Tuesday, January 31, 2012


Watching Steven Tyler screech his way through the National Anthem at the AFC Championship game last week reminds me of when I went to see America back in 1976. It was an outdoor show down by Austin, back when you could still take ice chests and guns and stuff. It was the only concert I ever went to where the crowd crashed the gates….to get out.

Yep…it was during “Sister Golden Hair”.

Monday, January 30, 2012


"It ain't what they call you, its what you answer to"
WC Fields

Check out the pic Assorted has to go with this...click here!

Thursday, January 26, 2012


I came in to work today. Rachel, the lady I work with, she asks if I know any Led Zeppelin songs.

‘Sure I do!” I said.
“Do you know one that goes like this? ‘BuhDuhDuh-Duh-DuhDat, BuhDuhDuh-Duh-DuhDat, BuhDuhDuh-Duh-DuhDat’ and she ‘s bangin’ her head with her eyes closed, and its obvious the song she is humming to me is Kashmir.
“That’s Kashmir” I said.
“Kashmir?” says she. ‘I heard it this morning and its GREAT!”
“Yeah, you should hear on ‘shrooms” I wanted to say, but we are at work so I use a little discretion and just say “Yep, a real rocker, all your really heavy stuff is slow like that, just stumbles and drags along.” and I went back to my desk.

A few minutes later my phone rings and its her.
“Are you sure that’s what that song is? When I google it all I get is some kind of goats wool”

"Well there's floodin' down in Texas"

Wednesday, January 25, 2012



Or rather, HOPE for satisfaction brought him back.
Nice dog.

Tuesday, January 24, 2012


I don’t like this song, Magic Man, by Heart. It was a huge hit, summer of '76, and they played it all the time for a while. Soubriquet says he laughed his ass off when he heard the synthesizer kick in and yes, it seemed so heavy back in the day, but its really kinda lame.
Like Boston, without all the angst.

It reminds me of Gail.

God, she was foxy, and really way out of my league.
I had been tailing Gail for I don’t know how long that summer of '76, just waiting for her to get curious enough to give me a shot.
At last, we were going to a party together, and on the ride over to the party we made out like crazy in the backseat of John's car, and we were hot like you wouldn’t believe, and she was whispering in my ear all the things we were going to do, and she had these little blue Valiums that had us going and we got to the party, and had a drink, and danced a little and this song, "Magic Man" came on, and Gail was looking at me, no, she was looking through me and past me and she started licking her lips and I turned around and there was this guy, a pretty guy, about 8 years older than me, wearing about 20 pounds of silver and turquoise, and he had this full mustache and a polyester shirt unbuttoned down to there, and this glorious black curly chest hair and man nipshe looked like the singer from 3 Dog Night or Gino Vanelli at least, only way cooler, and Gail moaned and looked at me and said she had to have this guy and that she would make it up to me someday, so off she went with the pretty man.
The Magic Man.
He disappeared Gail that night.
Did she ever make it up to me?
"Try, try, try to understand..."
I wish I could say that’s another story.

inspired by RDG at the garden gate

Monday, January 23, 2012


I tried to go dancin’ Saturday night at the Flame Steakhouse, and I got there an hour before the band started but it was so crowded there was no way to get even a crust of bread or a seat or a Black Cat Bone at the Flame, so me and a few friends went looking all over town for a steak . There were waiting lists everywhere, and we finally decided on the Papaya Garden where they don't have steak but do  serve delicious Thai Food, but along the way someone spotted a greasy spoon called the Dixie House and we ended up there. I had the dirty deep fried chicken and dirty dirty rice, and the Coconut Cream Pie is to die for there, so I won’t complain except to say that I really had my taste up for some Yum Nua, a Thai Beef Salad that will burn your gums off and make your eyeballs itch.

But we got back to the Flame Steakhouse an hour and a half later and found that it was still asshole to elbow, jam up and jelly tight, and so we hung out on the front walk, and we could hear the music just fine through the wall, so we just boogied right there outside, until it got a little too cold.

So I left and walked to my truck, where I noticed I had parked right next to the dumpster and it just so happened I had a few things in my truck would fit right nice in that dumpster so I commenced to offloading these items and about that time the manager of the Flame come around the corner and started yellin’ at me…
“Hey, you there! Are you putting trash in my dumpster?”
“Yes sir. Am I not supposed to do that?”
“No, you are not.” He says. I can tell he’s got quite a little attitude about his dumpster, and he looks like he is comin at me pretty fast.
“Would you like me to take my trash out, and put it back in my truck?” I ask.
“Yes, I’d like that very much!” he says, and stopped comin' at me so fast. In fact, he stopped dead in his tracks about 30 feet away. I guess because I was so co-operative.
“OK”  I hollered back, and I jumped quick as a flash into my truck and peeled the hell outta there.  I don’t reckon I’ll be going back to the Flame Steakhouse anytime soon.

Friday, January 20, 2012



Follow the link to Nevver @ "This Isn't Happiness"

"Crazy About Her Shrimp"

 We don't even take time
To come up for air.
We keep our mouths full and busy
Eating bread and cheese
And smooching in between.

No sooner have we made love
Than we are back in the kitchen.
While I chop the hot peppers,
She grins at me
And stirs the shrimp on the stove.

How good the wine tastes
That has run red
Out of a laughing mouth!
Down her chin
And on to her naked tits.

"I'm getting fat," she says,
Turning this way and that way
Before the mirror.
"I'm crazy about her shrimp!'
I shout to the gods above.
charles simic, "crazy about her shrimp"

Thanks to SL over at Assorted who kept this poem archived for me. No, that is not SL's image in the kitchedn posted above.

Wednesday, January 18, 2012


I tried to refill my prescription for testosterone last week. Pharmacy said there was a problem, I needed to call my Insurance.
Insurance said they just needed Doctor approval.
Doctor said Pharmacy needs to send an approval request.
Pharmacy says it sent the request, but got nothing back.
Doctor says they never got the request.

This has gone on five days, and I’m all out of testosterone and it’s a good thing to or I’d kill me a mother-fucker.

Tuesday, January 17, 2012


Monday, January 16, 2012


"I believe that what self-centered men have torn
down, other-centered men can build up..."

Official unveiling of the National Monument was Sunday, August 28 2011, 58 years after his "I Have a Dream " speech.
 Curving granite walls are engraved with his words taken from various speeches and writings. I can imagine as one reflects at the site, they might hear that beautiful lyrical voice of his:
"I refuse to accept the view that mankind is so tragically bound to the starless midnight of racism and war that the bright daybreak of peace and brotherhood can never become a reality... I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word."
Me too, good Doctor, me too.

Dr. King had a great effect on me when I was growing up in Detroit, greater that I had realized at the time.
Back in August I posted this photo, and the text above on Facebook. Not all my friends see Dr. King in the same light as I. Perhaps someday they will have a monument of their own.
God, I hope not.

Friday, January 13, 2012


I know I moved into Buckshots house less than two months ago with 12 pairs of socks.

I absolutely know I did.
Fucking socks.

Wednesday, January 11, 2012


""David took his men with him and went out and killed two hundred Philistines and brought back their foreskins. They counted out the full number to the king so that David might become the king’s son-in-law. Then Saul gave him his daughter Michal in marriage."

1 Samuel 18:26-28

You might think it a strange request, but it was not. Body parts such as scalps, hands, heads and feet were often collected as trophiess of war. Sauls request for foreskins would insure it was Philistines that David had slain, and not just hapless Jews.

What he needed was a circumcision gun, like the one shown above to get the job done.
One pull of the trigger and BAM!
Home before evening prayer and supper!

Tuesday, January 10, 2012


Here in Texas a lot of people have taken to putting out inflatable decorations. Santa, and a sled, and reindeer and elves, made like big balloons with lights in them flying across the front yards, and an extension cord trailing into the garage that supplies electricity to a pump that presumably keeps air going into the inflatables and lights the lights inside Santa and his compadres.

The thing is, these things must be on a timer, because the festive scene you passed by the night before, the next morning looks like a crime scene. Santa, his reindeer and elves, and the big green letters that spell out HO-HO-HO are laying slaughtered on the lawn, airless and deflated like characters out of Flatland. They are dead and cold and covered with Jack Frost, and its really nothing you want to see first thing in the morning. Very sad.
Thanks to UF Mike...I knew there was something about this Christmas worth mentioning (or not), I just didn't know what till I read his post.

Monday, January 09, 2012


"Once there was a man who held a political make-work job like so many here...shining a brass cannon around a courthouse. He did this for years...but he was not getting ahead in the world. So one day he quit his job, drew out his savings, bought a brass cannon — and went into business for himself"

~ robert heinlein


Nice weekend here in Bulletland.
First,  went out dancin' Friday night. My daughter came. Some old friends that don't usually come stopped in and made the night. Charro, Bobbo's wife, was there and she is such a hoot and we danced it up bigtime!

Then Saturday morning I got up and drove to a meeting. Its was a good meeting and I went across the street to the Buttermilk for breakfast. All the waitresses know me, and I usually have one of my girlfriends with me. The waitresses always ask if these girls are "girlfriends" or just "girl- friends". I always tell them   that if they figure it out to please let me know. That I really don't know myself. It seems to me that if they were girlfriends, then I would be making breakfast for them at home while they read me the paper.

Anyway, the first meeting was so good that I went to the next one as well.
It was about how "The true measure of our recovery is in the daily maintenance of our spiritual condition" from our "Just For Today" Daily Meditations. If you scroll down at the link, you can read them too!

That line stands out to me from the early days, from the first meetings I went to. I didn't really think I had a "spiritual condition" at the time. But what I have found the last few years is that getting regular sleep instead of staying up for days on end is good for your spiritual condition. That buying car insurance and keeping your vehicle registered is great for your spiritual condition. Its good when you can see a cop and not have a heart attack. Drinking enough water is good for your spiritual condition too, and learning to listen to stories about how other folks stayed clean this week, and kept from blowing their top, or reacting to other people in a way that would create resentments, all that is good too. I need to make about 3 meetings a week it seems, or else people start looking ugly and stupid to me.
Its funny how that works.
I don't sit around and read recovery literature per se', but I am always on the lookout for good words that will help me stay serene. I do this everyday, and everyday I call someone that wants to help me in my recovery. Thats funny too, because we don't usually talk about anything in particular, or even NA in general, there is just something therapeutic about engaging someone on a regular basis.

I do all these things on a daily basis, just like because of my Diabetes I watch what I eat every day. I have a little meter that measure my blood sugar, but you know what? If I maintain my diabetes program on a daily basis, I don't hardly need it.
Clean time does not equal recovery.
The true measure of my recovery is in the daily maintenance of my spiritual condition.

Sunday, January 08, 2012


They took me in for questioning. There were no questions. They said they were going to book me for murder, but there was no corpse. All I had going for me was that Prilosec sittin' on the bowl of chili.
They knew I had done it and they had my accomplices, McGinty and Barswock, two of the worst Pinochle players I ever met. Can you play Pinochle with just three players? Sure you can, but you have to have a widow. That’s where Lucy came in. It wouldn’t have mattered with these two anyway, I'd skin 'em on Cutthroat or Racehorse any ol' day.

The cops just cut them loose and here they were, one on each side, before the cops even had bothered to question me.
“Nuthin’” McGinty said with a wave of his hand “we didn’t give them nuthin’”
“Yeah, you’se in the clear” echoed Barswock.
That was proof enough they had spilled their guts.
And the girl, the dead one no one had found yet? I didn’t even know where she was. When the dead get up and walk, who is to say where they go? All I knew was she was wearing the World’s Biggest Necklace, and she had left with the cards.
The worst part wasn’t that I’d had a Thousand Aces when she made her break. The worst part was that I had actually killed someone and couldn’t remember what why or how. I just knew the who ~poor Lucy~ and that the two knuckleheads couldn’t play Pinochle for shit.

Friday, January 06, 2012


My brother, Don Renfro, his first year at West Point. Davy sent me this picture years ago, and I love it.
Don fell to cancer January 4, 1997. He was a retired Lt. Colonel, 56 years old..
I remember the way the West Point yearbook described him:
"A quick wit and sure smile".
Yeah, he sure was that.

A classmate in an online eulogy says:
"Sometimes we'd wonder if he ever took anything seriously, then we'd see his class rank".

My first memory of Don was on the front porch, where I was taking a piss. I was about 3 years old. Don snatched me up and spanked me. He took that serious enough. I always pissed off the back porch after that.

My brother Don was sharp. He reminds me so much of my dad, without the cigar and gruff. Don was 16 when I was born, and he was off to College and to the Point by the time I was two, then Vietnam and Panama and Saudi Arabia, and sometimes I wonder how many times I actually got to spend any time with my brother.
I do miss him so.


My niece and nephew @ Dave Mows Grass and Jen Writes are a very strange batch of Renfro's.
They both write so well and with such purpose!
Its funny. I try to write just the way I talk. Their writing is very different from mine, but it is the same in that they seem to write just the way they talk as well.
They remind me so much of their dad.

 I knew something was going on when it wasn't good enough for them just to write, but there seemed to be some insinuation that it needed to be useful. I didn't get that gene. I'd have to say that my best writing tends to have no real use whatsoever, at least not at the time it was written. My best writing is when I seem to have no idea what I am writing about, or why I am writing it, untill weeks, or even  years later, when suddenly I think "Ah yes! I wrote about this one time".

Thursday, January 05, 2012


The dude in the hoodie with the mule-bray voice is none other than my boy, The Rip, doing his rousing reggae rendition of "Layla". What he lacks in vocal prowess he makes up for with dynamics.
So far he has 135 YouTube hits.
His mother is very proud.

Wednesday, January 04, 2012


Dancin' to the tunes of Buddy Whittington and Michael Lee Clemmer. Michael is a 21 year old whiz kid of a blues guitarist from around these parts.

Here he is doing an old Freddy king number "You Got me Licked"...


You tell me your life is alright, even in spite of this place.
But where are the eyes that I once knew? Why don’t they light up your face?

I know you are not one to wander. You care not to circle the earth.
But to judge by your voice and your manners you’ve settled for less than your worth.

And the creek wants to run to the river. As it would were it not for the damn.
And you might be dancing in starlight, far from this cold empty land.

And I’ve not found the answer to all things and I haven’t yet learned how to fly.
Sometimes the sunlight can’t find me, and it’s all I can do just to try.

But I will not be stranded here thinking of everything I should have done
Let no one will build walls around me, I’ll not let anyone block out the sun.

For the creek wants to run to the river. As it would were it not for the damn.
And I will strike out for the starlight, with a smile and a wave of the hand.

The roads and the cities may scare you, with dangers that play with the mind
But a place where your dreams are kept silent is as deadly a place as you’ll find.

So take care that the wind doesn’t fool you into hearing a false melody
And look at your face in the water, and see if you like what you see.

And the creek wants to run to the river. As it would were it not for the damn.
And you might be dancing in starlight, far from this cold empty land.

- James McMurtry

Ya'll know I'm nuts for McMurtry, so to find something unreleased that didn't make the cut to an early album is a real treat for me. I'm guessing it was his first album "Too Long in the Wasteland", but thats just a guess.
 I take the name of this blog from the title cut of that album.
I just have to share. its as good a way to start this year as I can figure.
Thanks to a guy named Matt for loading this to the 'net.