Thursday, November 27, 2008


I woke up on the couch here at the Sisters of Mercy house. Its Thanksgiving morning.
I dreamed that I started a Brick Company.
Our best selling Brick was called "The Ali".
It had the fistprint of Muhammed Ali on it.
It was made out of Cassius Clay.

Wednesday, November 26, 2008


These people spend years taking the 12 Steps.
They hold on dearly to their sobriety and their "Clean Dates".
So at the meeting Friday night I stood up and said'
"I'm Bulletholes, I'm an addict"
and they all say in unison
"Hello Bulletholes!"
and I continue....
"I'm still the newcomer here...I've been coming here for what....11 meetings now...and there haven't been any new newcomers so I guess that I'm just about the last Drug Addict here in all of this here I have been here for 11 meetings now and I guess tomorrow I'll be on ...oh... about Step 12"
And I looked up and glanced around the room.

Long faces everywhere.
People shakin' their heads.
Biker dude looked like he might wanna kick my ass.
Little Church lookin' lady held a hand high, and began to whisper a prayer for me in tongues.
Some were stunned at my arrogance, my audacity, my prideful attitude.
So i gave 'em my best quick smile and said:
"Ya'll can laugh now, its 'sposed to be a joke"

And the whole room just laughed and the guy beside me slapped me on the back.
I think it may take a while for them to get used to me.
At least they were paying attention, I think.


I have been back on the bicycle full time again for the last 2 months. Just this last two weeks have I found my “wind” again. The ride in to work is two and a half miles and takes right about 15 minutes to get there. When I rolled in this morning I was breathing almost a leisurely normal.
Pretty good for an old man.
I have had some 12 mile days. I haven't lost any weight, but I have dropped two belt loops.

And Ladies, you should feel my legs! Umm-Ummh!

What I have discovered is what John McCain talked about in his campaign.
Ya’ll remember McCain….he ran with Palin.
McCain used a nautical term that I have employed in my bike riding.
Steady Strain.
Sometimes when I am riding I’ll be trying to smash some kind of record, pumping my legs like mad and shifting gears like Tom Slick, and when I reach my destination I am completely gassed.
I can barely get a breath.
And I don’t think I have smashed any records. I probably haven’t even cut any time either.
Steady Strain.
I will think on this term. It may work for a lot of things in this ol’ life.

Tuesday, November 25, 2008


I have an idea for a machine to make little-bitty miniature Tiger Rugs.
And you don't even need a real Tiger.

No, I wouldn't do that!

Go ahead and play it!
Its funny and the little Kitty don't get hurt.


Yoodood pointed out a while back that sometimes in the telling of the story we can lose sight of the truth and begin to believe the way we tell the story as being true.
This happened to me.
I am not traumatized by it but I don’t want to remember things that aren’t right and true. I started to address this a few months back, but this week seems more appropriate for it.
It concerns the death of my father and the very lengthy 7 Part Series I wrote about his battle with Alzheimers.
Dad died on Thanksgiving morning, 1987. I closed the story this way:

"Its Thanksgiving morning.
I checked the Turkey; lookin’ good.
I checked Orion and he was where he should be at 5:00A.M.
The phone rang.
Who could that be?
Its LaDora Lodge.
"Mr. Bulletholes, I am sorry to be calling at this hour, but I thought you would want to know your father has passed away”
I like to think that Dad stopped by for a two week visit on his way Home."

Well, that is not entirely correct.
What the nursing home said when I picked up the phone was that Dad was very sick with a Urinary Infection.
After reading this story my sister informed me of the truth of the matter.
She recalls that the Nursing Home called again several hours later wondering why no one had come to see Dad and help.
She and my niece both went the two blocks to the Home and spent an hour cooling Dad’s fever with a washcloth before he finally expired.
While I slept after smoking a Turkey all night long.

I have to question why I would leave out that part of the story.
I have to question why, over the years, I managed to revise the truth to make the facts more comfortable for myself.
I have to wonder in what other ways I have avoided the true facts, and deferred to my own imagination for the sake of the story.
For the sake of my own self.

But I also know that the questions die away.
They die away with or without the intrigue of the answers.
They die away in the face of a higher power, real or imagined as that may be.
The Truth is tiny compared to the things we have to do.
In the end all we really have is each other.
I am thankful for all the people I know, even you whom I have never met.

I suppose this will require a Part 8.....


My Dad was probably the biggest ‘Square” born into this world. That is to say that he was a very good man. He was in Sales and Public Relations and everyone that knew him liked him.
He had a subtle dry sense of humor. He was very personable and had a big belly laugh that he handed down to me.
Unlike me, Dad was never raucous. I think that things like the Great Depression and WWII tend to keep a raucous soul at bay.
It also makes a man a bit tight lipped.
Dad never said how lucky I was to not have had to grow up in those times, but there were times I could see it in his eyes.
I wish I had been able to ask Dad the kinds of questions that I would ask him these days.
One thing I would ask him is about something he would say on occasion.
He would run into a colleague who would ask Dad
“How you doin’ Jack?”
And Dad would reply very good-naturedly
“Anybody I can”
And they would both laugh.I always wonder what Dad meant by that because it wasn’t something I would expect him to say.


Dad told me to use my right hand to shake hands. I was two years old, maybe three, and I never could remember which one to use.
Then one day I was playing in the garage and I found a razor blade and nearly cut my left thumb off. I’m not sure how long the bandage was on there, but I shook the hands of at least three men during that period.
"That boy of yours sure knows how to shake hands" my Dads's pals would say.
Dad would just beam!

This is how I learned which hand to use when shaking hands.

Monday, November 24, 2008


She is my very first still functional (loosely termed) blogfriends.
She's had a tough year so far, but she is abck to her Erma Bombeck-esque self these days. Her last theree posts are worth your while.
Here is the link to todays post called "Grizzbabes Mechanical Adventure"

In the past she has had squirrels in her attic, bats in her belfry and has traded favors to get a headlight changed.

I love her!


Blind man running through the light of the night
With an answer in his hand
n. young

I went to Uncle Yang's Thai House Friday night. I have mentioned his restaurant several times in the past Someday I will have to write all about my friend Ray Yang, who is always delighted to see every customer he gets. Uncle Ray Yang is one of those types of people that likely has more friends in the world than anyone else you know.

Every time I walk in the door he asks me "Are you going to have the cup of Coffee tonight" because of the night I got up and sang "One More Cup of Coffee" on Karoke night.
It was pretty bad.
Bad enough I've done it TWICE!

He always has the best Yum Nua, and the best Spring Roll, and the best Nard-nar you’ll ever eat.
Grandma cooks it up in the back, and she always wants to know if I'm going to sinng tonight so she can come out and lauagh. She doesn't even speak English.
I laughed myself to tears thinking about a dish I would call Nuk-Nuk Duck
And as proven in the past, his Fortune Cookies are always true.

This was the case Friday night when the Water Baby and I, and her friend Alexandria, sat down to eat with my friends Kim and Jo. The Water Baby, for those of you new here (click here), is my daughter and my hearts delight.
I have written about her a lot here.

Anyway, Water Baby had a tough week last week.
First, her apartment was broken into on Wednesday. She had to take half a day off to fill out police reports. Then , when she went back in to work on Thursday morning….THEY FIRED HER!

She was still on 90 Day Probation, and I assume she was borderline with too many missed days, and the half day put her over the top.
A year ago she would have been devastated. But it’s a Fail as you go World, ain’t it, and we have to bounce back somehow, and our skin gets thicker and thicker with each bitter bite we have to take.
I’m sure she cried, but when I picked her up to go to Uncle Yang's, her chin didn’t even quiver.
“I’ll just have to go get another one (job) on Monday”

So, when Uncle Yang brought the Fortune Cookies after dinner, you know what hers said?

“You will accomplish more if you just have fun this weekend”

I think that’s pretty good!
Almost as good as the one (click here) that the Rip got.

Friday, November 21, 2008


Destiny struggles to reassert the pattern that was meant to be.
Sometimes, happily, it fails...

Destiny struggles to reassert the pattern that was meant to be
Sometimes, happily, it succeeds...
dean koontz, from "lightning"


On Mondays and Wednesdays I take a 4 mile Bike ride to the train Station and take the Train the Courthouse Downtown. I arrive at approximately 4:30 and wait a moment for Rosy to come bouncing around the corner. She is my new friend and she and I are going through the program together.
We ride the elevator upstairs for our Substance Screening.
Its called a "Passport" machine and we look into a viewer that scans our eyes. If we have been bad, it will open a chute in the floor that transports us in front of a Judge, like the one that Dan Akroyd plays in “Nuthin' but Trouble”, who will promptly drop us from the program and send our criminal butts to jail.
(not really, but does anyone remember the scene with the Humpty-Hump?)

But we have been good, and we will stay good and that has not happened.
I always let Rosy go first, then she waits for me and I walk her to her car and we talk to try to get to know each other enough at least to provide a bit of support.

Every other Thursday, I go Downtown and meet my friend Rosy outside the Courthouse. We walk up the pink marble steps into a real nice Judge lady Courtroom, and see the Judge lady that sponsors the program we are in. There are Prosecutors and Counselors and Program Managers and about 80 participants in the program.
It’s a Courtroom like you have never been in before.
There is an air of empathy so thick you could cut it like a steak.
The Judge lady is fair, very fair, and every week there are people who have violated the program.
They stand in front of the Judge lady and are treated very firmly
These people are treated with respect and dignity and assigned to spend a weekend in jail, and attend extra Meetings, and write essays on topics like
“What it takes to Recover” or “What has my addiction cost me” and stuff like that. At the next session of Court they will read their essay.
I think it’s a three strike deal as far as minor violations go.
Every session there seems to be two people that have violated the program often enough or lied to the Judge lady and they are dropped from the program.
Last night a girl was dropped and she will likely face 20 years in the big house.

People that have graduated to the next phase of the Program, there are 4 phases, stand up and are recognized.
People just starting the program stand up to be recognized.
After 4 weeks, Rosy and I have lost one of our group of six who resigned the program. Another did not show last night, a violation.

After last nights session, I was walking Rosy to her car. As we approached a parking lot, there was a car ready to exit, but the driver was on a cell phone and it was difficult to tell if she had seen Rosy and I.
I stood directly in front of the car, made like a traffic cop with my arm extended and hand signaling stop while I waved Rosy through with a flourish of my other hand. The driver looked at me and smiled.
Guess who it was?
The Judge lady!
She rolled her window down and was just laughin’…she says
“You kids need to be careful”
And Rosy says
‘Hi Judgelady!”
And I said
“If it please the court, your Honor should not be driving and talking on a cell phone”
And Rosy pinched me on the arm real hard and said
‘Don’t tell the Judgelady what to do!”
And we all just laughed.
We are going to be just fine.

Thursday, November 20, 2008


“Sisters of Mercy”

O the sisters of mercy they are not
Departed or gone,
They were waiting for me when I thought
That I just cant go on,
And they brought me their comfort
And later they brought me this song.
O I hope you run into them
You who’ve been traveling so long.

Yes, you who must leave everything
That you cannot control;
It begins with your family,
But soon it comes round to your soul.
Well, I’ve been where you’re hanging
I think I can see how you’re pinned.
When you’re not feeling holy,
Your loneliness says that you’ve sinned.

Well they lay down beside me
I made my confession to them.
They touched both my eyes
And I touched the dew on their hem.
If your life is a leaf
That the seasons tear off and condemn
They will bind you with love
That is graceful and green as a stem.

When I left they were sleeping,
I hope you run into them soon.
Don’t turn on the light
You can read their address by the moon;
And you wont make me jealous
If I hear that they sweeten your night
We weren’t lovers like that
And besides it would still be all right
We weren’t lovers like that
And besides it would still be all right.





We were watching my pal Buddy Whittington in concert at Lake Worth a few Sundays ago.
Click on his highlighted name to get to his Myspace page. Try the 'Second Banana"...everyone loves that song!
The whole CD plays good all the way through, with all but one being Buddy originals.
My favorite is "Young and Dumb", but 'Romance Classified " is right up there too.

What a great gift or stocking stuffer this CD would be, and YES, you can order it from his site!

Buddy has been John Mayalls lead guitarist for nigh onto 14 years now, having replaced the great Coco Montoya.
He is a Texas Bluesman for sure, heavily influenced by BB King, Stevie Ray, and Mr. Billy Gibbons. But don't get me wrong, Buddy is his own man, with his own unique touch.
Where he really gets you is on the notes he does not play. And just when you think he's gonna burn the fretboard up, he teases you with just the rim of it, from afar.
Then, when you least expect it, he finds a tempo and notes explode that you did not know were there.
I like to say that he makes my head swim when he does that 'Buddy Stuff".

He is a quick wit and always has a joke to share. When you talk to him, you always have his undivided attention. He has played around the world and been onstage with Legends like Eric Clapton and mick taylor, but he acts ike the guy from across the street.
He is the only guy from my High School that went from wearing a green Army Jacket to having his own Wiki page.
Buddy is touring Europe as a Solo act for the second or third time now, so I would be much obliged to any of my European pals that might attend one of his shows.
Click here for a listing of his next 11 days, starting in Worstechire at Huntingdon Hall.
Be sure to tell him Steve sent you.

I've scoured youtube for something that does him justice...nuthin does!
Heres Buddy and Mr. Mayall clownin' around in Rome...

Wednesday, November 19, 2008


In addition to going to NA, I am in a program with 5 other people designed by the Court to rehabilitate the addict and get the offence completely off the record.
They will burn my file.
There is a girl in my group of 5 and I think I’m in love. Do you believe in love at first sight? She had the rosiest cheeks I ever did see and the slyest little grin and she’s really friendly like me.
The counselor was going over all the things we can’t do.
The list is huge.

Of course we can’t smoke any dope, or snort any substances, but we can’t take Tylenol PM either.
If anyone is on any prescribed medication like anti--depressants or pain pills, they can’t be in this program
If you are being treated for ADD then you have to find a different program.
And if we should come down with a cough, we can’t have any cough syrup. If I was to come down with the double pneumonia, I can’t even suck a Ludens Cough drop.
If anyone is on any prescribed medication like antidepressants or pain pills, they can’t be in this program.
And when I go out to eat, I can’t have no beer with my Fajita’s Grande, or have the Salmon poached in the White Wine Court Bouillon either.
And I got to be home at 10:00 every night for my “crib-check”, they are going to call and make sure I am too.
Twice a week I am screened for substance abuse with a machine that examines my eyes.
When I pass, I have taken to throwing my arms in the air like a football umpire and shouting 'He Scores" or "Its good" or something.

So after he went down this whole long list of everything we can’t do I just couldn't’t help it.
I raised my hand.
“Yes Steve”he says ‘You have a question?”
Well I knew I wasn’t supposed to ask no question like this so my voice kind of cracked, and my usual big booming voice was greatly diminished
Yessir” says I “ummm…is…is it OK if we have Sex?”

Yeah, like thats gonna happen!

Tuesday, November 18, 2008


Even when he's gone, I'm still here.

110 Posts in 120 Days

And tonight at my NA Meeting I will get a Keychain, I don't remember what color, for being 'Clean and Sober " for 120 Days.
110 Posts in 120 days.
Does anyone think there is not a connection?
Me either.
Check out the post that started this run. (click here)

So my BFF the RDM wants the SOP on the DBP (Daily Blog Post) to be less stylized.
Okee-Dokee, I'll try to dial it down and share the truths of my life.
I have some posts, true too, that will m ake you laugh, RDM.
But for today at least, well, my truths are not so funny.

Two girls, both 19, had friends die this week.
One lost her friend in a drug related car crash.
The other refused to give her friend her Prescribed medicine, and that friend committed Suicide 3 hours later.
Of course they blame themselves.
Did you ever blame yourself for something and have someone tell you that you didn't need to do that?
Did it help one damn bit?
Very sad.
Thats all.



Back in 1997 when I was going through a divorce I picked up an Alcoholics Anonymous book. I could hardly believe the way it was written, and how relivant it seemed to what I was going through.
I had a heartache that I was powerless over, and I found that in the twelve step program that AA is famous for, you could substitute the word “Alcohol” with “Drugs” or ‘Gambling” or “Hoarding” or “Heartache” and the text, the program, would still make sense
I’ve been addicted from everything from Bubble-up to Bowling, from Speed to Sex, and I now find myself very actively involved in a program designed to enable the addict to stay clean the rest of their life.

What I find really amazing is the number of people in these meetings that have been clean and sober for 20 years, and they still come, and they still recognize the first tenet of the program:

We admitted that we were powerless over our addiction, that
our lives had become unmanageable.

Monday, November 17, 2008



Well, after looking at the dream I posted up at 2.22 AM last night, still sportin’ wood and everything, I almost wish I had'nt because it is kinda rude.
But that has never much stopped me before, has it?

Any way, I know what that dream was all about.
Seems like I was in a running battle with just about everybody I had to deal with last week, except for the Xmrs Bulletholes.
I was asking questions I wasn’t supposed to ask, and even if it was a good question, I phrased it wrongly.
People were asking me some of the most dipshit questions I ever heard, all designed to inflict some kind of mental anguish in me, or to reduce my overall self-image.
I was coming up with ideas, good ones too, all soundly rejected.
I offered great suggestions that would save money time and material. All dismissed casually by the powers that be.
I can't think of a single thing I talked about last week that anyone had ani idea what the hell I was talking about.

I was the recipient of 173 eye-rolls that I am aware of.
I got 1 lousy "Good Morning" and 6 direct "fuck-You's", one of them coming from the nice Christian lady that lives around the corner. That was my fault though, you shouldn't share your blog with people you blog about.

A little old lady at the Supermarket hit me with her purse when I reached to pick up the quarter she dropped.
The little doggie that lives next door, the one it took a year to befriend, started back to barking incessantly every time I walked out my door.
My key broke off in the mailbox, and the Post Office wants to charge me $50 to fix it.
No Sunday Paper. I don't want to fight over a newspaper.
I called an old friend to see if he wanted to go to dinner. We managed to argue about everything including the check. I let him win that one, but I sure remember why I don’t like him much.
That’s all just for starters, just the little stuff.

To cap it all off, I was to have a phone line and Internet installed with AT&T last Monday. In the course of 9 days I was on the phone with them or at one of their worthless little outlets for about 6 hours. If it actually gets installed today, as “Promised” it will be nothing short of a miracle.
Need I say more?
So that is my explanation and apology for such a dream as "Immaculate Conception”.
I can't think of anything I am less interested in arguing about than the Virgin Mary 'cept maybe Dudley Do-Rights horse.

On the bright side, I went for a long bike ride Saturday, and found that for my return journey I would be riding into the teeth of a 35 MPH headwind. So, yeah, Miss Mule, life can be a frightening bitch!

Sunday, November 16, 2008


Just woke up, moanin' and groanin'.
Had one of my Patented Church Dreams.
I was in Sunday School and I was debating the Virgin Birth with Sandy, when I did something really detestable.
I resorted to the lowest form of logic called....I don't know what its called...but I was arguing the following point:
"Ya'll aren't the only ones trying to claim a Virgin Birth. There was a Religion that claimed a Virgin Birth thousands of years before Christ so... either ya'll stole it from them, or else it happened again!"
I woke up with my hand down my pajamas, holding my dick.
I think I'll skip church today.

Friday, November 14, 2008

With My Cinnamon Girl

My turn for the Oatmeal Bath.

Its as Easy as Fishin'

Reminds me of my pal Keith, who could lower a hook into a haystack and catch a whole mess o' fish.

Jeremiah was a Bullfrog

Joy to the world
All the boys and girls!

My friend Kim sent quite a number of these pictures to me. I don't know who the Artist is or what city he is in, but his perspective is right-on!

Thursday, November 13, 2008


Sometimes I come upon a site, and it may be one of my good friends too, and I see that whatever they are writing up today is more than 3 paragraphs long and I’ll thing “Oh Geesh” and I’ll scroll down and find that it is actually like forever long and I’ll think
"Sweet Weepin' Jesus, what the hell are they doing to me?"

So when I get on a trip and start posting these darn 8 part stories, I just gotta figure that ya’ll be doin’ the same thing.
But that’s OKAY man, because I usually go back at some point and read what ya’ll wrote up.
And I hope that you come back when you have time and read about fightin joe because
“one, and this is secondary to my purpose” (have you ever read a stupider sentence?)

Because (1) I never would have thought I could write in the fashion that I have written these
And (2) because it really is a great story!

Here are the links:
P.1 URBAN LEGEND (click here)

Wednesday, November 12, 2008



Purcell looked up the three flights of ladders that led to his perch. It was like the worlds biggest Deer Stand, 30 feet up from the blacktop, and situated smack dab in the center of the Drivers Ed Course. From here he could keep an eye on the 15 year old Hoodlums that were learning to drive in his program. Years ago, he felt like he was doing the Community a real service. These days he didn’t know.
Something had changed.
The kids were different, that was for sure. The kids today had changed everything. They had changed in the way they acted, especially towards any authority. They acted so oppressed, like the National Guard had been to their School, fired M-16's into their mob, cut their classmates down, hit their heads with nightsticks and blinded their eyes with tear-gas.
None of that had happened to these kids, so why did they act that way?

When he reached the top and settled in to his chair, he put out the Green Flag indicating the course was open. He fired up the radio with which he could communicate with each car. There was always some joker out there that thought they could get away with something, like smoking a cigarette, or worse, fire up a Reefer, and the CB Radio was there to let the kids know Purcell was on top.
“On top, darn right I’m on top, I’m more on top than that gook sniper that took out my best buddy in the ‘Nam” Purcell thought to himself.
Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out the little silver flask.

Looked like it was gong to be a long morning.

With his Binoculars, he could see Bulletholes up on the hill, right on that blind corner of the building where the gooks, I mean, the Kids, could get away with murder.
Bulletholes! That kid was too sharp to be a slacker, but that’s what he was allright. And now, he and that new kid, blacker than the Ace of Spades, are smokin’ on campus. And it ain’t cigarettes either. There goes the neighborhood.

Whoa! Whats this? Theres Cross-eyed Myra, always lookin' for some trouble. She's found it with those two!
That slut.
Purcell licked his lips and refocused his binoculars for a better look and muttered to himself:
"Every boy in school must be bangin’ that. Every boy but me. What are they lookin at?
Oh shit… Fightin’ Joe and Tiny. Shit, they’re headed this way.
Whats this?
Car 17? Thats Perk, Hogshead and Buck!
They’re pullin’ Perk Perkins out of MY car!"

Purcell took a quick swig from his flask and reached for the Red flag that signalled "All Stop".

(Radio Static)
“Perk, you get that car under control or your ass is grass!
"Perk, I want your butt back into that drivers seat now!"
Hogshead, can you hear me? I want you to make Fightin Joe leave Perk alone, and if you can’t do that I order you to gain control of that vehicle!”
(More Radio static)

Purcell gulped hard as he watched Fightin’ Joe wrestle Perk the rest of the way out of the drivers seat. He saw Buck Boopman exit from the rear passenger side door and run for his life. He saw Hogshead exit the passenger seat, go ‘round the rear of the vehicle and try to peel Perk away from Joe.
The whole time, Car 17 was idling along in a slow wide arc, driver-less, but still in gear. But all eyes were on the hand-to-hand combat taking place on turn #3 of Purcells beloved Drivers Ed course.

It looked like Joe was about to remove Perks head, and Perks upper left arm was bent in a most unnatural way having been both broken and dislocated from his shoulder while being extracted from the vehicle. Why Joe went after Perk the driver instead of Buck in the backseat has been a subject of much conjecture for many years now.
Blind rage coupled with mistaken identity seems as likely an answer as any.
Maybe it was just Perks lucky day.
It was only during the investigation the next week that Buck's affair with  Joe's girl Betsye that it came to light.

But now, Purcell could only watch in confused amazement from his Tower..
Joe saw Hogshead approaching from the rear of the car right before he got there..
Hogshead was a big ol boy, but a peaceful, slow-movin' kind of guy, no match for fightin' Joe.
Joe let Perk go and Perk sat there, holding his arm and trying to keep Tiny from pummeling him more with those little fist of his.
Joe squared off and met Hogshead head on with a straight right that would have sunk a battleship. In his Binoculars, Purcell could see Hogsheads face flatten, and his ears bulge out. Hogshead sank to his knees and kissed the asphalt.

The fight was over, but Purcell felt a hole in his middle. He could taste the coppery flavor of some impending doom.
What was it?
What was that sound?
What was this screeching, crunching, scraping, noise?
And why was his tower leaning now as he watched the parking lot get closer and closer to his window?

Purcells day seemed to have gotten significantly shorter.



A local Pastor gave a Sermon Sunday urging the married couples to have sex every day for the next week. (click here)
I see troubles innumerable, but I am definitely going to be at that Church next Sunday morning.I just can't decide if I should go alone to the Singles Class, or take a date to the Couples Class.
I have a feeling it will be "Standing Room Only".

Tuesday, November 11, 2008


(click here) for the "continued from".

“Howdy do...yeah, I got somethin for the head!
Come on, come stand over here, it’s the best spot on Campus. Want a hit? Yeah, its Wahokkan and it is good. See, from here you can see down the side of the building both ways and if a Counselor or any Narcs show up, we got a runnin start to the Parking Lot. They'll never know what hit 'em. Lobo is out there with all her girls. See that “72 Civic, the Purple one with the smoke comin’ out the rear window? Theres more girlie-girls packed into there right now than a Future Teachers of America Convention. Sometimes they let you party with em, but you gotta wait for the invite. Won't take long, man.

When the wind is just right, comin out of the lot, you can get high just standin here, and seein’ as how jus’ ‘bout every other car is packed with Freaks all tuned in to KZEW its like were getting’ “Smoke on the Water”… in Quadraphonic too. Pretty cool

From here we can see everything. We got a better view of the Parking Lot and the Drivers Ed course over there than Mr. Purcell up there in the tower. They put that in last year, looks like something out of a Yogi Bear vs.The Park Ranger episode. Purcell thinks from up there with his Binoculars he’ll be able to see whats goin’ inside the vehicles while everybodys practicing driving.
Say again? Yeah, it looks like something a Boy Scout Troop made. He climbs three flights of ladders every day to get up there.
No, you’re right, they didn’t spend much money on it and it don’t look real safe.

Uh oh, there goes Fightin Joe. Looks like he's on a mission. He’s got Tiny Fontana with him too. They’re probably lookin’ for someone for Tiny to beat up while Fightin’ Joe holds ‘em. Tiny is little, but he’s a coward and that makes him dangerous, especially since he’s Joe’s only friend besides Mimi.
No, she’s not French... but don’t look now cause here comes Soafy in that Rabbit Jacket of hers.
88 degree's in the shade, Soafy's gotta wear that jacket. Her mommas REAL French, barely even speaks English, but Soafy's from Brooklyn. She likes to think she's French though.

Listen! Hear that squeaky sound?
No, it ain’t her snatch, but you crack me up… its that Patent Leather Ultra Miniskirt she wears. Man she’s really truckinain’t she? Check it out, she’s gonna want a light for her cigarette…she’ll let it dangle until she decides to make Gentlemen out of us, and ask us if we ain't gonna light her cigarette.

Hey Soafy, whats happenin'?!
No, ma’am, I do not know what Joe and Tiny are up to besides no good. Lookin for who? What do they want with Buck? He did what? You don’t mean it! He and Mimi? But she’s his Half-Step Sister. Yeah, I guess that don't plug no holes. Aren’t I gonna what? Oh sure, here you go…man I need a cig too after hearin that shit.
Buck and Mimi. My my!
Ok, catch ya later!

Man! Buck Baumgardner is screwing his own half step sister, Mimi, which just happens to be the most notoriously baddassed’ dude in the world's girlfriend. Fightin’Joe must be wiggin’ out. Someone's gonna get hurt, I guarantee you me.
Buck better keep his ass well hid.

Whats that? Soafy? No, not me…everyone thinks I am but the fact of the matter is I’m the only one thats not.
Yeah, it gets pretty intense around here for sure. Whats your name? Good to know ya, Stanman…They call me Bulletholes. See ya ‘round”

to be continued


I find that one of the most difficult and important aspects of writing is finding and staying within the correct tense.
I figured this out all by myself.
I really had trouble with that my last post, and I'm not altogether sure I got it right.


"It is easy to pick up the is hard to put it down"
Chief Joseph of the Nez Perce

I think part of what Joseph means is that it can be easy for a brave and courageous person to fight for what they think is right, and that once that path is taken, it can be difficult to find the trail to peace.
I suspect our new President may gain firsthand knowledge of this.
I don't know if I am brave, or courageous. I have never been tested in that way. I suspect I may even be a coward disguised as a peaceful person.

So today I honor those who have been in battle, and done service to my country in order that I may live in peace.

It seems to be almost a forgotten day of remembrance, Vetereans Day.
No matter what your feelings may be towards War, let us remember those who have honorably paid tribute to our country, and give a salute to those who are presently in earnest service of their Patriotism.
I doubt that it is easy to be brave.

In the beginning of a change, the patriot is a scarce man, and brave, and hated and scorned. When his cause succeeds, the timid join him, for then it costs nothing to be a patriot.
Mark Twain

addendum- I started to give a special salute to Citizen H and Dave Mows Grass, my two buddies that have served. After posting this, I went to check out the Citizen, and found a most excellent list of 233 reasons to love Marines and the Corps, and two speeches Citizen holds dear.
Go check it will enlighten, amuse, disturb and uplift you, I guarantee!
Consider this my special salute to my bro's and anyone else deserving.

Monday, November 10, 2008

400th Post

To celebrate my 400th post I will direct my friends to my pal the Banquet Manager and a little something I did called "If the Banquet Manager Ain't Happy, Ain't Nobody Happy" as a Guest Post. (Click Here)
Please do leave him a comment over there so it don't look like nobody don't like me.

And for any of Banqman's friends, here are a few snippets froma few of my posts as a way of introduction. Thanks for stopping by!

Four Jobs jobs I've had, from "The Underacheiver"

1) Ran a Newspaper and Detective Service in the Fifth Grade.

2) Rockhound/Gemologist in the 7th Grade...during 1 Summer my friend Billy and I brought about a Ton of rocks home (1 mile) from the Creek, thinking they were Rare and Precious gemstones. When my dad took us to sell them at a Rock Shop, the man actiually bought some of them for a Dollar, I think out of pity for us.

My friend, Billy, sold his Harley Davidson Franchise last year. He is a Millionaire now, and runs one of those Pimp your Motorcycle shops. In High School, he was the kid with the crappy car, a 63 Dodge Dart with the Mag wheels and a hood scoop it.

3) Delivered Circulars/Handbills to a Dumpster when I was 17.

4) Chef for 24 years.This led to an extraordinary position doing Food Demonstrations at the Local Grocery store, wearing a Bowtie and Blackslacks, trying to sell Fritos, Air Fresheners, and Soy Milk ect..

Except for the Soymilk and all the ladies that lined up to talk to me, it was a real low point.
Almost like being the model for the Logo for a Pizza Box or something.
I quit when they tried to make me wear a Chefs hat.
I was their "Best Guy" and the lady cried like a baby when I quit.

One of the Seven things that make me weird, from "Cuckoo, Cuckoo"
Life= Time,
Time= Space,
Space=The Planets,
Human = Race
I am very good at random thought.
In the second grade we had an exercise where we were to draw lines between objects that matched like a Dog and a Doghouse, a hat and a pair of gloves and a hammer and a nail and a bat and a ball. I had no idea what they wanted me to do.
To the point of tears.
I realize now that there really were no wrong answers.
I can think outside anyone’s box.

Lastly from "Hells Kitchen"
"I was a Chef for almost 25 years. Its a great demands a superior work ethic, an eye for detail, a love for food and people.
You may not be Artistic; I wasn't, but in time you will develop a Visual Style.
Most people do not realize that it is a very physical job. This is why you see more male Professional Chefs than female. You move a lot of 50 pound boxes and 15 gallon pots and a large skillet with product could weigh 20-25 pounds while you are "one arming" it from the stovetop to the prep table.
Try making a 90 Yolk batch of Hollandaise and you will find yourself vigorously whisking for 15 minutes. A 50 gallon batch of Honey-Mustard is made with a 4' Whip in 60 gallon trash can.
Trays and mirrors for Buffets can weigh a couple hundred pounds. A block of Ice for carving weighs 350 pounds.
Piping out 2000 Duchess Potato's from a pastry bag will build some forearms that look like Calf muscles.
The hours are long and the pay average.
There are Waitresses and Barmaids.
You can fall in love with it.
You are never really hungry and you are never really cold.
You have to move your ass, which is wrapped up pretty tight all the time.
Sanitation is at the front of everything you do.
I don't think there was a word one concerning proper food handling techniques on "Hells Kitchen"."

If that is not enough for you, Click here to get to "A Nicer guy" which details the ways I have changed since leaving Foodservice.

Friday, November 07, 2008



The first time I heard this piece, I was sitting in the stands, watching High School Marching Competition. From almost the first note, I cried like a baby. X-mrs. bulletholes looked over at me and said "What the hell is the matter with you?". The Band adavanced, and when they played it again that evening, I cried again.
After the show, I told the Director how his Musicians had moved me to tears, not once but twice.

"Which child is yours?" he asked.
'Oh, no, you don't understand" I said 'my child plays for a different Band."

It was one of my first posts. I seldom click on a You-Tube when I see it posted, and I doubt anyone really wants to hear this all the way through, but if you will listen to the last minute, and the way the Composer presents the last 2 notes of "October", you will know what November (click here) is all about.

Keep in mind that this is done by High School Students.

Wednesday, November 05, 2008


I started to post Dylan's "Times They are a Changin'" today, along with ump-teen other bloggers just seems like the lyrics would fit again, right now.
But I'll save it for another day.

Some of my favorite songs I have no idea what they are about even though the lyrics seem to be plain enough. There must be a message here somewhere, a message that I can't quite understand, that I am just not ready to grok in fullness.
But I do like the way it makes me feel.
Don't ask me how it makes me feel.

From the Counting Crows 1993 release
"August and Everything After", another Bulletholes pick of albums that play well all the way through. I apologize for the video content, but its the best audio I could find.

Start tearing the old man down
Run past the heather and down to the old road
Start turning the grain into the ground
Roll a new leaf over
In the middle of the night, there's an old man treading around in the gathered rain
Well mister, if you're going to walk on water
Could you drop a line my way?

Somewhere in middle America
Get right to the heart of matters
It's the heart that matters more
I think you better turn your ticket in
And get your money back at the door

Start threading a needle
Brush past the shuttle that slides through the cold room
Start turning the wool across the wire
Roll a new life over
In the middle of the night, there's an old man threading his toes through a bucket of rain
Hey mister, you don't want to walk on water
you're only going to walk all over me

Start running the banner down
Drop past the color come up through the summer rain
Start turning the girl into the ground
Roll a new love over
In the middle of the day, there's a young man rolling around in the earth and rain
Hey Mister, if you're going to walk on water
You know you're only going to walk all over me.

Somewhere in middle America
Get right to the heart of matters
It's the heart that matters more
I think you better turn your ticket in
And get your money back at the door



I try tyo keep an open mind.
And that is why I had remained undecided as to who to vote for until I got into the booth last night.
I thought about Detroit, and Chicago and Memphis.
Then it became so obvious that I would be voting for Obama.
I realized that I had made up my mind when I was 11 years old in 1968.
I had tried hard over the months to find a reason not to vote for him.
The only reason that would come to mind was his youth, his inexperience, his lack of seasoning.
And then I would hear him speak.
He was smart, he was fluent, and any trace of inexperience drowned in the face of his ability to find the essential issue behind any problem, and to intelligently describe and define what could and could not be done about it.

Then, when the TV cameras showed the jubilant crowds of Americans, weeping, laughing, and ignited by his victory I realized just how significant his election was.
And I wept, I sobbed, I clapped my breast.
I went outside and spit on the ground.
It really chaps my White ass.
How, Good-God-Amighty, could this have taken so long?
A black President!
If we have not "gotten over" then maybe we have at least "gotten through".
We can only underestimate the positive impact Obama's victory will have on America and around the world.

I wrote about the Peaceful One and the Big-Eared Man (click) in August. I have to think they are smiling bigtime.

I am more proud to be an American than I have ever been!

Monday, November 03, 2008


“Fighting Joe” was far and away the most baddass’d dude in these parts and a real life Urban Legend. I writ about 'im a while back.
He came from a long line of notoriously violent people.
My Mother –in-Law, Sparks, used to manage one of the toughest Redneck saloons that actually had a REAL Liquor License, one of the toughest places way out on the Jackboro Highway. She knew Fightin Joes dad “Cutter" and she may be the only person on earth that might could take him.

Sparks don't abide no bullshit in her Bar. Back in the 70's, they say she put Cutter out on his ass by his ear more than once. That was why he never come to her place no more. Sparks kept a sign over her bar said "You are Welcome but your Dope is not" and if she got wind that anyone in there was holdin' it was 'Who hit John?" and out the door with you.

Cutter would take offence to anyone unwitting enough to cast a glance in his direction. But he was right clever about it. Sparks said his usual method of operation has to down a couple dozen Boilermakers which just seemed to bring out all the hate in him, then he would look for someone to unload on. He would act all friendly to them, even buy a few rounds and then out in the Parking lot he would give ‘em the knife.
He never killed anyone that could be proved but he left a long trail of men with only one ear, or minus the tip of their nose and a finger or two and there are enumerable fellows walkin’ round having a jagged tear down one cheek and stitches in their side like that guy Dalton from Road House.
All souvenirs of the night they made a big mistake, thinkin' they had befriended “Cutter” Womack.

His son, “Fightin’ Joe” was a bit different. He never pretended to like nobody.
Nobody ‘cept his girl, Mimi Baumgardner that lived down the street from me. She really wasn't a Baumgardner at all. neither were her two half sisters.
I shall try to explain now the Scariest house on the block.

The Baumgardeners were the most unusual family you’d ever want to meet. They were like the Brady Bunch on a mean batch of Crank.
There were three brothers, all sired by the same father, Bum.
But all three had come from different mothers.
There was Butch, Boomer and Buck. Rumor was that Butch's Mother had been killed by Boomers Mom, then when Boomers Mom got the chair, Bum re-married and Buck was born, but his momma ran off with...some Carnival called ...
Dr. Darks Traveling Pandemonium Circus or somethin'.
Buck was the most normal of the brothers. The other two were like Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle Dum and they were in a constant struggle against each other and for each other, all at the same time. They seemed to be living some kind of ancient geneaological war begun by two women, all the while having more in common with each other than their differences.

There were three sisters that all came from the same Momma, but they each had different Daddys. Their Mommas name was Eve, and she really got around I guess. I never did get comfortable with the way she would eyeball me from time to time.
There was “Ruthless” the eldest of the three, and “Lobo”, the one in the middle. Me and Lobo got to be pretty good friends. She drove a “72 Honda Civic, smallest car there could ever be and sometimes I would get to be the 7th person in the car while a Grass Mask was passed front to back in the Parking lot before School.
I never did know what her real name was, but one night I did find out why they called her Lobo.
Mimi was the youngest, and she was the apple of Fightin' Joe's eye. Mimi was 16 going on 21. She was the best looking of the three. When she got all dressed up she was probably the best looking girl in the school, but instead of giving her confidence, she had become a Mouse, a kind of Cinderella Girl, quiet,shy and easily manipulated by Fightin Joe.
So when Bum and Eve got married, they combined to produce a household of six half brothers and sisters, onl;y they were more like thirds.
Its like nothin' I've ever heard of before.

The most crazy thing about all this is that any of these 6 siblings could have legally married each other. At least in the traditional ‘Man-Woman” sense.
It was like that song “I’m my own Granpa” by Ray Stevens.

There were a lot of jokes about what went on at that house, you just didn’t want to tell ‘em when Fightin Joe was around.
You had to know about the Baumgardners before I could tell you about the day that Fightin' Joe took Perk and Hogshead apart during Drivers Ed.

to be continued