You’ve all probably seen those little road side boxes that have a posted speed limit on a sign, and then a set of lights that says “Your Speed” underneath of them. Well, they put one of those on my street today. S.T.U.P.I.D. See, it’s not a deterrent to me, it’s a got-damned challenge. It’s about 70 yards from the driveway. I’m wondering if ol’ Black Betty can bust 40 before she hits it. Hell, with a three day weekend coming up, I may make my own RedNeck Brickyard out of the block just to see how freakin’ high I can register that thing.

I did have another thought about what to do with it. I though about hookin’ it up to Betty’s hitch and putting it on a dead end court. That’s double funny now. Everybody is slowing down when they get to the back of a court, plus, there’d be plenty of head scratchin’ when they couldn’t figure out where they left their speed machine.

If I was the dude who’s house that parked that fucker in front of, I’d be raisin’ 13 kinds of hell with city hall. I got enough junk in my front yard without that thing addin’ to it.

Happy Memorial Day, take some time to remember those that have gone before us.

So here’s another, just ’cause I can

Uncle Ted is a wicked ol’ man now… Oh, here’s the lyrics, which I couldn’t post for Chucky Cheese Hell below… Like I said, I can’t edit, but I can add.

Really… Hmmm… I got two words for you young ‘Neckson… Slingblade Idjit.

(more…)

Dam Y’all ‘tween Leslie, Teresa, and Oddy, what’s the damned ol’ worl’ comin’ to? I hope to Got I didn’t miss anybody but ain’t that enough…? Shit! I’ll say a few words to the Lord in an attempt to he’p out, but I seriously think he laughs at my good wishes and moves the spare school bus to another section of the back yard just to fuck with me.

Hell, while I’m on the subject of things you can’t see comin’ at you in the dark, I want to talk ’bout cats. Dark grey cats. Ones that cammo into the carpet when the lights are off. You can hear ‘em. You just can’t see ‘em. You can feel ‘em when you step on ‘em though. Go ahead, make fun of them toddler shoes with l.e.d.’s built into ‘em. I’m gettin’ a pair of ‘em ’cause I accidentally boot stomped a kitten that got under my feet one day on the farm when I was on my way out the way out the back porch after bacca farmin’ and washin’ up with LAVA one day. I was lookin’ back at grandmama and tellin’ her “I’d be careful”… and damned if I didn’t squash a kitty.

That sound… That feel… I’d be better off without knowing it. It’s one thing to step on an ant, or a roach, a 70+ pound dog, or an Eric, but to squash a pussy is just wrong on so, so many levels. I’d like to say it hurt me more than it did the cat, but that’d be a damned lie.

Strange, that, I never had a problem beating the head of a Yellowhammer retrieved from the roost of a ‘bacca barn from atop the barn across the stoop of the barn to put it out of it’s misery, or wackin’ it with a Pepsi bottle. Equally effective. Run what you brung kinda deal. Steppin’ on a cat hurts, even though I don’t like ‘em either. That Reeearrrraah SNAP sound kinda brings you down… man.

So, where’s this goin?… nowhere, fast. I do want some jumbo sized L.E.D. toddler shoes with velcro so I can see what I’m steppin’ in, or on, though. I don’t care if it’s infrared or white light or if you need NVG’S or what. I’m tired of steppin’ on pussies. They’re too stupid for their own good. Meow, meow… Yeeeeouw! You dumbass, get out of the way. All I wanted was a beer. Damned cat.

Gene, I know you won’t understand. You’re still mystified by the white boat with the blue stripe, or the blue boat with the white stripe, or the boat full of Red Stripe. Don’t bust your brain buddy. Just go with the flow and let the Captain handle it man. It’s just a 3 hour tour… a three hour tour.

Say hi to Mary Ann for me man. Prok Ginger if you get the chance. Yes, I said prok.

Ladies, I hope I haven’t offended as I wish nothing but the best for all of the ailing amongst you. Sometimes things get to where you have to try to laugh, or you cry yourself to sleep. I don’t wish the cry part for any of you 3. I wish all the best on all of you.

I saw an article by some idiot today from the San got-damned FranCRisco Chronicle spouting off about how much the passing of Tim Russert was over hyped. Look, you want to talk over hyped, let’s talk gay marriage news coverage. Now that’s over hyped. Every other article I see on news sites is something or another to do with gay got-damned freakin’ marriages. I don’t care which gay person is marrying the other gay person. Who really gives a shit other than the pair. Who cares how fast they run to the chapel? It’s not like it’s the NFL combine… Hell, never mind, make that the court house, now we might be in the NFL combine neighborhood. I am tired of having to skip all the news articles about peter puffers, fudge packers and carpet munchers that are totally geeked over the fact they can get married. I’ve been readin’ ‘em forever it seems. Just go get married if you can, and STFU about it already, ok? It’s not like I am your pal and you sent me an invitation. See what I mean, I just don’t give a flyin’ fuck at a rollin’ dough nut over it.

I don’t care what you do with your junk in a bath house in San got-damned FranCRisco, that’s your business. You want to make a commitment to your “partner”, fine, do it, go right the hell ahead as far as I’m concerned. That’s your business. MSM, quit bitchin’ and talkin’ about Russert, he ain’t here to defend himself from you asshats, and while your at it, please skip the gay marriage non stories as well. I’m sure he’d have gladly taken that trade off. Who in the hell except the two people involved for the last 55 years really gives a crap? Their parents? Their friends? Ok, yep, that’s pretty much it.

I’m not even gonna go into the the tax ramifications, which, by the way, neither is the MSM, or the employment benefits issues, I’ll leave that to the gACLU. They dig that stuff and most of the time, have time to waste.

Please, no more gay marriage articles. I just don’t give a crap aside from the facts related to the last paragraph, and that, I’m sure, will be a drawn out pissin’ match as well.

Phhhhht!