Monthly Archives: March 2022
Yeah. I’m Just Screwin’ Around. “Copin’ With Hagen” A cruel Miss-Stress! I am so Tired. I Caint Walk. My legs have Stopped Working.
“WARNING: THIS PRODUCT CAN CAUSE GUM DISEASE AND MOUTH CANCER”
Now they tell me
I may be properly fucked
(Well at least it don’t cause WuFlu)
Chris Ledoux-Copenhagen:
How I live my life (But Y’all already know this):
Video compilation credit: biggestkkfan
I am so Very Proud of the Brave Ukrainians. They are Standing Their Ground And Holding Fast In Spite of all odds against them. God Be With Them!
That’s Really all I wanted to say.
Hallelujah – Leonard Cohen’s song for Ukraine with new lyrics, 2022
Cred: Shirley Șerban
What is it Good For?
(The Font is Too Damn Small–Hope Y’all Can Read it–I Tried To Fix it, But I Grew Bored.) “I Miss Peanut So Much! He was My Very Best Friend. In Keeping With TTales & Hieroglyphs Virtual Ink Green Earth Policy…”
We would like to Recycle This:
Hauling Hay For Fun & Profit:
It’s been a while since I have written about Peanut but he has been on my mind of late. A few of us in Honey Grove during the Seventies, not being afraid of hard work and also not being afraid of making good money would haul hay during the summers, brutal hot honest work.
This was back when those infernal ‘round bales’ were just making their appearance, threatening to put all the ‘square bale’ haulers out of business. (The bales were not geometrically square of course, but ‘rectangular bales’ just didn’t have a ring to it.)
Hauling hay was a two-man operation: one man would drive the truck guiding the hay loader along the rows of bales. The other would stand on the back of the flatbed and stack.
Once the truck was loaded the duo would head to the barn (or more often than not, an old depression era house which served as a hay barn.) One guy would throw the bales off the truck and the other would drag and stack. Return to the hay field and repeat, but with the rolls reversed for fairness.
Generally, but not always, one guy would be the truck owner and the other just a hired hand. I was a hired hand behind a famous hay-hauler named Nubbin. He paid me a nickel a bale; not bad money considering hauling a thousand bales a day (our usual goal) would net me fifty bucks tax free.
If we hauled in prairie grass fields (which always had bumble bees) he would pay me two cents extra to stack every load. Nubbin was frightened of bumble bees. I wasn’t.
If the ‘haul’ was from a hay field close to a proper drive through hay barn, we could sometimes haul fifteen hundred bales a day. But more often we had to drive a few miles and stack hay in an old house, dragging the bales through the living room, the dining room, the kitchen, past the old bathroom, the wasp nests, dead skunks, eventually stacking hay in the back bedroom and filling up the place as we worked forward through what was once the pride and joy of some dirt farmer from the Dust Bowl days.
Peanut was hauling using his uncle Hungry’s truck. Hungry was the most celebrated hay hauler in North East Texas, a real legend. Even Nubbin would admit this. There was no man had hauled more hay than Hungry. Memory fails as to when Hungry actually hung up his hay hooks for the last time, but Peanut was eager to take up The Legend (and the truck).
A word about your average hay truck in the fleet back then: There were none younger than about Nineteen Forty Eight. Most had gone through a several overhauls or downright re-building with new engines—well new to the truck anyway–held together with spit and bailing wire, and they did just fine.
Continue reading
Yeah. I am re-watching this. The Greatest transition in the history of Film. Stanley Kubrick 2001
Please Watch
“Dave, Do You Mind If I ask You A Personal Question?”
More Re-Spam: “The Letter Said He Was Reported Dead.”
“Near the front lines he’d been found
A mine blew his jeep into a twisted heap
And I still hear the sound
Of the wheel that kept spinnin’ ’round.”
*****
For some bizarre reason, this song reminds me of my first wife, Janet.
I suppose it is because she was in the U.S. Army Reserve and used to drive Jeeps for a living.
Or something.
I Loved Her Dearly.
And I respected her (Even though, she was ‘Certifiable Nuts.’)
Did not matter:
I loved her.
Still do.
This post will make no sense whatsoever.
Don’t Care.
It is just for me.
And Jerry Jeff.
And Janet Sisco
The more I explore old songs… songs that make me FEEL, the more I come to understand the depth of my depravity.
This is not necessarily a bad thing.
My life has become a ‘rolling wheel.”
Spinning out of control.
Almost a whirling dervish.
But not quite there yet…
“The unexamined life is not worth living.”
Some smart guy once said that.
So here is Me:
Examining.
Stay Tuned….
https://texantales.com/2014/08/01/random-memories-from-the-middle-east-the-road-to-sharm-el-sheikh/
Since I am an arrogant snob and a pompous ass, I add this ‘added value’ for those who never get me.
(You’re welcome.)
Drive Through.
A dervish is a Muslim of particular religious order. … To call something a whirling dervish is to say that object or person resembles a spinning top or is wild in its movement. An object can also just be a dervish. The term twirling dervish is technically correct, as a dervish could be described as twirling.
More “Added Value:”
In Keeping With TTales & Hieroglyphs Virtual Ink Green Earth Policy…