One of my friends is a liar....jk, kinda!

Yesterday (all my troubles seemed so far away. Well I was just 17, you know what I mean. I was a freshman at Northwest Missouri State University, Maryville, MO.  Long hair, a flat belly, oh how I miss that flatbelly. I was, with a less lick of sense - but probably not too much less than now.)  Where was I?

Oh yeah, yesterday. Yesterday, I we, me, two buddies, were driving the oh, one and a half or so hours 'back to 1971' or so, Maryville, Missouri,  to play one of THE coolest public golf courses ever, Mozinga. I highly recommend it. Victor, of the three of us that read your blog, none of us play golf. On with it. Who's a liar?

Good question Mr. Patience,  and I wish I knew.

En route, someone farted.  Silently.  

I always 'stand up', admit mine.  Farts are a necessity,  I gas, er guess, in life. Little kids giggle, especially if the culprit is their third great teacher. Seen it, we'll, actually heard it one time on a Facebook post, during the pandemic, during a virtual class of third graders. Sentence too long, start another.

There was silence right away... then a couple giggles... then some little Johnny said "Did she just fart?" then, out and out laughter, even from the teacher.

I don't hide mine.  Sometimes when I tee off (sorry Mr. Patience,  but only a quick golf story), when I tee off, whoever the genius scientist that wrote "for every action there is an equal an opposite reaction."  Ie, I fart.

Tom, my golf buddy, golf partner, always tees off right after me.  I kinda proudly will boast a s*it eaten grin and announce "Tom, ya might wanna wait a sec." Predicted, expected conniption fit, loudly dogging me to make sure the other two in the group hear. Then, he tees off, yanks one in the woods. 

Kidding. He never yanks one in the woods. He's good. Real good,  but he'll help me look for mine when I do, even post fart.  Where was i?

Driving to Maryville Victor. Oh yeah, thanks.  And, that someone had farted.  Dare I say anything, KNOWING dog gone well it wasn't me?  Ya damn right I do.

"Who farted guys?"

A combination oh "he who smelt it dealt it" and "you ALWAYS fart Victor" followed, and, I do, but (or butt) like, they are fart virgins?  Be. For. Real.

Tom, the conniption fit thrower, tried turning the tables like you see in these damn political postings.  Gary, quietly sitting in the backseat, became unquiet, "twerent me."

Seven or eight miles of driving, interrogation yielded no confession.

One of my buddies is a liar.

I highly recommend Mozinga Golf Course in Maryville,  one of the best public courses in Missouri.  

I highly recommend NWMSU (unless you're a longhaired, not a licka sense kid, who ends up with a 1.6 GPA semester 1)

One of my buddies is a liar. Ain't sure which, so, reckon I'll keep em as buddies.

Life's a gas, classically,  right Mason?

Love, Victurd, not Vicfart, Victurd.

Don't pet the Eagle......

I am probably weird.

Check that.  I am weird.  I have incredibly wild, crazy dreams at night.  I get into situations, predicaments, corners, "OMG, WHAT am I gonna do, HOW am I gonna get outta this, another, fine mess you got me into Stanley? (Victor, you're friends ain't old enough to remember that one.... eh oh well.)

So, be the house 60 degrees, 70 degrees, 80 degrees, mebbe even 40 degrees - I always awaken in a cold sweat, and a sense of THANK GOODNESS that was just a dream.

So.... (Victor, Dr. Bowman, your prof in college who, somehow, actually kinda even allowed you to write for the school paper... might say "Victor, did you notice you started two sentences in a row with "So"?

So what.  I wouldn't have said that to her.  I loved her  But... you know.

So (AYE YAI YAI) I was not at my house (uncomfy), I was laying on a sofa... all of a sudden AN EAGLE lands on my chest.. it's beak right by my left ear... it's body full length up and down atop mine.  (Starry starry night comes to mind.)   Somewhat calmly, whoeverinthehell else is in my dream, calmly says "Don't pet the Eagle."

Ahm, did he like just get here?  I'm envisioning one quick unintended hack from my smoker's cough...  one tummy growl from whatever it was I ate that disagreed with me... an itch somewhere that I could not, would not scratch - because I, outta the corner of my dream, saw two talons dissecting two eyeballs, and flying off with them to Ray County, MO.  (That's the County next to us... hella long way to run, walk, follow.... especially if you're old, you've got an affliction, and, two empty eye sockets.

Back to the first line, and no, it doesn't, didn't start with "SO"........

I am probably weird.  

It, the dream, was an immense situation of tenseness. Canardly.  I canardly move.  I was afraid, whoever in the dream that said "Don't pet the Eagle"... I was afraid, his hound at my feet, "Canardly", named so because he was a mutt and they "Canardly" tell what kinda bloodline he has... would flinch, yap, growl, jump, chase - and, I'd be left with enough deep, deep, talon slashes, they'd be deep enough I could like probably grow a couple tomato plants.

I am probably weird. (Toldya). 

SO.. VICTOR?  Yes?  Is there a point to all this?  The talon you mean? NO.  The whole damn blog.

Yes.  Yes, there is.

It's "Don't pet the Eagle."  As we age, or, at least I've found, as I age - I pick and choose whatintheheck I wanna, where I wanna go, what I wanna eat.... yes, we're still left with 'have to's'.. but, in most nutshells - we pick and choose.

Social media.  The moment I see someone getting crosswise............ Don't pet the Eagle comes to mind.  Wake the hell up, get the hell outta here.  There ain't enough time in a day for ugly, no matter one's age.

Don't pet the Eagle.  WAKE UP.  Enjoy life, put up one's anti-ugly shield.  No time for sergeants. I mean,  no time for that crap.. ugly. Breathe easy, versus holding one's breath in uncomfiness.

Pick and choose. Insteada peck and choose Victor?  Funny haha.  Not.  But yes, you get my drift.

OK, I'm gonna run (walk slowly, afflictedly) to my bed now and take a nap.

Victor, don't pet the Eagle.  Turn the channel. Awaken from that dream. DON'T go if you don't wanna.  Order exactly what you want from the menu... or, grab whatever your heart desires from the buffet line of life (two, if you want).. .but, don't pet the Eagle.

The Eagle flies on Friday. OUCH!  VICTOR!!!! WAKE UP! YOU'RE DREAMING!

Love, Victurd

Kipchoge and Phyllis

A little diddy about Kipchoge and Phyllis Keino.

Africa.  Kip....... age 5.  Both parents deceased, he lived with his grandmother and a sister in a mud hut, no electricity, no running water........  school was 4 miles away.  Nope. No bus.  He ran.  Barefoot, each way.  Some days, he had to return to eat lunch, thus, 16 miles total, to and fro. "A normal African life," he deemed it.

Phyllis, at a young age, naturally inherited maternal instincts.  Her family poor as well.  "There were 6 of us, I had three brothers.  Unfortunately, we lost three... one to Aids, one to suicide, and one to an accident.  My stepmother had two boys and two girls.  While we were poor, our family was stable.  Because of us being so poor it made me want to help others one day.  I ended up going to nursing school and that's where I developed a love for working with children."

Kip, he kept'a runnin.  He stopped once at age 12, but only to climb a tree to spend the night. Otherwise, he would have been dinner for the cheetah that was chasing him.  Once he made it out of school, he became policeman, and actually played rugby before he started his running career.

At age 22, Kip started his fer real running career, finishing eleventh in the three mile in the 1962 Commonwealth Games in Perth, Western Australia. He ran in the 5000 meter in the 1964 Olympics, only to finish 5th, one place outside of qualifying for the final.  By the time the 1968 Olympics came around, Kip improved dramatically, including setting world records in the 3000 and the 5000.

In Mexico City, the Olympic site in '68, he entered the 1500 meter race, which, some US 'rummy' (aka World Record Holder) named Jim Ryan was heavily favored.  Kip won, finishing 20 meters ahead of Ryan, the largest margin ever in the event, and, oh, he picked up a Silver in the 5000.

Not done yet, at the '72 Olympics in Munich, he was the flag bearer for Kenya in the opening ceremonies - oh, and he picked up Gold in the 3000 meter steeplechase and silver in the 1500. He retired from running in 1973.

Victor, this is OK and all, but, we too can rummage thru past Olympics and pick out many Tom, Dick or Sams who have done similar, get on with it wouldya.  Eh, go choge on an avocado why don'tya?

Kip, met, fell madly in love with Phyllis, a nurse.  One night on his police watch, he found two abandoned children - a little boy, 5, and his sister, 3.  "They were so emaciated, hungry, they were eating earth by the roadside.  I sought, gained permission to care for them and I took them home."

Phyllis asked Kip, "What is going to happen to these children. They don't have anything to eat, they don't have any clothes?" . . . 'and so she got them something to eat. Then she put them in the shower and cleaned them up. They were miserable. Then she got them something to wear. Later on there was worming, hair cut, all these other things. She did a good job . . . The boy is now a policeman, and the girl is a farmer's wife and mother to several children.

Help they did, and visions grew greater. In the 80's, the Keino's opened the Lewa's Childrens Home/Baraka Farm/Kipkeino School combo.  Amazingly, in the years since, they've fostered over 600 children, there are currently 284 pupils in the high school they founded, and, 316 children in the primary bearing Kip's name.

Phyllis, when asked, what do you consider the most beneficial thing you've given these children?  Education, food, family, a shelter, or, something else entirely?  

"Life. All of that comes into it. I cannot describe it. Life must be the number one thing. Mothers abandon their children, and also there is poverty, and when children are going to school and they get pregnant they do not want to keep that child, and their parents do not want them to keep that child either. And you find the young girls abandoning their children, even at the hospital. Even grown up mothers don’t know what to do about it. It’s hard when there’s even one more person to feed, there’s no food and then they need to eat well and it’s difficult. A common age for a woman to give birth is 14, very young mothers."

The operations are funded by both their own money, donations, alignment with groups such as AfricanRelief... the kids always have food as they too help with the farm.  The kids come in all shapes, sizes, ages, and, sadly, sometimes, in poor health.  Many other homes in Africa turn away HIV positive, Sickle Cell Anemia or kids with heart problems, thus, the Keino's take them in.

The Keino's, citing differing opines on how to utilize all the facilities separated awhile back, but, each division has grown, enhanced, and, has remained open since and obviously, their joint care and concern has not waned.  As age is setting in, they now work with the Government in trying to find adequate fosters for every child that becomes available and they are still highly involved in the screening process.

A little diddy about Kipchoge and Phyllis Keino, two African kids doin' the best that they can.

Love, Victurd

Get your motor runnin'.......

Get your motor runnin'
Head out on the highway
Looking for adventure
In whatever comes our way

Yeah, darlin' gonna make it happen
Take the world in a love embrace
Fire all of your guns at once
And explode into space

Mars Bonfire wrote this diddy.  Whointhehell is Mars Bonfire?  Good question.  A Canadian musician/song writer, born Dennis McCrohan, changed his name to Dennis Edmonton who was in a band with his brother, Jerry McCrohan (who also changed his name to Edmonton), the band was The Sparrows, a reasonably popular band.  They moved to NYC for a brief time, then, in 1967-ish, they relocated to San Fran, then ultimately LA, opened for The Doors, The Steve Miller Band, etc.

The Sparrows were morfing into a new group, Steppenwolf, bother Jerry said "Come on", Mars declined, preferring to strike out on his own solo career. Mars, an admitted starving songwriter - wrote this song in a big old apartment complex - where, he couldn't even hookup his amp ("They'd complain"), so he'd whisper the lyrics and ultimately recorded it on an old reel to reel.

I like smoke and lightnin'
Heavy metal thunder
Racing with the wind
And the feeling that I'm under

Yeah, darlin' gonna make it happen
Take the world in a love embrace
Fire all of your guns at once
And explode into space

"I'd purchased my very first car - an old, used Ford Falcon," (this brings me, the cruddy blogwriter, close to his heart, as I'd learned to drive in the postage stamp sized backyard of a buddy in his folks old, used Ford Falcon).. he'd take it out on drives to the ocean  up to the mountains... "I'd been trapped in my apartment. I had no idea how incredibly diverse the City was, my car was total freedom. One day, the sky was dark and lightning struck, got so bad I had to pull over. I remembered studying the periodic table of elements in school, and there was a category for heavy metals. The phrase ‘heavy metal thunder’ popped into my head,” said Bonfire. “I had no idea how important those words would soon become.”

This term “heavy metal” took on a life of its own and contributed to the evolution of heavy metal music as a genre. The phrase later influenced bands like Black Sabbath, Deep Purple, and Led Zeppelin.

"Steppenwolf brother Jerry said "Well, if yain't gonna join us, got any songs, lyrics for us?  As a matter of fact, I do."

The rest, I guess they say, is history.  Born to be Wild recorded, released in 1967... two years later, the cult classic movie Easy Rider was released. Set against a backdrop of motorcycle gang and pure Americana, "Born To Be Wid" broke through the culture barrier going from hit song to generational anthem at a moment in time when the country was finally coming into its own. 

“The biker thing was a big surprise to me,” says the song’s writer, Mars Bonfire, who at the time had never even been on a motorcycle. “The truth is, I wrote ‘Born to Be Wild’ about my first car, a beat-up Ford Falcon. It’s not as glamorous as a fire-breathing two-wheeler, but c’mon. Nothing’s as cool as your first car.”

Like a true nature's child
We were born, born to be wild
We can climb so high
I never wanna die

Born to be wild
Born to be wild

Strange how the brain works, sorry, kinda.  Blog thoughts, prior to typing... "measuring, measuring up..' all kinds of measuring, from our bellies to our disposition, self image.. yada... then, "fun" and the various, diverse ways, we, the people, have, see, fun. Born to be wild, mild, go getter, stand backer, introvert, extrovert, this, that, whatever. Diversity in life, a beautiful thing.

To........... the creed of the fraternity I was in in school... and, a suggested way to 'live out': To believe in the Life of Love...to walk in the Way of Honor...to serve in the Light of Truth...this is the Life, the Way, and the Light of Sigma Nu.

Then I somehow came across Mars... this song.

Get your motor running........

And now you know the rest...............  good day, Paul Harvey

Love, Victurd

I'm so excited.. I just can't hide it.......

Victor, I gotta warn you.  IF, this is about YOU, you're making a mistake.  It's not becoming, and it very definitely causes disinterest in reading your blogs... Haven't you noticed the 'cricket sound' after you've posted of late?

Eh, I spose you're right, but.. then again, with aging comes the 'give a darn' similar to water off a duck's back.'

That.  The beginning of that song, "I'm so excited, I just can't hide it, I'm about to lose control and I think I like it." In spite of the historical past of blogs here, I don't think I can/will include the remainder of the lyrics here... because they're highly suggestive.

Suggestive of what Victor?  That. You know, like, meet me at midnight, Mary and don't let anyone know... or, lemme think on it, baby baby lemme think on it... leeme think on it, i'll give you answer in the morning..... or, more bluntly, why don't we do it in the road.......

SEE?  They've (readers, especially females) all turned around, headed the other way!

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO... that aint the kinda excited I meant!

Xplain Lucy.......

I just completed a trip around the sun.  Sure, thankful.  Blessed, like we all are. #73, if that matters.... I am no longer afraid of 'years'... 50, 60, 70, etc...  learning from a younger relative, "embrace it."

Yesterday was very nice and all... but the word exciting and Birthday - to me anyways, really haven't correlated since youth.  I mean (and gosh, I abhor sentences that start with 'I mean") but, I mean, have you ever heard someone say "I can't wait to be 57?  63?  38?"

Birthdays/Excitement:

ONE.  I NEVER knew the tradition of smashing a kid's face in their little circular birthday cake, and, wimpy me damn near cried in horror the first time I witnessed it.  A callous tradition, but, tradition nonetheless.... and.. after the initial shock, what better than icing allover one's face to get at!

FOUR... Told this before, sorry.  Gal I was dating.. we went to her granddaughter's house the morning of her gd's 4th birthday.  We got the privilege of waking her up. "Kendall.?"... eyes, slow to open, but did.. focused on us.. wider now..  "You're FOUR now!"...  Eyes REALLY wide open now, smile attached, quizzically she asked, "Does that mean I can read now?"

Excitement, birthdays, kids.  Any number of favorite ages.  9.  10.  THIRTEEN. 15. Sweet 16, baby you can ride in my car........ 18.......21........ are any others memorable?  Exciting?

SURE. Even though our 'excitement BD's' are from anudder millennium, our eyes get to absorb our own kids, nieces, nephews, reaching those exciting milestones.  THEN, grandkids...

I remember awhile back, going to a birthday party, mebbe 20 of us, good friends, relatives mixed together... two brothers, 4 and 6, not birthday boys, but, excited by it all no less.  Each grabbed a balloon off the wall. Like banshees, they simultaneously chased one another in and outta gatherers feet, around the coffee table, again and again, and, BONKED each other fitty times....... most were uneasy.  I loved it.  "QUIT ACTING YOUR AGE" I hollered so the eye-rolling Kravitz's might feel bad!  EXCITEMENT - glory in life.

I can't speak for all, but... somewhere deep down... inside each one'a us.. somewhere amongst the belly fat, surgical scars, missing tonsils - we each still have a little bit of kid in us.

THAT, to me, is exciting.

I'm so excited, I just can't hide it... I'm about to lose control and I think I like it.

Happy Birthdays,

Love, Victurd

Just say......... woah......

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

Or, what I think mebbe (strictly MY opine) oughta call this, 2025, the Year of The Fingernails on the Chalkboard.  Calm down Schwabby, I don't mean no Rock Chalk stuff... I mean every day, aye yai yai... or, better said perhaps, in honor of Bruce, Yippie Ki-Yay, and, what follows.

So....... turn the channel.  Change the news source.  DO NOT STARE AT BEEF PRICES AT THE PIGGLY.  Roll your winder's up at intersections so as NOT to hear the booming F-bomb goodies of the neighboring car.  Ask not, what your Country can do to aggravate you, ask, what you can do to briefly change, keep things lighthearted.

They are calling him, Legend Dairy.  Ain't nobody really knew who he was, but, hikers, climbers in Colorado were surprised when they reached the summit of Huron Peak, a mountain of 14,000 foot elevation  - only to find a dude dressed in an ice cream cone outfit, sunglasses, fake mustache, seated in a camping chair, a cold beer nestled in the arm rest - handing out ice cream bars to those who'd made it.  Back pack w/dry ice by his side, once all the ice cream was gone, Legend Dairy made his way back down the Mount.

"Ring... Ring"... that's the phone at Edmond Lighthall's residence in Chicago, Illinois.  "Hello?"... Mr. Lighthall, this is the Hammond, Louisiana Animal Control Office...  our Police Department found this Poodle Doodle mix walking down the road - brought him in, we checked with the microchip folks, and we believe it to be your hound, Peter."  NUH UH!  We lost him TEN YEARS AGO!  You sure?  Next day, Lightfoot hopped in his truck, drove 45 miles to Hammond, and yep, there to meet him, Peter!  "I felt like he recognized me right away!  He did his little greeting, spun around, then laid down right infronta me!  It's him!"

Welcome home party that weekend at Dog Park in Chicago - Lighthall figures Pete to be 14 or 15, "he's slowed down a little, but he still has his bursts of puppy energy!"

Jerry... the Jerry that owns the NFL Dallas Cowboys has been fined $250,000 by the NFL for making an obscene gesture at fans Sunday in the NY Jets stadium.  Viral video showed Jerry with his middle finger up. VICTOR??  That a typo?  $250,000?  Nope, not a typo.  Jerry?  Your turn in Court:I

"That was inadvertent on my part.  We'd just scored a touchdown and we were all excited about it. There wasn't any antagonistic show or anything, I just put up the wrong show on the hand. That was inadvertently done, I'm not kidding. If you want to call it accidental, call it accidental, but it got straightened around pretty quick.. I had a chance to look at it, and the intention was "thumbs up" and I was pointing at our fans everyone was excited.  Siskel?  Ebert?  TWO THUMBS UP, or, Rotten Tomatoes?  Your call.

Vely interesting.  The Star had an article about sudden blunders.  Mentioned a US athlete, in a recent long distance race, was set to take third place inches from the finish line after Ethiopia and Kenya had just crossed... Said US runner slowed her pace to a jog moments before crossing, threw her arms up victoriously, and, was passed by fellow US runner, thus, took fourth place, no medal, instead.  TBC

They mentioned the above because it was similar to the inexplicable fumble by Arizona Cardinal receiver Emari Demercado.  He was enroute to a 72 yard touchdown, when, after 71 and 15/16 yards, he released the football to the ground, thinking too he'd made it.  In these days of analyze, over analyze and and 'lyze' s'more - the writer of the article set out to interview a "Brain Fart Scientist" to get at "the why."  Victor?  Brain Fart Scienist?  HIS WORDS, not mine.

I read what the writer said the BF Scientest said, and I ain't real smart, still don't understand, but, something about multitasking deficit. (Now THAT, sounds like me).. Something about 'top down' effort, ie, to run the ball into the end zone, and then, 'bottom up' reaction, yippee, I see the end zone - or, like that runner raising her arms, slowing down, or, the ball carrier dropping the football. Clear as mud to me. Siskel? Ebert?

And finally (you're welcome) from the 'sure he did' department... a feller in Cranford, New Jersey, named Will Thilly, on the docket to run for the Cranford Township Committee, attended a meeting to ask questions about a recent property tax hike...  when called upon, Thilly, without saying a word, got up, performed a wordless robotic dance, without music, spun on the floor, finally made it to the podium, asked, "How was everyone's weekend?"  Asked a few more questions about taxes and school expenses, gathered his paperwork, then moonwalked back to his seat in the audience.  He's got my vote, I hate mundane.

Now....... brief coverage of fatal car wrecks, shootings, protests, ICE, National Guard, Congressional interviews, Rose Garden briefings, midterm elections, yada.  NO ONE SAID "SIMON SAYS" so bug off, we ain't doin' all that.

In ending, my friend Vicky wtote (of our beloved Chiefs, sorry outta towners) "WIN, LOSE OR TIE, I'M A CHIEFS FAN UNTIL I DIE!"

Ha, me too, and you nonbelievers thought we were ready to throw 'em to the Lions or sumpin.

Oops, wait a sec.

Love, Victurd

Seven days makes one weak........

Hunnerd percent aware ya didn't ask, but, as I sat (plopped) to write, I Googled "idioms about happiness."

Found:  On top of the World.... Tickled pink..  Like a dog with two tails (that'd be kinda hard for him/her to chase.)..  Happy Camper...  Grin from ear to ear..   Happy as Larry (I'd never heard that one, he musta sold an Alfa Romeo or Fiat, Lincoln, MITSUBISHI - I capitalized that 'cause it's fun to say, and, sounds happy especially if said real fast!), Maxda, VW, Huyundai, yada)...  Walking on air..  Happy as a pig in mud.. .. and, happy as a clam (and I understand it should be 'happy as a clam at high tide' because, then they ain't gonna be dug up by humans, ie, low tide.

Why?  I just like happy.  I'm in love with all things happy.  Happy friends, buddies, that, no matta', what you (or anyone) does to them, there ain't no knockin' the happy offa their face.  Yum. Thanks.  You know, like a Nancy or a Joyce FB post... or, when Randy takes the best dog in the whole dayum World out for a ten minute follow thru the woods on his four wheeler - Buddy, happy as a dog with two tails, leads Randy and thankfully he GoPro records to show us.

Stymie Halt Victor.  Your Title is "Seven days makes one weak."  That ain't got nuttin' to do with any'a that above.

Well, kinda does........

Tell it all brother, before we fall
Tell it all brothers and sisters
Tell it all
How much you're holding back on me
When you say you're giving all?
And in the dungeons of your mind
Who you got chained to the wall?
Tell it all brother, before we fall
Tell it all brothers and sisters
Tell it ah-ah-aal

Confused again Victor. This ain't gonna be one'a them where we gotta open the comments, and click the first one to read the resta the story is it?

No.  In 7 days, I will be 73.

Well, strange you shout out to yourself a week early, but, ,Happpy Birthday I guess.

Did you plant your feet on higher ground
To avoid life's mud and stone?
Did you ever kick a good man
When he was down, just to make yourself feel strong?
Tell it all brother, before we fall
Tell it all brothers and sisters
Tell it ah-ah-aal

Band camp, maybe ten years ago.  I went online, took this "How long will I live?" questionaire test.  It hadya fill out personal health crap... the truth...  diet.. smoke? How much.?  Exercise? Drink? How much? Surgeries, illnesses, and, family health history. I did so, and accurately.

They said I'd die at age 72.  Hehe.  Seven days makes one weak, er, 73, or, mebbe keel, hell I dunno!

Tomorrow just might be too late
Now is the time
To get your jumbled mind straight
And seek a new design
Did you ever walk for a crippled man
Pretending you were lame?
And what made you think one feeble hand to God
Was gonna make him call your name?
Tell it all brother and sisters
Tell, Tell it all
Tell it all brother, before we fall
Tell it all brothers and sisters, tell
Tell it all brother, before we fall
Tell.. it.. all

OK, so, I guess I better tell.  Mr. Karstens, 7th Grade Science Teacher.  You still with us?  The science project on Electricity that you awarded me an S+ on?  My dad did it.  I didn't really even shake and bake help. He did it.  Sorry.

Mom?  Remember when I was 11 (I think).. you dropped me off with $5 at Antioch and I was supposedta buy my cousin Roger his Christmas present with it? I stole a bottle of Brut from Macys, then, I went to the basement Bowling Alley, bowled three games and had a soda and french fries. You could buy a lot with $5 back then.  Oh, and mom, TRUTH, I felt so bad about this, I never stole another thing the resta all these years, TRUTH!

That one time, it really wasn't a fart.  And in Mexico, we didn't fully stop at three Alto signs.

I am human, hear me blurt.  Sorry, fer sure didn't meanta hurt anyone, ever.

Yes, this is in jest. Mostly. Weirdly, I'd actually forgotten about that online test until this morning. The online health test is true, the age too - and, it should serve as a reminder to me (and whoever in whatever).. we should take care of ourselves, because there ain't no one else that's gonna.  Thus, we can't be helped if we don't help ourselves.  47 sure ain't gonna.  OH SHIT I'M SORRY, THAT SLIPPED!  Kinda.

Oh well.  Another quarter for the cuss jar.  I might have enough saved up for a dandy breakfast out.. .or..  mebbe some new cologne.

Old age is, kinda, limbo.  As my same age buddy Robert said, "Whyinthehell should I nuy one of those 25 year light bulbs?"...  We can worry ourselves to-the-end-point.... or, we can peek back up at the top of this blog where the idioms of happiness are.  Sure, tween now and then, bucket lists, telling those ya love, ya love 'em with frequency... but mainly, be happy here.

Thank you to those who exhibit happiness, it rubs off on us all.

 I'll be home for Christmas... but, I'm going somewhere warm in January.

By Henry Gibson

Love, Victurd

Fall.......... Fell......... Fallen...

This, that and not much about anything.

Fall officially, I guess, began on September 22nd... so some days back.

Not a hunnerd percent sure why it's in Oklahoma, but, the song about Kansas City reads:

Everything's up to date in Kansas City
They gone about as fer as they can go

Eh, I spose. True dat they've expanded the Streetcar routes.  I hear tell now, with the Government shutdown, and there bein' 67,000 Federal employees here, they're considering expanding it from Springfield to Des Moines.  Eh, why not?

Breaking news:

BAD SCARE yesterday at work.  The every weekday golf scramble of the Seniors... At the SAME table, I seen a Republican AND a Democrat seated.  I put my safety glasses on.  I stuffed up some cardboard from empty beer cartons under my tee shirt - in case I had to break up potential lethal blows.  Kept my finger on the '9' in case I needed to call the local PD for backup.  Stood, behind the counter. That oughta block haymakers, shrapnel, 4 irons, bazookas and the likes.  Drum roll.................................

They got along.  Even seen 'em shaking hands, not fists, when they departed.  Further, they's both smilin'.  No sense in relating this to any news service, they ain't got no use for good news like that.

Back to Fall.

The geese are gathered, horn'sa honkin', the leader is looking up GPS to Corpus Christi, soon, they'll 'V' )  Golfers everywhere around here will pull out their Pings, delight in having no geese tootsie rolls to have to navigate their putts thru at least till early Spring.  Honk honk.

Whilst Herbert is'a golfin' with his senior buddies, Hazel is at home grabbing the boxes filled with long sleeves, long pants, light jackets, yada, outta the basement, attic, crawl space, wherever. Herbert ain't off the hook, he'll have to bring in the cheapy lawn furniture, winterize the hot tub, sharpen the shovels, spades, etc once he gets home.... and find, place somewhere in the garage, for the ice melt, for, Winter fallows fall. Take THAT autocorrect.

All about the Midwest, communities gather for one last fling with nice weather - the Fall Festival. Ladies will sneer, side eye, and try not to get in fist fights with other ladies as they elbow their way in line at the Funnel Cake booth...  Gents, dads, try to impress by grabbin' the biggest, heaviest sledge hammer to put the largest dent in the 1986 Caprice the Boy Scouts bought for the sole purpose of demolition for fundraising.

Couples mostly get along.  Seasoned dads will offer "Here honey, lemme push that stroller uphill".. or, "I'll carry Junior, you go ahead and browse in the craft booth ya wanted to."  It's learned, best to have 49% of the stock. Hey that's still a lotta stock, and, much easier than tryin'ta sleep with one eye open.

Kids, barely outta snotnose age, holding hands with other kids traipsing up the street... their first gallivant in public as a couple. In fact they call 'em their 'special' other, cause, they don't learn how to spell significant until 9th grade. I think some'a the gals snuck out the door before dad saw 'em 'cause, well, their outfits didn't have a lotta material.

Kids in the Corn Maze, take forever and a day to make it thru... shrewd moms/dads ain't worried cause they armed 'em with those Life360 apps for their phones....   Uncle Herkimer, himself having been around corn and grains of another ilk - eventually weaves his way back home from  the maze of The Corner Bar.

Parents everywhere, count the days until the Goblins bring home plastic pumpkins fulla Snickers, Hersheys, Almond Joys, yada so they can have a sample or ten after the kids go to bed.

Local baseball nerds start countdown calendars for "____ days until Spring Training"...  wonder, which side'a State Line Frank's statue will wind up on... and sing "All I want for Christmas is a corner outfielder with pop"... 

Chiefs fans ride the rollercoaster of "It's Over" - "I think they're back on track"... why does everyone hate us, Taylor, Travis...

We're counting shopping days until Christmas... can't wait for Black Friday specials... and will soon Google when to start thawing Tom Turkey.  Saggers everywhere will switch to flannel.

All the leaves are brown (all the leaves are brown) and the sky is gray (and the sky is gray.)

Everything's up to date in Kansas City
They've gone about as fer as they can go
They got a big theatre they call a burlesque
For fifty cents you could see a dandy show!
One of the gals is fat and pink and pretty
As round above as she was round below
I could swear that she was padded from her shoulder to her heel
But then she started dancin' and her dancin' made me feel
That every single thing she had was absolutely real!
She went about as fer as she could go
Yes, Sir! She went about as fer as she could go!

I'm thinkin' Gene Nelson (the singer of the above in the musical Oklahoma back in 19fitty-five, had he had Life360, he mighta been at Hamburger Marys.

Life's a ride..  A hay ride.

Love, Victurd