Peace.....

I like the way your sparkling earrings lay
Against your skin, it's so brown
And I wanna sleep with you in the desert tonight
With a billion stars all around

'Cause I gotta peaceful easy feeling 
And I know you won't let me down
'Cause I'm already standing
On the ground

Sure, the pitter patter of the heart in relationship is the best.  One looks at the other, kinda like the devoted hound dog fixes their eyes on your every move. You make me whole, so to speak.  Arf.

And I found out a long time ago
What a woman can do to your soul
Ah, but she can't take you anyway
You don't already know how to go

And I gotta peaceful easy feeling
And I know you won't let me down
'Cause I'm already standing
On the ground

Peace, the best of times.  Lakeside, creekside, riverside, oceanside... water.  Water is peace, full. Lazy river, round and round ya go, rest easy peaceful heart.  Snap an eyeball pic to store in your gallery of life. Fetch it later when ya needs it the most.  Peace be with you, alla the time.

I get this feeling I may know you
As a lover and a friend
But this voice keeps whispering
In my other ear, tells me
I may never see you again

'Cause I get a peaceful easy feeling
And I know you won't let me down
'Cause I'm already standing
I'm already standing
Yes, I'm already standing
On the ground

"May never see you again."  Screamin' Eagle Eagles, I really like that.  Maybe kinda sorta the way we should live.  Why hate?  Wastea time.  Why argue?  Sure, burns calories, but holes in hearts too. Wing good thoughts. Thataway, we can play the ones we heard from others back whenever we need 'em.  Goes both ways. Ever heard "You made my day!" Yessir, that's the good feel you get whenya stick your hands under the sink to get that water to wipe your face, wake yourself up to life.  There's that water again.

That's the feel ya get when you've turned the shower on... hand on the flowa water... til it's just right.  Ahhhhh, jump in, wash off any bad reminders from yesterday, start the day anew.  Peace. Water.

But Victor...... HEY!  There you go interuptin' my blog, and, you give ME static when I start a sentence with but, BUT... you do it an it's ok?  Victor, or, but Victor, why argue?  Read the above. I was just gonna point out that tears are made up of water.  That's not peaceful is it?

Tears are a horrible, wonderful thing in life.  If we'd never experienced the tugging of our heartstings, it wouldn't be so mournful when it's suddenly yanked away.  Taking the good with the bad.  The down with the up. The right place, but the wrong (bad) time.  Teeter, totter. Spinnin' wheel, got to go round.

Water is the only natural substance that is found in all three physical states at the temperatures found on Earth.

 

(#1, uno) liquid... swim baby, dance in the rain, row row row your boat, sweat, sweat it out in this dadgum oppressive heat. Thanks pores.

(#2, dos) Solid.  Slip sliding away.  Skate. Have an axel or a lutz. Second thought, our age, havea glassa water, watch 'em on TV.  Ski.  Downhill, then up via the lift.  Emphasis on lift.  We all needs lifts.

(#3, tres) Gas. Put it on the stove and havea spot 'o tea. Pip pip cheerio mate. Dance a little  sidestep around hate, ugly... steam it out.

Water = peace.  

'Cause I get a peaceful easy feeling
And I know you won't let me down
'Cause I'm already standing
I'm already standing
Yes, I'm already standing
On the ground.

We is.  You can't start a sentence like that. We is.. made up of 55, 60% water ourselves.  And if you can't be, with the one you love, honey, love the one you're with (and sometimes, that's simply ourself). Why not?  Water, we are, is, mostly.  Peaceful easy feeling, already standing on the ground.

4:47am.  Coffee.  Needs coffee. Ever notice it takes water for coffee? Ever eat a pine tree? (Takes water to grow 'em.)

6:15am.  I'd better shower, leave for work soon.  Ahhhhhh.  Got ridda the bad from yesterday, thanks for the new start water.

Ohhhhh sure, water can make mud... slip and falls.. steal your golf balls... then hurt hurt hurtful tears.  Benefits outweigh.  Take them troubles down to Madam Ruth, she'll toss 'em in the Biz Bag, rinse 'em out (with water) later.

The glass is half full (of water.) Victor, you sure the basta don't leak?

At the end of the day.  I'll fix me a glass of water, sit in the easy chair.  Add some barley grains. Hops.  Yeast.  In Heaven there ain't no beer.  That's why we drink it here.

"A preachment, dear friends, you are about to receive
On John Barleycorn, nicotine, and the temptations of Eve"

I know, I know, some don't imbibe, and that's O'Douls-K. Imbibe in water. It's peaceful.  It won't let you down. You're already standing on the ground.

No parkin' by the sewer sign
Hot dog, my razor's broke
Water drippin' up the spout
But I don't care, let it all hang out

Afterall, it's water.  Peaceful. Right Hombres?

Victor? Yes?  Too many songs, one blog.

Mooooooooooooon river, wider than a mile
I'm crossing you in style some day
Oh, dream maker, you heart breaker
Wherever you're goin', I'm goin' your way

Should you one day also write a very corny blog and someone calls you "All Wet.":

It's water, consider it a compliment.

Pip Pip Cheerio Mate.

Peace.

Love, Victurd

Fit....

Google, or was it Bing, told me "486 Synonyms and Antonyms of FIT"...

Suffice.. Suit.. Do.. Serve.. Befit.. Fit the bill.. Satisfy..  Correspond.. Conform.. Coincide.. Agree.. Consist.. Harmonize.. Check. Match.. Comport.. Align.. Jibe.. 

Clothes.  Damnit darnit it can be hard.  It's a hunnerd degrees out, but now all the stores gots long sleeve junk on their racks.  But I need a new swimsuit.  "We'll have 'em in February sir." 

I gained weight.  Let's see, this drawer for size 36 shorts, the one below, no, make that above, too hard to stoop, 38.  Nexta top drawer 40.  Top drawer 42.  Them drawers are too big, I needta lose weight. To heck with it.  I know, I'll put all the ones that don't fit in this plastic bag here and keep until I'm 86 or so, they'll fit by then. Oh to hell with it, I'll keep 'em in the trunka my car for a year and a half, then I'll drop 'em off at the Thrift Store.

Lost weight.  Damnit darnit.  Hammer, nail, new hole in belt so short'sll fit, ie, I won't look like a sagger or a plumber. Now I gotta go BACK to the Thrift Store to buy ma'  duds back.  

Puzzle.  Puzzles are like life, kinda.  Ya starts with that Big Chief tablet (ya line up all the pieces of the puzzle that gotta straight edge), Ya do the basics, readin' writin' rithmatic', finally form the square all around the puzzle while it sits awatin' you to fill the innards. My luck there's always 642 pieces of the 1,000 pc puzzle that are blue sky, same color, like life, howinthehell do I do this?

Band camp. One of the places I worked. (Say, did I ever tell you where all I've worked?  PLEASE DON'T VICTOR).  Well heck, I was just lookin' for the right fit.  Maybe I'll tellya when you ain't havin' a fit, about all the differnt jobs I had looking for the right fit. Which, reminds me of relationships, but, that's a story for a whole nuther decade.

Ahem, one of the places I worked.  HR had heap big good idea.  Take a picture of our building, right there in Big Ole letters, the name of our company on it... mail it off to "Make me a dadgum puzzle outta this pic wouldya?".. make it 138 pieces, 'cause that's how many we fit into all these cubicles. We'll learn 'em a lesson about cohesiveness (was that onea them synonyms for fit?), working together, 'weaving' our future. I been in the right place. Then, once the 'make me a dadgum puzzle outta this pic' company forwards the puzzle, we'll hand out the 138 pieces to all the differnt employees, top to bottom (don't tell 'em we rank 'em like that) then.......... we'll reserve a fancy ole spot somewhere in the middlea all the cubicles, and next week we'll have everone take, place their puzzle piece on the wall where it fits.

Worked.  Kinda.  Monday, kinda could see the outline.  Tuesday, more pieces than not. Wednesday, lookin' perty good. Thursday, "We gotta few that been sick this week, give it anudder day", Friday. One. One spot left. One puzzle piece that ain't there. HR put out a memo looking for the last piece. Boss said  "Oh heck, give it till Monday." Monday came.  Huh uh.  Then Wednesday came. Nope. Still a hole. Don't fit that 'we' can't do it.  We get to Friday, boss a hollerin' "HR, this is the worst idea since those ad guys at Bud Light."  Never showed up. Bitter rarely fits, but, I gotta good laugh about it.  Us rebels that worked there, "kinda symbolic of the place." There's a hole in my bucket, Dear Liza dear Liza.

I know, let's talk about the fit in online dating.  They still do that?  Too far, too big, small, talks funny, it just 'ain't there', I really like that one but then, crickets.  She musta not liked me. This one won't leave me alone. I dunno. This kinda works, but a whole new life of family, cities, udder kids, quirks, night owls, early risers, two blankets, nuh uh, nakey on toppa the sheets, howinthehell am I sposedta sleep when you got the bedside lamp on to read? And why does that dog 'tween us growl when I reach over for a kiss? 

"The beginning of love is to let those we love be perfectly themselves, and to not twist them to fit our own image. Otherwise we love only the reflection of ourselves we find in them."  Thomas Merton.

I hearya Tom, but man, dat datin's a lotta work, expense, stressy, hard to start over.  I think maybe I'll withdraw from the Match.com thingy, I fit in my easy chair quite nicely. OK, you're right, I lap over a bit here and there, but mostly, a good fit. 

Fit, as in throw one.  Some gots perty quick temper. A life of dukes up. Others, you can shake rattle and roll and they won't get mad. Reckon we're all somewhere inbetween. Someone useda a line I like once, "Let's pretend I'm irate, I'm not, but let's pretend." Kinda fits me.  Lessin', lessin' it's about arrogance (fitooey), discrimination (BF... that's akin to BS.. BullFit!), folks that were once a kid but now all grown up and get aggervated by children.  That stuff.  That stuff bugs me.

Fits.  As in snug as a bug in a rug. I had a friend in hospice. A lifelong friend called one day to check on her. "Snug as a bug in a rug." I loved that. Loved her. Good people have a nice way of fitting in one's life. They enhance it, us, life. Heart. Soul. Love, all.

Niche. Life = fit = niche.  Cowboy boots and Wranglers.  Nope, Harley for me. I'd rather wear a suit, shorts, skirt, skort, yoga pants, baggies, pj's, provocative junk, modest outfits, goth, now where'd I put my neon eyeliner.... I wanna be a baseball player, preacher, teacher, accountant, nurse, artist, writer, gamer, IT dude, engineer, truck driver, clerk, secretary, cop, work from home, travel, see the world, stay in my little ole town the resta my life. Niche, fit. Life.

The grandson of a really cool Grandpa I know.  He's in a way, like his grandpa.  5th grade, another new school, this is a recording of the past several years thru no fault of his own.  Hard.  Hard to fit in. First day of school. What'd ya think?  I didn't like it, but, I know I gotta do it.  Fancy for, give it a few weeks, being the new kid is tough.  He'll fit in. There are times in life we go from ostracized. to the middlea fun, can't wait, as in Koolaid Koolaid, can't wait, which I had some, can't wait.

Wrap it up Victor.  Eh?  A fitting end?  Fit to be tied? Fitbit. Physical Fitness (what's that?). Fit as a fiddle. Fit for a King. Fit to stand trial. Fit to serve. Fit for life.

I like that one.  Fit for life. Life is all about fits, or not. Just ask Mr. Potato Head. Johnny Jigsaw. Goldilocks. Round peg, square hole. Opposites attract.  George and Gracie.  Sonny and Cher. Cher and somebody else and else. Carson, Leno, Letterman, Colbert.  Band camp.  One time, Wally Pipp gotta headache. Some guy named Lou Gehrig replaced him that day, year, decade, fo'er.

Today, I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the Earth. Lou said that. Bad things happen to good people. It don't fit.  Good people save us.  They fit. They know just the right things to say (fit.) How to be a role model (fit.) Humility (fit.) 

I'm off.  Shave, shower.  'Fit'ness' fat into my drawers. Breakfast. First I gotta weigh. I been trying. No, I'll never get fit. Cutting back on carbs, sugars, NO, I will not, cannot, won't give up beer. Don't fit. Let's just call it my, a, niche.  After I weigh, if the news is good, no gain, or baby loss, THEN, maybe just then I'll fit two pancakes in my trap. (Tweren't long ago, in a fitting room of all places, full length mirror.  Holy guacamole. Victor, you GOTTA do sumpin. Trying.)

I hope good things fit into your life, day, month, year, for your beneFIT, so to speak. 

It's only fitting.

Love, Victurd

Pete and Repeat....

Of course:

Pete and Repete were sitting on a fence, Pete fell off, who was left?

Repete.

Pete and Repete were sitting on a fence, Pete fell off, who was left?

And then there was:

Pete and Repete were walking down the street, Pete went away, Who was left.......

No, Who's on first base.

I've often thought of keeping a journal. I guess with this (nonsensical, in no particular order, the hell's he talking about) blog, I kinda do.

I actually did start one when my son was born.  Then, the terrible twos began and it simply added to the frustration of being a parent of a terrible two, so I stopped.

I think a journal would be, could be, fantastic for life.  Like ya get to live it, then, relive it. Pete and Repeat, so to speak.

I try, truly I do, to listen intently when finding things out about new friends, and even when visiting with old friends, things said, "Don't forget that Victor, write it down."

I'm at work, don't tell, and minutes ago I asked one of our retiree golfers "HEY Tim, what'd you do for a living?"

"I worked in the natural gas industry." Oh yeah, I'm sorry, I'd already asked you that...which, is fancy for, duh, had I started that journal, I woulda remembered.

Granny. My granny took her 'journal' to church, did. It also served as her Bible. It's treasured. Included within, things like "January 12, 1959, 3 year old grandson Darrell dialed his phone number." "February 3rd, 1954 eleven inches of snow."  "August 9, 1951, drove to Stedman, had lunch with Ralph and Etta Simpson."

Stuff like that. Stories. A life. Lives. Recorded, relived. They are not "all we are is dust in the wind", they're there, right there between Matthew and Revelation.

There ain't much worse than relating something to a friend and you hear "I remember you telling me that."

'LaRon' we'll call him. I was kinda sorta indoctrinated into the family of Laron. That's fancy for, lived in sin (hey, it's 2015 for criminy sake) with his daughter. Another living in sin buddy, living with LaRons other daughter was extremely tickled I came onto the scene. "Now, YOU get to hear LaRon's stories."

LaRon, lovable, handsome, the BEST most infectious smile, funny,  FULL (chock) of stories. Mostly, partially, some, true.

One was a boating adventure. 'Jane' we'll call her, was LaRon's better half. What's fer sure known, there was some type of excursion. Over the years the vessel would vary from a fishing boat, to a pontoon boat, to a catamaran to a sailboat.

The number of passengers ranged from Gilligan and his crew, to twenty, to "hunnerds."

As LaRon would relate, the next time he told it, the vessel became a pontoon. Jane, the good, loving wife she was, remained silent. However, if one of the daughters happened to be within earshot, "I'M CALLING BULLS*IT!"

The story was told virtually monthly. "We had mechanical issues at sea." Then the next month.. "The Captain was having a heart attack. I took the wheel" (BS!).. and much later.. "I managed to get it to shore " (BS!) two months later.  "And I ended up saving us when I guided it into a swimming pool" (DOUBLE BS!).  And at the end of summer "And then, two natives ran out of the jungle" (laughing, "OMG, BS).

Fun. LaRon was fun. LaRon is fun. Last I heard, he was in an assisted living facility, residents gathered around for impromptu LaRon story telling time and it was believed one of the residents was going to record all of his stories on her (non-electric) Corona to one day publish them all in  book. I'd fer sure buy a copy.

As we age, our stories are often repeated (by us.) I do it, you might, many do.

Yes, they can, do come with, from, affliction. I'm no WebMD, but I've read "when people repeat the same stories over and over again, it's important to remember the stories we are hearing about are important to the individual. (No matter if it's the 1st, 15th, or 92nd time we've heard them, patience is the guiding light.)

LaRon was not in a state of affliction. He is, kinda sorta, a showman, a proud one.  No slap on the wrists to the daughters, they love him like crazy, laughter ALWAYS followed their verbal 'BS's' and back and forth head shakes. When said daughter and I parted ways, I actually took LaRon and Jane Sonic Shakes to give my farewell, and consciously, in thanks for all the head shakes.

Bless those who listen. Listen = love, no matter how many times heard.

Me personally, I don't repeat gossip...so listen close the first time.

Right Pete?

Love, Victurd

I hit a range ball over 250 yards.

Can't you hear Springsteen in the background singing "Glory Days" kinda sorta about a never been braggadociosly about what he thought he once was?

Well, this ain't about that.

To everything turn, turn, turn
There is a season turn, turn, turn
And a time to every purpose under Heaven

A time to be born, a time to die
A time to plant, a time to reap
A time to kill, a time to heal
A time to laugh, a time to weep

Victor, is this another dadgum blog about YOU?

Sorry, kinda sorta, yes.  I guess you're are 'SOL' (Surely outta luck, or something like that,)

Golf course.  Where I work.  Like everyplace, hard to find employees. Grass grows, it don't care about how many people ya gots to mow, it's grow, grow, grow.  Then rain, we had somea that. Scratch that, we had a lotta that.

Now, heat.  Much. I abhor whoever came up with the "Realfeel" temperature thing.  93 is hot enough without knowing the 'Realfeel' is 109.

Where was I?  Oh yeah, Kearney.

So.............. I LOVED mowing back in the day.  Is that the glory days of which you refer?  Uh huh, tis.

Hey Moe (our course superintendant).. I love to mow.. if you need help I'd be happy to come in and mow a few hours.  Yeah?   Yeah.  What time do you start?  I get here at 3am.  (Gulp).  Yeah, if you have extra time and you wanna mow, just come.  I'll get a mower for you all setup.

I didn't (get there at 3am).  I got there at sunrise, because old people can't see the damn white lines, Bambi's can appear in a millisec (vely stressy when old tight man have liability only). So, I got there at sunrise.

Moe, is it a zero turn mower?  Yes.  Oh criminy, I've never done onea those.  It's cinchy, you'll get the hang of it.  I've already mowed the fairways, you mow 'em now to knock down the patches of grass clippings that pile up.  Start out on #9 to practice, then go to 18.

I drove to the shed (home to chemicals, mower parts and 4 or 7 feral cats.) Spotted the mower.  Moe followed, thank goodness.  "Here's how you start it..." He did.  "It takes a bit to get used to, but you'll get the hang of it."

Uh huh, right. Moe then drove off, which was a very good thing because 15 yards into my drive I smashed into the dumpster. Don't tell.

You put your right foot in
You take your right foot out
You put your right foot in
And you shake it all about
You do the hokey pokey
And you turn yourself around
That's what it's all about

That's kinda what it's like driving onea those damn zero turn thingybobs. You wanna turn left, you push the right lever forward to more speed.  You wanna turn around, simply close your eyes, it'll happen.  No, that ain't it.  You pull the levers back halting the mower, slowly push one forward, pull the other back, and jualah, a 180.

Moe came over to watch me on #9.  It was 6:30am, I wasn't drunk, but it sure looked like it. Howinthehell do you get this thing to go straight - I asked myself.  Moe was smiling as he watched me go West, East, South North kinda all at once.  "Vic, push both levers all the way up"  Yeah?  Yeah. As in 'full speed' as in, close your ears, oh shit.

I harkened back a few years... OK, fifty five years damnit., I was 15. Liberty Park Department. "Here, take this mower to Bennet Park and mow on the East side." Glory days, as I was fitteen, OUT ON THE REAL ROAD, driving, waving at all the 16, 17 year olds I recognized on the roads.  Got there. Mowed a bit. Figured it out, kinda.  Was going laterally across this hill.  Kinda skeered me.  Tip over, sever arms, legs. I know, I'll start at the bottom, drive straight up, depress the clutch, coast down, let the clutch out, and UP again. Cinchy.,

Except.  Except, when you depress the clutch (WHY is everything about depression?) Well, don't do that. As I learned, when you depress the clutch, coast downhill, then let the clutch out, the front wheels come off the ground, you pee a bit, thank goodness for the mower behind because I shoulda, coulda tipped over. A lifetime of "Victor, why do they call you Stumpy?" almost happened.

Where was I?  Oh yeah, Kearney.

Ring, ring.  Hey Moe, it's Vic.  I got off to go pee (of course in the ORI between hole #14 and 15... are you kidding me? I peed behind the lumber yard fence, outta sight from all the neighbors. Don't tell.)  I got off to pee, of course the mower auto get off stop the engine thing happened.  Howintheheck do you start it?  You got the arms pushed all the way out?  (Didn't, now do.) Yeah.  You got the emergency brake on? (Whereintheheck is the emergency brake.. I didn't ask that, but I tried three or four levers, tried starting after pulling each one, finally, "AHA, yep, now I do" and away I went.

I sucked on #9.  I went to 18, eh, not bad.  Then to #1 to start in order.  After awhile, I kinda started figuring out the zero turn thing. It was hella fun. Temp only 80-something (real feel 90 something, not too bad.)  By #4 I actually kinda drove it straight.

When you are 70, you pee.  A lot.  On some holes ya simply can't due to the houses lining the course.  That said, I peed on 5, 7, 9, on 10 behind the pump house (That's the 'she-shed', we figure that's where all the chicks pee 'cause the ORI ain't until after 14), in the ORI after 14, and a little bit in my pants when I skidded down that wet hill and I thought I was toast, ie, old Stubby.

This is all well and good Bruce Springsteen Glory Days, but what about "I hit a range ball over 250 yards?"

I did. It's twue, it's reawy reawy twue! Adjacent to the range, I ran over a golf ball. I didn't see it, which, is fancy for I saw it but I wondered what would happen if I ran over it, would the mower be too high and it would just sit there, or would it slice into two pieces as I drove over it.  Well, I (The mower blades) hit the range golf ball over 250 yards.  See? I didn't lie.  Don't tell Moe I ran over it on purpose.

Three and one-half hours later, finished. "Well, what'd you think?" Moe asked.  I had a blast, I really did. (Scroll to being 15, driving a tractor across town, waving at all the snooty patooty 16, 17 yr olds.)

Need me back tomorrow (I anxiously asked, hell I can use the bucks.) Nope, we've got it now. Which, I deducted I really did a crappy job (and that's ok, to everything, turn, turn, turn is different the first time you try.) Or, he got more help.  Up drives some guy I ain't never seen before, so, made me feel better.

That's all.  And yes, sorry, twas about me.  A chance to go back to feeling like I was fitteen again.  Did I mention (Glory days) I had a flat belly back then?  Did I mention, I could actually walk to go pee, and ne'er drip before OR after?  Good gosh Victor, you're a sick puppy.

I kinda like the sound of 'puppy'.

Glory days.

Think I'm going down to the well tonight
And I'm going to drink 'til I get my fill
And I hope when I get old, I don't sit around thinking about it
But I probably will

Yeah, just sitting back trying to recapture
A little of the glory of, well time slips away
And leaves you with nothing mister but
Boring stories of

Glory days, yeah, they'll pass you by
Glory days, in the wink of a young girl's eye
Glory days, glory days
Yeah, they'll pass you by
Glory days, in the wink of a young girl's eye
Glory days, glory days

Here's to boring stories. To everything, turn, turn, turn.

Love, Victurd

Usedta be........

Door Dash usedta be 'Ding-dong-ditching' where you got up the courage, rang ole lady McIver's doorbell and ran.  Now, you getta Big Mac, large fries and a Coke for $23 with a 5 dolla tip, fries are cold and the ice has melted. 

Usedta could swing by The Robo Wash/Gas Station, hand 'em 3 bucks for enough petrol to make 72 weekend runs from The Ku Ku to the High School, to The Square, by William Jewell (and back), andya still hada dollar left over for burger fries pop.  Now, poor kids, $3.79 a gallon at the QT, after driving five days, to fro town to Liberty North (way out yonder by the paw paw patch) there ain't no way to have money left over to buy your honey a $5.29 Peanut Buster Parfait at the DQ.

Usedta have party lines, shared frustration of "it's my turn damnit."  A bit later, phones usedta be kinda like the Cheers theme song... "Where everybody knows your (number), and they're always glad you (called.)" Conversations were had on the phone. Long ones.  "Mom, I needta call Charlie, she (sister) won't get off the phone."  Today, what the hell is a phone book, nobody knows more than two phone numbers and 'Talk?, are you crazy, I'm gonna text until I get blisters on my two thumbs.  Usedta be impressed by how fast Nemo could run from first to third base, now, today's physical fitness test involves becoming the world's fastest thumb texter.

There is, is, good.  Usedta be kids that call other people's parents "Hi Mr. so-and-so" and "How are you Mrs. so-and-so" and contrary to the prevailing belief "Kids nowadays don't wanna work, they want things, but don't wanna do anything to get them".  Disagree. There are remarkable kids out there who still treat adults with respect, tons of 'em, the vast majority.  Handmedowns ain't just older brother's Levis, they're thankfully manners, politeness and true caring.

That lady, she usedta be an Inlaw, now she's an Outlaw, but said lovingly. Love has a way of high hurdling divorce.

Town usedta be so small, hadta beg kids to come out so there we enough bodies to have 11 football players on offense, 11 on defense, "Scooter, Charlie and Jimmy, you're gonna have to go both ways.".  Now, "Hey, Liberty's got great schools, let's move there", and, thankfully that's true...  but it also means hella growth, now there's a "Gold Team" (varsity, baby you better work at it year round), "Silver Team" (almosts), "Bronze Team" (JV).. "Iron Team" ("you'll never make it past Bronze, but hey, thanks for coming out.") etc, etc, for EVERY grade level.

Usedta  would get an assignment, go to library, find the right drawer to find the right Dewey decimal number from the 3 by 5 cards, the corresponding section where the book will hopefully be if it's been replaced in the correct place, check it out, take it home, but first, swing by the Piggly Wiggly to go up and down the aisles for mom, grabbing the things from the list she made up.. fork over fitty cents at the car wash, RUN fast to wash, rinse so the frozen goodies from the Piggly don't thaw (and so ya didn't have to waste another quarter).. drive home, carry in the groceries, study, take the test in a few days, then, sit at home the following weekend 'cause ya forgot to take the book back to the library and you owe 33 cents late fees.

Now, ya Google, find the junk ya gotta study for, order the veggies, meat and frozen goodies online, swing by the HyVee and grab 'em, take your pick among the sixteen drive thru car washes in town, get home, study and ya still got time for three hours of Netfix and Chill. (I know you're too young for that, but you know what I mean.)

Beer bellies usedta be flat bellies. Looking positively, crums no longer hit the floor.  Walks usedta be jogs, which usedta be sprints. A little dab of Brylcreem usedta do ya, now, combover works.  Ranch has always been a dressing, but too, "Honey, we gotta move, I can't do these stairs any more." Ranch it is.

Remember when we thought "Old people always complain"?  Well, reckon that ain't changed much.  Remember when we listened to Johnny Dolan, WHB, we'd hum, dance...sing the lyrics.. drive our siblings crazy?  Now, all we gotta do is get up outta bed, or the easy chair..wobble a bit, and it don't take no music to make all kindsa interesting, unplanned verbal noises.

Remember when we thought grandparents were old, they never eva' had been young, could never eva run, jump, hop, sprint?  Uh huh, welcome to retirement.  Remember when dad useta go to the drug store to buy TV bulbs, prop a mirror in fronta the 20" TV, climb behind, take off the cover, find he'd bought the wrong bulb, back to Breipohl for the right one, fix it just in time before whatever that thing was was called that came on around midnight and it was on all the channels so you couldn't watch nuttin?

Now, TV shoots craps.  "Honey, WallyWorld has fitty-five inchers on sale for $198, wanna ride wit me?" "Nah, just order it online, it's late, they'll deliver it for free before noon tomorrow."

Things are good, things are bad, just like they usedta be.  Golf balls don't travel near as far, neither do memories.  "Oh yeah, she was in the class of '72", "nope, I think she was (younger/older)"... "I don't even know whointheheck you're talking about, you sure that was her name and that she went to Liberty?"

We usedta nurse way back. Later, lined up for vaccines by a nurse.  Some went to school to be one. Some, married one. Usedta see ole Doc whatshisname, now, it's the Nurse Practitioner. Aches, pains, tummy woes require more nursing now.  We're literally one trip and fall from a Nursing Home. 

Go, do, love, smile, laugh, petya dog, love a grand, spend a grand (or 5) for that trip you always dreamed to take.. call (not text) that one you usedta talk to for hours on the phone. Write a letter.  Save up your Piggly Wiggly points, get El Cheapo gas discount, take a long drive, past all them places you usedta have fun at. Ride a ferris wheel. Have a beer.  An ice cream cone. A funnel cake. Try a push up. Take a nap, whenever ya wanna. Dance. Go hear live music. Eat a pine tree. Get the hell outta Dodge, even if just for a day. Write a blog. Victor, that's the most ridiculous thing you've ever written.

Cemetaries usedta be. Now, it's to everything, urn, urn, urn.

Go do alla that stuff above that we usedta, needta, before.... before...  all we are is dust in the wind.

Love, the 'artist' (said loosely) formally known as (as in usedta be), Victurd

Good sports........

It's a given not everyone likes sports.  That's ok, I love sports.

Sports = Life.

Ya never know the outcome, what's next.  You suffer.  You hail.

Being a miser (that's fancy for not believing at age 20, 30, 40 that one will ever be 60, 70 yada, and not $aving accordingly).. Where was I?  Oh yeah, Po'.  I always get distracted.  My mother was a child of the Depression.  She would always say "We were po' but didn't know it."

Victor, price of tea in China, get on with it.

OK.  Sports.  The miser in me wanted to cut cord, stream. Fitty dolla WiFi with T-Mobile, then stream real cheap. Wifi box came before I ever truly investigated cost therein of streaming.  I admittedly have a really good rate with Spectrum.  Called them, "I'm quitting"... then, of course, counter-offer.

Ended up, I took the new Wifi box back to T-Mobile.  Spectrum let me pick 15 channels (plus local, including WiFi) for under a hunnerd dollars, I kept them.

Victor, back to tea in China.. the hell does this have to do wiith anything?

Life, it has to do with life.  I picked a good amount of Sport's channels.  Because, life can be ugly.  Sports takes your mind offa thata.

Remember, old people repeat stories.

Remember, old people repeat stories, so if you've already read alla the below, humor me.  Ha.

My favorite umpiring event.  9 and 10 year olds.  Very first opportunity to hit a real pitch. One that ain't setup on a Tee..  one that ain't thrown by your Coach. Live Pitcher.  Like life, ya just never know what's coming. Sports is like that.  Kid gets hit on the hand.  He's in pain. Bends over for a moment. Baby tears. Now upright, collected, he limps to first base.  (Remember, humor me please!)

Golf course, oh the memories, the "screw you life - which - can be poopy, I'm loving being out here in Nature, no matta' how badly I play."

#1 hole at our golf course. A line of houses on the left.  A huge pond on the right.  Of course, I've 'done' both, many times.  As far as I know, I'm the only one to EVER hit a ball COMPLETELY over the houses. I stopped.  Awaited ambulance sirens. None. Party on Garth. Whew. Hey, coulda been worse. My cousin's SIL teed off, right thru a plate glass window, a thousand dolla's. That's a lotta dough.

Nubert.  I love me some Nubert. Maybe the only self depricator that's better'n me at it.  Claycrest.  Blue Tees. Nube up.  He hits a worm burner that hadn't quite made it's way to the round red women's tee marker yet.. and... it HIT the round women's tee marker.  The ball was like it had a mind of it's own, IMMEDIATELY came right back at Nubert's head, he had to duck in a millisec, the remainder of us were on the ground in stiches.  (Stiches is a good thing that makes you forget the shitty things in life.) Thanks Nube.

Dale.  I loves me some Dale.  Cameron, MO.  Dale's turn.  Dale hits heap big slice off tee.  I remember it in slow motion.  Headed right for a house WAY on toppa the hill.  In it's flight, garage door opens.  Lady in SUV pulls out, ball still mid-air.  Ball goes into garage, ping pong bounces here, there, everywhere. Lady hits remote, closes door, golf ball still in there.  She never knew it.  Dale now with big eyes.  Us, the other three, rolling on ground.  Rolling on ground is a good thing 'cause it makes you forget the shitty things in life. Thanks Dale.

Me. A buddy, Jimmy, indicated I was a misogynist. Ha, fun.  For whatever reason, life led me to coach women.  I kinda fell into it, and I was lucky.  Ha ha Jimmy, I enjoyed it.  Some 'events' within coaching women.

One player, mostly frantically, "COACH, COACH, do you have change for a dime?"  HUH?  Thought, the hell would anyone need change for a dime............................. OH, sorry.................... here ya go.

Same chicky, sometime later in the season.  We'd worked for almost 30 minutes on the pick and roll.  That's a play much like the rub-off play in the NFL.  Ya screen a teammate, then roll to the bucket for a hopefully easy basket.  As I surveyed the eyeballs of the 12 or so standing around, it was a rain in Spain moment.  BY GEORGE I THINK THEY'VE GOT IT!  Dime lady raises hand.  "Yes?"  "Coach... are we talking about offense of defense?"  (Again, humor me.)

Dressed to the nines.  That's what people did back in the  day when they went to Major League ballgames.  My uncle took us three boy cousins to an A's game.  We were 8, 9, 10, 11, somewhere in there in age. Game was kinda boring, he'd (uncle) already driven a long way, had a long drive ahead. "You guys ok if I go get a catnap in the car?" Me, the oldest fart (I'm usually always the oldest fart in life, I guess I can't gripe about that.)  "Sure Unc, we'll be fine." TBC (that's to be continued, paragraph too damn long.)

Sno cone.  Ya go to the ballpark as a a kid, ya gotta have a sno cone and or cotton candy. We got 2 sno cones and a cotton candy, retreated to our seats, right in fronta us, 3 older dudes dressed to the nines in their solid white dress shirts. Purple, grape, that was the color, flavor of my younger cousin's cone. We were short.  Kids are short, so we stood.  I looked over and noticed my cousin was holding his sno cone on the tip, like, the very bottom.  Uh oh, I thought.  And uh huh, it happened.  It tipped over, literally covering, soaking, two of the three white (now purple) shirt dudes.  We were off in a millisec, just sure they were chasing us. A long, long run, we did it. Never told uncle. A story we cousins talk about today, you mighta had to been there.

1985.  Uh huh, that's the year the Royals won the I-70 Series. "Cheaters" I believe is how our Eastern neighbor still refers to us as thanks to Donnie Denkinger.  Anyways. Grand Street.  Kansas City, MO.  Heap big crowd there to cheer the World Champion Kansas City Royals as they made their way on convertibles thru confetti, cheers, beers, hollerin', little kids on shoulders of parents, fun. (Sports be fun, it makes you temporarily forget the shitty things in life.)..  There were so many of us.. .it was so dadgum crowded, if ya moved, you bumped into three people.  I was next to a cop.  On the other sidea the cop was onea my buddies. And another buddy, and then some drunk guy we didn't know.  Allofasudden, drunk guy three down, unzips, and uh huh, pees.  We're aghast. (Aghast is what sports do to make  you forget, temporarily get away from the shitty things in life.)  My buddies and I, six eyeballs, train in right on the face of the cop.  Will he get his cuffs out? Will he tackle the guy?  Our huge eyeballs awaited his next move.  He looks left (at my buddies and the pee'er, looks right, at me, then says "Captain said 'anything short of murder, let it go.' "  Holy guacamole.

Hey, I gotta go.  No, not that. I mean I'm hungry, gonna go eat.  I loves me some food almost as much as I love sports.

Sports been berry berry good to me.  Indian Ball.  Wiffle ball. Tackle football where grandma's sidewalk was the fitty yard line. Afraid to shoot jump shots in high school 'cause my underarm hair was blondish red and it didn't look like I had any.  Victor did you really tell that?  Uh huh.  Did. I love me some sports. Coaching girls, women. One year, same chicky.  She HATED to lose. I loved that. But.... but.. right after games we went into the locker room, the coaches too (both me and assistant, males) for a rundown of the game, baby speech...  and gal who hated to lose forgot we were there, and she immediately takes her top off, buddy and I of course turn around the other way. Laughter, red face (her and us).  Laughter comes with sports. If chicky who hated to lose did it once, I bet she did it six times that season.  Hey, don't laugh at me/us, we won a lotta games too.

1985 World Series, Game 7. RIGHT BEHIND HOME PLATE (very last, upper row in the Stadium). I was there though.  Wore a gorilla suit to a men's bball game at Jewell.  Don't remember why, but twas fun. Hot.  Forgot life's woes during.  So many tickets.  So many competitions. So, so much.

One more quickie.  If you're like me, quickies are fun to enjoy. VICTOR. Sorry, I mean quick stories. (But, quickies too, sorry, not really.)  Annually, WJC.  We no likey Missouri Valley College.  When the football teams would play every year, the Sigma Nu's of WJC (that's us, quite a few crazies) would travel to Mo Valley to play the Sigma Nu's of Mo Valley in a flag football game. One year, we took a school bus.  Needed a driver.  That would be my future wifey. She agreed to drive.  Close your ears, we Sigma Nu's were drinking beer.  When you drink beer, much like the guy at the Royal's parade, ya gotta pee. We, however, found ourselves on I-70 between rest areas, towns, but having to go real real bad. "Not a problem, I'll pull over" said future wifey. (TBC,  paragraph too long)

Sooooooooooooooooooooo....... 20-some of us..... standing, kinda hiding behind the bus parked on the shoulder of I-70.  Funny ha ha future wifey bus driver decides to be cute (she was that). She pulls off.  There we were. Twenty of us.  Our pride and joys exposed.  We were whizzing as the wizzying cars went by. Fully exposed so to speak as bus was now fitty sixty yards down the highway.

That's all.  Sports.  A Godsend to me, many.

Love, Victurd

Polaroids......... Kodak.....

When I think back on all the crap I learned in high school
It's a wonder I can think at all
And though my lack of education hasn't hurt me none
I can read the writing on the wall

I really don't believe that.  An admitted simpleton, tweren't never booksmart but I do believe we all learned so, so much in high school (in class, outta class, at friend's houses, dances, sports, band, plays, Friday nights, after school stuff, infatuations, trials and tribulations.  We did, I believe, mostly get along.  If we didn't, and our troubles started in 2nd hour, we didn't take them down to Madam Rue (you know that gypsy with the gold capped tooth...all these years, I'd never read those lyrics and i thought she had "the gold tattoo." Oh well.)

What we did, instead... by 7th hour, word had spread faster'na modern day viral post... Fitty some classmates escorted the two disgruntled ones to "The Smoke Tree."  The Smoke Tree was just across the street from our High School. I pity the folks that lived there, for, most afternoons led to a hunnerd and sixty cigarette butts littering their yard.  The Smoke Tree also served as 'the boxing ring' for disgruntled. No cost for a ticket to go watch, cheer the two in redfaced disagreement. After anxieties were played out in real fistacuffs, usually hands were shook, "OK we can peacefully exist, maybe not best friends, but, this won't happen again."

Kodachrome
They give us those nice bright colors
They give us the greens of summers
Makes you think all the world's
A sunny day, oh yeah
I got a Nikon camera
I love to take a photograph
So mama don't take my Kodachrome away

Remember all the varieties of cameras back then?  There were those damn 'bulb cube' things we used at Christmas, and after taking the four (or eight, I forget) pics it was time to burn ya damn hands, remove the rotating cube and put a new one in.

Polaroid started in 1937.  Some dude named Edwin Land did hunnerds of studies in light polarization. Boom, polarized sunglasses, 3-D movies, even protective goggles for Military doggies, and infrared night viewing devices for our WWII troops.

If you took all the girls I knew when I was single
And brought 'em all together for one night
I know they'd never match my sweet imagination
And everything looks worse in black and white

Au contraire, I've truly loved each and every 'mate' I've had opportunity to sit by at The Plaza Theater, Jerry Lewis Cinima, The Twin Drive In, AMC, The Tivoli, and now B&B.

Eastman Kodak was a customer of Land/Polaroid. The Land Camera was born. Snap a picture, pull the tab, peel the negative from the finished positive print, PRESTO, holy hell, I hope you didn't sink your life savings into Fotomat.

Kodachrome
They give us those nice bright colors
They give us the greens of summers
Makes you think all the world's
A sunny day, oh yeah
I got a Nikon camera
I love to take a photograph
So mama don't take my Kodachrome away

Kodachrome, the very first successful color materials, used in both cinematography and still photography. With Polariod and it's pull the tab popularity, combined with Kodak's brain for color, twas a match made in Heaven, peanut butter and jelly, Laurel and Hardy, Ruth and Gehrig, George and Gracie.

Until.......... that is...   in 1976 (after all that crap we learned in High School) Kodak came out with their own version of instant film cameras. Uh oh, a needed trip to The Smoke Tree.  Or, in this case, Court. Polaroid sued for $12 billion for patent infringement, the court decided, yep, you did (infringe) Kodak, cease production immediately and pay Polaroid $909.5 million of the $12 billiion they asked for.

Mama don't take my Kodachrome away
Mama don't take my Kodachrome away
Mama don't take my Kodachrome away

Mama don't take my Kodachrome
Mama don't take my Kodachrome
Mama don't take my Kodachrome away

Mama don't take my Kodachrome
Leave your boy so far from home
Mama don't take my Kodachrome away

Mama don't take my Kodachrome, mm-mmm
Mama don't take my Kodachrome away (okay)

But, they done did take the Kodachome (instant camera) away. Dust from the Smoke Tree settled. For various reasons, both companies eventually bit the dust (can you say 'digital'?) - Polaroid in 2001 and Kodak in 2009, long after all that crap we learned in High School.

Victor, I don't get it. I don't get the purpose of this blog, pun mebbe intended, I don't get the picture?  

Haha, funny you are. The point is, things change.  People can change.  Society changes. We now take sides and show our damn teeth like a mad dog.  There ain't no Smoke Trees to quickly settle arguments, and hell, we get purple marks allover our body just brushing up agin' a door jamb, we ain't in no position, shape, to trade blows at The Smoke Tree.

Our Country is polarized. One side peels the negative for their finished product, idea, thought, belief...other side does too.  Hatfield McCoy, Ali Frazier, Obi-Wan Darth, Superman Lex Luther.

Why can't we be friends?

Why can't we be friends?

Why can't we be friends?

Why can't we be friends?

Folks, we've got a damn itchy itchy rash.. and they should call it Polarrhoids.

Oh for the days, after all that crap we learned in High School... when we would walk, run, settle things in a hurry at The Smoke Tree, walk away in embrace, or, at least, peacefully coexisting.

Love, Victurd

Rock walls........

I've long been an admirer of rock walls.  Things of beauty, created a little bit at a time.

Yesterday, while riding around The Plaza in Kansas City, I learned a buddy of mine was equally enamored with same.  He pointed it out, I was pleased that he did and I so, so concurred.

Rock walls start out as nothing.  Perhaps drab greenery, weeds, nuttin' on the horizon but the horizon. Visualizing the splendor of creating a rock wall is a touch overwhelming, much like starting an IRA in one's youth, giving in to, "I'll never (make it), create it, finish it, this thing of beauty."

"I don't have the materials.  Tried it before, couldn't.  I can't even boil corn on the cob, two minutes in the microwave is the only way I've ever cooked it, a rock wall?  Are you kidding me?"

No.  No, I'm not.

"Remember when I burned that lasagna? I haven't a creative bone in my body."

Rock walls come in all shapes and sizes - the beauty of it.  With stone, there is imperfection, not every one is 'just the right size.'  That's what make rock walls, life, so special. We don't have to work 24/7 until "we're a success, the wall is done." No.  We work a bit here, take a break there, little by little, build it up."

It'll fall over.  Build it wider.  I haven't the materials. Find them, they're out there, we'll even help you if you so choose. Think of Steve Nash. Who?  He's presently knowmn as the best free throw shooter on the planet. (Yes, Steph Curry is pushing him for that title.)  Steve Nash 'starts with no rocks', ie, he takes his free throw stroke without the rock/ball, visualizing, getting the feel before he ever 'finds a rock for the wall." 90+ percent, year after year.  And of course, that took time, trial and error, s'more time, s'more error, then, jualah, a beautiful rock wall.

My tomatoes always die... my closet is a mess, even my shorts in the short drawer look out of order.

Rock walls are unique.  Special.  Imperfect. Beautiful. Personal. Good follows bad, success can follow failure. Mundane perhaps, but Rome wasn't built in a day.

Never, never give up. Go find the rocks. Can't find them all at once? That's ok, get started. Tripped before?  Who doesn't?

A few a day, maybe even one.  Little by little, rock walls are built.  Things of beauty.  Things of strength.  Unique. The longer ya go at it, the stronger the foundation, wall. Doesn't have to be like the one on the Plaza, the one you drove by for years and admired.  It can be your wall.  You got it inya.  Mark, set, go......at your pace.. don't give up... start building.  We'll all admire it even if it falls short of your expectations

Those were the days my friend..........

I sucked at flips off the diving board.  I could do 'em, but, my head never really tucked the way it was sposeta and I kinda 'angled', more like a 3/4 than a full flip. We, neighbors, cousins, schoolmates, yada, used to do forward rolls (somersaults) on the grass, on mats, downhill, uphill, into second base if we were sure we'd be safe.

Those were the days, my friend
We thought they'd never end
We'd sing and dance forever and a day
We'd live the life we choose
We'd fight and never lose
For we were young and sure to have our way
La la la la...

Fast forward 60+ years, 63,875,000 calories (70 yrs, 365 days a year, average 2500 calories per day) 182,000 working hours, bruises, broken bones, surgeries, stitches, one or more trips to the alter, PARENTING, and now, flips only happen when we've underestimated the decline of a hill, momentum takes over, and we pray as if we were in church that no one had their cell camera trained on us. Also, forward rolls now happen only after Fluffy has yanked on the leash to chase a squirrel, if we trip going up a curb,  or we're walking whilst reading our phone and don't see the (roller skate, limb, ottoman, vacuum cord, yada) on the ground, so, like riding a bike, somersault.

Pride is hard to swaller but it will go down.

La la la la la la
La la la la la la

Once upon a time there was a tavern
Where we used to raise a glass or two
Remember how we laughed away the hours
And think of all the great things we would do

Party at the River, Tryst Falls, that one guys dad's cabin in the Ozarks, Spring Break, behind the right field fence after softball, Louie's after work, The Corner, The Dish, Vic's garage. Maybe not choir boys, but we really didn't sin, we did kinda stink of Boone's Farm, Falstaff, Schlitz, Oly, PBR, or real cheap gin.

Those were the days, my friend
We thought they'd never end
We'd sing, and dance forever and a day
We'd live the life we choose
We'd fight and never lose
Those were the days
Oh, yes, those were the days

Now, 8pm has replaced 1:30am. One Miller Lite sends one to the easy chair, soon to be followed by feet up, REM's. (One Bud Light starts an argument.) We have new knees, hips, afflictions, hair (no, not on top, on our ears), yada, and they've become the hitch in our getalong. In the rare event we actually do have onea them late night outs, don't you dare call the next day before noon. Ya'hear?

Speaking of hearing, can you turn this Mary Hopkins song up? Too may years, too close to the amps, speakers, factory noise, lawnmower, fireworks, learned inattention to our spouse's orations, yada.

La la la la la la
La la la la la la

Swinging on the rope into the lake... making the head be as stiff as we could as kids when we rode the rollercoaster and didn't wanna hit a steel girder.. skateboard (no brakes) down the hill at Jewell.. hours and hours of whiffle ball... Indian ball, biking, hiking, jogging, running, a quick 7 hours in bed, at it again the next day with patched up jeans.

Those were the days, my friend
We thought they'd never end
We'd sing and dance forever and a day
We'd live the life we choose
We'd fight and never lose
For we were young and sure to have our way

The only swing we use now is the one on the porch. Life has been a rollercoaster, no need to ride them any longer. The only brake we use now going downhill is the one on the passenger side when she's driving. Sudoku, crossword puzzles, occasional bingo, CNN/FOX have all replaced that active stuff above.

Through the door there came familiar laughter
I saw your face and heard you call my name
Oh, my friend, we're older but no wiser
For in our hearts the dreams are still the same...
Those were the days, my friend
We thought they'd never end
We'd sing and dance forever and a day
We'd live the life we choose
We'd fight and never lose
Those were the days
Oh, yes, those were the days
La la la la la la
La la la la la la

Ever eat a pine tree?   No, that ain't it.

The brain says young, the body says you've got to be kidding me. Hey, we're upright, mostly, luckily. The heart still beats, at least after we down a few cups of coffee. Contrary to the writing on the rear view mirror, the objects, events, flexibility, outings are further and further than they appear. 

But ain't it great to sit and remember?

Those were the days, my friend
We thought they'd never end
We'd sing and dance forever and a day
We'd live the life we choose
We'd fight and never lose
Those were the days
Oh, yes, those were the days

Love, Victurd

Hello - Goodbye

You say yes

I say no
You say stop
And I say go, go, go

2016, said date and I attend the movie Dirty Grandpa. It was sleazy, filthy language, the liberalization of a do gooder, chock-fulla shock value. Rotten Tomatoes threw an entire bushel at it. But, quoting the Hombres, Let It All Hang Out.  We loved it, filled up a month of needed laughs that hot August night.  Who cares, what happens at AMC stays at AMC. For shame for shame, nope.

Oh, no
You say goodbye
And I say hello
Hello, hello
I don't know why you say goodbye I say hello
Hello, hello
I don't know why you say goodbye I say hello

Why, I dunno, but two nights later, parents of said date went to see same movie. Got up and walked out before the fourth curse word was even uttered.  Andy, Aunt Bea, the Greatest generation vs Homer, Marge Simpson, Southpark, the damn hippies. I don't know why you said hello, we said goodbye.

I say high
You say low
You say: "Why?"
And I say: "I don't know"

Life is funny.  And it's not. Me and Ernie sat side by side, same teachers, same classes, different desks, same material, lectures. I sat on the right, he on the left. We grew up, HE on the right, ME on the left. Go figure. You say goodbye, I say hell no, hell no hell no, I don't know why you say goodbye I say hell no oh oh. Hay la, hey hello-aHay la, hey hello-a

Oh, no
You say goodbye
And I say hello (Hello, goodbye, hello, goodbye)
Hello, hello (hello, goodbye)
I don't know why you say goodbye I say hello (Hello, goodbye, hello, goodbye)
Hello, hello (Hello, goodbye)
I don't know why you say goodbye I say hello

"OUT!"  OH HELL NO, HE WAS SAFE! Wanna take it to the parking lot? Sure, I'm 50, I've had a few beers, if I don't go to work next week me and my baby won't be able to afford to pay the mortgage, feed the rugrats, but come on you mofo, let's. You say hello, I get a black eye (and broken nose, and orbital socket, cain't see outta my right eye, oh sh*t.) Hay la, hey hello-a, Hay la, hey hello-a

Why, why, why, why, why
Do you say goodbye, goodbye?

Elections, erections, infections, citations, libations, migrations, summations, dictations, mediations, redactions, gestations, commotions, dissertations, oompa oompa chicky chicky oompa.... no, dat' ain't it, Hay la, hey hello-a, Hay la, hey hello-a, yeah, that's it, why do you say po-TAY-toe when I say po-TAH-toe.

Oh, no
You say goodbye, and I say hello
Hello, hello
I don't know why you say goodbye I say hello
Hello, hello
I don't know why you say goodbye I say hello

So, you gotta toilet bowl, exactly one foot Northa the Equator. You flush, water goes down clockwise. Ernie, the other buddy, is on the South sidea the Equator, exactly one foot from it, flushes, it goes down counterclockwise. You say Hello, and I say eybdooG.

You say yes (I say yes)
I say no (But, I may mean no)
You say stop (I can stay)
And I say go, go, go (Till it's time to go)

Teeter, totter. Yankees, Mets. Sharks and the Jets. Daryl and his other brother Daryl. Boris and Natashi,  Rocky and Bullwinkle. The greatest orator of all, the antithesis with a lispethis. You thay Goodbye and i thay Hello. Hay la, hey hello-a, Hay la, hey hello-a

Oh, no
You say goodbye and I say hello
Hello, hello
I don't know why you say goodbye I say hello
Hello, hello
I don't know why you say goodbye I say hello
Hello, hello
I don't know why you say goodbye I say Hello, oh, oh, oh, oh
Hello

You say John, I say Paul. You are wrong, that is all. To hell with you gringo, next guy say Ringo. Hay la, hey hello-a

Hay la, hey hello-a

Hay la, hey hello-a
Hay la, hey hello-a
Hay la, hey hello-a
Hay la, hey hello-a
Hay la!
Hay la, hey hello-a
Hay la, hey hello-a
Hay la, hey hello-a
Hay la, hey hello-a

Enter, exit. WHY do people going into WallyWorld walk via the exit, and vice versa? Oh then we gots this Bud Light controversy.  TASTE GREAT! LESS FILLING. (Beavis says, That's Miller Lite you dumbass). Bathroom signs.  DON'T GO THERE! But I gotta, BAD! Uh oh, too late! Biz bag. STOP the bag talk. You say goodbye and I say hello, Hay la, hey hello-a, Hay la, hey hello-a

Life is an up down world, or maybe left right, heck, I dunno.  I can see clearly now the rain is gone.  Grab your umbrella, Busby calls for rain.  I say it's Belichick. Nope, Brady. Screw you both, it's Andy and Patrick. Bout damn time to get to that ULTIMATE game for the 5th time in Chief's history!  "If it's the ultimate (game), how come they're playing it again next year?

I give up.  Am just about to start. Nap ahead, Yawn time is Hawn time.  Think I'll go for a jog. Wanna fool around?  OK, let's do the hokey pokey.  You put your left foot in.  NO DAMNIT, you start with the right.

Hay la, hey hello-a, Hay la, hey hello-a

Hello

Goodbye

Love, Victurd