PARIS: FROM THE HILTON TO THE BIG HOUSE
2007-06-06 00:20:00
Future news blurbs covering Paris Hilton in prison.read more | digg story
PARIS: FROM THE HILTON TO THE BIG HOUSE
2007-06-06 00:09:00
Half the world believes Paris Hilton should be in prison. The other half is blonde. And despite the petitions, and calls for California Governor Schwarzenegger to intercede, Paris is now behind bars. For the next three weeks, news coverage of the war in Iraq, the up-coming presidential race, and global warming will take a back seat to the Hilton hellion. Tomorrows news reports will likely contain the following:Last night, Paris Hilton accidentally walked through her cell bars while sleepwalking. She was captured a short time later when a guard overheard her say, “solitary confinement is hot.” Nicole Richie, long time gal-pal, sent Paris a chocolate cake. A file was inside the cake. Hilton did her nails. Paris announces release of her new perfume, “Felony”. When told she would get “three hots and a cot“, Paris requested Leonardo DiCaprio, Nick Lachey, and Brad Pitt.O.J. Simpson must be laughing his ass off.
SPIKE AND I CRUSH CANS
2007-06-02 23:23:00
I had a couple bags of aluminum cans sitting on the porch, and since there wasn’t anything worth watching on the telly, Spike and I decided to crush ’um and cash in. We set a cinder block on the tailgate and smacked the cans with a brickbat. Not bad work if you can get it, but it’s hard on a man’s back. I crushed the Sundrop cans and Spike took care of the Busch. Sweet, syrupy soda squirted me every time I smacked a can and I guess the Magnolia tree couldn’t compete, because after half a bag the YellowJackets started buzzing around me and Spike. I grew up in the country amongst snakes, spiders, bees, and all sorts of varmints, so a Yeller Jacket ain’t nothing but a thing. But Spike got right nervous and started wind milling his arms. That just stirred up the wasps, and they called in reinforcements. I got stung on the hand and Spike smacked it with the brick. Not the best way to kill a wasp, and I couldn’t tell where the YellowJackets blood left off and my began, b
SPAZ CRUSH
2007-05-30 19:25:00
I'm pretty sure Spaz has a crush on me. All week she has been sleeping with my shirts, holding my hand, and making goo-goo eyes at me.
ME AND SPAZ KILL A BUG
2007-05-28 10:38:00
My cat Spaz is one smart cookie.Last night she called me into the laundry area. She started crying, and I was worried she got tied up in something, like the curtains again.So I checked on her. She was standing on the washing machine, crying, looking up at the ceiling. She was after a lightning bug. When she saw me, she started hunching up the way she does when she wants to jump up on my shoulders. I turned my back and she got on. Perched on my shoulder, she reached up and swatted at the bug. It crawled across the wall. We followed. Spaz urged me forward, biting my earlobe whenever the bug looked like it might get away. We spent fifteen minutes crashing that bug through the house. Spaz finally nailed it, but not before she shredded my shoulders with her claws.Next time, I'm wearing a shirt.
TIPTOE THROUGH THE TOMATO'S
2007-05-28 09:55:00
I got a late start on my garden this year. I say garden, but in fact it's just a few potted vegetables. So far, I have two tomato plants and two habanero peppers. I'm going to add some jalapenos and herbs.Spike decided he wanted to try his hand at gardening this year. Spike doesn't have a green thumb. In fact, he doesn't have thumbs. Spike is my brain tumor. The first thing Spike planted was a light bulb. I was surprised to see what sprouted. He also grew this. I'm afraid to ask him how he did it.
THE KEY TO HAPPINESS
2007-05-26 18:36:00
Like most kids, my nine year old nephew Joel has more questions than I have answers. The other day he wanted to know why crows get chased by small birds. I always try to give the boy the straight scoop. Unfortunately, he asked Spike about the birds.Spike is my brain tumor. I named him because I got tired of referring to him as a benign acoustic neuroma brain tumor. Spike is easier. We look a lot alike, Spike and me, so I can see how my nephew confused us. Spike is not the best person to answer a young boy’s questions. His wiring is a little screwed up. And he’s no friend of the truth.So when Joel asked Spike about the crow, Spike told him this.“When the earth was young, Woodstock, the wizard of the wood, gave the key to happiness to the Mockingbird People. He knew they would safeguard the key, as everyone knows Mockingbirds hold no one in high esteem. Of course, everyone wanted the key. They had all heard the song,’don’t worry, be happy’, so they sent soldiers to steal th
PICTURE THIS
2007-05-24 12:50:00
Last summer I bought a 35mm camera with a telephoto lens for $10.00 at a yard sale. I've shot seven rolls of film and have decided this is going to be an expensive hobby, considering I only get one decent picture for every three rolls. Good thing the camera was so cheap.Some time back I saw a flock of twenty-five wild turkeys in my backyard. I grabbed the camera and stalked the gobblers. Turkeys are difficult to sneak up on, but I managed to get within fifty to sixty feet of the magnificent birds. They looked huge through the telephoto lens. The rising morning sun lit their plumage in an iridescent glow. I knelt behind an old gnarled oak and snapped several pics, bracketing the exposure to ensure I'd get at least one good shot. One ancient gobbler with a 12" beard strutted like a model on a runway and I entertained visions of seeing his portrait on the cover of Outdoor Life Magazine. Fire yanked me from my fantasy. My right knee was enflamed. I was kneeling in a red ant hill. The fie
WEIRD GOTHIC PAINTING
2007-05-19 23:40:00
I found this oil painting in a dusty corner of a thrift store the other day. I can't stop looking at the damn thing. The scene has invaded my dreams. I find myself enveloped in mist, my mood as blue as the swirling fog, eyes wide as I make my way to the castle, toward the warm, yellow light shinning in the windows. When I wake, I'm standing in front of the painted monstrosity, unaware of rising from my bed. I look for myself in the mist, and am drawn to the empty eye socket. It pierces me like no eye ever has, and I shiver despite the warm May night.
A QUEER DAY FOR YARD SALES
2007-05-19 16:32:00
Man, it was cold at six this morning. And overcast. I could smell rain, but the clouds held their water. Must have been young clouds-if clouds are anything like men-because this old man can’t hold it that long.Spike and I usually don't travel too far from home, but this morning we decided to ride into J‘ville. According to the classified ad, someone had a huge selection of books for sale. The misguided young woman holding the sale had four boxes of books. Four. To me, huge conjurors up a lawn covered in stuff, but I still managed to pick up five or six titles. Spike handled the haggling. Price should have been $7.00. She added wrong and came up with $4.00. Spike gave her a Jackson. When she made change, she handed Spike $18.00, cheating herself out of another $2.00. Spike didn't catch the mistake. He claims he didn’t, but you never know with Spike. An hour and a half later, I realized the woman gave too much change. I wanted to go back, but now I'm now forty miles from her hou
SIDEWALK SALE
2007-05-15 18:15:00
A local antique store holds a truck load sale every two weeks. Store employees unload the truck, filling a small wagon with seven or eight boxes of goodies at a time. The boxes are lined up along the storefront. Nothing is priced. The boxes are full of all kinds of vintage items. Linens. Books. Glassware. Pottery. Tools. Radio tubes. Customers are not allowed to touch anything in the wagon, and they cannot dig through the boxes, until the last box is set down. When the wagon is completely unloaded, all hell breaks loose. Arms flail, hips bump and grind, feet stomp and get stomped as customers claw their way through the feeding frenzy. If two hands grab the same item, it's a tug of war, with the plunder generally going to the beefier picker. The store's owners supply coffee, doughnuts, and band aids.Last Friday, the crowd was particularly worked up. I saw an older woman pick up a medium sized box full of table linen. She fought her way out of the crowd so she could go through the trea
I LIKE A LITTLE POT
2007-05-09 13:27:00
I’m a junkie. I love small pots and bits of unusual pottery. I especially like earth tone glazes and Eames Era urns and vases. I feed the monkey at yard sales and thrift stores, and pay anywhere from .25¢ to $1.00 each. Most are 5” and shorter, making then easier to display. Spike bought this piece. The guy is warped.
REVERAND SHARPTON IMPLIES MORMONS DON’T BELIEVE IN GOD
2007-05-09 11:59:00
Reverend Sharp tongue is at it again. During a debate, he links Mormons with infidels, a remark which ranks right up there with his infamous, “if the Jews want to get it on, tell them to pin their yarmulkes back and come over to my house," rant.Reverend Sharpton said, "As for the one Mormon running for office, those who really believe in God will defeat him anyways, so don't worry about that; that's a temporary situation."Perhaps the good Reverend misspoke. I read his explanation. He said, "What I said was that we would defeat him, meaning as a Republican." Huh?I don't get it. But what I do get is, if you make a career out of throwing stones, you shouldn't live in a glass house.
Building a Library Book By Book
2007-05-09 08:48:00
For the bibliophile, nothing is more satisfying than a bookcase full of reading material, and collecting books can be as fulfilling as reading them. A collection can be built around specific authors, genres, subjects, publishers, bindings, editions, or autographed copies. And books can be purchased for as little as a quarter at local thrift stores and yard sales, or for several thousand dollars from dealers of rare and antiquarian books. After deciding what type of books to collect, the novice collector should learn... Read more
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, Library
DRESS IT UP WITH COSTUME JEWELRY
2007-05-07 00:53:00
Just because its costume doesn't mean it's a wolf in sheep's clothing. Costume jewelry has come a long way since the 1940's, and today the pretty pieces of glass and plastic, set with the basest of metals, are hip with the in-crowd. Faux is fabulous, so forget about Diamonds and Rubies. Show me the Rhinestones and Bakelite, baby.When it comes to costume jewelry, it's all about vintage. Those pretentious baubles' from the Eames era are hot. And the designer pieces are once again setting the collecting world on fire. Should you decide to accessorize your wardrobe with these fashion flames, do so now, before competition gets behind the wheel and drives the market out of sight.The name is the name of the game. Certain designers are coveted by collectors. Pieces by Mazer, Kramer, Eisenberg, Trifari, Miriam Haskell, Chanel, Weiss, and Sherman are perennial favorites.Bakelite pieces, be they bangles or beads, are highly desirable. The chunky, carved bangles absolutely sizzle. Prepare to
BUILDING A LIBRARY BOOK BY BOOK
2007-05-06 22:58:00
For the bibliophile, nothing is more satisfying than a bookcase full of reading material, and collecting books can be as fulfilling as reading them. A collection can be built around specific authors, genres, subjects, publishers, bindings, editions, or autographed copies. And books can be purchased for as little as a quarter at local thrift stores and yard sales, or for several thousand dollars from dealers of rare and antiquarian books. After deciding what type of books to collect, the novice collector should learn the terms of the trade. First Edition: The first time a book is printed. Subsequent editions occur when major changes are made to the text.Printing: Additional runs of the same edition.Number Line: A series of numbers listed on the copyright page. These are usually shown as 1 through 10, or 10 to 1. If the full sequence is show, the book is a first printing. If the number line starts at 4, it is a fourth printing.ISBN: International standardized book number. Usually te
2007-05-06 15:38:00
SPAZ HAS GONE CRACKERS
2007-05-02 11:23:00
Shara, over at My Deal of the Day,suggested that I submit this photo of Spaz to Stuff on My Cat.I did. Thanks, Shara.I've had some strange animals live with me through the years, but Spaz is in a class of her own. She slaps me awake every morning when she's ready for breakfast. At the end of the night, as I go about the house shutting of the lights, Spaz grabs a quick drink, makes a trip to the litter box, and makes a mad dash for the bedroom to secure her side of the bed. I'm use to the left side but have grown weary arguing with her.When we have a spat, Spaz shakes her head violently, screaming like a rabbit caught in the talons of a barn owl. She'll stomp off, only to return when she's hungry again. One morning I found her stuck in a large vase with her tail and hind legs stretched toward the ceiling. She never made a sound. I think she was embarrassed. Another time, when I was repairing the flush mechanism on the toilet, she dove into the open tank. I found her clutching the
SPIKE BUYS A PHOTO ALBUM
2007-04-30 10:59:00
Spike and I went yard sailing Saturday. Spike is my brain tumor, and since we are going to be together for awhile, I decided to name him. Actually, he picked the name Spike. I wanted to call him Leon.We had a poor start. I had a headache and wanted to sleep in, but Spike kept calling me Nancy-boy, so I threw back the covers and we hit the road. Despite the pleasant weather not many folks were holding sales. And the first three were duds. Nothing but baby clothes and Family Dollar do dads. I was ready to head for home, but Spike insisted we keep looking for loot. Spike fancies himself a pirate. To him, yard sale signs are treasure maps and he's always ready to dig for booty. He'll swagger across a yard full of junk, despite his limp, searching for pieces of eight, McCoy pottery, old books, gold doubloons, and vintage fishing lures. The pirate wants me to wear an eye patch. I might do it if it will shut him up.Spike pointed out a yard sale sign I missed. I hit the brakes and made the t
COMMON SENSE DIES TODAY
2007-04-29 10:21:00
OBITUARYCommon Sense, a popular resident of long standing, died today. According to reports, she chocked on a ham sandwich while reading the Sunday Times.She is preceded in death by her father, Good Sense, her mother, Horse Sense, and an elder brother, Yankee Ingenuity.She is survived by two nieces, Paula Cole Correctness and Lotta Hype, and a nephew, Rush T. Judgment.In lieu of flowers, the family requests mourners send donations to the following organizations:ACLUGET THE HAM OUT FOUNDATIONDON IMUS EFFIGY FUNDROSIE FOR PRESIDENT CAMPAIGN FUND
SPAZ THINKS SHE'S A PARROT
2007-04-25 20:20:00
Lately, Spaz has been jumping on my shoulder. She stays perched there, like a parrot, as I walk about the house. If I start moving too fast, she puts a hind foot on either shoulder and hugs my forehead, resting her chin on the top of my head. Spaz spends her morning hours sitting on the window sill chirping at the other birds feeding in the yard. When they chirp back, she gets excited and preens herself.Any day now I expect to find an egg in her litter box.
FISHING WITH A SERIAL KILLER
2007-04-23 22:35:00
Back in the early 1970’s I use to fish off a small pier behind Tom & Joe’s Sportcenter in Swansboro North Carolina. My dad, Tom, was co-owner of the bait and tackle shop. At the time, Swansboro was a quaint little fishing village set on the banks of the White Oak River. Swansboro has grown, but it still is a small town by today’s standards. We now have a Burger King and Hardees. A stop light regulates traffic on the four lane highway which skirts the edge of town, and the Police Blotter in the Tideland News recounts four or five misdemeanors every week. But the fall of 1974 was different. Several banks were held up at gun point in Jacksonville, a much larger town just twenty miles west of Swansboro. People were killed. Two teenage girls were found strangled, dumped on a rural dirt road on the outskirts of Swansboro. The girls had been raped before being brutally murdered.On that same pier, the one behind my Dad’s store, as I took snappers from schools of small, needle-toothed B
A NEW KIND OF WAR
2007-04-05 14:23:00
The war on Terror is a new animal for the United States. Like the Giant Toad, it too, is non- indigenous. Both slipped into this country unexpectedly, both prey on native species, and both are highly toxic to predators.We should remember that as we hunt down terrorists in Iraq and Afghanistan. President Bush has announced that the war on terror is a "new kind of war". The phrase falls nightly from the lips of newscasters. So often, in fact, it has lost its lustre.My question is: if it's a new kind of war, why are we fighting the same old battle?Past wars-animals we were familiar with-dictated invasions, large battles, the dismantling of enemy forces, toppling governments, and occupation. After the war was won, we would begin restoration. We are doing just that now. If the war on terror truly is a new kind of war, let us fight it as such. If a foreign country plans, or launches, an attack against us; or should they turn a blind eye as terrorists plan attacks from camps on their soil, o
YARD SALE TICKLERS
2007-04-05 14:02:00
With the possible exception of bondage freaks with feather dusters, no one says, "I got tickled," anymore. But when I was a kid, before cable and MTV cooked a big pot of English stew, people spoke in the vernacular. Down South, if you got tickled, it meant something amused you. I hope you will "be tickled," by the following recounting of my more humorous yard sale adventures. I'll continue to add as the season progresses. If you're not give me a call. I got a deal on a feather duster at a sale last Saturday. My dad and I often spend Saturdays at yard sales. The man has a mischievous smile and the soul of a leprechaun. At one sale he picked up a shot glass. The price was a nickle. He nudged me, and with a conspiratorial tone said, "Watch this." He held the glass up and asked the owner,"How much?" She told him it was five cents. He examined it closer and asked, "Will you take four cents for it?" At another sale we bought a few items. We paid the woman and she said, "Thanks. Come back a
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SPAZ
2007-04-05 14:00:00
This is my cat Spaz. If the eyes are windows to the soul then I'm in trouble. She's resting peacefully now, wrapped around her favorite plant, the one with the baby's breath. An hour ago she had a cat fit. Tomorrow I'll have to re-hang the drapes, comb cat fur off the cactus, and sift garlic bulbs from her litter box. Spaz buries garlic in her Fresh Step. I think She's trying to tell me something. Spaz is an incorrigible thief. A year or so after she moved in I noticed things were disappearing. Small things. Mundane items you don't notice at first, like cellophane from cigarette packs, soda caps, used napkins. Then one day I couldn't find the salt shaker. I was worried. I have a brain tumor and I thought I might be suffering from blackouts. Then I couldn't find a pack of Trojans. I was terrified. Not because of the tumor. I had a friend coming over. A special friend. But I digress. Spaz followed me as I tore through the house. I searched under couch cushions. I rifled dresser
WHEN CRIME PAYS
2007-06-07 21:01:00
This morning I called the County prison and asked if they were overcrowded. The nice woman on the other line asked if I was with the press. I told her no, that I was just a concerned citizen. She hesitated at first, but then told me they were running at 85% capacity. I thanked her and hung up.Damn. I brushed my teeth and ran a comb through what’s left of my hair. I was going to shave, but I didn’t feel like looking at my mug in the mirror, so I doused it with cold water and left it at that. Blood-shot eyes, errant ear and nose hairs, and creased, leathery flesh are best looked at later in the day.I checked my emails, but it was just another redneck vacation. Nothing but spam and phishing. I googled myself. No surprises there either. I was a ghost thumbing a ride on the information highway. Nothing solid. No bios. No links. No info.I logged onto my bank account. If I can put together another ten bucks I can cover bank fees for the month.No money.No looks.No celebrity.I decided to ca
FLIGHT OF THE CONCHORDS
2007-06-13 00:40:00
I CAN’T AFFORD NOT TO GO TO JAIL
2007-06-12 12:17:00
I read that it cost taxpayers $1,000 a day to keep Paris Hilton in prison. But what amazes me is that taxpayers pay $100.00 a day to care for ordinary inmates. I figure my expenses come to $25.00 a day, and that includes what I spend on Spaz. I don’t live high on the hog, but there is ham in my frig and I have cable, and I’m on the internet. I stay warm in the winter and cool in the summer. I also spend $3.00 a day on gas, an expense I’m sure the inmate need not incur. So, what the hell does an inmate need? A cell. Three meals a day. Toiletries. I mean, how much can an orange jumpsuit cost?
PHOTOGRAPHY IS FOR THE BIRDS
2007-06-11 12:34:00
I could smack Alfred Hitchcock for empowering feathered missiles. Last week I was almost gobbled by a turkey and I took a direct hit from a Mockingbird. I’m use to being mocked, but by a bird?I was sitting on the couch watching the Paris Hilton show when I noticed a flock of turkeys in the back yard. I grabbed my camera and snuck around the side of the house. Seven hens, a couple of gobblers, and a whole passel of pouts’ were feeding on grasshoppers. I snapped a shot just as they spotted me. The turkeys scattered as I advanced the film. Thirty minutes later, a hen and a jake cautiously made their way back into the yard. The hen spotted me and began to putt. The jake turned to flee. Hoping to ease his fear, I gobbled. Now, either I’m a champion turkey caller, or that jake was as dumb as a conch. He ruffled himself up and gobbled back before charging me. I’m not afraid of a bird but I suddenly remembered I’d left a pot of pasta simmering on the stove, so I went back in the h
THE FAMILY
2007-06-14 00:34:00
I got new neighbors. An entire family moved in last week; a rough and tumble, tight knit crew from the looks of it, and just in time to dispel the rumor that the neighborhood is going to the dogs.They got strange names, these new folk. Tony the tiger. Willie the whiskers. Tabby two toes. The calico kid.Word is they are hustling kitty crack. I didn’t believe it until I found several catnip plants growing among the tomato’s in their backyard. That, coupled with the late night stereophonic screams emanating from the Hydrangea bushes confirms my suspicions. Susie Miller, the precocious, pubescent daughter of Marge and Andy Miller, is missing her hamster, Fred. I fear Fred is sleeping with the fishes. I do not doubt these new neighbors of mine are whacking rodents. It’s what they do.
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