Here is a Life-Lesson To Heed: “Never Drive A Shredder Over Small-Arms Ammunition.” (You’re Welcome.)

My maternal grandfather was an alcoholic. Not an everyday alcoholic, but he did have a schedule and he stuck to it religiously. I lived with him and my grandmother in Winnsboro for one year before escaping to Honey Grove to live with my father.

My grandmother was a librarian working at Gladewater High School, about fifty miles away. She kept a small apartment there and would only come home on the weekends.

Granddaddy’s routine was to get drunk on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sunday evenings after my grandmother had hit the road back to Gladewater. His preference was cheap bourbon: Ten High.

When I first moved in with them I had never seen anyone drunk before. My first thought was “He must be ill.”

The old dog that lived with us knew better and from the first drink of whiskey he would disappear.

I should have asked the dog what was the problem.

Dogs can be very perceptive (and smart). But it didn’t take me too long to figure out nothing wrong with the old bastard, ‘cept he drunk.

He would sit beneath the ancient pecan tree in the back yard and have conversations with people from his past—rather one-sided conversations from my perspective, but fully engaging from his, as he would pause frequently to allow his guests to respond, and then light into them again.

Freaked me out at first and gave me nightmares, but later I became fascinated and would sneak up and hide in the bushes close by so my young ears could catch all the juicy bits.

My cuss-word vocabulary increased exponentially.

He would rant and rave at people who had wronged him, owed him money, or had just pissed him off in general. This could go on for hours and he was very animated, waving his arms and thrusting his finger in the face of folks who had probably been dead for decades. He apparently saved grudges like cash money.

And there was nothing wrong with his memory.

A few times he threatened to beat me, but never quite got around to it. He was a boxer in his youth, but I really wasn’t concerned. Pretty much I just ignored him when he was hell-bent on terrorizing me.

I did have one little moment of sweet revenge. I was a bit of a hunter, nothing substantial, just varmints, small birds, water snakes, and the occasional tin can or empty Smuckers jelly jar–Just another burr-headed young Texan with a twenty-two rifle and a blood lust.

One afternoon while trudging through the lush pasture which surrounded our house, I discovered that a full box of .22 long-rifle shells had fallen out of my jacket pocket at some point.

I searched diligently for the shells, as they had cost me real money, but I could not find them in the tall grass. I gave up and wrote them off.

Several weeks later my grandfather was on his John Deere tractor shredding the pasture. I was just coming out of the back door when the shredder found my long lost .22 shells:

“POP! POP! POP! POP! POP!”

Vietnam had come to Texas.

I hit the ground and watched my grandfather desperately trying to drive his tractor out of the firefight he suddenly found himself in the middle of.

I just couldn’t help myself. I laughed hysterically at this comic old fucker, spittin’ and swearin’ and doing his damndest to drive the hell out of Dodge.

After the bullets stopped flying, he started ‘tractoring’ back toward the house. I took this as my cue to make myself scarce. He had not heard my laughter over the burst of bullets going off all around him.

When he found me in my bedroom earnestly playing at doing my school work, he was still visibly shaken and not just a little enraged.

“Boy! Did you lose a box o’ shells in the pasture!?” he shouted.

“Uh… maybe. Why, did you find ‘em?”

“Ya coulda killed me! That’s why! I oughta beat your ass.”

“Yeah, well maybe you oughta an’ maybe you ought not,” I said with a bit of a mockery, then was betrayed by my overwhelming amusement at his standing there, trembling with rage and sweat pouring out from his grizzled old dome. I broke out in uncontrollable laughter.

Then he beat me, but it was worth it.  

Oh yeah. Worth ever’ lick.

Because I had been working on what was to become my

Life’s Philosophy:

Video Credit: “Manosphere Environment”

(And Thank You Manosphere Environment)

This Never Gets Old.

*****

Related:

HERE

Armadillos Should Not Golf–ReDux’d & Re-Writ”

Houston, We’re Screwed.

Pondering, Reflecting, Dissecting,

Thinking back (Yeah, I do that sometimes)

The thinking part

Whilst ‘Thinking’ …

I came upon the stark realization that I have been perpetually ‘online’ since 1990

First Step: Admitting You Have A Problem

(The Admittance Part is The Hardest Part—Guess That is Why it is First-On-The-List
Once You Get PAST That…
Rest is Gravy
)

Or Just Gravity

Street Cred for Vid: Luke Combs

******

P.S.

A word to some wise:
“I’m not the Droid You’re Looking For

Not I

Not me!

Not ME!

Never me

Mandy’s of the World: Steer Clear of Lance Marcom! (Trust Me On This Ladies)

Typical, Representative of The ‘Mandy’ Species

(In My Humble Experience Anyway)

It has been my life’s experience that ALL women named ‘Mandy’ are good and decent people:

Sweet and kind–if only just a little too innocent and blind. (to life’s Harsh Realities….)

But without that, that innocence, they would be named ‘Bertha’ or ‘Helga’ or ‘Broomhilda’

And they would not be ‘Mandys.’

***** 

(I have known a lot of Mandy’s. So Y’all can take this one to the bank)

I receive daily via email, updates from my bank.

Got one late yesterday informing me my balance was $666 and change.

My first thought was: Old Uncle Joe (He’s a-movin’ kinda slow Biden)

had sent me an advance on my WuFlu assistance.

I had not made a deposit.

Someone must have.

But Soft!

Wait!

This is a Joke, Right?

Everyone who knows me, knows I am an atheist:

NOT A SATANIST.

Six-Six-Six?!

Mark of The Beast!

It was a funny joke on me, and I do have a sense o’ humor.

But just to be certain, I called my Institution.

(Not the one I had escaped from: The Financial One)

******

Got Mandy, who informed me my balance was closer to sixty-sixty cents than it was to $600. Glad I called, because I was about to go on a spending spree, not unlike our government.

Yes! I just had a recent encounter with a new-to-me ‘Mandy.’

It was a professional—not the oldest profession…

(Get your mind out of the gutter, but a professional—A bona-fide Professional Encounter.

And Strangely enough, she works at my bank and I needed her assistance for that–nothing more.

She did her best to help me fix ‘My Banking Problem’ but she could not, despite all her best efforts.

During several telephone conversations.

Seems having no money is something even the Best ‘Mandy’ cannot fix. No matter how sincerely she tried.

*****

I cannot help it if ‘Looking Glass’ screwed up the Title/Lyrics.

But they only fukked up one letter.

(Albeit, The Most Important One)

I emailed them, requesting they re-do the song–

Fix it.

Their response is not fit to print.

There are some things even I will not repeat.

But I can give a subtle hint:

It involved suggestions of where I could stick certain industrial objects into my anatomy.

They even offered to help.

(I declined)

The Rise and Fall Of The ‘Alien’ Franchise (CONTAINS NOTHING BUT SPOILERS—In More Ways Than One)

And This Post Is Mainly Directed

At

Film Buffs In General

And

‘Alien’ Fans In Particular.

There is a lot of content here i.e.,

A Lot of Videos.

I you don’t watch the vids, you are probably wasting your time.

But You Do You

Let’s Get On With It, Shall we?

I always Like To Begin At Beginning:

So…

Genesis:

H.R Giger

H.R. Giger


Credit: kaptainkristian

In the beginning God created the Heavens

and

Acheron (LV-426)  

Acheron (LV-426) was Formless and Empty; Darkness was over the surface of the Barren, Cold, Unforgiving Land.

So God Created The Xenomorph In His Own Image

(And then turned the thermostat up a few degrees)

Now The Spirit of The Xenomorph was hovering over the Land.

And The God Rested. And was Happy.

(Back Then He Only Worked A One-Day Work-Week)

Then God, possessing a sense of Gallows Humor,

Decided to Lure The Nostromo & Her Intrepid Crew of

Misfits, To Acheron (LV-426)

Just Because He Was Bored and He Could.

But He did stop and think if He Should.

So, He Put His Heavenly Scientists On It:

Plausible Deniability

*******

Alien, The Best:

Ripley’s Undies—Exuding Sexuality

*****

Aliens: Second Best

Video Credit: Screen Junkies

Video Credit: CinemaSins

*****

Alien 3: Third Best

Video Credit: CinemaSins

******

Alien Resurrection: Passing Fair, Watch-Able

Mister Critic Crab here is noncommittal: He is Flashing a Sideways, Horizontal Thumb

“Give Me The Ball”

Little Known Fun Fact: Why Sigourney is The Shit True Story

***********

Credit: Screen Junkies

Credit: Critical Drinker

Prometheus: PURE Garbage

**********

Credit: Critical Drinker

Credit: Screen Junkies

Covenant: Pure SHIT  

*************

Added Value:

Credit:Tell It Animated

The Evolution Of The Xenomorph (Animated)

********

Thanks For Your Visit

And I Hope You Enjoyed

As Much As I Enjoyed

Creating it

(With A LOT O’ Help From Some Of My YouTuber Friends)

Cheers!

*********

P.S. If Y’all are REALLY INTO THIS;

Link Here to ‘A Must’ Watch:

“What you don’t know about women is a lot.”

–Rose Castorini (Olympia Dukakis)

In This Vid Clip, You Will Discover Lance.

Video Cred: Ted Reinert

Lance loves women;

He just cannot help Himself.

He does not understand them.

Therein lies that magic…

“Moonlight in a Martini.”

(Volumn is fukked. Crank it up!)

Lance Romance.

Added Value:

“Breaks Your Heart Just Lookin’ At Her.”

Snakes and Ladders

–Joni

(If you do not listen carefully to the song… I dropped it in For A Really, Really, Really Good Reason)

(Figure it out–If You Can)

I am flying SOLO NOW!

WISH ME LUCK!

https://texantales.com/2021/02/26/farewell-forevermore-to-my-best-ever-friend-my-abusive-muse-i-am-sad-but-also-happy/

“He Gave up Happy Hour For Her.”

Joni/Muse!

Musing…

I Want Another Jewish Princess

Reminiscing about my rebound lover from my living in Israel days…

After That Moroccan Bitch Gladys had dumped me,

I found a new, better girl.

Her name was ‘Alanna’

 And she was beautiful—very, very, VERY beautiful.

First time I saw her I was smitten like a kitten.

She had very long dark hair and even darker eyes.

She was a Yemenite Jew Witch—She could turn frogs into wine.

Problem was, not too many frogs to be found in Israel.

We searched and searched

Alas. No frogs.

So just ended up purchasing wine from the store.

No shit.

And I loved her (briefly)

She was one of my for all-time best lovers.

(I should have married HER instead of some of the broads I later married)

I always smile inside when I remember her.

Song Below: Click it if you dare.