At the Crossroads of a Parallel Universe

THAT AIN'T A WORD

2010-04-19T09:53:00.000-07:00

If you can't say something nice about someone,
give 'em both barrels.
That's what Later Billy used to say.
Course he didn't have many friends,
and most of them ended up wounded in some way.

What Later Billy did mostly was talk. Lacey said he could talk the ears off a jackrabbit. I suspect she never considered the damage Billy might do to an elephant. But there weren’t any of those around, and Lacey’s metaphors usually related to something close at hand.

Apart from putting things off, storytelling what was what Later Billy did best. When he was telling stories folks generally liked to hang around and listen a spell.

"You sure got a way with words," Cousin Luke said one inauspicious day. Course Luke was limited to some fifty-seven words, including twenty-nine of the cussing kind. "You oughtta send some of them off to those magazine types," Luke advised, "They pay top dollar for yarns like that."

"Maybe some of these stories will figure into print someday," Later Billy mused -- for about six months -- before he commenced to send his "tales" off to anybody that printed anything—except Billy’s tomes.

"All I got back for my trouble was little pieces of paper sayin’ ‘Don’t send us nothin’ else,’" Later Billy explained a few months later to anyone within earshot.

So, for a spell, Later Billy gave up his writing career while he held forth, ad nauseum, at the Bar None Bar & Bar-B-Q about the aggravations of his new profession.

"Them publishing fellers don’t know squat about what’s good. On top of that they don’t even know the King’s English. One of ‘em fellers wrote back saying "ain’t" ain’t a word. Now we’ve all heard ain’t used. So now you tell me," he challenged the assembled congregation of good ol’ boys in the bar, "is ain’t a word or ain’t it?"

Well, R.L.—who still was sporting a sizable knot on his head for telling Later Billy Sam Houston walked best backwards—chimed in quicker than a shot out of a shovel, "Ain’t is my favorite word!"

"Know what else one of them lamebrains said about my stories? Said they was "provincial". Now I looked that up in Webster’s book of words and what I got out of it was that my tales was "countrified". Now I don’t know what critter birthed that boy, but the way I figure it every story comes out of some part of this great country. So one way or the other, they’s all gotta be countrified. Best as I can figure, them citified publishing types was looking down on the Great State of Texas. Now I don’t know about you fellers, but I ain’t—I said I "ain’t"—takin this serious affront to the honor of all we hold dear, from turkey vultures to horney toads, without some measure of satisfaction."

"You gonna put a knot on their heads?" R.L. asked.

"I ain’t figured out yet what I’m a gonna do, but whatever it is, it’ll be a memory."

A silence fell over the Bar None Bar & Bar-B-Q while Billy pondered. Sometimes he’d stay that way for weeks.

Someone ordered another round of longnecks, especially for Later Billy. The idea being, if he was good and liquored up he’d do something that would be talked about for years, even if it was only Later Billy doing the talking.

"I tell you what boys," Later Billy said after an appropriate amount of time—just to give his words some weight in the silence they filled. "I think I’ll just send them a burden of stories. And I’m gonna use ain’t and git and yonder and y’all ever sentence or or so. I’ll send them more stories than their children’s children can read. If it takes me till my dying day I’ll educate them boys, or at least their young’uns to the ways of us provincials. Sooner or later they’re bound to say ‘Ain’t these yarns right up there with that Shakespeare feller? Let’s print ‘em and let the whole wide world in on what Texans ponder.’ "

INDIAN DINNER WITH HARMON HICKS

2010-01-14T09:31:00.000-08:00

What with food prices risin like a cloud over Hiroshima, Harmon Hicks decided to start eatin Indian style. It weren't the smartest notion he ever had, not that he was ever known for his brilliance.

"Prickly pear, that's where I'll start! There's a whole batch of em in my back yard."

Being the cordial type Harmon invited everyone at the Bar None Bar & Bar-B-Q to drop by for supper. The only ones who took him up on the invite were Later Billy and Big Junior who both thought it might be an amusement worth watchin.

"I read up on it and learnt you gotta burn off the stickers first," he announced in his most authoritative voice pretendin he actually read up on the topic. Seems he simply had a vague recollection of the process.

"Once that's done you cut em into strips and cook em like okra," he elaborated. "No more store-bought food for me." He was right proud and grinnin big, like a politician at a county fair.

So.... sittin out by the fire pit he tossed about about a half dozen prickly pear pads on the fire and was turnin them over every now and again with a iddy bitty tongs when it happened.

Them pears started swellin up lookin all bloated like. As the insides got boiling hot, the outsides started to crack. Then -- kaplooy! They exploded like an antipersonnel weapon. Later Billy sprung to his feet and lit out like he was bein attacked by a swarm a Mexican Killer Bees.

"Jeezus!" Later Billy yelled from a safe distance, about 30 yards away. "I thought you read up on this?"

Well, Harmon wasn't sayin nothin, him being too busy picking stickers outa his hands, arms, face and other body parts. Fool that he was he was still standin by the fire and them pads were still a poppin but he was mightily distracted by the pain of it all.

Big Junior, who by his great good fortune just happened to be waterin a nearby tree at the time, nearly wet all over his self when he heard the explosion.

"Okay," Big Junior said, "so much for the dinner. What's for desert?"

Here We Go Again....

2009-12-03T10:08:00.000-08:00

It's beginning to feel alot like a bank loan. Unless I want to forego that Christmas Potlatch altogether.

Okay. Maybe I'll just whittle or glue or duct tape some stuff into a kinda pleasin shape and give that away. I mean, hey, I'm all outta gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Which ain't a bad thing altogether.

Accordin to Almighty Google, "the three gifts had a spiritual meaning : gold as a symbol of kingship on earth, frankincense (an incense) as a symbol of priestship, and myrrh (an embalming oil) as a symbol of death." No joke.

Now I ask you, who in their right mind would give "death" as a gift? Maybe, if a feller did it might go something like this:

"Hey, Honey! Look what I got you for Christmas! A Death Insurance.... er, I mean, a Life Insurance Policy! It'll pay out one million smackaroos. That's just to show you how much I care. By the way, how you feelin today?"

Okay, that ain't gonna fly. None of it. Maybe I'll just hide out till New Year's Eve.

HIGH FINANCE

2009-11-30T13:11:00.000-08:00

R.L. is about as smart as a feller can get with an 8th grade education. But I'll put him up against most anyone with a Ph.D specially when it comes to the money game.

We was jawin at the Bar None Bar & Bar-B-Q jus yesterday when the topic drifted into high finance.

"Take them bubbles you been hearin so much about. That dot-com bubble. Housing Bubble. Credit Bubble. Hell you got bubbles all over the place. Kinda like Lawrence Welk's bubble machine on steroids. It's about fake wealth.

"When you buy stock for $10 a share and it jumps up to $100 you think you're rollin in dough. So you borrow against that and start spendin. When you spend money you ain't got you're beholden to total strangers who are probably in idiot gear too."

"It weren't money to begin with." R.L. kept on yappin like anyone understood, or cared, about his fabulous insight. But that never stopped him when it came to talkin money. "It weren't money atall. Just potential money. When your stock is at $100 per share and you cash out right away have $100 -- before you pay them hidden fees. When it drops to $50 per share and cash out you already lost $50 plus more fees. So where did the other $50 go?"

Silence all around.

"The other day it was 80 degrees outside. Today it's hovering around freezing. So where did all that heat go?" R.L. was always tryin out simple examples what don't have an answer on simple folks who are thinkin he's actually askin a direct question.

Silence all around.

"Oh, I get it," Later Billy said after joinin in the listenin part for about a minute. "Like it was hot yesterday and cold today. So what happened to yesterday?"

Not willing to be deterred from his story R.L. just keeps on a goin.

"When that happens your stock drops like a stone. So you borrow more loot to keep your house, car and maybe even your whole family. But you can't borrow and spend your way outta a financial ditch. It's like diggin one hole to fill up another. Plain and simple. So what's happenin now? The gubment steps in and prints extra money and there ain't nothin to back it up. They're just diggin more holes.

"I reckon the gubment is pushin a Ponzi scheme. They keep printin more and more money to keep the scheme goin. Truth be told, we're headed for a money-bubble."

Well I didn't get nearly half of what R.L. was sayin but I knew he was onto something so I called over a feller I figured was extra-smart cause he had stock in Ford Motor Company. Big mistake.

"Hey, Cousin Luke! Reckon you oughta get in on this here conversation."

It seems Luke had inherited Ford stock from his grandpa what bought it back in the very beginning. It went way up over the years and now it ain't worth squat. But I didn't know that part.

I just turned them loose on each other and let them go at the gubment like it was public enemy number one.

Let me tell you about Cousin Luke. First off, he is 38 and still living at home. Once his momma asked, "Son, why don't you find yourself a nice girl, get married and give me a grandchild?"

"If you think," he replied talking through a mouthful of pecan pie, "I'm gonna move outa here and live with a total stranger you don't know me by half. Besides there ain't no one in this whole county I ain't double-related to. Any a my kids will turn out like Harmon Hicks. Have you seen how he lives? Ain't no kid a mine endin up like that."

Anyway, after a spell I drifted back into the fray -- I mean the conversation -- and Cousin Luke was a mite peeved that R.L. hadn't shared his vast knowledge of the financial world before he lost all his inheritance with that Ford stock. Well, he actually lost more than that. Seems he took out a loan at the bank to buy a new Ford pickup -- double cab, four-wheel drive, extra long bed, V-8 with all the trimmins -- and used his Ford stock to back it up right before it hit rock bottom. Now he's got payments.

"You mighta told me bout all this afore now. Now I got loan payments," Little Junior told R.L. like it was all his fault about the pickup.

"What's your interest rate?" R.L. asked.

"What's that?"

Just about then Later Billy turned to me, noddin toward Cousin Luke and whispered, "I thought he just looked stupid."

PFISHING WITH THE INTERNET

2009-04-20T15:11:00.000-07:00

I reckon this here new computer sittin in the dinin room is gonna ruin my life. It's done got a head start.

It all began when that banker feller, Harless, called me in to ask what was I doin trying to draw out one. Hundred. Thousand. Dollars? He said it like that and I said:

"Are you off your gourd or your meds? What would I do with that much money? And if I got all that loot in this bank a yours you damn well better start talkin so's I can get it out."

Well the next thing I knowed I was bein interrogated by that id-jit Sheriff's Deputy, Cooter Ray. Says he might have to haul me to the Iron Bar Hotel for bank fraud if I couldn't explain my way outta this.

Well, hearin that, I listened to Harless a might closer. Turns out someone out there in Cyber Space done went and stole my identification. "Cyber Space" was Harless's words. I reckon he's all ga-ga over space aliens and UFOs. But I just smiled and kept on listening.

Anyways, just to shut him up, I showed him my i.d. just to prove I still had it. Sides, his whiny voice was wearin my patience to the nub. But, Nooooo. He kept on a goin.

"Seems you were a victim of an on-line crime," he was sayin while Cooter Ray nodded his head and grinnin like they was in on some private joke. Then he said someone used a website -- Jeez where are these fellers from -- a looney bin or what? -- and then, as if that weren't weird enough Harless said someone actually fished all my vital information.

"So, just tell me, how can someone fish with a line from space into a web? And why?"

"Fished, Mr Gravis. P-F-I-S-H-E-D. Fished."

Okay, so he's looney and he can't spell. I got no problem with a banker what's a little nuts. Happens in every family. But if he's gonna keep up with my loot he'd better damn well know how to spell F-I-S-H.

"Seems you or someone in your household went to a website called "Goggle" and they were given all your credit card numbers, bank account number, and, well, all your numbers."

Well I knew who that was. My live-in-boss. She's got all my numbers for certain. So once I talked my way outta all that banking scandal I went straight home for some answers.

That's when things got real confusin.

While I was tryin to tell the new Queen of the Computer about what happened she was peckin away on that keyboard with one finger like a starved chicken. All the while talkin about how all the other womenfolk in that Garden Club had computers and were buyin stuff super cheap. "Bargain Gushers", she called them.

"I was told to go to Google and type in what I wanted and I'd find it right quick like. See!"

She was pointin to a "page" which isn't a page at all on her "desk top" which is really a kinda TV screen sittin on top a the dining room table. And there it was. Googel.

"Honey, that don't spell Google. That's Googel. Google is spelt G-O-O-G-L-E. Here, see, Harles wrote it down for me."

So when she opens up a new "window" -- which isn't like any window I've seen -- types in Google the same lookin page show up. But there, when you "search" for something you ain't lost, it doesn't ask for your life history from the get go.

So now all I gotta do is change the numbers on my bank account, telle phone, one tapped-out credit card, our home address, driver's license and social security card.

Or... I could just go to the Bar None Bar and Bar-B-Q round up auto graphs for my petition to shut down that "Garden Club", and see if anyone is interested in a barely used computer, and maybe get a lead on a good marriage counselor. There's bound to be a passel of em in town.

ANYTHING BUT THAT

2009-04-07T07:43:00.000-07:00

Well, procrastinatin on a Honey-Do List ain't all that bad according to Later Billy.

Seems his live-in boss got so fed up waitin for him to fix that screen door whats been slammin in the breeze like the wind chime from hell she went and made Later Billy an offer he couldn't refuse.

"You fix that screen door and you can have your way with me."

"Run that by me again." He thought he'd done died and gone to heaven.

"You heard me."

"You mean like anything?"

"Anything but that."

Later Billy knew what that meant.

"So, the door is wide open for fruits and vegetables," he grinned.

"Okay, but we're not doing grapes again."

"Well, Sugar, I gotta ponder on this for a spell. Chances like this don't come along hardly ever and I have to work up my own Honey-Do List for this one."

"Do it soon. This offer expires at the end of the week. And don't go yammering about this with those do-nothins at the Bar None Bar & Bar-B-Q."

"Oh, Sweetie that never crossed my mind."

Later, at the Bar None Bar & Bar-B-Q, all the fellers weren't sittin at the bar as usual, but instead they was all hunched over a corner table like they was hatchin some conspiracy. Later Billy joined em so's he wouldn't be left out of any excitement.

Then's when he learned some motor-vational speaker held forth at the Ladies Garden Club and Gab Fest. And all the fellers was talking about how he told the womenfolk different ways to get their no-account, lay-about, beer-drinkin, couch-potato menfolk to get offa their butts and do something useful.

None of the offers were half as promising as Later Billy's. Nowhere near that.

R.L.'s old-lady simply pulled out a hand gun and said, "Patch that leak in the roof or else. This offer expires at the end of the week."

Little Junior was given the opportunity to go fishin all week if he'd do the dishes for a week. Hearin that, all the fellers chipped in for an extra large apron which he promptly spent on beer. 'Sides his very-common-law wife had a reputation for slippin around. No way was Little Junior about to wash dishes for a week so she could go back to her not-so-old ways while he was off tryin to catch fish.

Big Junior's woman said she wouldn't file for divorce again if he'd clean out that "pile of crap" in the garage. Since Big Junior only worked part-time, when he had to, he needed her income. Needless to say he jumped on the task. Her offer expired at the end of the day.

It was all Later Billy could do to keep his trap shut about his offer but he kept his word knowing full well that his missis was most likely the best a feller could ask for. Especially amongst this bunch of bar flies, or most anywhere else for that matter.

Later Billy hardly finished his second long neck before he hopped in his pickup, drove straight past the fruit and vegetable stand and headed home.

Bright and early the next mornin the screen door swung like new--sorta--and when the misses got up she found Later Billy workin on his list.

"Sugar," he asked with a smile as wide as his face could hold, "we got any Miracle Whip?"

I'M ON A CRIME SPREE

2009-03-03T13:20:00.001-08:00

You gotta hand it to that tellie vision picture box. It'll make you laugh, cry or go downright looney. But that can't hold a candle to this here Internet thingy.

Right now I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Or just surrender to stupid. I jus read that in the Great State of Texas there are some outright boneheaded laws. Here are a few examples. I My put my two cents in bold just so's you won't miss out.

1. The entire Encyclopedia Britannica is banned in Texas because it contains a formula for making beer at home. You can read how to make beer here. Now I reckon I'm an outlaw. So why stop there? Here you can get the entire Encyclopedia Britannica FREE for 30 days.

2. A recently passed anticrime law requires criminals to give their victims 24 hours notice, either orally or in writing, and to explain the nature of the crime to be committed. Oh jeez. I shoulda given notice on item #1 & 2. Now I done went and busted another law.

3. It is illegal to milk another person's cow. So, I drink a little glass most every night and I don't own a cow. I must be an an accomplice.

4. In Houston, it is illegal to sell Limburger cheese on Sunday. So, who the hell wants to be in Houston on Sunday or most any other day of the year? The same goes for eatin that smelly stuff.

5. In LeFors, it is illegal to take more than three swallows of beer while standing. Well, if anyone stuck to that law at the Bar None Bar & Bar-B-Q they'd be laughed outa the joint. Sides, what ya gonna to do if all the bar stools and chairs are filled up? Sit on the floor? I reckon that community must have deep pockets to go out and hire "sipper countin cops" to enforce this outright idjit law.

5. In Mesquite, The "hair is to be clean and well-groomed. Unusual coloring or excessive hairstyles that may include “tails,” “designs,” “puffs,” etc. are prohibited." Okay girls, you gotta hack off them pony "tails". By the way, what the hell are "puffs"? Sadly, I had no idea that the "ducktail" I sported back in high school would lead to this here crime spree. I reckon hair do's and don'ts oughta be heeded.

6. Abilene, Texas, for example, "It is illegal to idle or loiter anyplace within the corporate limits of the city for the purpose of flirting or mashing." Whoa! I can understand why a feller might flirt accidental like while waiting for a bus, or for the light to change, or maybe just to catch his breath. But mashing a woman, stranger or not, I draw the line there.

7. Texarkana, where "Owners of horses may not ride them at night without taillights." Now this here law is way past nuts. I mean, how the hell do you rig up lights on a horses tail?

8. In Dallas County it is illegal to own any realistic looking, phallic shaped, personal massager more than one foot in length. I ain't touching this one.

A final note: I'm waitin for the law to show up and haul me in to the hoosegow. I'm gonna need bail money so go ahead and send me some loot now cause I'll be lookin for a right smart lawyer to get me outa this here crime spree. If only I had warned the law afore I went and wrote this I mighta been within my rights.

Small Town Relations

2009-02-19T06:24:00.000-08:00

You know, relations in a small town can get all tangled up and confusin like a pile a coat hangers.

Today at the Bar None Bar & Bar-B-Q Later Billy told me he just found out he was his own father. Well, I knew this town was small I just didn't know it was that small.

Without a knowin it he married his late daddy's ex-wife so now he's his own daddy and his only child. And what inheritance he has left he's gonna lose all over again to his step-momma. And that ain't the half of it.

Turns out she may be his sister too. Later Billy splained to me but was way too drunk and not communicatin good.

But I got to ponderin there on that barstool.

If his momma, I mean his step-momma, wife and sister had a kid he could be the uncle, father and brother to his own child and his wife could be the sister, mother, aunt and grandma.

Then a feller at the end of the bar asked, "Hey, Later Billy, you got any kids yet?"

Well, a hearin that I decided to get me another beer and do some serious ponderin.

You Gotta Love Stupid Too

2009-02-06T06:34:00.000-08:00

Is it just me, or are some folks goin kinda weird these days? Like maybe their tinfoil hat is on crooked.

Just the other day I was at the Bar None Bar & Bar-B-Q ponderin a way to get aholt of my drinkin problem -- I got whopped on the elbow of my right arm with the bidness end of a heavy duty fence gate and now I can't hardly raise my hand to my mouth -- when Harmon Hicks plopped down on the stool next to me.

"My tobacca ain't growin. Been nearly a month now and nothins happened."

Well, Mr. Hicks is ever bit as dumb as he looks and twice as lazy so I never figured him to actually work at anything let alone growin tobacco. I was curious.

"So," I asked, "what kind you growin?" I know next to nothin about the topic myself but I had to ask.

"Marlboro Reds. Filter Tip."

"Excuse me?"

"You know. Marlboro cigeretts. Ready rolls. Went down to the feed store and bought me some of them little pots for plantin, some high dollar pottin soil and stuck one in each of em. I water them regular like, but nothin."

Well, I thought he was plumb outa his gourd till he held out a picture of his enterprise like he was showin me photos of his grand kids or such as that.

"Hey!" I called R.L. and Later Billy over to participate in this peculiar event. Sometimes you just gotta share.

"Harmon's got a tryin situation and needs our help!"

Well, Harmon repeated what he told me and passed around the photo.

R.L. slapped Harmon on the back sayin, "Dang boy, no wonder this ain't working for you. You got the filter side down. It can't take root."

"Yep," Later Billy chimed in, "and them pot's ain't near big enough. What kinda fertilizer you usin?.

"None. It comes in the pottin soil. The high dollar kind."

"Well that ain't near enough. You need some good cow manure in there too. That'll help em grow faster. And set out a whole pack a them Marlboros nearby so's the plants can see that and know what they're sposed to turn into."

Well, figurin he was well educated on the topic Harmon Hicks hopped offa his bar stool real sudden like and headed to the Sack and Git for another pack of cigs and then over to his makeshift greenhouse.

By then the entire population of the bar had gathered around, some ten in all, to witness stupid in action.

"Is he nuts?" R.L. asked.

"No," Later Billy said, "he's jus practicin."

FROZEN ASSETS

2009-01-21T07:14:00.000-08:00

Big Junior was sittin at the Bar None Bar & Bar-B-Q the other day lookin like he had just lost his best hound, his pickup or maybe even his wife.

"What's got you so weepy lookin?" I asked.

That's when he said his assets was frozen at the bank. He seemed mighty peeved so I left him well alone and went on about more important business, moved over a couple of bar stools and ordered another longneck.

Then, yesterday, while I was sittin down by the stock tank fishin for anything what might be interested in a left-over noodle I remembered what the banker feller told me when I tried for a loan.

"Mr. Gravis," he said squintin at my over his tee-niny glasses, "you need some assets to back this up."

Well, at first I thought he was startin in on some kind of off-color joke, or maybe he got wind of that nickname "Gone-butt" what won't stick to me less it's behind my back. I pondered hard and quick.

"Ass sets?" I asked. "They come in pairs?"

The banker feller looked at me like I was as dumb as he was ugly.

"No Mr. Gravis," he replied talkin to me like Molly that kindergarten teacher does to everyone, "I mean, property, like cattle or a tractor."

Anyway, my point here bein, while I was fishin and ponderin frozen assets I got to wonderin why anyone would want to freeze a tractor and exactly where the bank's freezer was what kept Big Junior's twenty or so hogs.

Then it come to me quicker than thought. Why not take take that freezer full of deer meat I got and let the bank hold on to that so's next time I go in for a loan I have assets ready and waitin.

Nagging the Universe

2009-01-08T07:48:00.000-08:00

According to them folks who ponder quantum field theory, if universes are parallel they ain't supposed to get tangled up.

Here's how it works: You come to a fork in the road. You gotta choose one, but other is out there too acting just like you chose it instead. So if you ever made a really idiot decision, relax. Somewhere in the universe you're out there enjoying the benefits of a right smart move.

I reckon them physicists have never put their theory to the test. Some time back in San Saba county I was way lost in a tangled mess of dirt roads. I kept choosing the left fork in the road. Before long I worm-holed my way to that other universe where I started out and got unlost.

The parallel universe, having presented me with a second chance kept poking its head through the fabric of time and space, time and again. At least that was my theory and I stuck to it and it paid off. For spell time I kept this to myself cause I could just hear some bright spot reply:

"The universe is not like a husband. You can't nag it to death to make it change its mind."

Well, I suppose the universe never met my live-in boss.

Christmas Lease

2008-12-17T08:14:00.001-08:00

I reckon it's that time of year again when we renew our annual Christmas Lease with those Robber Baron credit card companies. Seems like we just get all those dang presents paid off and here we go again.

I don't know about you but I'm gonna make my gifts this year. I've already sharpened my pocket knife to whittle some chopsticks for a couple what love Chinese food. I let Big Junior know I was needing all his leftover beer cans. I'm gonna wrap them up in a black plastic bag with an orange day-glow ribbon I borrowed from the Highway Department and give the whole affair to Harmon Hicks for his beer can collection. I hear tell he says it's gonna be worth big money some day.

And, since it's too cold to Bar-B-Q outdoors I'll be rounding up those left over charcoal briquets and painting them up like Easter Eggs for that banker of mine who didn't have sufficient funds to cover those checks I sent to the credit card folks.

And, for my live-in boss, I'm gonna get around to that Honey-Do list and finally have R.L. haul off that old broke down pick-up what's been sitting on blocks going on five years now. He called just the other day to say he'd give me cash money for it and I sure could use the $25.

And with that loot I'll get a store-bought turkey for Christmas dinner. That one I harvested last year was tough as an old boot. What we couldn't eat -- which was dang near the whole critter -- I passed along to my hound Roy. Being one of your smarter dogs Roy wasted no time in giving the bird a decent burial.

I'm still pondering other ways to get through this Christmas, not spend any loot and give folks something they just might find useful. Still in all, that family heirloom fruitcake what's been passed around for nigh on a generation makes an mighty attractive door stop.

Maybe it would be enough just to give folks a helping hand from time to time. It don't reach into your wallet and you'll be giving folks something they really need. I know for a certainty that Later Billy could use some help on that winter garden he started last year.

The Mongrel Hound Trial

2008-11-19T19:57:00.000-08:00

Once we had a law firm here in Lazarus. Blankenship & Blankenship. But he lit out of town for lack of work not long after the Mongrel Hound Trial. Folks in these parts have a way of solving their own problems without dragging in the law. And they certainly didn’t need the services of one man what used his name twice to make is business look bigger.

Seems Little Junior had a garbage eating dog. Every now and again, any trash can within a quarter mile of his place would be overturned and its entire contents dispersed across the landscape. Little Junior was at a loss as to how to control that critter of his, so Miss Cora, the spinster lady, took him into court over his dog’s periodic habit.

Miss Cora hired the firm of Blankenship & Blankship to represent her as the plaintiff against Little Junior and Two Bits the mongrel tick infested hound who had so many breed types in him he looked much like any dog around. All the critters, like most folks in Lazarus, were related in some way so it shouldn’t come as no surprise to learn that Little Junior was Miss Cora’s cousin’s nephew by her first marriage and her uncle twice removed by virtue of her cousin’s short-lived second marriage -- the details of which were so remarkable they are remembered to this day like some epic drama of bygone days belonging to legend.

Anyway, there they were in the courtroom. Miss Cora and her attorney Blankenship & Blankenship at one table, and Little Junior at the other, bib overalls, tie and all. The trial, being about as informal and anything else in town, started and ended pretty quick.

“So,” Judge Lincoln Jackson III said to Little Junior, “what do you have to say for yourself?”

“Well, Your Honor” he responded using his deepest voice trying to sound all lawyer like, “I would like to call Miss Cora to the stand and have her identify the critter in question.”

“You mean your hound?”

“I ain’t going that far, your Honor. But, with the court’s indulgence, “ he watched a lot of lawyer shows on TV to bone up for this moment. “I would like to introduce a dog for the plaintiff to identify as the critter in question?”

“I object!” Blankenship bolted upright and pointed to the ceiling.

“Oh, hush,” the Judge said.

So Miss Cora takes the stand fusses with her hair and parts of her clothing like there were TV cameras all around. She smiles at the Judge and then turns a cold eye on her adversary.

“Could you let in exhibit A?” Little Junior bellows making a dramatic gesture to the hollow core pressboard door at the back of the courtroom. And in trots a mongrel, tick infested hound being led by Big Junior.

(No one knows how Little Junior and Big Junior came by their names. Seems their daddy named them in the hospital when he was drunk and never could remember why. All he remember was hearing that he had twin boys and his wife only had girl names in mind so she left it up to her drunk of a husband to name them.)

“That’s the one.” Miss Cora shakes her boney old finger at the dog what’s busy licking folks all down the isle toward the bench.

“This dog here? Are you certain to a fraction?” Little Junior asks the courtroom before turning to Miss Cora.

“Yes. That’s the dog that’s tearing up the whole neighborhood.”

“Now Miss Cora, could you be mistaken? Could it be this hound, AKA, -- that means Also Known As, for you folks in the bleachers what may not be up on lawyer lingo -- Exhibit B. Both of these varmits live in the self same neighborhood as the defendant’s dog.”

And in trots another mongrel, tic infested hound looking for all the world like Exhibit A’s twin, being led by some volunteer drunk from the Bar None Bar and Barbeque. Seems Little Junior went just four houses down from his place and borrowed one of Two Bits’ litter mates.

Well, Miss Cora fell plumb apart cause she realized all sudden like that she was out witted by one of the Juniors. Still and all, that weren’t nothing compared to the humiliation felt on the part of the law firm Blankenship & Blankenship.

I reckon the neither Blankenship ever recovered from being outdone in the court room by Big Junior’s older brother Little Junior. It wasn’t long after that he packed up and left town, especially after folks started calling on Little Junior for legal advice.

The Mare Bailout

2008-11-14T06:30:00.000-08:00

Well, seems I no sooner posted that little item on Lula when I got an email from Big Junior saying he had that mare of L.J.'s. Turns out Harmon Hicks failed to consider the finer points on the care and feeding of horseflesh.

Not being all that bright, Mr. Hicks kept Lula in his front yard which was all the spare land he had on that small lot on the edge of town. And there weren't much grazing room on his place what with all the broke down lawnmowers -- the riding and push-type -- two rusty old cars sinking down into Mother Earth while sitting on cinder blocks. And, there was his woodpile collection of warped two by fours, pealing plywood and such. Pile on top of that he had about eleventy dozen spare auto parts laying about, scraps of tin roofing and dang near as many pot plants scattered around with dead stems sticking out like grave markers.

That's when he called on Big Junior and offered him twenty five bucks to take Lula off a his hands. Big Junior needed the money so he could pay off part of his sizable tab at the Bar None Bar and Barbeque. He had no use for Lula the Mare, and neither did anyone at the bar.

That's when Big Junior called me cause he figured I was a financial wizard and could give him some insider advice on his burden of horseflesh.

"Wellll," I said holding back on the rest of the sentence just to make him figure I was a right smart feller and thinking double hard, "You could give L.J. a call and ask him if he wanted Lula back. But you oughta know here and now that he went and bought himself a pretty little filly and is going back in the horse trading business. He may not want to use up any grazing room for a worthless, wore-out, no-account, nearly-gone mare even if she has a mighty pretty name like Lula."

"Reckon he'd take her off my hands for fifty bucks?"

Okay, if anyone out there is interested, for as little as one hundred bucks you can have a fine mare what could bring top dollar at one of them glue factories in Fort Worth. You need to bring your own horse trailer to haul her off cause I ain't got one. I sold mine awhile back for scrap and doubled my investment.

High Finance and Horse Trading

2008-11-13T11:06:00.000-08:00

Financial markets ain't so complicated.

Take L.J. and Later Billy, two ranchers living just down the road a piece. L.J. had an old mare he didn't have much use for but kept it anyway just like his broke down tractor what's been sitting under a shade tree waiting to be fixed coming on ten years now. Well, seems Later Billy dropped by one fine day and offered L.J. fifty bucks for the critter.

L.J. pretended to ponder his windfall and said, "Well, okay. But that's a mighty fine mare."

Well, Later Billy had hardly got out of the driveway before L.J. was thinking, "Later Billy is dumber than he looks but he knows horseflesh. Maybe I just got took." So then and there he made plans to visit Later Billy and buy back his mare.

"Later Billy," he said after letting three days pass, "I decided I just can't live without that mare a mine. Tell you what, I'll give you a hundred dollars hard cash right now to get her back."

Later Billy was plumb puzzled. He only bought the critter cause he heard L.J. was on hard times. But his finances weren't all that good neither so he took the money and L.J. went off with his old mare.

Then, Later Billy got to pondering real hard which weren't all that easy after he got whopped on the head with a beer bottle at the Bar None Bar and Barbeque a week back.

"I must a missed something." he said to himself, "Maybe she was worth more than a hundred bucks after all. So after letting a respectable amount of time pass -- but not too much -- he drove over to L.J.'s and offered him one hundred and fifty bucks for the mare.

Well, L.J. was plumb dumbfounded and his brainwork never worked fast enough to let him figure out what was going on at any give moment, so he took the loot and waved goodbye to Later Billy and his mare once again.

Then it hit him! Later Billy must have come up with some new fangled critter judging device that could see what the eye couldn't, or maybe he got hold of some wonder drug that could make that mare turn into a filly again. So, quicker than thought -- which for L.J. wasn't fast at all, kinda like pouring molasses in winter -- he hauled his horse trailer over to Later Billy's to buy back his mare. Her name was Lula which he had nearly forgot till he arrived at his destination.

"Later Billy," he said all breathless, "I gotta get Lula back right away."

"Lula?"

"My mare. The misses is plumb put out about me selling her off. I can't go home without her. I've got two hundred dollars right here in my pocket to buy her back." He lied about the misses part.

"Wellll" he replied,"That's a mighty pretty name. I'll have to tell Ol' Harmon Hicks cause he owns her now."

"What? Are you plumb out of your gourd? We were both making good money off a her."

L.J. figured there was no call to try and buy that critter off a Harmon cause everyone who ever laid eyes on him just knew to a fraction that he was flat out dumb and never knew how to make a profit off a anything. Let alone a way overpriced worthless mare. Besides, if you ever bought anything off a Harmon word would get out that you were either a thief, taking advantage of a feller weak in the mind, or a fool for coveting any of his trash.

See? That's how financial markets work. And just goes to show how two fellers could make a living off a one critter and watch the stock price go up on every trade. They might a become richer than rich if Later Billy hadn't bailed out on the arrangement.

Smile, We're in Chaos

2008-11-11T18:52:00.000-08:00

I ain't feeling so good these days. Can't exactly put my finger on what's ailing me but I think it has something to do with what I can't figure out. Okay, so there are lots of stuff in that category, but whatever it is it ain't my health. Unless there is something going on in my insides that's holding back, just waiting for me to say something like this.

You see! It ain't easy feeling this way. I bet you feel it too. Just a little. Maybe? It's like being in a shoe store waiting for the last shoe to drop. Or maybe like the Sword of Damocles except I ain't got no power, no way, no how. Not me. But sometimes I do feel under the pressure like Damocles was, but I can't see the sword like he could.

Anyway, I plan to get past this. A walk amongst the live oaks and cedar brakes always helps. So does a adult beverage. Maybe I oughta go back to that other parallel universe where things are just a mite brighter. But I can't just pop in and out on a whim. If I do this too often I could end up in some parallel timeline and meet myself coming and going. It's perplexing for certain, and I don't need any more of me than there already are.

Anyway, this here universe is mighty compelling if you're into chaos theory.

Okay, this deserves a little explaining, and from the get go it's a question. Does the flap of a butterfly’s wings in Brazil set off a tornado in Texas? According to the brainiacs that ponder this stuff, one little event in one place can make very big things happen somewhere else even without knowing or planning.

Dragging their notion into my situation, any more worrying on my part could set off a war or some other catastrophe. Perhaps I oughta just smile and let it go at that. Maybe I need a head doctor, but this just might work. Peace could break out in some little corner of the world, or maybe just in my part of it.

What ya think?

Where Have All The Critters Gone?

2008-11-07T05:56:00.000-08:00

‘Member that feller Noah? You know, the one with the floatin’ zoo? Well I reckon he’s wonderin’ why he bothered. After all, we’ve been none too kind to the critters he tried to save.

I can nearly hear him now sayin’, “If I’d a known what was gonna happen I’d a built a smaller boat and cut back on the varmit round-up. But noooo. No one let me in on that part.

"Course the round-up was nothin’ compared to what I had to endure from the women-folk what with me bringing all those critters indoors.

"You try it.

"I can still here momma now yellin’, 'All right then. But if they make a mess you’re cleanin’ it up.'

"Which I did.

"And now this.

"If you expect me to come back and help out again you’re dumber than you pretend to be..."

[You can here this here:
www.texfiles.com/OllieGravis/noah.wav ]

The Future is Here Now

2008-11-05T07:51:00.001-08:00

Okay, so I haven't posted anything here for a spell. Truth be told I had to check back in to that other universe I come from. I gotta file reports on y'all every now and again. 'Course we don't have paper there -- way past that -- so "paper work" don't slow us down none the way it's done here. But there was a heap of brain work I had to do and that ain't near as easy as it was back in my youth.

One thing I'm supposed to be watching is all the twists and turns leading up to 2012. No call to break out your Ouija boards trying to figure out what's gonna happen. A brainiac named Terence McKenna has already done the heavy lifting with his Timewave Zero computer model.

Seems that McKenna feller input all of the known human advances into a computer to come up with a graphic time-line to determine the progress of human innovation. Then he used that model to peek into the future. What he saw was that knowledge and invention climbs off the chart like a shot out of a shovel. And all of this will be visited upon us on December 22, 2012. It took awhile for someone to point out that his conclusion lined up to a fraction with the Great 26,000 year cycle of the Mayans.

On that date the linear time-based notions we all hold dear will start to collapse. A grand new cycle will commence. Time and space will be history. Even history will be history. Old wore out ways of being will pass away. Things we never thought could come to pass will be a done deal.

Don't fret. Everything will seem pretty much the way it is. Some folks will be changed in ways they can't explain. Like a different species they will be identical in every way except their abilities, their knowledge.

Look at it this way. Some folks look up into the night sky and see a random scattering of stars. But a few folks see a landscape all mapped out, or a navigation device. But you can't simply look at those folks and know that they know. And if they try to explain it you won't get it. Not really.

I reckon if you're shocked by the changes happening here and now you're living in the past. And you gotta get past that or get left behind.

And the Nominees Are...

2008-10-27T12:52:00.000-07:00

I've been pondering this off and on for a spell, and I reckon it's way past time to accept nominations for "A Special Place in Hell".

Becoming a member of this bunch ain't easy. You gotta frustrate folks so much that if you were responsible and stepped forward at just the wrong moment and said with a final smile: "I made that," you'd have your note taken in for certain just to get you out of their misery.

You take that pay toilet. Now I ask you, "What was he thinking?" (Trust me, a woman wouldn't a invented this one -- finding change in a purse is like looking for an honest politician in Washington. Think about it. There were times when you couldn't just stand in some line just to get change for the device. Fact is, no one has stepped forward to claim the honor but the company Nik-O-Lok can take the prize for being in the forefront for manufacturing most of these reprobate hindmost inventions. My eternal gratitude to the Committee to End Pay Toilets In America (CEPTIA) for putting a stop to them infernal contraptions sometime back in the mid 70s.

Here's another: Teeny-tiny type. You know. Pick up any medicine bottle and after figuring out how to defeat that child-proof cap just try to read the dosage, warnings and maybe, just maybe, if you're successful you'll take two or three or four of them pills just to get on with what life you may have left.

THEN THERE'S THE JUST PLAIN DUMB OFFERINGS TO THE GENERAL PUBLIC

Topping this list just has to be the helicopter ejector seat. For the life of me, or maybe just the copter pilot, this seems way past dumb.

And... the black highlighter. Okay, maybe this one is just dumb, or maybe not.

I'm gonna catch hell for this but: Camo hunting garments. Look, most critters are color blind. Deer won't even notice a day-glow red jacket unless you are moving around. And if think that I've gone to far then maybe you'll agree that camo bedding, camo seat covers, and camo slow cookers are stuck in idiot gear. Think about it: that coon that has been lurking around you campsite every night won't notice your food left out in that camo cooker. Next thing they'll be offering is camo soap to put in your camo soap dish/dispenser.

Jar lids what musta been screwed on by power tools are too common to warrant pointing out...

Okay, I'm on one of my "don't get me started" rants so I'll hold off for awhile.

Any suggestions?

You Can't Bank on Banks

2008-10-24T06:26:00.000-07:00

For the life of me I can't figure out why folks are all worked up over their bank accounts, IRAs, and the like. None of that ever panned out for me. I know what you're thinking, but I'm too crazy to be insane. For my way of thinking it was that banking feller that was taking care of my loot at the local bank that was off his gourd.

You can hear all about it here:
http://www.texfiles.com/OllieandBanks2.wav

Leave your comments please. I'm beginning to feel like I'm talking to myself which is okay I reckon. But I can do that at the Bar None Bar & Barbeque.

Lighten Up

2008-10-21T07:56:00.001-07:00

Maybe It's just me, maybe not. But it sure seems there's a whole lot of hate speech being spread around like mud in a pig waller. Could be that when all's said and done folks will get it outa their gullet and go back to being mostly normal. Right now we ain't in normal no more.

Once I was given a sage piece of advice from my Uncle Later Billy who commented, "All's well that pretends well." So just maybe we should all pretend to be sociable and it just might stick.

'Course if you got something that needs to be said I reckon it's gotta get done. A little humor throwed in to the mix won't hurt your standing with other folks near as much as flat out nasty.

That said, I got some gullet work to do.

About Sarah Palin: I reckon she's got so much cute in her face it squoze her brains out.

About John McCain: Wish you were who you were a few years back. I might a voted for you. For now I'm gonna put you out of my misery.

About Obama: Why don't you remind folks you just might be the first half-white president?

About elections: Let's move them ahead a year or so just to make the campaigns shorter. Limit campaign contributions to one dollar per person. No corporation need apply. Add up the loot. The one with the most bucks wins. I ain't figured out the details, but since it all seems to be about the almighty dollar anyway let's just go with that.

No TV ads. Period. They're beginning to smell worse than my hound dog. Maybe three debates cause that's about all we can stomach, and mostly they just repeat themselves over and over anyway. And all candidates must agree to be interviewed by anyone with a camera or tape recorder.

I'm still pondering why they call the vice president the "vice" president. I'd just as soon not have anyone in public office with vice somewhere in their name. How about president-in-waiting? I'm open to suggestions.

Pay Up

2008-10-18T06:30:00.000-07:00

I was jawin with a feller just yesterday and he was yammering on and on like a grackle on crack saying how poor the rich folks are and if the poor would quit whining and go back to work they would have all the loot they needed.

If there hadn't been so much beer left in my longneck I might a whopped him up side that thick skull just to shut him up.

I tried to clue him in a little saying that dang near everyone pays the same percentage of their income to social security. Except those making over $90,000. After paying in on that much the rest ain't taxed.

There is a whole industry wrapped around ways to help fat cats wriggle out of paying their fare share of income tax -- looking for loopholes, tax shelters and the like.

Heck, I reckon income tax should rightfully be called "work tax" cause it's a "pay to work" deal.

I imagine once you start bringing in over $90,000 you don't work for all of it, the rest just kinda rolls in like them welfare checks everyone but the poor whine about.

Maybe that social security program, which ain't so secure no more, wouldn't be going broke if folks like Warren Buffett, Bill Gates and their bunch paid in just like the rest of us.

Pile on top of all that the sad fact is the government keeps robbing from social security to cover their spending in other area.

And one more thing, while I'm going off on this topic, why do you have to pay work tax on your social security benefits? You were already taxed on your income once. Now they want to keep demanding more when you ain't even working.

I don't know about you, but given half a chance I'd call in the note on them millionaires and have them cough up their fair share.

Parallel Universe News From Tomorrow

2008-10-16T10:58:00.000-07:00

NEWS FLASH: The future is here now... but some of us will arrive before others.

I don't know if you're up on the latest from the "Parallel Universe News From Tomorrow" but you Earthlings are in for some downright odd events leading up to the year 2012.

I'm just trying to let y'all know that it ain't the end of the world so don't panic. I'll be checking back in soon to provide a little enlightenment on the condition of your universe.

In the meantime amuse yourself with this video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VsRWWLH1q7U&feature=related