Rons Rants

A Blog Is A Self-Inflicted Invasion Of Privacy

Location: Newland, North Carolina, United States

I'm a fifty two year old happily married man who doesn't really like many people which is why I live on the top of a mountain.

Saturday, August 05, 2006

The Double L Club And Me....Part II

Due to the underwhelming number of visitors to my blog who may not have read the beginning of this saga, I have a bit of advice....BOTH of you may want to scroll down or look down the left side "Archive" section of the site for the first installment of this tale. It will make following this bizarre yarn a bit easier BUT......I doubt it.

Part II continues...

There was, to say the least, a bit of tension in the room but, being that it was a HUGE freakin' room, it dissapated quickly. Much like a fart in a windstorm.

Franny hugged me, wrapped her arm around my waist and gave Stephie a look that would wither granite.

"Ron and I are going out to the pool Steph... you can come along or you can stay here and pout. I really don't care which."

Stephie had a look on her face that was somewhere between that of a constipated monkey and that "worried gerbil" lookin' chick on the TV series, "24".

Holy shit! What the hell was I getting into?

I knew damned well that I was being used as the catalyst for a world class Cat Fight, after which, there would be an incredibly hot "make up" scene in which, of course, I would NOT be a participant but DAMN.....what's a guy to do? Did I mention that Franny was friggin' HOT?

I was in typical "GUY" mode.....

I was a veritable heat seeking moisture long as there was a gorgeous woman, it was, at the very least, possible that I was gonna get laid!

I was like the Little Engine that could....."I think I can, I think I can, I think I can......."

I told Franny I needed to get my guitar out of my car but promised that I would be back shortly. She frowned and said she would be waiting by the pool....naked. Sweet Jesus!

You know, it's amazing how fast a guitar can be retrieved from a vehicle when the picker is sufficiently motivated.

As I was closing the door of my car having just removed my guitar, I heard the crunch of snow behind me. I turned to see Stephie standing less than six feet away and to my left, between me and the house.

I was startled and stepped back a bit.

It was damned lucky for me that I did step back because that carpet munchin' broad threw a right cross that Roberto friggin' Duran would have been proud of!

Thankfully, she missed. And, due to the icy condition of the driveway, her momentum led her to perform an impromptu double axel after which, she busted her shapely ass on the asphalt. It must have been below zero and the driveway was frozen solid. It HAD to have hurt like hell.

Lord, you would have thought that she had broken her arm...oh wait...actually, the dumb dyke HAD broken her arm! She lay there crying and intermitantly, SCREAMING her friggin' lungs out!

I remember thinking.... "Dear God.....if you really love me, KILL ME NOW!!"

In a moment that will live in my memory until I draw my last breath, I heard these words....

Side Note: Have I mentioned that I'm not making this shit up?

Just checking....

"You fucking bastard...I'm gonna make you my BITCH! Franny's MINE!!"

To Be Continued.......again.

(Sorry, it's almost 1:00 a.m. and Michelle isn't feeling well....must be from working ME to death in the yard today! Not really, she does all the hard work. She's just having a "down" day from the chemo treatment. Nothing major...please GOD..... just a bit "whipped"

I'll try and get this damned thing finished tomorrow.

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The Double L Club And Me

First of all, let me say that I've got to be REAL careful about giving details because I live in an area where EVERYONE knows EVERYONE. I'm not worried about law suits...I'm worried about getting my nuts shot off!

Contrary to Biblical accounts, the mountains of western North Carolina is actually the place where Cain killed Able! That crazy shit STARTED here and the natives have turned homicide into a freakin' art form ever since! Some of these locals are crazier than a cat shot in the ass.

Only six months ago and a mile up the road from us, a guy was killed with a damned fryin' pan because he didn't share his bottle of Listerine with his girlfriend. It wasn't about the desire to have fresh breath folks....crazy Gloria was pissed 'cause poor Sammy was hogging the Listerine! These fools were DRINKING the stuff!

Oh.....did I mention the fact that, when they found poor Sammy, (the fryin' pan recipient) he had over two thousand bucks in his pocket? Oh yeah...they were drinking Listerine because they WANTED to drink Listerine!

'Splain THAT if you can!

If I'm lyin', may God strike me dead this moment.

A few years ago, a man was found dead along the Blue Ridge Parkway with a friggin' hay fork in his back. His body was determined by the coroner to have sustained THREE pokes from the aforementioned hay fork before he finally went to his reward.

Oh, sorry, I forgot to add that the death was ruled a SUICIDE!

Again...I ain't making this shit up.

So, now you know why I've got to be careful about telling this TRUE story. Names have been changed to protect the innocent....ME.

Our story begins.....

It all started one night when I was playing solo at a little bar in Banner Elk called The Blues Cafe. In between songs, Franny walked up to the stage looking like a cross between Terry Clark and Shania Twain. I didn't know her from Eve. She was wearing a pair of tight white jeans and a black tank top that left very little to the imagination. Hotter than a two dollar pistol she was! Did I mention she was wearing high heels? Oh dear GOD!

She tipped me $50.00 and told me that she "would love to have one of my cd's but a live concert at her home would be even better."

Don't you wish sometimes that life had a "Do Over" button? Dear Lord, if it did, I'd still be pushing that sumbitch over THIS impending fiasco!

I was semi young, single and...did I mention she was freakin' GORGEOUS? So...of course I said....

"I'll be done playing at 2:00 a.m., I'll be ready to go five minutes after that." (playing hard to get just wasn't my strong suit.)

As I began my last set, I couldn't help but notice that a bevy of really nice looking women were literally flowing into the bar. I'm thinking that a freakin' beauty contest had just let out somewhere ! They were everywhere! All shapes, heights, sizes and everyone of them was dressed to kill.

Franny came up to request a song which, much to my chagrine...I didn't know. I offered to play another one she liked so, it worked out.

Before she went back to her table I asked her about all the women because they seemed to know each other and....they damn sure weren't from around here.

"Oh that's just our little club. They're staying at our house this weekend and I thought you might like to play for us a bit."

Now, I'm thinking, "Hell, I'll clean your freakin' house for you darlin'!" but, what I actually said was.

"God loves me you know."

"HE certainly does." she said with a sexy grin.

She sauntered back to her table leaving me damn near breathless.

After the set was done, I walked off the stage and straight into the arms of Franny and her friends. Compliments poured from the painted lips of the babes and I ate it up. I had died and gone to heaven!

Franny bought a round of Goldschlagger for the house, kissed me dead on the lips and told me to follow the ladies back to her house. Of course, I said...

"Franny, I'm sorry...I'm just too tired and my dog Barney is at home waiting for me."

(DAMN I wish I HAD said that!)

What I actually did was almost run to my car vowing to tailgate her Caddy all the way to her house.

During the short drive, visions of debauchery danced in my head as I stayed on her tail as though our bumpers were locked.

At the end of our little journey a set of enormous wrought irons gates opened and I saw Franny's house for the first time. It was a friggin' mansion!

I'll skip the Archetectural Digest description of the home and fast forward to jist of this yarn.

Someone had covered a large table in the vast living room with what HAD to be a pound of pot, lines of Coke, and three jars of what I later found out was Moonshine. Oh dear God....what had I gotten myself into?

Now, I'm no prude but hell, I was 41 years old at the time. Athough I had abused my share of each of those substances and more, I had sworn off everything except for the occasional joint and alcohol. These girls were looking to send me to freakin' rehab!

The first item of business was to engage in a toast which of course, was offerred by Franny. Hoisting a crystal goblet of 'Shine she made her toast.

"Here's to the Double L's and to our new friend Ron!"

The ladies howled in delight and promptly slammed old John Barleycorn as if it were lemonade. I had to hold my breath, resist the urge to hurl, breath through my mouth and fight to keep it down. Moonshine gives me the urge to first puke my guts out then, take my pants off over my head.

Once I recovered my voice, I asked her what the hell was the Double L club.

" didn't know? We're from all over the South...we're the Lipstick Lesbians."

I silently took another shot of 'Shine, snorted a line of Coke, fired up a joint and with a straight face said...

"I suppose I ain't gettin' laid after all am I?"

The girls started howling with laughter and taking their clothes off. One of 'em yelled "POOL" and they all ran out of the room giggling like school girls. Leaving me with Franny and another girl (the worst looking one of the whole bunch by the way). Alone.

"Ron, I want you to meet my partner Stephie"

"Nice to meet you." I said, turning on a 100 watt smile. Stephie wasn't buyin' it.

"Fuck you...I didn't ask you here." quite the charmer huh?

"Well, while we're on the subject, why the hell am I here? And watch your language I'm a fuckin' Quaker." I said as I took another hit off the joint I was holding.

I was going straight past horny to increasingly pissed off!

Franny intervened before Frau Sour Puss could answer.

"I told you, I want you to give a private concert for us, you're really quite talented."

Well damn it, she HAD to go drag my ego back from the abyss of being surrounded by gorgeous women I was NOT going to have sex with by stroking the big E like a pet cat! That ain't fightin' fair.

"Look ladies, I appreciate the offer but, I don't live far from here and I can hear my dog barkin' for me so, I'm ought of here. Thanks for the hospitality...except for you Stephie. You I don't like so much."

I started to leave when Stephie said something I'll never forget.

"There's a Thousand bucks in it for you."

Now, I was getting $200.00 a night and tips at the time so I almost choked at her offer but my ego had been bruised, my dreams dashed upon the rocks of homesexuality and I was pissed! After all... what's a man got without his honor? So I took a deep breath and proudly stated....

"Where do you want me to set up?"

Yep, I'm a whore. Bought and paid for.

To Be Continued...

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Thursday, August 03, 2006

Hey....It Could Happen...Right?

Every time I watch political events such as the "Ream Rummy Fest" that went on today, I ALWAYS want to scream at the screen....well....I do actually scream at the screen sometimes but in a very manly fashion, it's not really a scream you know.... more of a ROAR. Really. There's a whole lot of BASS in my roar.

Having settled that....

I wish, just ONE freakin' time I would hear an honest emotion come out of a Bush administration official. Granted, Rummy is as tough as it gets in Woosieton, DC but I want more. Damn it...I want to see a return to those halcyon days of the friggin' DUEL!

Man....THAT would guarantee a Senate hearing worth watching! No more classic horseshit such as:

"I believe my dear respected collegue, the gracious and wise Senator from the great state of New York, the esteemed and distinguished Ms. Clinton must have misunderstood my record on this matter."

I want to hear something along the lines of:

"Senator Clinton, you are a liar. Now that you've read your prepared speech, shouldn't we talk about the REAL world problems in Iraq?"

Of course, this would be followed by feigned indignation by Hillary, Ted, Dick and their ilk.

Ole Teddy would lead the way.

"Err ah....Secretary...err ah Rumsfeld..err ahh, am I to understand that you, errrrr don't wish to answer these ahhh very serious charges err ah set forth by ahhhhh Senator ah ah Clinton?"

"You got it "Bridge Boy". I was just waiting for you to open your big mouth so I could ask YOU a question."

"Err ahhh, Mr. Secretary, I'm um, I'm ahh the one asking the ahhh errr questions here but err ah, go ahead and ask your ahh umm question?"

"Pistols, Swords or fists?"

"Err ah...I'm afraid I don't ahh get your meaning"

It means I'm calling you out, you bobble headed prick."

Now....wouldn't THAT be refreshing?

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Wednesday, August 02, 2006

Employees and Co-Workers I Have Known

I'm sure most folks have worked with some strange folks in their lives. We all have. I'm stating here and now that I'll put my assortment of freaks, wierdo's, losers and insane people against anyone's. Granted, someone may have one or two Psycho All-Stars to top mine individualy but for sheer volume of whack jobs...I've gotta be ranked pretty damned high on the list.

Here's one of my favorites.

* Rick G.:

I'm going to admit it up front. I could not help but like one could. Well, that's not exactly true...Cops, judges, landlords, husbands, boyfriends, creditors, well...those folks probably didn't appreciate Rick all that much but, other than those few dozen people...EVERYONE liked Rick.

Picture this if you can. Rick was about 6'1" and, he would have dressed out at about 350 lbs after a three week hunger strike. His black hair was well below shoulder length. Now that I think about it, picture Meat Loaf after a three day Cocaine binge. (I'm being kind here)

My brother Mike was the manager of a small publishing company in Columbia SC at the time. The company printed newsletters and magazines for several state and regional civic organizations as well as a few labor unions.

I went to work for this company after leaving the Navy in '77 I believe. Unfortunately, the only opening at the time was in tele-freakin'-marketing. God I hated it but...I was actually pretty good at it (more posts to come on that subject) and the money was very good for the times. I worked there during the day and played music at night was good.

I first met Rick G. on my first day of work. Mike had already told me stories about the guy but, I really wasn't prepared. Not even close.

I was settling in to my new desk talking with my brother when Rick entered the office wearing pink sunglasses, black spandex pants with orange flames running down the legs (did I mention he was over 350 lbs?), RED leather knee high boots, a black shirt with red embroidery and (I swear I'm not making this up) he was carrying a friggin' briefcase!

You know....your typical business man.

Mike said, "You're thirty minutes late Rick."

Rick mumbled something incoherently, let loose with a cough that sounded as though he was going to spew forth a lung, staggered a bit, placed his briefcase on it's side and pushed it to the left side of his desk. He turned to Mike and said.

"Boss, I'm gonna need a few minutes here."

With that, he pushed everything from the middle of his desk, crawled on top of it and curled up like a Sumo sized baby. Within a second, he was snoring so loud the walls of our cubicles were shaking.

I looked at Mike and asked, "What the hell is he doing?"

With a big grin on his face, Mike said, "You ain't seen nothin' yet man, Rick's a FOOL but he's a sellin' fool! When he wakes up, he'll outsell all six of you."

Two hours later, Rick abruptly stopped snoring.

I thought he had died but, as I rolled my chair back to peer around the partition, I heard a sound reminiscent of a vacuum cleaner.

There was Rick.

He was sitting up, sunglasses askew, hair all over the place and he had his briefcase open across his lap.

He was snorting a huge line of coke from the back of his right hand to the middle of his forearm as though it was the most normal thing in the world.

Oh yeah......he had a bright yellow joint behind his left ear.

He looked up at me and said (again...I'm not making this up), "What the fuck are you looking at?"

I started to say something but he cut me off.

"Who the fuck are you?" he demanded.

"I'm Ron...I'm Mike's brother."

"Bullshit, Mike's brother's name is Bubba, he told me so." he said while slowly easing himself off the desk.

"Well, that's what my family calls me but you can call me Ron." I was trying to be friendly.

He started laughing, coughed up another lung, looked me dead in the eye and said.

"No....I think I'm gonna call you Bubba."

Now THAT pissed me off so, me being me, I said, "You can call me whatever you want as long as you don't mind if I kick your fat ass all over this office."

He began laughing and walked to within two feet of where I was sitting. As he got close, I was planning my move when he suddenly bent down to put his face just inches from mine. He pointed to a silver medallion hanging around his neck. It was a bit larger than the size of a dime.

"You see this? It's a silver Qualude! They gave me this after my last rehab only get a Gold 'lude' if you fuckin' DIE! If that shit ain't killed me, what the fuck do you think you're gonna do....BUBBA?"

He straightened up and wobbled back to his cubicle.

What the hell do you say to THAT? Jeez....I was speechless.

A few seconds later, he popped back around the partition.

"Bubba, you and me are gonna be tight bro....I'd kill for your brother and so help me man....I'd kill for YOU too!"


He then staggered over to his desk and began rummaging through his briefcase. He suddenly spun around and gave me a very sincere look.

"Bubba" he said, "Mike is like a brother to me so that would make you like a.....well, what the fuck would that be?....ummm...Damn, would that be a cousin?..... No I'm older than you,... hell, I'm older than Mike. Maybe an uncle.... No....if he's like a brother to ME then....well... that would make me your.....what? Like your Father right? Hell yeah Bubba...I think I'm your fuckin' Daddy!!"

Before I could think of a snappy comeback, he looked around conspiratorily and said...

"Come on over here and get you some of's on the house son." He was rummaging through his briefcase again with his back to me.

I couldn't resist.

I walked over to his desk just as he turned around showing me the contents of his briefcase.

I SWEAR I've never seen such a quantity of assorted drugs in my life, before OR since.

"Pick your poison son....I'm your man."

Rick was crazier than a cat shot in the ass!

Through the years I knew him, he continued to be outrageous.

He would call in a pizza.

When it arrived, he would open the box and count the pepperoni's. If the count didn't match the picture on the coupon he got out of the newspaper that day he would call the manager, threaten to sue Pizza Hut for false advertising and, invariably get his pizza FREE. EVEN if there were MORE pepperoni slices than advertised he would raise mortal HELL.

After all, according to Rick, "Too many pepperoni's are as wrong as not enough! It's all about truth, justice and the fuckin' American way damn it!"

Several of us would go to lunch at a local Quincy's in Columbia a few times per week. Rick always opted for the "all you can eat" buffet or, as Rick called it, the "All You Can Deal With" buffet.

Needless to say, Rick abused the entire doctrine of moderation and ALWAYS took WAY too much food even for his incredible appetite.

I'll always believe that Rick was the reason that Quincy's switched to much smaller plates for the buffet but, of course, this didn't even faze Rick.

After the waitress escorted us to our table, Rick would carefully cover his side of the table in napkins after which he would saunter over to the buffet and procede to create a HUGE stack of food on one of those little plates. I swear he could stack two feet of food on those tiny plates.

The manager once came up to our table just as Rick sat down.

"Sir, you don't have to pile all that food on ONE may go back to the buffet as many times as you wish."

Rick looked up at the guy and shook his head in disgust.

"Dude, LOOK AT ME....does it look like I'm into a bunch of fuckin' exercise?"

We almost died laughing.

One last Rick story...

His wife made him promise to lose weight and put him on the Slim Fast shake diet....or so she thought. He promised her that he would faithfully drink a Slim Fast shake everyday for lunch.

One day, we went to a great wing place in Columbia called Leo's. We pleaded with Rick not to come along but, he swore he could deal with it.

All of the rest of us ordered pitchers of beer, buffalo wings out the proverbial wazoo, curly fries...the whole nine yards.

Rick sat there staring at all that food for a minute or two. Suddenly, he began laughing and grabbing handfulls of fries, shoving them into his mouth and moaning.

Mike said, "Rick, I told you not to come with us. You're gonna break your promise to Beth (his wife) eating all this stuff. You told her you would drink a Slim Fast for lunch."

Rick grabbed a handfull of wings off of the platter and said...

"What the hell do you think I'm gonna wash this shit down with?"

You had to love the guy. He was nuttier than chipmunk droppings!

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Tuesday, August 01, 2006

Invasion Of The Electric Beagles

One afternoon late last fall, I was minding my own business watching a college football game on the tube. I don't even remember who was playing only that it was NOT my beloved albiet inept Gamecocks. If the 'Cocks has been playing on TV, my involvement in this silly situation would have been limited to a distracted, "HUH? What's that Darlin' ?"

But... they weren't playing and I WAS involved's what happened.....

Over the roar of the crowd on our surround sound system I heard something somewhat similar to the din produced by 100 wild pigs being circumsized. (don't ask how I'm familiar with this sound)

Anyway, my wife Michelle comes through the back door screaming, "Honey, they're shocking these little babies!! Get your gun!"

Just imagine! I'm kicked back in my favorite recliner, sipping on a cool Screwdriver secure in my own little world and I hear THAT! My first thought was that Joseph Mengele had somehow survived and had shown up in my backyard with a van full of freshly kidnapped infants hooked up to a car battery. Hell...what's a guy to think at a time like that? I may not be real bright but I DO have an active imagination at times.

I ran, ok....I "shuffled" to the nightstand to get my pistol. (hey, when my wife says, "get the pistol" I'm not going to pass up on a rare "hero" moment")

After grabbing the pistol, I hurry out to the back deck to witness a "shocking" site. Cringing Beagles were EVERYWHERE! (How often do you get to say THAT?)

I'm serious. There must have been ten or twelve little Beagles cringing in, around and all over our back deck in various stages of hysteria. (Interesting thing about hysterical Beagles...they urinate and defecate SIMULTANEOUSLY! Oh the humanity!)

Of course, being the rational man I am, I'm not about to shoot twelve or so frightened little dogs just to get them off my deck so that I might quickly get back to my ballgame. After all... my pistol only carries nine rounds. So... I suggested that my wife check their collars to see if there were any ID tags or some such. Michelle thought that was a swell idea.

Reaching down to inspect one of the Beagle's huge collars, she received an electric shock that damn near made my pacemaker skip a beat!

Her scream added to the cacaphony sent up by the electrified Beagles made me consider turning the pistol on myself! My GOD what a racket!

Moving on...

We finally found a phone number on the tags and I immediatly called it. The following is a rough transcipt of the "conversation" that followed:


"Yes ma'am, do you own a bunch of Beagles wearing shock collars?"

"Naw" ( IS the North Carolina mountains)

"Well, your telephone number is on their collars"

"Yeah, them dawgs is muh husband's dawgs, they hain't none a mine."

"Ooookay......can you get in touch with your husband and tell him to come get his DAWGS off my deck?"

"Well, he's out a-huntin' today"

"Yes ma'am, I kinda figured that out for myself. Can you get in touch with him?"

"No, see, Hubba's out a-huntin' right now, he's with them dawgs hisself." (yep..I said "Hubba"....never heard that one before)

"Well ma'am...I've got a pack of scared DAWGS peeing and crapping all over my deck and, I've looked carefully....there's no sign of "Hubba"...just scared DAWGS."

"Where is Hubba?

"Ma'am...that's why I'm calling. I'm trying to find Hubba."

(this is priceless)

"How do you know Hubba?" she asked.

I freakin' LOST it!

"Lady, I don't know Hubba... I'm just trying to get him to come get his damned dogs off my deck. Somebody's shocking literally shocking the living shit out of 'em and they're scared to death. So is my wife! If somebody doesn't come get these DAWGS, I may have to start shootin' 'em!"

"I guess I could try him on his "sayall" phone"

For the second time in less than an hour, thoughts of turning the pistol on myself flashed into my mind.

The plot thickens.....

A few minutes later, "Hubba" calls:


"Who's this?"

"Ron...are you Hubba?"

"Uh ain't shootin' my DAWGS."

"Man....I don't want to shoot your DAWGS, just come get 'em off my deck"

"I'll come over thar and shoot YOUR dog."

"Listen asshole, I don't even OWN a freakin' dog but if I did, I'd let you shoot the son of a bitch just so you'de come get your stupid DAWGS off my friggin' deck!"

"How 'bout I come ovair (mountain for "over there") and shoot you?"

(my head is about to explode)

"Hubba, you'de be doing me a favor after talking to you and your brain dead old lady! Now get your inbred ass over here and get these fu**ing DAWGS off my porch!"

"Whar youins live?"

I told him.

"Ah'mongont (I'm going to) be right ovair and youins is gon be sorrie (sorry)."

"Fine asshole...I can't wait to "meet" (ME for "SHOOT") you."

THIRTY minutes passed during which time, my temper is cooling, we're become fast friends with those precious little cringing Beagles and I'm thinking....

"Jeremiah Freakin' Johnson is coming to blow my damned brains out with a 10 guage! "

"Why can't I keep my mouth shut?"

"How's Michelle going to feel about me when I run like a French soldier as soon as "Hubba's" camoflagued '62 Chevy truck pulls up to the house?"

You know....normal questions a 52 year old, out of shape man with a 19 year old's bravado asks himself only AFTER he's shown his lily white saggin' ass!

For thirty LONG minutes I try and act cool in front of Michelle.

Finally, I hear the crunch of tires on our driveway. Hubba has come to kill me accompanied by the cast of Deliverance.

"Dear God...don't let them make me squeal like a pig ala Ned Beatty. Just let 'em shoot me and leave Michelle alone!"

I stop panicking long enough to walk around to the front deck WITH my pistol clasped in my trembling right hand and guess what I see? Not one but TWO Sheriff's cars followed by what could only have been a camoflagued '62 Chevy pick up truck!

I put the pistol on one of the tables on the back deck and walked out to where the Sheriff's cars had parked next to my Suburban. I was pretty sure the cops wouldn't allow Deliverance boy and his three companions (ten teeth among the bunch of 'em) kill me so....all of the sudden, I was a BADASS again!

Long story short....yeah right......

This dude had called his cousins who just HAPPENED to be county Sheriff's. One of the cops got the ball rolling.

"Sir....we's here 'bout them DAWGS"

"Yeah well, they're here alright."

"Did you shoot 'em?"

"No I didn't shoot 'em."

"Hubba says you did."

"Yeah well, Hubba's a moron."

"It's against the law to shoot a huntin' DAWG sir."

"Well, what's the law on electrocuting DAWGS?"


"Man, somebody was shocking the living shit out of these poor DAWGS and their shit is all over my deck! Where does the law stand on THAT?"

"Sir...EVERYBODY uses shock collars to train their huntin' DAWGS."

"Well, sorry officer, I'm an EVERYBODY and I missed the damned memo. Can you make him get his DAWGS off my porch?"

He actually paused and, as if in deep thought said:

"Yessir...Hubba's gonna get them Dawgs off'n there for you but you can't go 'round shootin' a man's DAWGS."

"Officer....I DID NOT SHOOT HUBBA'S got that?"

He pondered for a moment and said with a weary shrug...

"Well......I'm just sayin'."

Hubba, Bubba, Beavis and Butthead rounded up their DAWGS and put them in the boxes in the bed of the old pickup truck. Hubba was just about to get behind the wheel when he giggle and yelled at me....

"I told you you'de be sorry!"

Just to put the cherry on the sundae, Sheriff Boy sidles up to me and says, and I swear....

"You lucky you didn't shoot no dog."

I stood there a moment, looked at my wife and the canine waste spread all over my deck and started laughing so hard that Michelle began laughing too. I couldn't help myself.... I added one last parting shot.

"Officer, if I ever get the urge to shoot something'll be the first one I'll call."

I swear, he looked at me funny for a second then shook my hand and said:

"That's the best way to handle these things sir."

He then sauntered off like Barney freakin' Fife and lead his inbred entourage back down my driveway. Never to be seen again. YET.

Damn a bunch of Electric Beagles and Brain Dead Redneck Mengeles!

I went back to my recliner just as the game ended on a fantastic play. I even missed the friggin' REPLAY!!

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Monday, July 31, 2006

If I Were "Emperor Of The USA"

Hey....It Could Happen!

Here's a list of things I would do if I were in charge of the good old USA...or... maybe I would change the name to something spiffy like "Ron's World"? Hmm, I'm gonna have to give that some serious thought while I gather my army of brain dead followers. No....not Liberals, they ain't much on fighting ANYTHING except morality, common sense, loyalty.....well, you know.

* Liberals would be dragged off and shot....with low powered BB guns every hour on the hour until they admit they are lying anti American, blame
America first, whining, self serving, corrupt pieces of sub human debris! After obtaining a signed confession, I would confiscate their wealth and property. I would THEN send them to France....penniless. Let's see how much they love Paris while living in a refrigerator box under the "Arch D' Shade For Invaders".

* I would IMMEDIATLY repeal the current tax codes and institute a national sales tax so that EVERYONE would pay taxes on EVERYTHING they purchase. Drug dealers, criminals, rich, old, hookers, kids and old people. No more free rides...well..except for ME of course. (After all, it would be unseemly for an Emporer to pay for anything. Hell, it would make my subjects sad to see their exalted leader scratching for cash.)

* I would institute a federally funded mandate to de-program morons who watch Oprah, the network news or The Daily Show.

* I would hire Jon Stewart and his staff to entertain ME personally. I would, of course, occasionally invite a few friends to watch the show but they would be required to have an IQ greater than room temperature. It's the funniest show on TV for my money. The writers are geniuses. Stewart and Colbert are extremely talented comedians BUT.....most of their viewers don't understand that it's politically driven SATIRE!! The Daily Show is where a large segment of young America get what they believe to be "THE NEWS". Don't even get me started on movies.

* "Loser Pays" would be the law of the land for all law suits and, America can consider itself fortunate that I don't institute a "Loser Gets Shot" law.

* Rap music would be replaced by Barney tunes. Ok...that might be a bit too harsh. Maybe Barry Manilow tunes. Ok wait...I'm gonna have to ponder that one a bit more.

* I would prohibit attorneys from going into politics. PERIOD.

* I would allow anyone over the age of eighteen to own a gun or guns. Screw gun safety classes too. An inexperienced gun toter is FAR more dangerous than someone who actually knows what they are doing. Those who accidentally kill themselves will be presented with a posthumous Darwin Award. Those who shoot someone who doesn't deserve to be shot goes to prison. I will be the sole arbiter of who deserves to be shot. (I call it my "Purifying The Gene Pool" program.

The crime rate would plummet immediatly and courtesy would rise to heights heretofore unseen since the Victorian age. It's shockingly easy to be polite to your neighbor when you realize he owns a 44 Magnum and is as likely to hit your genitalia as your back porch.

* Military service of at least four years would be mandatory for everyone. Man, woman, queer, transvestite, handicapped, midget, dwarf, transgender, hair dresser, moron.....they will ALL serve a stint in the military. If you don't serve honorably, your ass gets shipped to France....the birthplace of dishonor.

* The word "GAY" will be returned to it's former meaning so that I will be able to watch old movies and not be reminded of some guy ravaging another dudes rectum. The word "QUEER" will apply to all homosexuals. If it's perfectly acceptable to have America be subjected to a queer based TV show like "Queer Eye For The Straight Guy", it should be a good enough word to be used by the general population without being labeled a Homophobe.

* I would decriminalize "illegal drugs", prostitution and gambling. The United States currently imprisions a larger percentage of it's citizenry than any nation in the world. (I'd rather have those folks out there paying my recently instituted sales tax.) Alcohol ruins more lives than drugs, prostitution and gambling COMBINED and it's perfectly legal. If ANTHING should be illegal, it should be booze. There will ALWAYS be morons among us...let 'em die young and quit sucking up good air.

* Marriage would be legal for anyone to anyone or to anything. I've never understood why the hell it's the government's business to begin with. I don't give a shit whether you wanna marry a goat, four women, two queers or a freakin' maple tree. It's none of my business. It's between YOU and God...and I believe that HE will deal with your sick ass when the time comes. As long as I don't have to be subjected to it, I don't care. You WILL answer for your sick behavior at some point in time. Enjoy your perversions while you can.

* I would end capitol punishment. Not only have more than a few people been wrongly executed throughout the years, there are FAR better forms of punishment. I'd turn Mexico into a Federal Prison. Yes, I know, I'll have to conquer Mexico first but that should only take a week, three days of which would be dedicated to cleaning the place up a bit before the dregs of our society move in. After all... there IS a cruel and unusual clause in our bill of rights.

Once I've fenced it in, Mexico State Prison would be guarded round the clock by MY army. That's it. The prisoners would either live off the land or die. Period. Screw 'em.

* Those people sentenced to Mexico State Prison would be SERIOUS killers, ANY child molester, rapists, traitors and perhaps telemarketers. I'll have to think on it a bit.

* "Regular prisons" would immediatly be placed under the supervision of Sheriff Joe Arpio's EVIL twin. Recidivism? Not so much anymore.

* All cat's would be banished to France. Those filthy jackasses DESERVE the nasty bastards. Any creature that can lick it's own ass, scratch around in a box of it's own waste, convince people to keep the aforemention shit box INSIDE their homes AND possess the ability to walk around on your kitchen counters when you aren't looking OUGHT to be shot on sight but, I'm a sensitive guy so...deportation will suffice.) They are damned lucky I'm only shipping them to France. Or.....maybe they would rather take the bullet. I don't know.

* Employers will be able to hire and fire ANYONE they wish to for ANY reason! You don't like it? Go start your own friggin' company you whining piece of shit!

* Aid to foriegn countries would be doled out on the basis of which country kisses America's ass the most. PERIOD.

* I would drill for oil in the front yard of a kindergarten if that's where the oil is. Screw a bunch of tree huggers. (Side Note: Did ya'll know there is a freakin' operational oil rig in the tree hugging state of California ON the campus at Hollywood High School?) It's true.

* Secondary school teachers would be paid $5000.00 per student per year for every student who passes an exit exam to be administered by MY Secretary of Education aka my brother Mike. (That son of gun has raised a friggin' tribe of well educated and well adjusted kids.)

* Members of our military would be paid $100,000 per year with benefits that would impress an oil company CEO.

* All United States citizens would be guaranteed top quality health care by health care professionals who will be sent to Mexico State Prison if the treat their patients like crap. (Don't worry... all these programs will be easy to fund if we stop sending aid to countries that hate us anyway and...don't forget my recently instituted National Sales Tax.)

* All fat women found wearing hip hugging stretch pants and shirts which force us to view their hideous jelly roll would be sentenced to develop court ordered Anorexia.

* Any overweight dude showing an ass crack in public would be sent to Mexico State Prison as a guard for a term of ten years or fifty lost pounds, whichever comes first.

* I would replace "No Child Left Behind" with a little program I would call, "Teach The Stupid Kids A Freakin' Trade!" Where would the world be if it were only full of college graduates? Somebody has to be that wierd dude who runs the AUTOMATED car wash!

*Jehova's Witnesses would be required to do your housework or wash your friggin' car while they spout their happy horeshit. I'll bet it'd be a cold day in Hell before those crazy bastards woke us up at 8:00 a.m. again! (SIDE NOTE: The "Witnesses" up here on the mountain have an incredibly diabolical tactic...the woman who knocks on your door is freakin'
GORGEOUS! If I weren't in love with my wife I'd be sitting in the front row EVERY Saturday morning!) Evil people those Jehovah's.

* All children under the age of eighteen would be FORBIDDEN to wear, possess, own or drive anything that EVERY other kid doesn't have. PERIOD. Screw a bunch of whining, unappreciative, disrespectful pricks and prickettes! Screw a bunch of superficial "individuality". If you wish so badly to "stand out"'s a thought...Be OUTSTANDING in things that matter in the real world.

To Be Continued....even the Good Lord had to rest on the seventh day!

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Sunday, July 30, 2006

Finally! Good News From Lebanon!

I just saw a report which stated, and I'm paraphrasing here, "support for hezbolla has grown by leaps and bounds in Lebanon". They further stated that nearly 90% of the Lebanese population now strongly supports hezbollah.

Could the news possibly be ANY better for Israel?

I was initially dissapointed to learn that Israel has agreed to cease air strikes on Lebanon for a period of up to 48 hours. Upon further reflection however, I think I've figured out the impecable logic behind this decision. It's really quite brilliant.

Due to the fact that support for hezbollah has grown rapidly in the past week, Israel has come to the conclusion that they should give Lebanon another 48 hours so that support for hezbollah will grow another five percent or more.

After the 48 hour period has passed, Israel will proceed to shell the mortal HELL out of Lebanon thereby killing everything that draws a friggin' breath!

Due to the fact that support for hezbollah will have supposedly reached nearly 100% by that time, Israel will ONLY be killing 5% of the so-called INNOCENTS. Hell, 5% collateral damage is a pretty damned acceptable target figure in a war.


MY theory of dealing with deadly animals goes something like this......

If I see a rattlesnake slither into a cave in order to escape my wrath, I'm going to destroy EVERTHING in the freakin' cave. PERIOD.

Female rattlesnakes breed baby rattlesnakes and baby rattlesnakes become adult rattlesnakes so....THEY ALL HAVE TO DIE.

These pieces of sub-human debris hide behind women and children as a "military" tactic. They take refuge in their supposedly sacred mosques as a "military" tactic. They kill their OWN citizens as a "military" tactic.

As far as I'm concerned, "military" tactics dictate that civilized nations ought to act "militarily" and simply bomb the piss out of this vermin until the are beaten and/or DEAD. PERIOD.

Anyone with an ounce of honesty must admit that Islam has declared war on ANYONE who is NOT a muslim. This is not conjecture people... this is their stated goal..... IN THEIR OWN WORDS! HELLO...Why is this so hard to figure out?

If some hezbollah low life tells ME that he was told by allah that he must ram his car into a vehicle carrying my family with the sole purpose of killing us all, I'm gonna do my dead level best to kill that son of a friggin' whore EVEN if his muslim mini-van happens to have all ten seats full of his freakin' innocent relatives! I wouldn't bat a damned eye.

Israel and the U.S. shouldn't blink either because, as sure as Al Gore is gonna say something stupid, these suicide monkeys are out to kill us. PERIOD.

In closing, has there ever been a military force in the history of warfare that actually FOREWARNS the enemy that it's gonna "light 'em up" soon? I could be wrong but I don't think so.

Israel has shown more restraint than a state of the art air bag system!!!

If those morons are too stupid to evacuate under those circumstances, they are dumber than the mayor of New Orleans and the Governor of Louisiana before Katrina hit. I say "SCREW 'EM" !!!

This post brought to you by the Oprah Book Club.

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