Happy Trails............ to you..............

AI.

 

That's fancy for Ain'tgotany Idea what to write about...  somewhere amidst the ball of confusion, the dull, very dull, grey, medulla oblongata matter of the gourd, I thought I heard 'Trail' amongst the electromagnetic waves.

 

So, I Googled "Songs about trails".  Good gosh Gertie, there's tons of 'em.  Take me home, country road...... and the Everready 90-something lovable dude, Willie.. On the Road again....... The Long and Winding Road......

 

When you think about it....... trails, paths, highways, byways, Interstates, roads.. ("Roads?  Where we're going we don't need any roads.") Sure Doc, right you are, but, you and Marty got special effects - we on Earth, we got roads, paths... when you think about it... roads, paths HIGHLY IMPORTANT in our lives.. 

 

Lewis and Clark 'cut em'.. (Blazed 'em)..   many followed... Horace encouraged them... all the while Jesse James, Billy the Kid,. Butch Cassidy, even Bell Starr waited by the trails as they were among the first to declare, "I don't wanna work, but I'd like your money perty please" (accompanied by a CLICK)........

 

Army brats, hitchhikers, carnies - ne'er ones to hang their hats anywhere a long time.  (Add to that nowadays, college athletes. Hangnail, "Coach looked at me funny", "Have you seen how cool their uni's are?".."Dad said I really should be the starter.".. "Really, you'll pay me $2,000 more? I'm gone.")

 

Bruce was Born to Run.....  Some, roll outta the womb, like the room, the vibe, the people, place yada - and never step a lick on a path unless its for vacation, or, they're like me and the only irregular path is to Sams where we spend a hunnerd dollars a year to join to save $2 every three months on a big ole jug of Folgers coffee.  Country bumpkins, or simpletons, sumpin, they call us.

 

Dorothy followed her Yellow Brick Road..... Elton, rejecting the false glamour, high society excess, and immense pressure of fame, said "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" in 1970-something. He done got lost though and kept a movin'. Now, I see at age 79 he's on the Farewell Yellow Brick Road tour.  Can't blame him. 

 

Life is a Highway.  Walk this way.  Travelin' man.   Whilst Canned Heat was'a Goin' Up the Country, Garmin was busy planning to help Dionne Warwick find her way to San Jose.

 

Ray, and many of us poor poor pitiful me men have been told "Hit The Road Jack, and don't ya come back no more no more no more no more."  MISOGYNIST! YOU EARNED IT!  Eh mebbe. Sure, it's a two way street.  After, ya drive, ride, walk the same paths... somehow, it's differ'nt.

 

While good ole Johnny was a movin', singin', praising the fact "I've been everywhere, man... I've been everywhere.." and then he named off 91 places (I was bored, I counted 'em, don't believe me? Try it yourself).. Johnny prolly had matchbook covers to remind him, meanwhile America done been thru the Desert on a horse and, they didn't even know his name.

 

A blonde might tell Seger to "Turn around an go THE OTHER WAY" as he sang Against The Wind.  MISOGYNIST!  AM NOT!  ARE TOO!

 

Fleetwood sang Go Your Own Way but, from what I read they might notta known which specific person or couple at the time they was talkin' to.

 

John Denver wanted the Country Roads to take him home... then, he was a Leavin' on A Jet Plane...... coulda been a Rocky Mountain High, I dunno.

 

Lou Reed was'a wantin to sing Walk On the Wild Side again, but his manager advised he might wait awhile until like the elections are over, and, the WNBA gets this all figured out.

 

Sorry.......... I kinda got off the beaten path.  I really wanted to write about how crucial paths were, are in our lives.  One turn can change a life.  Make a life.  Ya ever sit and wonder "if I hadn't met he, her".. .what I'da done, how would it'a been... if I didn't rent that house... buy that property... pulled over when I did.. how differernt thing mighta been.

 

I love the eternal optimism of someone like Buck O'Neill. "I was right on time."  Good gosh what a happy path he made when the goin' got ugly sometimes. He smiled throughout.  A lesson for us all.

 

OK, time to move along.   Take it Easy.  Might ride the storm out.  Might go into the mystic.  Homeward Bound.  One of my favorite things is a pool with a lazy river.  A path to nowhere so to speak. Kinda gives ya that Peaceful Easy Feeling.

 

Hit the Road Victurd.

 

OK! OK! 

I WANT MY MOMMY!

To borrow a phrase by Rhett, "Frankly my Dear, I don't give a damn." I am not the least bit ashamed, man-shamed, whadever, to admit I had a wonderful, WONDERFUL relationship with my Mother.

No Elvis, I've never shot a rabbit, wouldn't eat the damn stew if I did.... I do pee standing up... Forgive me Father, I did have the tendency to  arm tackle in High School Football, but.. damnit Jim, I've sold shoes AND I played high school football!

When I think of someone who always has all the answers, i think of a very sad, lost soul.

Well Stan, here's another fine mess you've gotten me into.   The dog catcher just drove up the block. WHO LET THE DOGS OUT? (the obligatory woof, woof, woof woof.)

Sometimes, I find anyways, it's just impossible to think on your feet (or, your butt... or, stomach, side, laying down, whadever.)  

Let me think on it............. right Meatloaf?

Look what they done to my (Blog) ma.... 

look what they done to my (blog)...

Well, it's the only thing I could do half right (I know, debatable)

And it's turning out all wrong, ma...

 

Nah...  I'm really OK.  In fact, to me, it's kinda comforting to recall great parental love.... and... a wonderful reminder on "I DON'T know it all when it comes to being a friend, partner, parent, coworker, boss, teammate, coach, any life curveball, knuckler.. yada...    

 

Sometimes, ya just get flumoxxed.

 

Victor?  You been talkin' to Moffitt again?  FLUMOXXED?

 

I know, I had to look it up too.  Was reading the Sport's page this morning.  It was the 50th reunion of a local KC high school basketball team winning the large Class State Championship.  Two schools... the KC one... and the St. Louis one.. First time EVER two undefeateds reached the Championship game...  the St Louis one was supposed to win.  Brimming with D1 recruits.. ranked 7th in the Nation.... 

 

After the KC team fought back, eventually won... the flummoxed St. Louis coach said "I guess if we were number one, they were something better."

 

Google lent me "Flummoxed...  being so confused, bewildered, or puzzled, not knowing what to do,say or think."

 

I call it an "I WANT MY MOMMY" moment.  

 

I very much hope you were blessed with some type of role model (mom, dad, step, aunt, uncle, grandma, grandpa, teacher, coach, preacher, BFF, whadever) that you find/found comfort when ya just ain't/wasn't sure just which way to turn............. and you remember your 'compass'.

 

Love, Victurd 

  

Climb up the palm tree........

Slide down the cactus

We play your team just for practice!                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                      

I spent the final hour of the day yesterday on Youtube...  That really ain't got squat to do with "palm tree... sliding down the cactus (don'tya love that line!).. and just for practice.    

 

But........ (I know, I know, ya can't start a sentence with 'but'..)..  But, I figured out exactly WHY I love music so much (and maybe you do too)....       

 

Music is scripted. Sure, the performers go thru hours and hours of practice... tune and fine tune their work... but... once 'done'...  it's forever and ever kept so you plug it in, or turn it on, whadever...... and shazam...  there it is..  Perfection. NO surprises     

 

With life...  we can plan... practice... go.... do...  but we never know what lurks behind the next minute, hour, words outta his, her mouths... personal events... events locally, nationally, ya just never know.

 

That's why........ I likes my youtube hour.... "Please allow me to introduce myself....."  i don't play Dave Clark's Bits and Pieces, but, bits and pieces of songs,scripted songs, that tell me "Victor, sit your butt down for an hour... let's have fun... allow that music to run thru your body, draw smile... the neighbors won't mind the volume,... you only do it once a month or so.........

 

In spite of ourselves  <-- if you ain't heard that one, ya needta.  I was late to the John Prine party...  damnit darnit I wish he were still here. (A reminder, music is scripted, life ain't). Prine and Iris Dement... try it, you'll like it!

 

I'll watch parts of five or six Stone's songs live.. and get my 73 yr old person exhausted as I watch the 80+ aged Sir Mick run across these damn near football field side stages like he's a kid... and then whatshis-old guitar dude (said lovingly).. .everpresent smile...

 

The good and bad of unscripted life.  Life truly is beautiful... also, runs the gamut of emotions.. 

 

I've never climbed up a palm tree.  Band camp, long ago, Florida.. .vacation with ex, kids, her sister, her kids... wunnerful time. EXCEPT, when I on the ground, hollered up to her (my SIL) on the 2nd floor balcony, "Hey, throw me the car keys please wouldya?"   Did.  Palm tree intercepted.  Uh huh. Did.  We were on vacation so we refused to allow it to make us stressy... it would be nice though if we had a car to go get food, suntan lotion, drive back to make our flight home.  (I think we borrowed a long pole from the pool.. I forget, but I think so)...

 

And............... I love the line slide down the cactus.  That's life (right Frank?)  It makes ya experience being a puppet, a pauper, a pirate, a poet, a pawn and a king... we all have been up and down and over and out, and we know one thing...each time we find ourselves flat on our face, we pick ourselves up and get back in the race...

 

We play, listen to music, for love, peace and soul.

 

We take on life, just for practice.

 

Off to go get me some breakfast.  Ain't decided yet, Big Biscuit, Ginger Sue's, The Awful Waffle.. .maybe even the Piggly Wiggly's breakfast..........

 

You mind throwing me the car keys?

 

Love, Victurd                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                

Erasers..........

Do you remember, way back when..  WHEN Victor?  When we were kids... usually one or two selected to take the chalkboard erasers outside to clap 'em together, get ridda all the chalk dust.. 'clean them'?  Me neither... I think it was the beginning of my life as a longtime misogynist, as I only recall chicks being selected. I'M KIDDING, I'm kidding.

Kinda sorta.

We used pencils until they were so darn small you could hardly hold 'em in your hand... and... erasers on pencils that were so used up - you'd try to get one last erase and the metal tore the easily torn Big Chief paper.  Did, does fit my lifetime dogeared persona. You? 

Noticed too, time erases much. Ya hear a buddy tell a story, swears you were there... no recall whatsoever.  Goes both ways too.....

Funny (not ha ha funny, but funny) how stuff over the years that doesn't get erased from the medulla oblongata- is either really good or really bad things, times, statements in our lives.   

You?   I'm too BIGHEADED to forever forget the really nice things people have said... and.. for the most part, I adhere to Biblical guidance on not holding grudges agin the really bad things said, but, admit to at least one I'll prolly never leggo of. It's the ginger/German in me. You? 

I heard a funny.. VICTOR, you tell it, we'll decide if it's funny. Fair enough.  "Take my advice, nobody else does."

Advice, us being the human variety, we of course opt to pick and or not choose advice given.  Seems good, solid advice over the years - we never erase, let go of, and I'm thankful for that... and. .. to the mouths the advice came from.

From the mouths of babes - that stuff, thankfully, we rarely erase.  We may forget exactly whiich one (kid, grandkid... friend of kid, grandkid) said it - the we store those things in the temple, and that's a pretty darn good place to store them.

On my way to hit 'publish' in a sec... but, just a song before I go.......no, that ain't it.  Just a thought.. I'm deathly afeared of getting all the crap in my phone erased. I know backup, Cloud.. still, skeers me.

On personal note (Victor, this whole blog has been personal).. yeah, yeah, whatever.  A couple years ago, my son and I shared a FB account.  Somehow, when one was erased, they both went kapooey. Somehow, 800+ friends wiped out.  Not worth sending friend requests again only to not hear back, or, hear '"you've been hacked"...  So, I've got 800 folks that think I blocked them... nuttin' further than that truth.  You can't erase other's thoughts about you... but.. you're good if you can look in the mirror and know the fer sure side.  That's all.

This blog has been poopy, sorry, should prolly erase it.... but, days can be like that. It's me it's me it's Ernest T.

Love, Victurd 

Limited vocabulary........

As a twerp (Twerp defined as, between the age of first verbal word, and, the approximate age when one gets the peanut butter outta their ears... definitely varies by the person.).. as a twerp the want to learn, expand, saturate the brain by as bigga vocabulary as was possible - resembled Pac-Man, mouth open, on the move, North South East West, all at right angles, to fill up, 'learn', consume, 'store' as many of those damn 'dots' (words) as he could.

 Sure, there are exceptions to the rule and in fairness to them, twerp is kinda demeaning You know, like the 7 year old you see on Good Morning America, that graduated HS at age 5, went to State U and now has his/her BS and will finish his/her Masters in year Ocho.

Then, on the udder end, I will lovingly call them 'geezer twerps', won't name names (Weagley, Moffitt) but, their quest is to write and purposely include a word there ain't a one of us dolts on FB, instagram, X, whadever - have in the arsenal of our brain. I hate, love them, but I've found about all I wanna expand at this age is my waistline.

Purposely limited vocabulary.

I've found, as we age, wipe the wetness off behind our ears, our give-a-damn wanes.  For many, many a year, beginning perhaps with the microwave like hormones of our acne years, thru, long about the time the first SS check is deposited, sex...  well, it ain't job one, but, me thinks for most, it was thought one.

Now, not so much.   Sex?  Yeah, I remember that.  No thanks, I gave at the office.  Jane, you ignorant slut, can't you see you're standing in MY bedroom?  Sure, I jest some, but, it no longer dominates the headlines, is breaking news, blinders on, that kinda stuff.

Vocabulary now.

Hungry.  Oft times today, followed by he/she pointing to the Frigidaire. "You know where it is..... cook your own... if what you want ain't in there.. YOU go the the Piggly Wiggly this time."

Nap.. need sleep, please keep the dog and the cat out, which, is normally followed by the reply, "Close the damn door so I/we don't have to hear you snore, or smell your farts."  Fair enough. (The give and take of longterm.)

I don't wanna go....... to church, book club, out to eat, with you, with or without you, to your folks, to the park, lake, farmer's market, movie, bar, shop, anywhere.  

Well I've been everywhere.... which, is the exact same message as I don't wnna go above, but it's just got the Johnny Cash twist, without naming the Reno, Chicago, Fargo...... Tocapillio, Branquilla and Perdilla places.. They're inferred "been everywhere, don't wanna go" (anywhere).  

Me neither, not to be confused with "OK, then gimme a backrub" or, "OK, lets go for a walk"..."Come sit by me and we'll find something on TV we both like." (Nevermind, neither of us is a fan of dust.)

Don't tell.  When you stop and think of "Don't tell" if makes you think "Hmmm.. I'm gonna learn a secret, and I ain't sposedta tell no one."  Well, that's not it at all.  Don't tell is the exact opposite of Do tell.   I don't care if it happened at band camp, at the office, on the phone, what you read on Facebook, in that damn book you won't put down, whatever, Don't tell. Don't tell, is the today translation to Phil Collins "Well you can tell everyone I'm a down disgrace, drag my name allover the place, I don't care anymore." (and, back when we were young enough to remember the ENTIRE lyrics to a song, it followed:

You can tell everybody about the state I'm in, you won't catch me crying cause I just can't win, I don't care anymore, I don't care anymore, d'you hear? See? "Don't tell" much less frustrating to hear, say.  

SEE ME....  FEEL ME...  (DON'T) TOUCH ME......

That's fancy for...... do you get me?  Alla the above might appear like I no like you. That ain't it.  I've grown accustomed to your face.  We learnt all of the above from folks like:

Ralph and Alice Kramden

Fred and Ethel Mertz

Al and Peg Bundy

George and Gracie Burns.

DIG? (Which, is the shortened vocabulary/version of the beloved Professor Keith David, which shortened "Do you understand.... get it...were you listening....")

SEE ME....  FEEL ME...  (DON'T) TOUCH ME......

A short story, by Henry Gibson

Love, Victurd  

  

Out of the ordinary.........

I can just see you sitting there in your Buford T. Justus PJ's, spouting, "Victor, you sumbi*ch, you are out of the ordinary EVERY day!"

Yeah?  Bite me there Huey Lewis and the News.. bite your dog too...  that's news ain't it?

I never ever dreamed.... (THAT'S a lie.. I dream, minimum, three times a day... regular sleep, nap #1 and nap #2.  Yeah, bite me again if I take a third.. It's my life and I'll do what I want.  You hear an echo Eric?

If you woulda sat me down as a kid....... and told me I'd need a code to get into the fort we neighbor kids bullt, I'd get it... but...   need a code to order from Mickeys?  Burger King? (I think I done told you about the day the Mickey Custodian fella had to get out the yellow Piso Mojado sign the day I pulled in, ran (as fast as Joe Cocker can run) to pee, I reach for the door and it's got a damn punch code thing "PLEASE ENTER THE CODE WRITTEN ON THE BOTTOM OF THE RECEIPT TO ACCESS CODE TO DOOR". and... whoop, there it is, Piso Mojado allover the floor.  Sorry, kinda.

That my life would be centered around a 2 inch by 4 inch screen. Glued to as a matter'da fact. That my Aunt Hazel from Osawatomie could 'mail me' a letter on it at 10pm and it didn't need no stamp............ That, that 2"by 4" screen would mean mom would never again have to drop me off at the library, where I'd sneak in, and hopefully the mean ole lady that always looks over her specs wouldn't see me (I was deathly afraid of jail as i owed 24 cents 'cause I was a week late getting the Babe Ruth Biography back to her) where were we? VICTOR?  Need a cognitive test? NO. Oh, mom dropped me at library, and, thanks to my new 2by4 screen, she ain't gotta any longer. I don't have to dewey decimal nuttin'...  I can Google (not Giggle) it. Or, AI it (not to be confused with Allen Iverson or A1 sauce for my steak.

That, that.. the drone ain't the backup Baptist Preacher when the regular dude is on vacation... it's something that flies, no pilot onboard, can take pictures and videos of anyone, anywhere at any time...not to mention deliver you an Amazon package.  (Why would anyone need a package from the jungle?) Stick around kid.

That, in spite of what my little league coach says, you don't need "two hands on a pop up", one and the mouse can catch and put it away easily.  Huh?  Mouse?

I've never quite figured out why....... when color TV's first came out they cost damn near as much as a new Chevy Biscayne.  Now, you can get a TV almost the size of Wilt Chamberlin for the price of a headlight for a new Cadillac Celestiq, $300 or so.  Problem is, I hear folks talking about paying $300 a month just to watch certain channels.  WHAT?I I think I'd rather stick with the local channels, even if it meant staring at the Indian Head test pattern, fuzzy noise at midnight. 

I'm so old I remember when 'Self Checkout' was a mirror.....  Dine and dash or door dash was something your friends whose folks didn't have much money did.  You were lucky to listen to eight records, songs in a row 'cause most eventually got 'skips' in 'em from overplaying.  Now, you can drive to Salt Lake and never have to stop to change a record. 

Pro athletes had second jobs... and heck, we kids, went to school, played sports, had a job, AND still found time to "hey Diane, lets run off down to the low road."  Kids now, some, start a job Monday, call in sick Wednesday, quit Friday, and do it all again after taking the next week off and, with apologies to Dean, "everybody loves (needs) somebody sometime" to simply keep the doors open.  I no comprende'. 

OK, I'm OK. I'm not frustrated.  It's just life can be funny. Or different.  Weird. Then, wonderful again.

We're just glad you didn't bring up that ESPN just recently aired the World Championship of corn hole.

Yeah, me too. 

TMI

Life, is good.

No, not perfect.

We ALL, fall short.

We are our best sparring partner.

That said, ain't it wunnerful to be in life's ring?

Money, an empty Andy's Frozen Custard cup, the gas gauge......

THERE'S NEVER E'NUFF.

Damn, I hit it in the woods... I'm ALWAYS sore, hurt kinda, need a nap after golf.

Victurd, you ignorant slut, tee up the fact you are STILL out there.  Many ain't, who cares about score?  Golf or women. VICTOR? DID YOU JUST SAY THAT?

Forgive me Father, golf pencils ain't gots no 'rasers..... 

Better quit writing now........ L&L Motors may make fun.

Eh, let him, he's a good dude too.

Have a  wonderful day and tell those ya love, you love 'em.

I love you Victurd.

Victor, ain't that a little egotistical?

NO.  It's called howintheheck can one walk this Earth with no self like?  I am aware some do - and please please please - talk to someone. You are loved.  If you didn't hear it the first time, you are loved.

OK?

Ok....

Zalright?

Zalright.

I asked AI who, what comedian usetda say that.  They said nope, never did.  I call BS, which, is perfectly acceptable in self love and in blogs about TMI..............

So, AI, KMA.

Pretty harsh ain't it Victor?

Eh mebbe.  I still like me.

AND, Andy's Frozen Custard.

First try (AFC) yesterday. Of course Mikey likes it.  So does his entire Zip Code.

Yum.

Like life.

Sidestep, those who say "You can't do that"... grumpy people...  ONLY dogs that snarl and look like they ain't had their Kibbles and Bits recently. Raccoons too, not a fan, long story. Nope.

Love, Victurd