Pool Skewed

I have had some professional and personal turmoil in my life for a while. It has recently been compounded by some very personal turmoil. No, I'm not dying... Far as I know.
I know my mother hates when I complain about my birthday, but I know I have a birthday curse and I dare anyone to try to disprove it. My birthday is three weeks from yesterday, and if I could hide in a dark cave I would. That is not what this is about, however. This is a Mi Tejas post.
Yesterday I awoke early, puttered around the house, went to work for a couple hours, then headed for the pub. None of the regulars were there, so after sharing some fried pickles with Kat the barmaid I wandered across the street to Buffalo Billiards.

BB's is a HUGE pool hall/bar/live music venue/God knows what else. Sunday at lunchtime it was deserted. I got a rack of balls and a Shiner Bock and punched the cueball around the table for a while. I got a table close enough to the front window I could people watch.
That may sound boring to some, and I suppose it is, but that is part of Mi Tejas.

Side note: My pool game reeks. I used to be pretty good, but I suck now. As if I wasn't down enough already.

Only In A Jeep

My sitemeter keeps showing referals of people looking for "Jeep boobs". They get sent to me due to two completely different posts... One about my Jeep, one about political boobs. Maybe this will make someone somewhere happy. It does OK for me.

Reel Lines (13)

Rick: If it's December 1941 in Casablanca, what time is it in New York?

Sam: What? My watch stopped.

M. over at Lawyers, Tigers and Bears did a little Casablanca post. I went home and watched it again. Great movie. Rick is almost as big a cynic as I.

Dog Daze

Over my desk I have a picture of Rogue, my old 135lb Rottweiler. He's been off this mortal coil for a couple of years now. The anniversary of his death is coming up in a few weeks. I suppose thats why I've been thinking about dogs gone by.

Rogue was a fine animal... Champion lineage. I hadn't wanted a Rottie, and got duped into it by my girlfriend (later my wife, now my ex). He was a gentle giant, and we were together for 8 1/2 years, 5 cities, 3 states, 2 countries and one wife. He could understand commands in spanish, french, italian, english, german and hand signals. Very few days go by that I don't miss him. The first day we brought him home I awoke from a nap to hear this 12lb ball of black and mahogany fluff growling at a noise in the other room. 6 1/2 weeks old and he was out to protect me. He learned to swim in the ocean when we lived in the Carribean, and after that you couldn't keep him out of the water. After he was older he had some hip issues and I think he liked having the pressure off. I took him to my oldest brother's house on the lake and he spent the first several hours just swimming around the dock in big circles. I taught him a lot of tricks, some of which were fairly subtle, but the one that was best recieved was if you made a thumb/forefinger gun and said "bang" he would drop and roll onto his back with all four feet up.

Prior to him was a 3/4 Lab 1/4 bird dog named Chance. She was a queen. When I had her I didn't have all the languages I had for Rogue, but instead she learned to spell. She loved water and pickup trucks and learned to understand t-u-b, t-r-u-c-k, g-o and r-i-d-e plus a few other words. I could take three balls (or apples, she loved apples) throw them in three different directions and have her bring them back in any order I chose. She could bounce like a kangaroo and once pulled a dove I'd shot out of the air four feet off the ground. Cancer took her in old age and she was going blind. I owe my youngest sister a great deal for being with her since I couldn't.

Then there was Bilbo. A Lab/mutt mix who just wanted to play. He disappeared when I was in my early teens. Followed off a bitch in heat and never came back. I should have learned something about women then, but as intelligent as I am, sometimes I'm not that smart.

Bilbo was the offspring of Lady, a Lab/Doberman mix my dad got from a guy who trained Labs. She was originally a present for my Aunt Elizabeth after my Pop's brother died. She was a bit of a chewer as a puppy, so she became ours. One word for that dog. Loyal. She would stand by you no matter what. She followed my father around the yard and when we went for walks she never went too far off exploring.

And lastly, or I should say firstly since she was the first dog I could call my own, was Tinkerbelle. A small blonde furry mutt. Pop had a friend who everyone called Tink. He was with Pop when he brought the puppy home, and so Ma suggested we name the dog after him (of sorts). Tinkerbelle was a wanderer. she went where she wanted when she wanted. She would go crazy for M&M's and Pop would take us to the country store. He'd hang out inside with his buddies and I'd sit in the back of his old blue and white Chevy Scottsdale pickup and share a 6 1/2oz Coke and a bag of M&M's with my dog. She bit a handful of people... One of my sister's male friends, because she was alone in the house and the dog knew it. My oldest brother (and maybe the younger one too) because he was playing rough with me, and I was squealing. One of Pop's friends because... Well, just because he probably deserved it.

I have had friends who didn't like to call me K-nine, but if I could be half as good as any of the canines I just mentioned, I'd be very good indeed.

I Used to Care...

I was never a big Bob Dylan fan. I kinda liked Tangled up in Blue, but bob mostly wasn't my style. This song however speaks to me. I remember sitting with some friends a long time ago, Margi said, "You are twisted." Dave looked at her and said, "No, he's actually sprained." I think these days I may be broken... Things have changed.

A worried man with a worried mind
No one in front of me and nothing behind
There's a woman on my lap and she's drinking champagne
Got white skin, got assassin's eyes
I'm looking up into the sapphire tinted skies
I'm well dressed, waiting on the last train

Standing on the gallows with my head in a noose
Any minute now I'm expecting all hell to break loose

Chorus:
People are crazy and times are strange
I'm locked in tight, I'm out of range
I used to care, but things have changed

This place ain't doing me any good
I'm in the wrong town, I should be in Hollywood
Just for a second there I thought I saw something move
Gonna take dancing lessons do the jitterbug rag
Ain't no shortcuts, gonna dress in drag
Only a fool in here would think he's got anything to prove

Lot of water under the bridge,
Lot of other stuff too
Don't get up gentlemen,
I'm only passing through

(chorus)

I've been walking forty miles of bad road
If the bible is right, the world will explode
I've been trying to get as far away from myself as I can
Some things are too hot to touch
The human mind can only stand so much
You can't win with a losing hand

Feel like falling in love with the first woman I meet
Putting her in a wheel barrow and wheeling her down the street

(chorus)

I hurt easy, I just don't show it
You can hurt someone and not even know it
The next sixty seconds could be like an eternity
Gonna get low down, gonna fly high
All the truth in the world adds up to one big lie
I'm in love with a woman who don't even appeal to me

Mr. Jinx and Miss Lucy, they jumped in the lake
I'm not that eager to make a mistake

(chorus)

One Small Step

Thirty eight years ago today...

Life: A 100 Word Testimony

I hated the deceased. I didn’t hate him when I killed him. I didn’t hate him when he invaded my home. I didn’t hate him for the color of his skin or the fact that he threatened my life. I learned to hate him later. I learned to hate him after I was accused of murder. I learned to hate him after he was dead.
He made me a killer. I am not now, nor have I ever been, a murderer. I am a killer, though, now and forever. He made me take a life, and doing so, destroyed mine.

Oh My!

A good friend of mine has decided to dip his big toe into the cold deep waters of blogdom. Go by and have a quick look see. He only has a post or three up so far and his comments seem to be turned off, but I enjoy conversing with him so I have high hopes. I tried to link him on the right, but blogger.com is a bastard today. I'm sure he'll become a regular read for me. Now, go see M at Lawyers, Tigers and Bears.

Dependance Day

I don't often do it, but on days like today I wonder how the men who gave up so much to free our nation would view Americans of today. What would Thomas Jefferson think of Bill Clinton or George Bush. What would John Hancock's view of Rosie O'Donell be. How would Thomas Paine see Jesse Jackson.

The founding fathers of these United States risked everything, including their lives and the lives of their families to be independent of the constraints of an oppressive government. Their ideals were for a nation of people to have the government of themselves. That's why we say that elected officials represent their cities, counties, states, and this country... They are to be leaders, not rulers.

The war with Britain didn't end on July 4, 1776, it began. Declairing independance was the first step, not the last. It was a dangerous, and some thought foolhardy, thing to do.

The fighting was brutal, and viscious. The rules of engagement were few and far between. It was win or die... Period.

Some thought it was a bad idea. There were loyalists aplenty... Working, Spying and fighting for the British.

Some of our own changed sides in the middle. Benedict Arnold is considered a traitor not because he sided with the British, but because he was an American hero who on more than one occaision handed the Brits defeat, then he lost faith and sold out. He could have been one of our first presidents, maybe the first president had he believed and fought for that belief.

The founding fathers didn't fight for socialized medical care. They didn't fight for welfare or social security. They didn't fight to encumber America with big government that costs so much to run it would bankrupt itself if it didn't take away from its citizens the very things it puports to provide them.

Thomas Jefferson said "Any government large enough to provide everything you need, is large enough to take away everything you have." Remember that the next time they raise your taxes to give you something "free". Remember that the next time they tell you that you don't need a gun, the police are there to protect you. Remember that the next time your elected officials call you stupid, or racist or uninformed when they try to pass laws that you know aren't right or fair.

Remember why those men of yore came here in the first place, why they fought and died to free us, and why so many since then have fought and died to keep us free. Remember... Remember.

Have a safe and happy 4th.

Reel Lines (12)

Dix Handley: Why don't you quit cryin' and get me some bourbon?

I worked it in.

Terrible Twos

Holy Effin' Christ! Yesterday was my blogaversary. Two years ago I put up a picture of my celtic dog tattoo and said "welcome..."

Well, welcome back again. This is nothing like what I thought having my own blog would be like. I hate that I don't have enough time to post the way I want to... Or the things I want to.

I love my readership though. I get good comments and great feedback. I have bloggy friends to tease and who tease back (borg zombie chipmunks throwing me off of a hotel balcony). I rewarded a reader with some Irish tunes, a Guinness glass and a Pub t-shirt.

Shiite in a sand dune, people, I am glad to still be around. I know I owe you some more politics and a few Naked Lunch Specials. I'll get around to it eventually. Really. Iffin you don't believe me stick around and see.

If Elisson can get away with this artsy crap, so can I.

Reel Lines (11) Sunday Matinée

Holly Golightly: What do you do, anyway?

Paul Varjak: I'm a writer, I guess.

Holly Golightly: You guess? Don't you know?

Paul Varjak: OK, positive statement. Ringing affirmative. I'm a writer.

Yesterday I found myself with some time to kill, so I thumbed through the Austin Chronicle for a tip on what to do with two and a half hours. The Paramount Theater had a Sunday afternoon showing of Breakfast at Tiffany's. Not one of my favorite movies, but a decent film none the less. So off I went.The Paramount is a grand old theater... Not like those cold sterile things you see nowadays. Built around 1915 it still serves for stage and film. I've been there to see Leo Kottke twice, Tom Rush, Joe Satriani with Eric Johnson and Dave Grissom, and a wonderful Scottish Christmas music program that my artsy friend Eva gave me tickets to. This was the first time I'd come to see a film here. I bought my ticket at the box office outside, a real ticket taker in a bow tie tore it. I made my way to the bar (Oh, yes... The bar) and got a Maker's and Coke, a small popcorn and some junior mints. I made my way to my seat just as the opening credits were rolling. I took some pictures of the screen and of the theater, but I forgot to bring my camera with me to post them. Maybe later.I know that I knew in the back of my mind that George Peppard was in this film, but I guess I forgot. Remember, I was a pre-teen and teenager in the '80's so to me Peppard was Col. John "Hannibal" Smith of the A-Team.That notwithstanding, it was a great way to escape the hectic everyday life that I live. I think I'm going to make this part of my routine now. Not every Sunday, but they have shows throughout the week. Tonight is The Asphalt Jungle with Marilyn Monroe in her film noir stage. We'll see if I can work it in.