up in a community with hardly any black people. These folks lack the ability to rise above their parent's madness and so continues the legacy of fear and paranoia.

Yep. There are plenty of so-called Christians splattering their cars with status-seeking identifiers like Jesus emblems and support the troops stickers. I don't get it. Whom are you trying to impress?

There are plenty of hard working folks who buy in to the load of crap that this administration wants us to believe-- and I can't seem to get it into their heads that a bunch of bloodthirsty, money hungry, and BLASPHEMOUS assholes are running the show.

Also, there are plenty of young turks out there who believe everything that comes out of Michael Moore's fat trap.

Everybody wants to be on the winning side. Some of us want to be on the 'cool' and 'hip' side-- the side that's got 'the real scoop on things'. Why because your life is empty and you want to fill it with something good, but you don't know where to start, because you were raised to project what other people wanted you to be rather than discovering who you really are.
So these people, who cannot fully form thoughts of their own, resort back to the blame game because they don't have the mentality to comprehend that there is no GOOD side.

When you fall off the horse the only thing you can do is get right back on.

Or shoot it and put it out of it's misery.

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