Sunday, September 28, 2008
Marry a Beer Heiress!
McCain�s Economic Plan For Nation: 'Everyone Marry A Beer Heiress'
I'm not a man, but I feel like I understand them enough to know that most men would love to be John McCain, simply because of the MILF on his arm. There's no doubt that she's beautiful, wealthy and owns one of the largest beer companies in the world. It seems like it would be hard for any man to say she's not a catch.
*I love the Onion!
Pee Wee's Lasting Effect
Dude, no wonder I'm a stoner with ADD. I grew up watching this shit for hours on end! I'm so lucky that there's not anything more serious wrong with me!
(note: this is one of my favorite episodes, which I actually remembered in detail)
(note: this is one of my favorite episodes, which I actually remembered in detail)
11/17/08
What should I do for my birthday? How do you even celebrate 24? I'm confused. I know whatever I do, it will involve 1. blunts, 2. sexy slices of manpie, and 3. drinking. Three timeless resources for any birthday party.
Saturday, September 27, 2008
Marijuana bust may prove bad trip for cops
This article can be found in its original context by clicking here.
A couple in the U.S. city of Denver are demanding compensation from the police after their 39 marijuana plants died while being stored as evidence. James and Lisa Masters were arrested and charged with storing drugs. The case later went up in smoke.
The Masters claimed they grew the plants for medical purposes, even though they were not on the Colorado state registry allowing them to cultivate the drug. Police confiscated the plants and stored them for more than a year in a room without a grow-lamp or water. Naturally, all the plants died.
The couple, who turned out to have being growing cannabis for themselves and at least five other people – all with permission to use it for medical purpose. They failed to register properly because they couldn’t afford the $US 110 fee, said Brian Vicente, one of their attorneys.
Now they want the Police Department to reimburse them $200,000 for the destroyed plants. Citing state law, they says the police must not "harm, neglect or destroy" evidence in such cases.
The police say they treated the plants as any other piece of evidence.
"At the time the grass plants were confiscated, the Masters didn't have documents to prove it was medical marijuana. They have to have some proof," police spokeswoman Rita Davis said.
The Masters' attorneys argue that police should have cared for the plants as they would an animal or child removed from a home.
"If the police take your pit bull, do they put it in an evidence locker for two months," Vicente said.
The case is made even more obscure by a lack of precedence. It’s rare for people given permission to use marijuana for medical reasons not to have the necessary licenses to hand. SOURCE
By Whistleblower
http://blog-reporter.blogspot.com
A couple in the U.S. city of Denver are demanding compensation from the police after their 39 marijuana plants died while being stored as evidence. James and Lisa Masters were arrested and charged with storing drugs. The case later went up in smoke.
The Masters claimed they grew the plants for medical purposes, even though they were not on the Colorado state registry allowing them to cultivate the drug. Police confiscated the plants and stored them for more than a year in a room without a grow-lamp or water. Naturally, all the plants died.
The couple, who turned out to have being growing cannabis for themselves and at least five other people – all with permission to use it for medical purpose. They failed to register properly because they couldn’t afford the $US 110 fee, said Brian Vicente, one of their attorneys.
Now they want the Police Department to reimburse them $200,000 for the destroyed plants. Citing state law, they says the police must not "harm, neglect or destroy" evidence in such cases.
The police say they treated the plants as any other piece of evidence.
"At the time the grass plants were confiscated, the Masters didn't have documents to prove it was medical marijuana. They have to have some proof," police spokeswoman Rita Davis said.
The Masters' attorneys argue that police should have cared for the plants as they would an animal or child removed from a home.
"If the police take your pit bull, do they put it in an evidence locker for two months," Vicente said.
The case is made even more obscure by a lack of precedence. It’s rare for people given permission to use marijuana for medical reasons not to have the necessary licenses to hand. SOURCE
By Whistleblower
http://blog-reporter.blogspot.com
puffy on the "fluffy" stuffy
Shouldn't cops carry around a scale? Eyeballing never did anyone any justice.
Marijuana suspect: It only looks like a lot because it's 'too fluffy'
Comments 15 | Recommend 1
September 26, 2008 - 9:39PM
Wendy Victora
Daily News
FORT WALTON BEACH - A 21-year-old Fort Walton Beach man is due in court Oct. 23 for DUI, failing to stay in a single lane and possession of marijuana.
He protested the marijuana charge, arguing that he did not have as much as deputies said he did, according to his arrest report. It just looked like a lot because it was "too fluffy," he said.
At the time of his arrest, he was driving on a business purposes only license. He told the deputy that he had gotten off work three hours earlier, but had hung around to drink.
Marijuana suspect: It only looks like a lot because it's 'too fluffy'
Comments 15 | Recommend 1
September 26, 2008 - 9:39PM
Wendy Victora
Daily News
FORT WALTON BEACH - A 21-year-old Fort Walton Beach man is due in court Oct. 23 for DUI, failing to stay in a single lane and possession of marijuana.
He protested the marijuana charge, arguing that he did not have as much as deputies said he did, according to his arrest report. It just looked like a lot because it was "too fluffy," he said.
At the time of his arrest, he was driving on a business purposes only license. He told the deputy that he had gotten off work three hours earlier, but had hung around to drink.
Schiff 1, US Economy 0
This aired on Fox on December 16, 2006. Everyone had a great time laughing at Peter Schiff when he predicted that our borrowed wealth and false sense of prosperity would blow up in our faces come 2007. Now, there's very little to laugh about when it comes to our economy. Watch this clip:
So this whole debacle could have been prevented - it's not like Schiff was the only person in America privy to this information. Other Washington economists knew what would come of our borrowing, but no one listened. We are going to pay for the poor business practices of others with our hard-earned dollars. Furthermore, I don't trust anyone in Washington to create a plan that will actually rescue our economy. It's far more likely that this "bailout" will only postpone a far more devastating crash. I agree 100% with Congressman Paul on this one.
An example of how bad it's getting: At walgreens just a few days ago, I purchased 2 prescriptions (with fabulous insurance, co-pay only twenty bucks) hairspray, face wash, nail polish and disposable razors for $103.00. A fuckin hundred bucks! Outrageous. So, I'm no longer buying high-end cosmetics, getting meat from the grocery (mine comes from the farm), eating out, drinking out and road trips. I am going to splurge on a weekend at Keeneland here pretty soon, but aside from that I'm pinching my pennies. :-)
So this whole debacle could have been prevented - it's not like Schiff was the only person in America privy to this information. Other Washington economists knew what would come of our borrowing, but no one listened. We are going to pay for the poor business practices of others with our hard-earned dollars. Furthermore, I don't trust anyone in Washington to create a plan that will actually rescue our economy. It's far more likely that this "bailout" will only postpone a far more devastating crash. I agree 100% with Congressman Paul on this one.
An example of how bad it's getting: At walgreens just a few days ago, I purchased 2 prescriptions (with fabulous insurance, co-pay only twenty bucks) hairspray, face wash, nail polish and disposable razors for $103.00. A fuckin hundred bucks! Outrageous. So, I'm no longer buying high-end cosmetics, getting meat from the grocery (mine comes from the farm), eating out, drinking out and road trips. I am going to splurge on a weekend at Keeneland here pretty soon, but aside from that I'm pinching my pennies. :-)
Ron Paul's Answer to the President
Dear Friends:
The financial meltdown the economists of the Austrian School predicted has arrived.
We are in this crisis because of an excess of artificially created credit at the hands of the Federal Reserve System. The solution being proposed? More artificial credit by the Federal Reserve. No liquidation of bad debt and malinvestment is to be allowed. By doing more of the same, we will only continue and intensify the distortions in our economy - all the capital misallocation, all the malinvestment - and prevent the market's attempt to re-establish rational pricing of houses and other assets.
Last night the president addressed the nation about the financial crisis. There is no point in going through his remarks line by line, since I'd only be repeating what I've been saying over and over - not just for the past several days, but for years and even decades.
Still, at least a few observations are necessary.
The president assures us that his administration "is working with Congress to address the root cause behind much of the instability in our markets." Care to take a guess at whether the Federal Reserve and its money creation spree were even mentioned?
We are told that "low interest rates" led to excessive borrowing, but we are not told how these low interest rates came about. They were a deliberate policy of the Federal Reserve. As always, artificially low interest rates distort the market. Entrepreneurs engage in malinvestments - investments that do not make sense in light of current resource availability, that occur in more temporally remote stages of the capital structure than the pattern of consumer demand can support, and that would not have been made at all if the interest rate had been permitted to tell the truth instead of being toyed with by the Fed.
Not a word about any of that, of course, because Americans might then discover how the great wise men in Washington caused this great debacle. Better to keep scapegoating the mortgage industry or "wildcat capitalism" (as if we actually have a pure free market!).
Speaking about Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac, the president said: "Because these companies were chartered by Congress, many believed they were guaranteed by the federal government. This allowed them to borrow enormous sums of money, fuel the market for questionable investments, and put our financial system at risk."
Doesn't that prove the foolishness of chartering Fannie and Freddie in the first place? Doesn't that suggest that maybe, just maybe, government may have contributed to this mess? And of course, by bailing out Fannie and Freddie, hasn't the federal government shown that the "many" who "believed they were guaranteed by the federal government" were in fact correct?
Then come the scare tactics. If we don't give dictatorial powers to the Treasury Secretary "the stock market would drop even more, which would reduce the value of your retirement account. The value of your home could plummet." Left unsaid, naturally, is that with the bailout and all the money and credit that must be produced out of thin air to fund it, the value of your retirement account will drop anyway, because the value of the dollar will suffer a precipitous decline. As for home prices, they are obviously much too high, and supply and demand cannot equilibrate if government insists on propping them up.
It's the same destructive strategy that government tried during the Great Depression: prop up prices at all costs. The Depression went on for over a decade. On the other hand, when liquidation was allowed to occur in the equally devastating downturn of 1921, the economy recovered within less than a year.
The president also tells us that Senators McCain and Obama will join him at the White House today in order to figure out how to get the bipartisan bailout passed. The two senators would do their country much more good if they stayed on the campaign trail debating who the bigger celebrity is, or whatever it is that occupies their attention these days.
F.A. Hayek won the Nobel Prize for showing how central banks' manipulation of interest rates creates the boom-bust cycle with which we are sadly familiar. In 1932, in the depths of the Great Depression, he described the foolish policies being pursued in his day - and which are being proposed, just as destructively, in our own:
Instead of furthering the inevitable liquidation of the maladjustments brought about by the boom during the last three years, all conceivable means have been used to prevent that readjustment from taking place; and one of these means, which has been repeatedly tried though without success, from the earliest to the most recent stages of depression, has been this deliberate policy of credit expansion.
To combat the depression by a forced credit expansion is to attempt to cure the evil by the very means which brought it about; because we are suffering from a misdirection of production, we want to create further misdirection - a procedure that can only lead to a much more severe crisis as soon as the credit expansion comes to an end... It is probably to this experiment, together with the attempts to prevent liquidation once the crisis had come, that we owe the exceptional severity and duration of the depression.
The only thing we learn from history, I am afraid, is that we do not learn from history.
The very people who have spent the past several years assuring us that the economy is fundamentally sound, and who themselves foolishly cheered the extension of all these novel kinds of mortgages, are the ones who now claim to be the experts who will restore prosperity! Just how spectacularly wrong, how utterly without a clue, does someone have to be before his expert status is called into question?
Oh, and did you notice that the bailout is now being called a "rescue plan"? I guess "bailout" wasn't sitting too well with the American people.
The very people who with somber faces tell us of their deep concern for the spread of democracy around the world are the ones most insistent on forcing a bill through Congress that the American people overwhelmingly oppose. The very fact that some of you seem to think you're supposed to have a voice in all this actually seems to annoy them.
I continue to urge you to contact your representatives and give them a piece of your mind. I myself am doing everything I can to promote the correct point of view on the crisis. Be sure also to educate yourselves on these subjects - the Campaign for Liberty blog is an excellent place to start. Read the posts, ask questions in the comment section, and learn.
H.G. Wells once said that civilization was in a race between education and catastrophe. Let us learn the truth and spread it as far and wide as our circumstances allow. For the truth is the greatest weapon we have.
In liberty,
Ron Paul
The financial meltdown the economists of the Austrian School predicted has arrived.
We are in this crisis because of an excess of artificially created credit at the hands of the Federal Reserve System. The solution being proposed? More artificial credit by the Federal Reserve. No liquidation of bad debt and malinvestment is to be allowed. By doing more of the same, we will only continue and intensify the distortions in our economy - all the capital misallocation, all the malinvestment - and prevent the market's attempt to re-establish rational pricing of houses and other assets.
Last night the president addressed the nation about the financial crisis. There is no point in going through his remarks line by line, since I'd only be repeating what I've been saying over and over - not just for the past several days, but for years and even decades.
Still, at least a few observations are necessary.
The president assures us that his administration "is working with Congress to address the root cause behind much of the instability in our markets." Care to take a guess at whether the Federal Reserve and its money creation spree were even mentioned?
We are told that "low interest rates" led to excessive borrowing, but we are not told how these low interest rates came about. They were a deliberate policy of the Federal Reserve. As always, artificially low interest rates distort the market. Entrepreneurs engage in malinvestments - investments that do not make sense in light of current resource availability, that occur in more temporally remote stages of the capital structure than the pattern of consumer demand can support, and that would not have been made at all if the interest rate had been permitted to tell the truth instead of being toyed with by the Fed.
Not a word about any of that, of course, because Americans might then discover how the great wise men in Washington caused this great debacle. Better to keep scapegoating the mortgage industry or "wildcat capitalism" (as if we actually have a pure free market!).
Speaking about Fannie Mae and Freddie Mac, the president said: "Because these companies were chartered by Congress, many believed they were guaranteed by the federal government. This allowed them to borrow enormous sums of money, fuel the market for questionable investments, and put our financial system at risk."
Doesn't that prove the foolishness of chartering Fannie and Freddie in the first place? Doesn't that suggest that maybe, just maybe, government may have contributed to this mess? And of course, by bailing out Fannie and Freddie, hasn't the federal government shown that the "many" who "believed they were guaranteed by the federal government" were in fact correct?
Then come the scare tactics. If we don't give dictatorial powers to the Treasury Secretary "the stock market would drop even more, which would reduce the value of your retirement account. The value of your home could plummet." Left unsaid, naturally, is that with the bailout and all the money and credit that must be produced out of thin air to fund it, the value of your retirement account will drop anyway, because the value of the dollar will suffer a precipitous decline. As for home prices, they are obviously much too high, and supply and demand cannot equilibrate if government insists on propping them up.
It's the same destructive strategy that government tried during the Great Depression: prop up prices at all costs. The Depression went on for over a decade. On the other hand, when liquidation was allowed to occur in the equally devastating downturn of 1921, the economy recovered within less than a year.
The president also tells us that Senators McCain and Obama will join him at the White House today in order to figure out how to get the bipartisan bailout passed. The two senators would do their country much more good if they stayed on the campaign trail debating who the bigger celebrity is, or whatever it is that occupies their attention these days.
F.A. Hayek won the Nobel Prize for showing how central banks' manipulation of interest rates creates the boom-bust cycle with which we are sadly familiar. In 1932, in the depths of the Great Depression, he described the foolish policies being pursued in his day - and which are being proposed, just as destructively, in our own:
Instead of furthering the inevitable liquidation of the maladjustments brought about by the boom during the last three years, all conceivable means have been used to prevent that readjustment from taking place; and one of these means, which has been repeatedly tried though without success, from the earliest to the most recent stages of depression, has been this deliberate policy of credit expansion.
To combat the depression by a forced credit expansion is to attempt to cure the evil by the very means which brought it about; because we are suffering from a misdirection of production, we want to create further misdirection - a procedure that can only lead to a much more severe crisis as soon as the credit expansion comes to an end... It is probably to this experiment, together with the attempts to prevent liquidation once the crisis had come, that we owe the exceptional severity and duration of the depression.
The only thing we learn from history, I am afraid, is that we do not learn from history.
The very people who have spent the past several years assuring us that the economy is fundamentally sound, and who themselves foolishly cheered the extension of all these novel kinds of mortgages, are the ones who now claim to be the experts who will restore prosperity! Just how spectacularly wrong, how utterly without a clue, does someone have to be before his expert status is called into question?
Oh, and did you notice that the bailout is now being called a "rescue plan"? I guess "bailout" wasn't sitting too well with the American people.
The very people who with somber faces tell us of their deep concern for the spread of democracy around the world are the ones most insistent on forcing a bill through Congress that the American people overwhelmingly oppose. The very fact that some of you seem to think you're supposed to have a voice in all this actually seems to annoy them.
I continue to urge you to contact your representatives and give them a piece of your mind. I myself am doing everything I can to promote the correct point of view on the crisis. Be sure also to educate yourselves on these subjects - the Campaign for Liberty blog is an excellent place to start. Read the posts, ask questions in the comment section, and learn.
H.G. Wells once said that civilization was in a race between education and catastrophe. Let us learn the truth and spread it as far and wide as our circumstances allow. For the truth is the greatest weapon we have.
In liberty,
Ron Paul
A Lawyer's Life Story - from craigslist
Below, you'll find "something" found by Minnie on craiglist. I add this to my list of reasons not to date lawyers, law students, politicians, or anyone loosely affiliated with practicing law. Whether or not it is a hoax is neither here nor there, because the entertainment value is so great. Enjoy:
RAVE: My Life Since Getting Out of Prison
Reply to:
Date: 2008-06-26, 7:03PM
I graduated from college in May, and this summer seemed like a good time to go through the box of papers and assignments I had been saving since the start, both to reminisce and to do a little cleanup.
Tucked in a folder of an old notebook at the very bottom of the box was the essay that follows. Written in longhand, it was the first assignment from the first class in my first semester.
***********************************************************
January 20, 2003
English 1A
Professer ___________
My Best Summer Memory
Hey man, I’m not really sure if you’re supposed to put an introduction in this thing, but here goes anyway. My name is ____________. My assignment today is to write an essay about the best thing that happened to me this last summer.
I know everybody’s been kinda looking at me in class, wondering why a dude in his thirties is taking English 1A instead of being out there working a job. I’m not too keen on talking about myself much. Most folks aren’t, I guess, unless they’re Paris Hilton. But since the assignment is a personal essay I suppose I don’t have much choice. Anyways the best thing that happened to me this last summer was when I finally got outta prison based on that DNA evidence.
I’ll tell you man, if you can’t appreciate getting outta prison then you haven’t been there to begin with. For me it started about three years ago when this chick got murdered in East San Jose while opening up her plumbing supply shop. Me and Merle came by a couple weeks later to pick up some PVC for a sprinkler repair, and for some reason the dude behind the counter thought we was a little suspicious, so he called the cops. They put me in a line up, but of course the dude already knew what I looked like and what clothes I was wearing so it wasn’t that tough to pick me out. Other than that there was no real evidence, but I didn’t have an alibi and I had a couple drunk and disorderlies on my record back from when me and Merle used to fight each other for fun after closing time.
They had it in their minds I was guilty, and they kept after me for two days, yelling and throwing stuff at me and telling me made-up stories about how Merle told them I did it. I always figured I was pretty tough but after awhile it just wore me down. I had to look at some pictures of death row and I got showed on my arm where the needles would go and everybody called me Dead Man Walking. They told me if I signed a confession I wouldn’t get the death penalty and I had to think about that one pretty hard. The lawyer they assigned to me smelled like he’d been pulling a cork during lunch and he fell asleep while they was questioning me. I knew I didn’t do nothing but sometimes life just ain’t all fair, and this seemed like one of those times. So I signed.
After the sentencing Merle sold my truck and moved all my stuff into storage for me, and promised me he’d look after Mussel Shoals, my black lab. They sent me up to San Quentin, and when I got there, I was put in the section with the black dudes.I found out later that’s what they do with new prisoners, except the blacks end up in the white section. I guess it’s to soften up the new inmates, I dunno. Whatever the reason it didn’t take long for them to find this paleface. One day I turn around, and there they stood, the welcoming committee.
It didn’t take but one look to realize they weren’t there to bring me a fruit basket. I figured this was gonna be a test of me, find out if they could push me around, so I got a good shot in on the first one and broke his nose. Since it was four on one, I was looking at an ass-kickin for sure, so I didn’t follow up on the others too much, to try and keep ‘em from getting too mad. Well man, was I ever wrong about that. They got me face down, one on each arm and leg, then they got my pants down. About this time, right up till the last minute, I was thinking, this can't be happening to me.
The dude whose nose I broke went first. I was heaving and twisting my body trying to get loose, but the others held me down good. He started to poke around and then forced himself in. I never in my life had anything hurt like that, man. Everything got all cloudy and I heard him call me his white bitch. Bits of snot and blood from his nose dripped down on the cement next to my head. It’s the only time in my life I ever tried to talk to God. First I asked him why. Then I asked him to help me. And he never said a word.
You know, the only thing worse than being shined on by God is having it happen at a time like that, man. But it’s just like the preachers say: you can’t fool God. He knows why you’re finally talking to him – because you need help. So God never answered me, and I was on my own. And the only thing I wanted to do was to die.
When he was done, he got up and kicked me in the head. That in a way was kind of a blessing, cause I don't remember anything that happened after that for awhile, and I'm pretty sure the rest of those dudes took their turns.
A few weeks later, they came around again. I knew what was coming this time, and I didn’t hold anything back. I popped three of em pretty good before they got me down and did me again. They got the better of me, no question, but I left them worse for wear. That was the first time I ever saw a black eye on a black dude.
By this time I was hoping they’d think I just ain’t worth the trouble. There were plenty of others there that were easier pickins than me. But this wasn't about finding someone for sex, it was about breaking me down. So I got another visit from my new buddies. This time, they kinda formed a circle around me before moving in, and I could see in their eyes that some of them weren't really looking forward to this at all. Well man, welcome to the fuckin club.
This time I ended up in the prison hospital and spent a couple weeks there. One day, I was laying there thinking about how much I hurt and wondering what a life sentence was gonna be like with this happening all the time, when one of the inmates working in the hospital starts talking to me and tells me about the Aryan Brotherhood and how I don't have to put up with the nee-grahs no more as long as I join up with em. And that’s how I ended up with the tattoo of the swastika and WHITE POWER on my arm, right up there by the bicep.
Well, time goes by and I’m getting settled into the routine of prison life, and no one is messing with my behind no more now that I’m in this white guy gang. Then from outta the blue I find out that that someone from the Pine Hills Youth Correctional Facility in Montana got religious and wrote a letter confessing to killing that chick. He was just a kid, only seventeen years old. Can you believe that? Well, no one at San Quentin did. No one takes you seriously when you tell em you’re innocent, cause everybody in prison says they’re innocent. I didn’t have the letter or anything, just what I heard, so no one gave a shiet.
So I wrote to Merle, and he sent some dude from the Innocence Project to visit me. Next thing I know the prison doctor is scraping some skin from the inside of my mouth, and one day, just like that, they're walking me out the door and on my way. Course it didn’t take more than five minutes to be up to my ass in ambulance chasers all wanting to help me sue the government for my troubles. Most of em didn’t smell much different than the public defender, and I began to wonder if I was ever gonna get a lawyer who wasn’t a fall-down drunk. The dudes at the Innocence Project gave me the name of some chick up in San Francisco to call. That was kinda far away for me, but she turned out to be a pretty good lawyer and didn’t smell of booze either. She spent a lot of time yelling at the guys from the city, and let me tell you man, after listening to that I sure was glad she was working for me and not them. In the end, I got some money, not a lot, cause I wasn't in all that long and of course I didn’t tell a soul about the other stuff, but it was enough to get my trailer and a good truck, and they also promised to pay for retraining which is why I’m taking this class.
Once I got all signed up for school and the dust settled down, I figured I better get rid of that tattoo. So I called up Merle and told him to come on over and give me a hand with it. We heated up a weeding tool in the barbeque, and I bit down on a little stick of wood while Merle burnt off the tattoo with the weeder. You know, I never stopped biting that stick, but when the flesh started to burn, I tried to push everything outta me like emptying a squeeze bottle of Heinz ketchup. All the shame, all the rage I was carrying around inside me since I got out. I just forced it all outta me and I guess I yelled a good deal, cause Merle was looking at me kinda funny when it was done.
Merle's my best friend, and I figured maybe it was OK if I told him about it all, so I did. And when I was done, there was a long silence, then he kinda looked at me and asked in a quiet voice if I was gonna make him burn my bunghole too, and finish the job. That Merle, he's as dumb as a box of rocks, but he always finds a way to make me laugh.
I never really took to queers in the first place but it ain’t cause of what happened to me when I was inside prison. I don't blame the blacks or the queers for it. That stuff really wasn't about color or sex; it was about power plays by cons who had to ditch their humanity in order to survive. Still, as everybody knows man, no matter how many times you squeeze the bottle, you can't get every last bit of ketchup out, and for me, I still had some bits of my experience I couldn’t get outta my head. Sometimes, I'd be watching TV and just start to feel terribly sad and weak. Mussel Shoals was back with me by then, and he seemed to know something was wrong when I felt like that. He didn't know what, but he’d always come on over anyway, and lick my hand and rest his head on my leg. I tell you man, I really love that dog.
It was real tough getting back in the saddle with the ladies after what happened to me in prison. I’d always heard that if you so much as touched another guy’s privates you were queer for life, and although I was hoping that weren’t true, it was hard to think about sex without remembering all the bad stuff. Merle brought by some chick he was going out with who had a lady friend, and though she was nice and all I was kinda scared I wouldn’t be able to deliver the goods and have to start explaining everything, so I had to pass.
About a month after I bought my trailer, I met a nice chick at the park while out walking Mussel Shoals. She's about my age and pretty agreeable. Betty’s her name. She has a dog, too, a female Dalmatian named Dotty. Mussel Shoals was OK with that, ‘cause he ain’t prejudiced, and they got along just great. After we'd been going out for a few weeks it was my birthday, and she and Merle came over to my trailer and surprised me with a little cake. After I blew out the candles they said we could do anything I want, their treat. So we talked about it awhile and decided to spend the day out at Great America.
Well I don’t know if you been to Great America lately but they have this new feature which is a water park, and if you asked me that part alone is worth the price of admission. After we got in we headed on over there and changed our clothes in one of the little changing rooms they have nearby. While I was waiting for Betty to change (course chicks always take forever, took me and Merle about a minute and Betty about four hours) I struck up this conversation with this Filipino dude who was waiting behind me. He had a shirt on said he’s a police officer, so of course I didn’t mention anything about being in prison. Then one of the changing rooms opened up, not the one Betty was in (of course since she takes a million years) so I told the dude to go ahead of me since I had to wait for Betty anyway.
He moved on into the room and then his son, who was maybe 3 or 4 years old, started following him, but he told the son to wait outside. So the kid kinda backstepped a ways without turning around and then reached up and took my hand, and I closed my hand around his and we stood there awhile like uncle and son. It was a great feeling man. I never got to do that with my dad, cause he passed out on some tracks and got all mashed up by a train when I was only six months old, and none of the dudes that Mom brought around after that ever stayed more than a couple days. I didn’t really know what I was supposed to do, so I just stood there and tried not to squeeze his hand too hard.
Pretty soon though I heard this laughing behind me, and it’s the kid’s mom. And I looked down at him, and he’s looking over at her, and his forehead gets all crinkly, and he looks at his hand in mine, and you can see him sorta follow my arm all the way up to my shoulder and to my head. When he figured out I wasn’t his mom, his eyes got real big and he yanked his hand away and scampered over to where she was sitting.
Well by this time his mom is pretty much doubled over with laughter and she and I are talking, and of course Betty comes out right about then and sees me talking to this hot Filipino chick and gives me the stink eye. But it didn’t take too long before I’m the one who was upset cause Betty is wearing this string bikini top and let me tell you man, if I had charged a quarter a peek for a look at her tatas I would have made a fortune that day. Betty looks a lot like Salma Hayak (specially when she gets mad, which is all the time, Geez!) and she has a really nice rack.
But you see man this is where chicks are really sneaky. Betty knew we was going to a water park and there'd be lots of chicks to look at and she didn’t want me looking at em. So she wore her most revealing outfit cause she knew I’d have to keep an eye on her. At a place like Great America there are tons of buff dudes walking around trying to grab your chick when you’re distracted. So you got to keep your eye out every minute and that cuts into your time cruising the hotties. And speaking of that I think next time I’m gonna tell Betty how much I enjoy checking out the babes while she’s goofing around in the dressing room. That oughta speed her up.
We had a great time and ate crummy food and I won a Spongebob doll for Betty at the pitching booth. Merle almost got in a fight with some dudes who stole a big doll from one of the other carnival booths but the rent-a-cops broke that one up before it started. Later he got sick after going on the Invertigo and we got to watch him puke in a trash can. That part wasn’t so good, but after it got dark the fireworks started going off and Betty snuggled up to me real close and I forgot all about Merle, and we kinda lost him. It worked out OK though in the end. Merle called me later and told me that when he got out to the parking lot he ran into the same dudes he almost got in a fight with, and they ended up going out drinking and they’re his dawgs now. I never heard Merle call anyone that before, but he don’t generally hang out with black dudes either.
After the fireworks was done, Betty came back with me to my trailer, and we started watching American Idol. Well, one thing led to another and the next thing you know we was in bed getting ready to do the horizontal mambo. She was kinda nervous so I cracked a few jokes to relax her till she told me to shut up. I was nervous too, man. I was worried about maybe being queer, but besides even that, this was gonna be the first time for me since before I went to prison, and I was afraid I might be a little rusty.
It was a night I think I’m always gonna remember. First-time sex with a chick who's your girlfriend is always a big deal, specially if you’re a guy. You get to see what she looks like naked, specially the boobs, and see what kind of funny noises she makes when she gets all excited. In spite of all my worrying, everything turned out OK. I guess sex is like being on a bicycle, you never forget how to ride. Still, it took Betty a long time to come that night, but that’s probly cause she was busy with her own first-time sex thoughts. Chicks are funny about that. It's like the first time you take em out to dinner. They don't care about the dinner so much as not looking bad eating it, which usually means not eating much of it at all. Same thing with sex. The first time, they don't care so much about coming as much as they don't want to embarrass themselves. Next time though you better deliver, that is if you want there to be a third time.
So we're laying there afterwards, her head on my shoulder, and just talking real soft about nothing in particular, when all of a sudden there's this big commotion and damn if Mussel Shoals wasn't trying to have sexual relations with Dotty. She didn’t seem quite as interested as he was, but he stayed right on it, the two of em crashing into the walls and the bed and just going to town. I'll tell you, no one is gonna mistake ol’ Mussel Shoals for a 60 minute man, but seeing it was his first time and all, maybe he'll improve with practice.
A bit later I was the only one awake, and I was laying there listening to the three of em making their sleep noises, and wishing I could get my arm loose somehow so I could get a glass of water without waking up Betty. But I just laid there listening to the sounds, and smelling the odors of the people sex and dog sex, and thinking about my life.
I wanted to be an astronaut when I was a kid. I wanted to be a big success and fall in love with the prom queen and live in a four bedroom house with two kids and a Chevy just like white people do in the movies. It didn’t take long to figure out that wasn't gonna happen, and things started to look real bad there for awhile like I just told you about, and much as I try to, I’m probly never gonna forget how I got into prison and what happened to me there.
But all and all, life really ain’t been so bad to me, man. Betty said she thinks I might make a good lawyer someday. I told her I’ll be lucky to pass this class much less make it all the way to law school. But she thinks I can become a lawyer, not one like the city gives you that drinks his lunch, but someone who really helps people, maybe even get some other dudes outta prison that don’t belong there either. She said everybody has a destiny in life, and mine is to help people to redeem their lives. How can you not love a chick who talks like that, specially about you?
Come to think of it, the best thing that happened to me last summer was meeting Betty. I got me a good woman in that chick. I got someone to calm me down after I get cut off on the freeway by some dick, and to help me express my true feelings without cussin. She’s someone who’ll open the aspirin bottle for me when I have a hangover, fake an orgasm when I really need her to, and maybe someday, God willing, remind me how many kids we have and what their names are. Guys don't give their chicks enough credit for this sorta stuff, and frankly you dudes out there reading this, if you are not making use of this kinda help then you are not getting full value outta your chick.
I’m gonna do my part too. I’m gonna protect her, always. I’m gonna hold her and pet her head and tell her everything’s OK when she’s feeling sad. I’m gonna nod at her sympathetically while thinking, "Who fuckin cares?" while she bitches on and on about some other chick at work who looked at her the wrong way. I’m gonna help her watch football with me, let her change my haircut and clothes all the time, and worry about all the big shiet so she has plenty of time for chick stuff like shopping and crying.
It was a great summer, man. And I’m looking forward to the rest of my life.
********************************************************
I got a D for this essay ("inappropriate content)", and a C-minus for the course. I was pretty discouraged, but Betty wouldn't let me quit. She said that this might not be my last chance to change my life, but it sure was going to be my best chance, and I should go all out. At the department graduation ceremonies in May, the entire faculty rose and applauded me as I walked up to get my diploma. And then before you know it, everyone else got up and joined in too, and Betty started bawling her eyes out. I was really embarrassed, but fortunately Merle was there, and he shouted "It's about fucking time!" to me, which cracked up everyone and got them back into their seats. In the fall, I'll start law school at Santa Clara University, on an Emery scholarship.
Merle is a Precinct Captain for the Obama Campaign.
Mussel Shoals went on to live a happy life with Dotty. When his hearing started to go, we noticed that she was helping him to understand when we gave him commands. One by one his parts started to wear out, and on December 24th of last year, my dearest friend licked my hand one last time and then slept away. I buried him on a short hill, next to a trail where I used to hike with him and Dotty. The view is beautiful, and when we visit, Dotty will lay next to him for as long as I am willing to stay.
About three years ago my grades started to get very good and it looked like school would stick. I came home one night and told Betty that I thought things were getting better every year, year after year. She started crying and wouldn't tell me why. It took me a long time to figure it out, and when I did I felt pretty sheepish. I asked her, she answered yes, and nine months to the day of our wedding night, little Tina was born. She's as cute as a bug, and someday when she is old enough to learn about her old man's story, I will take this essay out of storage for her to read.
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
Original URL:http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sfo/734069587.html
RAVE: My Life Since Getting Out of Prison
Reply to:
Date: 2008-06-26, 7:03PM
I graduated from college in May, and this summer seemed like a good time to go through the box of papers and assignments I had been saving since the start, both to reminisce and to do a little cleanup.
Tucked in a folder of an old notebook at the very bottom of the box was the essay that follows. Written in longhand, it was the first assignment from the first class in my first semester.
***********************************************************
January 20, 2003
English 1A
Professer ___________
My Best Summer Memory
Hey man, I’m not really sure if you’re supposed to put an introduction in this thing, but here goes anyway. My name is ____________. My assignment today is to write an essay about the best thing that happened to me this last summer.
I know everybody’s been kinda looking at me in class, wondering why a dude in his thirties is taking English 1A instead of being out there working a job. I’m not too keen on talking about myself much. Most folks aren’t, I guess, unless they’re Paris Hilton. But since the assignment is a personal essay I suppose I don’t have much choice. Anyways the best thing that happened to me this last summer was when I finally got outta prison based on that DNA evidence.
I’ll tell you man, if you can’t appreciate getting outta prison then you haven’t been there to begin with. For me it started about three years ago when this chick got murdered in East San Jose while opening up her plumbing supply shop. Me and Merle came by a couple weeks later to pick up some PVC for a sprinkler repair, and for some reason the dude behind the counter thought we was a little suspicious, so he called the cops. They put me in a line up, but of course the dude already knew what I looked like and what clothes I was wearing so it wasn’t that tough to pick me out. Other than that there was no real evidence, but I didn’t have an alibi and I had a couple drunk and disorderlies on my record back from when me and Merle used to fight each other for fun after closing time.
They had it in their minds I was guilty, and they kept after me for two days, yelling and throwing stuff at me and telling me made-up stories about how Merle told them I did it. I always figured I was pretty tough but after awhile it just wore me down. I had to look at some pictures of death row and I got showed on my arm where the needles would go and everybody called me Dead Man Walking. They told me if I signed a confession I wouldn’t get the death penalty and I had to think about that one pretty hard. The lawyer they assigned to me smelled like he’d been pulling a cork during lunch and he fell asleep while they was questioning me. I knew I didn’t do nothing but sometimes life just ain’t all fair, and this seemed like one of those times. So I signed.
After the sentencing Merle sold my truck and moved all my stuff into storage for me, and promised me he’d look after Mussel Shoals, my black lab. They sent me up to San Quentin, and when I got there, I was put in the section with the black dudes.I found out later that’s what they do with new prisoners, except the blacks end up in the white section. I guess it’s to soften up the new inmates, I dunno. Whatever the reason it didn’t take long for them to find this paleface. One day I turn around, and there they stood, the welcoming committee.
It didn’t take but one look to realize they weren’t there to bring me a fruit basket. I figured this was gonna be a test of me, find out if they could push me around, so I got a good shot in on the first one and broke his nose. Since it was four on one, I was looking at an ass-kickin for sure, so I didn’t follow up on the others too much, to try and keep ‘em from getting too mad. Well man, was I ever wrong about that. They got me face down, one on each arm and leg, then they got my pants down. About this time, right up till the last minute, I was thinking, this can't be happening to me.
The dude whose nose I broke went first. I was heaving and twisting my body trying to get loose, but the others held me down good. He started to poke around and then forced himself in. I never in my life had anything hurt like that, man. Everything got all cloudy and I heard him call me his white bitch. Bits of snot and blood from his nose dripped down on the cement next to my head. It’s the only time in my life I ever tried to talk to God. First I asked him why. Then I asked him to help me. And he never said a word.
You know, the only thing worse than being shined on by God is having it happen at a time like that, man. But it’s just like the preachers say: you can’t fool God. He knows why you’re finally talking to him – because you need help. So God never answered me, and I was on my own. And the only thing I wanted to do was to die.
When he was done, he got up and kicked me in the head. That in a way was kind of a blessing, cause I don't remember anything that happened after that for awhile, and I'm pretty sure the rest of those dudes took their turns.
A few weeks later, they came around again. I knew what was coming this time, and I didn’t hold anything back. I popped three of em pretty good before they got me down and did me again. They got the better of me, no question, but I left them worse for wear. That was the first time I ever saw a black eye on a black dude.
By this time I was hoping they’d think I just ain’t worth the trouble. There were plenty of others there that were easier pickins than me. But this wasn't about finding someone for sex, it was about breaking me down. So I got another visit from my new buddies. This time, they kinda formed a circle around me before moving in, and I could see in their eyes that some of them weren't really looking forward to this at all. Well man, welcome to the fuckin club.
This time I ended up in the prison hospital and spent a couple weeks there. One day, I was laying there thinking about how much I hurt and wondering what a life sentence was gonna be like with this happening all the time, when one of the inmates working in the hospital starts talking to me and tells me about the Aryan Brotherhood and how I don't have to put up with the nee-grahs no more as long as I join up with em. And that’s how I ended up with the tattoo of the swastika and WHITE POWER on my arm, right up there by the bicep.
Well, time goes by and I’m getting settled into the routine of prison life, and no one is messing with my behind no more now that I’m in this white guy gang. Then from outta the blue I find out that that someone from the Pine Hills Youth Correctional Facility in Montana got religious and wrote a letter confessing to killing that chick. He was just a kid, only seventeen years old. Can you believe that? Well, no one at San Quentin did. No one takes you seriously when you tell em you’re innocent, cause everybody in prison says they’re innocent. I didn’t have the letter or anything, just what I heard, so no one gave a shiet.
So I wrote to Merle, and he sent some dude from the Innocence Project to visit me. Next thing I know the prison doctor is scraping some skin from the inside of my mouth, and one day, just like that, they're walking me out the door and on my way. Course it didn’t take more than five minutes to be up to my ass in ambulance chasers all wanting to help me sue the government for my troubles. Most of em didn’t smell much different than the public defender, and I began to wonder if I was ever gonna get a lawyer who wasn’t a fall-down drunk. The dudes at the Innocence Project gave me the name of some chick up in San Francisco to call. That was kinda far away for me, but she turned out to be a pretty good lawyer and didn’t smell of booze either. She spent a lot of time yelling at the guys from the city, and let me tell you man, after listening to that I sure was glad she was working for me and not them. In the end, I got some money, not a lot, cause I wasn't in all that long and of course I didn’t tell a soul about the other stuff, but it was enough to get my trailer and a good truck, and they also promised to pay for retraining which is why I’m taking this class.
Once I got all signed up for school and the dust settled down, I figured I better get rid of that tattoo. So I called up Merle and told him to come on over and give me a hand with it. We heated up a weeding tool in the barbeque, and I bit down on a little stick of wood while Merle burnt off the tattoo with the weeder. You know, I never stopped biting that stick, but when the flesh started to burn, I tried to push everything outta me like emptying a squeeze bottle of Heinz ketchup. All the shame, all the rage I was carrying around inside me since I got out. I just forced it all outta me and I guess I yelled a good deal, cause Merle was looking at me kinda funny when it was done.
Merle's my best friend, and I figured maybe it was OK if I told him about it all, so I did. And when I was done, there was a long silence, then he kinda looked at me and asked in a quiet voice if I was gonna make him burn my bunghole too, and finish the job. That Merle, he's as dumb as a box of rocks, but he always finds a way to make me laugh.
I never really took to queers in the first place but it ain’t cause of what happened to me when I was inside prison. I don't blame the blacks or the queers for it. That stuff really wasn't about color or sex; it was about power plays by cons who had to ditch their humanity in order to survive. Still, as everybody knows man, no matter how many times you squeeze the bottle, you can't get every last bit of ketchup out, and for me, I still had some bits of my experience I couldn’t get outta my head. Sometimes, I'd be watching TV and just start to feel terribly sad and weak. Mussel Shoals was back with me by then, and he seemed to know something was wrong when I felt like that. He didn't know what, but he’d always come on over anyway, and lick my hand and rest his head on my leg. I tell you man, I really love that dog.
It was real tough getting back in the saddle with the ladies after what happened to me in prison. I’d always heard that if you so much as touched another guy’s privates you were queer for life, and although I was hoping that weren’t true, it was hard to think about sex without remembering all the bad stuff. Merle brought by some chick he was going out with who had a lady friend, and though she was nice and all I was kinda scared I wouldn’t be able to deliver the goods and have to start explaining everything, so I had to pass.
About a month after I bought my trailer, I met a nice chick at the park while out walking Mussel Shoals. She's about my age and pretty agreeable. Betty’s her name. She has a dog, too, a female Dalmatian named Dotty. Mussel Shoals was OK with that, ‘cause he ain’t prejudiced, and they got along just great. After we'd been going out for a few weeks it was my birthday, and she and Merle came over to my trailer and surprised me with a little cake. After I blew out the candles they said we could do anything I want, their treat. So we talked about it awhile and decided to spend the day out at Great America.
Well I don’t know if you been to Great America lately but they have this new feature which is a water park, and if you asked me that part alone is worth the price of admission. After we got in we headed on over there and changed our clothes in one of the little changing rooms they have nearby. While I was waiting for Betty to change (course chicks always take forever, took me and Merle about a minute and Betty about four hours) I struck up this conversation with this Filipino dude who was waiting behind me. He had a shirt on said he’s a police officer, so of course I didn’t mention anything about being in prison. Then one of the changing rooms opened up, not the one Betty was in (of course since she takes a million years) so I told the dude to go ahead of me since I had to wait for Betty anyway.
He moved on into the room and then his son, who was maybe 3 or 4 years old, started following him, but he told the son to wait outside. So the kid kinda backstepped a ways without turning around and then reached up and took my hand, and I closed my hand around his and we stood there awhile like uncle and son. It was a great feeling man. I never got to do that with my dad, cause he passed out on some tracks and got all mashed up by a train when I was only six months old, and none of the dudes that Mom brought around after that ever stayed more than a couple days. I didn’t really know what I was supposed to do, so I just stood there and tried not to squeeze his hand too hard.
Pretty soon though I heard this laughing behind me, and it’s the kid’s mom. And I looked down at him, and he’s looking over at her, and his forehead gets all crinkly, and he looks at his hand in mine, and you can see him sorta follow my arm all the way up to my shoulder and to my head. When he figured out I wasn’t his mom, his eyes got real big and he yanked his hand away and scampered over to where she was sitting.
Well by this time his mom is pretty much doubled over with laughter and she and I are talking, and of course Betty comes out right about then and sees me talking to this hot Filipino chick and gives me the stink eye. But it didn’t take too long before I’m the one who was upset cause Betty is wearing this string bikini top and let me tell you man, if I had charged a quarter a peek for a look at her tatas I would have made a fortune that day. Betty looks a lot like Salma Hayak (specially when she gets mad, which is all the time, Geez!) and she has a really nice rack.
But you see man this is where chicks are really sneaky. Betty knew we was going to a water park and there'd be lots of chicks to look at and she didn’t want me looking at em. So she wore her most revealing outfit cause she knew I’d have to keep an eye on her. At a place like Great America there are tons of buff dudes walking around trying to grab your chick when you’re distracted. So you got to keep your eye out every minute and that cuts into your time cruising the hotties. And speaking of that I think next time I’m gonna tell Betty how much I enjoy checking out the babes while she’s goofing around in the dressing room. That oughta speed her up.
We had a great time and ate crummy food and I won a Spongebob doll for Betty at the pitching booth. Merle almost got in a fight with some dudes who stole a big doll from one of the other carnival booths but the rent-a-cops broke that one up before it started. Later he got sick after going on the Invertigo and we got to watch him puke in a trash can. That part wasn’t so good, but after it got dark the fireworks started going off and Betty snuggled up to me real close and I forgot all about Merle, and we kinda lost him. It worked out OK though in the end. Merle called me later and told me that when he got out to the parking lot he ran into the same dudes he almost got in a fight with, and they ended up going out drinking and they’re his dawgs now. I never heard Merle call anyone that before, but he don’t generally hang out with black dudes either.
After the fireworks was done, Betty came back with me to my trailer, and we started watching American Idol. Well, one thing led to another and the next thing you know we was in bed getting ready to do the horizontal mambo. She was kinda nervous so I cracked a few jokes to relax her till she told me to shut up. I was nervous too, man. I was worried about maybe being queer, but besides even that, this was gonna be the first time for me since before I went to prison, and I was afraid I might be a little rusty.
It was a night I think I’m always gonna remember. First-time sex with a chick who's your girlfriend is always a big deal, specially if you’re a guy. You get to see what she looks like naked, specially the boobs, and see what kind of funny noises she makes when she gets all excited. In spite of all my worrying, everything turned out OK. I guess sex is like being on a bicycle, you never forget how to ride. Still, it took Betty a long time to come that night, but that’s probly cause she was busy with her own first-time sex thoughts. Chicks are funny about that. It's like the first time you take em out to dinner. They don't care about the dinner so much as not looking bad eating it, which usually means not eating much of it at all. Same thing with sex. The first time, they don't care so much about coming as much as they don't want to embarrass themselves. Next time though you better deliver, that is if you want there to be a third time.
So we're laying there afterwards, her head on my shoulder, and just talking real soft about nothing in particular, when all of a sudden there's this big commotion and damn if Mussel Shoals wasn't trying to have sexual relations with Dotty. She didn’t seem quite as interested as he was, but he stayed right on it, the two of em crashing into the walls and the bed and just going to town. I'll tell you, no one is gonna mistake ol’ Mussel Shoals for a 60 minute man, but seeing it was his first time and all, maybe he'll improve with practice.
A bit later I was the only one awake, and I was laying there listening to the three of em making their sleep noises, and wishing I could get my arm loose somehow so I could get a glass of water without waking up Betty. But I just laid there listening to the sounds, and smelling the odors of the people sex and dog sex, and thinking about my life.
I wanted to be an astronaut when I was a kid. I wanted to be a big success and fall in love with the prom queen and live in a four bedroom house with two kids and a Chevy just like white people do in the movies. It didn’t take long to figure out that wasn't gonna happen, and things started to look real bad there for awhile like I just told you about, and much as I try to, I’m probly never gonna forget how I got into prison and what happened to me there.
But all and all, life really ain’t been so bad to me, man. Betty said she thinks I might make a good lawyer someday. I told her I’ll be lucky to pass this class much less make it all the way to law school. But she thinks I can become a lawyer, not one like the city gives you that drinks his lunch, but someone who really helps people, maybe even get some other dudes outta prison that don’t belong there either. She said everybody has a destiny in life, and mine is to help people to redeem their lives. How can you not love a chick who talks like that, specially about you?
Come to think of it, the best thing that happened to me last summer was meeting Betty. I got me a good woman in that chick. I got someone to calm me down after I get cut off on the freeway by some dick, and to help me express my true feelings without cussin. She’s someone who’ll open the aspirin bottle for me when I have a hangover, fake an orgasm when I really need her to, and maybe someday, God willing, remind me how many kids we have and what their names are. Guys don't give their chicks enough credit for this sorta stuff, and frankly you dudes out there reading this, if you are not making use of this kinda help then you are not getting full value outta your chick.
I’m gonna do my part too. I’m gonna protect her, always. I’m gonna hold her and pet her head and tell her everything’s OK when she’s feeling sad. I’m gonna nod at her sympathetically while thinking, "Who fuckin cares?" while she bitches on and on about some other chick at work who looked at her the wrong way. I’m gonna help her watch football with me, let her change my haircut and clothes all the time, and worry about all the big shiet so she has plenty of time for chick stuff like shopping and crying.
It was a great summer, man. And I’m looking forward to the rest of my life.
********************************************************
I got a D for this essay ("inappropriate content)", and a C-minus for the course. I was pretty discouraged, but Betty wouldn't let me quit. She said that this might not be my last chance to change my life, but it sure was going to be my best chance, and I should go all out. At the department graduation ceremonies in May, the entire faculty rose and applauded me as I walked up to get my diploma. And then before you know it, everyone else got up and joined in too, and Betty started bawling her eyes out. I was really embarrassed, but fortunately Merle was there, and he shouted "It's about fucking time!" to me, which cracked up everyone and got them back into their seats. In the fall, I'll start law school at Santa Clara University, on an Emery scholarship.
Merle is a Precinct Captain for the Obama Campaign.
Mussel Shoals went on to live a happy life with Dotty. When his hearing started to go, we noticed that she was helping him to understand when we gave him commands. One by one his parts started to wear out, and on December 24th of last year, my dearest friend licked my hand one last time and then slept away. I buried him on a short hill, next to a trail where I used to hike with him and Dotty. The view is beautiful, and when we visit, Dotty will lay next to him for as long as I am willing to stay.
About three years ago my grades started to get very good and it looked like school would stick. I came home one night and told Betty that I thought things were getting better every year, year after year. She started crying and wouldn't tell me why. It took me a long time to figure it out, and when I did I felt pretty sheepish. I asked her, she answered yes, and nine months to the day of our wedding night, little Tina was born. She's as cute as a bug, and someday when she is old enough to learn about her old man's story, I will take this essay out of storage for her to read.
it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests
Original URL:http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/sfo/734069587.html
Sunday, September 21, 2008
Reasons Sunday is Awesome:
1. No class
2. NFL
3. New episodes of Adult Swim cartoons
4. Napping
My Sundays are so ordinary that they've become extraordinary! I lay around in my underwear, smoking pot and betting on football games. I usually do some pretty serious cooking after a pretty serious day of watching football, and then I get really full and nap. After my nap, I smoke again before watching the Sunday night cartoon line-up on Adult Swim. Often, my evening will end with a scrumptious milk shake from UDF.
In football today, the Bengals put up a hell of a fight even though they lost to the Giants in overtime. I didn't suffer the heartbreak that I've endured thus far in the season. The Giants did win the Super Bowl, after all. I was of course a bit disappointed that the Bengals lost, but did not suffer the devastation I have felt after Bengal losses in the past. Currently, I'm cheering on the Eagles. If the Steelers lose to the Eagles it will make my day! Go Philadelphia!
2. NFL
3. New episodes of Adult Swim cartoons
4. Napping
My Sundays are so ordinary that they've become extraordinary! I lay around in my underwear, smoking pot and betting on football games. I usually do some pretty serious cooking after a pretty serious day of watching football, and then I get really full and nap. After my nap, I smoke again before watching the Sunday night cartoon line-up on Adult Swim. Often, my evening will end with a scrumptious milk shake from UDF.
In football today, the Bengals put up a hell of a fight even though they lost to the Giants in overtime. I didn't suffer the heartbreak that I've endured thus far in the season. The Giants did win the Super Bowl, after all. I was of course a bit disappointed that the Bengals lost, but did not suffer the devastation I have felt after Bengal losses in the past. Currently, I'm cheering on the Eagles. If the Steelers lose to the Eagles it will make my day! Go Philadelphia!
Friday, September 19, 2008
Kentucky Boys in the Ryder Cup
Once again, people are cracking on MY home state for being backward and unremarkable in most respects. I hate these mother fuckers. This time, it's with regards to 2 Kentucky golfers playing for the Ryder Cup, which will actually be held here in the bluegrass state. They couldn't just talk about what an achievement it is to even make it to the tournement, or bullshit about the "home field advantage" - no. They had to make golfers in Kentucky sound like a huge lot of rednecks wearing stained tshirts and hiking boots with shorts on the golf course, missing teeth and the like. Kentucky deserves some positive attention - media needs to stop perpetuating stereotypes. Click here for the full article from espn.com.
Thursday, September 18, 2008
Educate yourself: Bum Wine
One of my shining students planted in my mind a seed of curiosity when he mentioned the beverage Bum Wine. This drink, properly known as Low-end Fortified Wine, is consumed for the soul purpose of getting crunk as fuck. I had known it before only as Rotgut, which is what the rednecks in Jellico, TN call it when they are distributing to minors who drive across state lines on their lunch breaks to get drunk before going to art class. (Being the good friend that she is, Stella gave me three bottles of MD 20/20 for my 23rd birthday!!! One of them was the Bling Bling Blue Rasberry)
The Wikipedia page gives a great explanation:
A low-end fortified wine, commonly known as bum wine, wino wine, twist-cap wine, decker wine or rotgut wine, is any of a class of inexpensive fortified wines that are popular among the poor, homeless, and college students in the United States for the quick inebriation they deliver[1]
Popular examples of Bum Wine
Some popular beverages in this category are Thunderbird, MD 20/20, Cisco, Night Train, and Wild Irish Rose. Buckfast Tonic Wine[1] and formerly Ripple have similar reputations, though Ripple is no longer produced[1]. In Canada, Bright's Pale Dry Select Sherry is considered a potent low-end fortified wine[1]. Another such wine that is out of production is Sly Fox[1]. These wines typically have an alcohol content of between 15 and 20% ABV. Other characteristics include added sugars, artificial colorings and flavorings.
In contrast to table wine, which may be enjoyed as an accompaniment to a meal, or high-end fortified wine, enjoyed as an aperitif or digestif, low-end fortified wines are generally considered suitable only for intoxication. Note that its classification as "wine" is a very loosely used term, and many people refer to it as "hooch", "street wine", "fortified wine", "bum wine", or "twist-cap wine".
Two popular brands in this category are produced by the E & J Gallo Winery, and were a large part of the company's sales in its early days. Currently, neither carries the logo or other indication of this source although "Boone's Farm" (produced by E&J) does (13.9% ABV). These are Night Train Express (usually abbreviated to Night Train, and even has a song named for it) and Thunderbird (The American Classic). Night Train typically contains 17.5% alcohol by volume. Thunderbird is sold at between 13% and 18% ABV and first became popular in the 1950s. Its popularity led to the introduction of Thunderbird ESQ. Night Train Express has been a very controversial brand among civic leaders in major cities as it is felt that Night Train, as well as other inexpensive high liquor content drinks, contribute to vagrancy and public drunkenness of homeless people. Thunderbird was once marketed in the United Kingdom as "The California Aperitif.". The 1950s radio jingle that promoted Thunderbird had a song that sang, "What's the word? / Thunderbird / How's it sold? / Good and cold / What's the jive? / Bird's alive / What's the price? / Thirty twice.". Ernest Gallo allegedly drove through a poor neighborhood and upon seeing a homeless individual drinking, he called out "What's the word?". The person enthusiastically responded, "Thunderbird!"
MD 20/20 a.k.a. Mad Dog is an American fortified "wine" produced by Mogen David wineries. MD 20/20 has an alcohol content that varies by flavor from 13% to 18% (with most of the 18% varieties discontinued, although Red Grape is widely available from the 18% category).
"MD" stands for "Mogen David," the name of the company based in Westfield, New York which makes it; the company is named after the Star of David, which in the original Hebrew is Magen David (pronounced mah-GEN dah-VEED) or Yiddish (pronounced MUH-gen DUH-vid), literally meaning "Shield of David;" the product's aficionado dubbed it "Mad Dog" to represent the initials "MD". At colleges it is often traditional for fraternities to "Mad Dog" a prospective recruit by knocking on his door at daybreak and forcing him to drink the bottle quickly. It is known for its pleasant high and painful aftereffects, but also as an initiation rite.
Cisco a.k.a "Liquid Crack" is the brand name of a highly alcoholic, low-price fortified wine, produced by the Centerra Wine Company (a division of Constellation Brands) with varieties selling at 17.5% and 19.5% alcohol by volume. Cisco has a distinctive syrup-sweet taste and, because of its color and bottle shape, was often mistaken for a wine cooler. The Federal Trade Commission forced the company to put a label on the bottle stating it was not a wine cooler and had the company change its marketing strategy from "Takes You By Surprise".[2].
Ripple was an inexpensive fortified wine produced by E & J Gallo Winery[3] that was popular among certain social classes in the United States, particularly in the 1970s. Due to its high alcohol content and low price, it had a reputation as a drink for alcoholics and the destitute. It was popular among young drinkers, both underage and college students. Ripple was mentioned often as being Fred Sanford's alcoholic beverage of choice on the 1970s TV show Sanford and Son (starring Redd Foxx), who once referred to it as "The national wine of Watts".[4] It is no longer produced.
Richards Wild Irish Rose is an alcoholic beverage produced by Centerra Wine Company, which is part of the Constellation Brands organization. It was introduced in 1954 and currently sells about two million cases annually. The brand is available in 13.9% and 18% alcohol by volume. The 13.9% wine has 115 calories (480 kJ) per 100 ml or 136 calories (570 kJ) per 4 ounces. The 18% product has about 138 calories (578 kJ) per 100 ml or 164 calories (687 kJ) per 4 ounces.
[edit]History
An early reference to the problem of cheap and poorly made wines is in the "Report on Cheap Wines" in the November 5, 1864 issue of The Medical Times and Gazette. The author, in prescribing inexpensive wines for a number of ills, cautions against the "fortified" wines of the day, describing of one sample that he had tried:
When the cork was drawn it was scarcely tinted, and was a very bad one - a thing of no good augury for the wine. There was no smell of port wine. The liquid, when tasted, gave the palate half-a-dozen sensations instead of one. There was a hot taste of spirits, a sweet taste, a fruity taste like damsons, and an unmistakable flavor of Roussillon [an alternative name in France for wine made from the grape Grenache]. It was a strong, unwholesome liquor, purchased very dearly.[5]
It is reported, however, that the popularity of cheap, fortified wines in the United States arose in the 1930s, as a product of Prohibition and the Great Depression:
Prohibition produced the Roaring Twenties and fostered more beer and distilled-spirit drinkers than wine drinkers, because the raw materials were easier to come by. But fortified wine, or medicinal wine tonic—-containing about 20 percent alcohol, which made it more like a distilled spirit than regular wine--was still available and became America's number one wine. Thunderbird and Wild Irish Rose, to name two examples, are fortified wines. American wine was soon more popular for its effect than its taste; in fact, the word wino came into use during the Depression to describe those unfortunate souls who turned to fortified wine to forget their troubles.
—Kevin Zraly, Kevin Zraly's American Wine Guide (2006) p. 38.
[edit]Concerns and media attention
More recently, the appeal of cheap fortified wines to the poor and homeless has raised concerns:
Community groups in Los Angeles, San Francisco, Seattle, and Portland have urged makers of fortified wines such as Wild Irish Rose and E & J Gallo's Thunderbird and Night Train brands to pull their products from the shelves of liquor retailers in skid row areas. In Nashville, Tennessee, one liquor store owner told Nashville Business Journal reporter Julie Hinds that police warned him to stop selling his biggest selling product, Wild Irish Rose, because it encouraged homeless people to linger in the area.
—Janice Jorgensen, Encyclopedia of Consumer Brands: Consumable Products (1993), p. 492.
In 2005, the Seattle City Council asked the Washington State Liquor Control Board to prohibit the sale of certain alcohol products in an impoverished "Alcohol Impact Area". Among the products sought to be banned were over two dozen beers, and six wines: Cisco, Gino's Premium Blend, MD 20/20, Night Train, Thunderbird, and Wild Irish Rose.[6] The Liquor Control Board approved these restrictions on August 30, 2006, and the ban came into effect on November 1, 2006.[7]
At bumwine.com, you can vote on the KING of bum wines, the nation's most grizzled bums, and my favorite: "Who would you rather look like for the rest of your life? 1. Big Bird from Sesame Street or 2. Grimace from McDonalds." Check out the polls by clicking here and rock the vote like it's November. You are now an educated citizen. You know the issues. Be a responsible American and vote!
Now off you go! Knowledge is power. Use this information to change the world. Or wake up in an alley with your pants undone.
The Wikipedia page gives a great explanation:
A low-end fortified wine, commonly known as bum wine, wino wine, twist-cap wine, decker wine or rotgut wine, is any of a class of inexpensive fortified wines that are popular among the poor, homeless, and college students in the United States for the quick inebriation they deliver[1]
Popular examples of Bum Wine
Some popular beverages in this category are Thunderbird, MD 20/20, Cisco, Night Train, and Wild Irish Rose. Buckfast Tonic Wine[1] and formerly Ripple have similar reputations, though Ripple is no longer produced[1]. In Canada, Bright's Pale Dry Select Sherry is considered a potent low-end fortified wine[1]. Another such wine that is out of production is Sly Fox[1]. These wines typically have an alcohol content of between 15 and 20% ABV. Other characteristics include added sugars, artificial colorings and flavorings.
In contrast to table wine, which may be enjoyed as an accompaniment to a meal, or high-end fortified wine, enjoyed as an aperitif or digestif, low-end fortified wines are generally considered suitable only for intoxication. Note that its classification as "wine" is a very loosely used term, and many people refer to it as "hooch", "street wine", "fortified wine", "bum wine", or "twist-cap wine".
Two popular brands in this category are produced by the E & J Gallo Winery, and were a large part of the company's sales in its early days. Currently, neither carries the logo or other indication of this source although "Boone's Farm" (produced by E&J) does (13.9% ABV). These are Night Train Express (usually abbreviated to Night Train, and even has a song named for it) and Thunderbird (The American Classic). Night Train typically contains 17.5% alcohol by volume. Thunderbird is sold at between 13% and 18% ABV and first became popular in the 1950s. Its popularity led to the introduction of Thunderbird ESQ. Night Train Express has been a very controversial brand among civic leaders in major cities as it is felt that Night Train, as well as other inexpensive high liquor content drinks, contribute to vagrancy and public drunkenness of homeless people. Thunderbird was once marketed in the United Kingdom as "The California Aperitif.". The 1950s radio jingle that promoted Thunderbird had a song that sang, "What's the word? / Thunderbird / How's it sold? / Good and cold / What's the jive? / Bird's alive / What's the price? / Thirty twice.". Ernest Gallo allegedly drove through a poor neighborhood and upon seeing a homeless individual drinking, he called out "What's the word?". The person enthusiastically responded, "Thunderbird!"
MD 20/20 a.k.a. Mad Dog is an American fortified "wine" produced by Mogen David wineries. MD 20/20 has an alcohol content that varies by flavor from 13% to 18% (with most of the 18% varieties discontinued, although Red Grape is widely available from the 18% category).
"MD" stands for "Mogen David," the name of the company based in Westfield, New York which makes it; the company is named after the Star of David, which in the original Hebrew is Magen David (pronounced mah-GEN dah-VEED) or Yiddish (pronounced MUH-gen DUH-vid), literally meaning "Shield of David;" the product's aficionado dubbed it "Mad Dog" to represent the initials "MD". At colleges it is often traditional for fraternities to "Mad Dog" a prospective recruit by knocking on his door at daybreak and forcing him to drink the bottle quickly. It is known for its pleasant high and painful aftereffects, but also as an initiation rite.Cisco a.k.a "Liquid Crack" is the brand name of a highly alcoholic, low-price fortified wine, produced by the Centerra Wine Company (a division of Constellation Brands) with varieties selling at 17.5% and 19.5% alcohol by volume. Cisco has a distinctive syrup-sweet taste and, because of its color and bottle shape, was often mistaken for a wine cooler. The Federal Trade Commission forced the company to put a label on the bottle stating it was not a wine cooler and had the company change its marketing strategy from "Takes You By Surprise".[2].
Ripple was an inexpensive fortified wine produced by E & J Gallo Winery[3] that was popular among certain social classes in the United States, particularly in the 1970s. Due to its high alcohol content and low price, it had a reputation as a drink for alcoholics and the destitute. It was popular among young drinkers, both underage and college students. Ripple was mentioned often as being Fred Sanford's alcoholic beverage of choice on the 1970s TV show Sanford and Son (starring Redd Foxx), who once referred to it as "The national wine of Watts".[4] It is no longer produced.
Richards Wild Irish Rose is an alcoholic beverage produced by Centerra Wine Company, which is part of the Constellation Brands organization. It was introduced in 1954 and currently sells about two million cases annually. The brand is available in 13.9% and 18% alcohol by volume. The 13.9% wine has 115 calories (480 kJ) per 100 ml or 136 calories (570 kJ) per 4 ounces. The 18% product has about 138 calories (578 kJ) per 100 ml or 164 calories (687 kJ) per 4 ounces.
[edit]History
An early reference to the problem of cheap and poorly made wines is in the "Report on Cheap Wines" in the November 5, 1864 issue of The Medical Times and Gazette. The author, in prescribing inexpensive wines for a number of ills, cautions against the "fortified" wines of the day, describing of one sample that he had tried:
When the cork was drawn it was scarcely tinted, and was a very bad one - a thing of no good augury for the wine. There was no smell of port wine. The liquid, when tasted, gave the palate half-a-dozen sensations instead of one. There was a hot taste of spirits, a sweet taste, a fruity taste like damsons, and an unmistakable flavor of Roussillon [an alternative name in France for wine made from the grape Grenache]. It was a strong, unwholesome liquor, purchased very dearly.[5]
It is reported, however, that the popularity of cheap, fortified wines in the United States arose in the 1930s, as a product of Prohibition and the Great Depression:
Prohibition produced the Roaring Twenties and fostered more beer and distilled-spirit drinkers than wine drinkers, because the raw materials were easier to come by. But fortified wine, or medicinal wine tonic—-containing about 20 percent alcohol, which made it more like a distilled spirit than regular wine--was still available and became America's number one wine. Thunderbird and Wild Irish Rose, to name two examples, are fortified wines. American wine was soon more popular for its effect than its taste; in fact, the word wino came into use during the Depression to describe those unfortunate souls who turned to fortified wine to forget their troubles.
—Kevin Zraly, Kevin Zraly's American Wine Guide (2006) p. 38.
[edit]Concerns and media attention
More recently, the appeal of cheap fortified wines to the poor and homeless has raised concerns:
Community groups in Los Angeles, San Francisco, Seattle, and Portland have urged makers of fortified wines such as Wild Irish Rose and E & J Gallo's Thunderbird and Night Train brands to pull their products from the shelves of liquor retailers in skid row areas. In Nashville, Tennessee, one liquor store owner told Nashville Business Journal reporter Julie Hinds that police warned him to stop selling his biggest selling product, Wild Irish Rose, because it encouraged homeless people to linger in the area.
—Janice Jorgensen, Encyclopedia of Consumer Brands: Consumable Products (1993), p. 492.
In 2005, the Seattle City Council asked the Washington State Liquor Control Board to prohibit the sale of certain alcohol products in an impoverished "Alcohol Impact Area". Among the products sought to be banned were over two dozen beers, and six wines: Cisco, Gino's Premium Blend, MD 20/20, Night Train, Thunderbird, and Wild Irish Rose.[6] The Liquor Control Board approved these restrictions on August 30, 2006, and the ban came into effect on November 1, 2006.[7]
At bumwine.com, you can vote on the KING of bum wines, the nation's most grizzled bums, and my favorite: "Who would you rather look like for the rest of your life? 1. Big Bird from Sesame Street or 2. Grimace from McDonalds." Check out the polls by clicking here and rock the vote like it's November. You are now an educated citizen. You know the issues. Be a responsible American and vote!
Now off you go! Knowledge is power. Use this information to change the world. Or wake up in an alley with your pants undone.
A real "bad boy"
Meet Booba, a straight G en France. This song is "Mauvais Garcon" - literally "Bad Boy". Check out that ghetto pistol he's got.
I thought long and hard about the pistol, and I've determined that Booba wouldn't fuckin' shoot anyone with it - everyone knows that French people don't shoot guns, even IFF they do own them. I see Booba as more of a cheap shootin' pistol-whippin' motherfucker. I can see him sneakin' up behind some french dude carrying a baguette on his bicycle, and crack the handle of his gun on the head of that poor guy. I admittedly like his music!
Thank god for the french!
I thought long and hard about the pistol, and I've determined that Booba wouldn't fuckin' shoot anyone with it - everyone knows that French people don't shoot guns, even IFF they do own them. I see Booba as more of a cheap shootin' pistol-whippin' motherfucker. I can see him sneakin' up behind some french dude carrying a baguette on his bicycle, and crack the handle of his gun on the head of that poor guy. I admittedly like his music!
Thank god for the french!
Bob takes on the D-O-double-G
Bob Barker and Snoop Dogg meet for an epic brawl over animal testicles. Robot Chicken has to be in my top 5 favorite TV shows.
Bob Barker is an OG.
Bob Barker is an OG.
Monday, September 15, 2008
Sexy Summer of 2008
As the summer comes to a close, I reflect back on the past few months quite fondly. Baseball games, a toga party, frenchies, reading art books (i.e. lots of pictures), living in Manhattan, unemployment, a cool roommate, beer, ice cream, ganja, the iphone, a place to myself, cookouts, and laying by the pool. It's been a fuckin' sexy time! My last summer of freedom. I know that in the future, I will frequently reference "the sexy summer of '08" in conversation. However, I have found that the only sure way to capture the brand of sexy that was Summer '08 is through this Bill Wyman video from 1981:
I'm of course being sarcastic, but I did feel cool enough to lay in a tanning bed while wearing a blue leisure suit, if that gives you an idea of the kind of fun I had during Summer '08. It's been real. Let's keep it that way.
I'm of course being sarcastic, but I did feel cool enough to lay in a tanning bed while wearing a blue leisure suit, if that gives you an idea of the kind of fun I had during Summer '08. It's been real. Let's keep it that way.
High as Fuck
"You know what world, you got me cornered again. I'm gonna roll another joint."
Thanks again for making my day, Juan!
Thanks again for making my day, Juan!
Sunday, September 7, 2008
Wednesday, September 3, 2008
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
