Monday, June 26, 2006

Poste. Haste.

Hola, peeps of great patience. Today is a full post, culled from countless hours of standing in the heat and rain watching Florida State Highway 60. Although some of the post may come across as racist, which even when I was kinda racist I wasn't very good at it, it is not. It is just me musing about words as I am wont to do. In fact, let me just knock that one out now.

I decided that when a black guy pulls up with a white girlfriend that to say, "Here comes a black guy with a white girlfriend," smacks of disapproval, when really I couldn't care less. But how else do you say it, even to yourself? Well, I've got it. "Here comes a negro and a she-gro." It works. Problem solved. And before you cluck our tongue at me, it is better than my first attempt, which was "Here comes a negro and his slut."

We have a stupid thing called the "Ad-Mobile" now. It is a delivery truck with the two sides and rear comprised of those tri-sided, venetian blinds style billboards. The kind that all the slats rotate simutaneously and the ad changes from Cheetos to Reeboks to Sherwin-Williams Paint. It drives up and down the road flipping it's billboards every 30 seconds or so. I mean, is that really necessary?

When I need to cut someone off in traffic to change lanes, I cut off someone on a cell phone. No... it's not some kind of revenge motive. It's just that I have found that the same hand that cannot operate turn signals is equally unable to hit the horn. Life IS fair sometimes.

I have 3 State Licenses. My wife has 1 and is working on her 2nd. So we are pretty familiar with Florida's licensing procedures. Each license requires a test, each of which mostly tests your comprehension of writing a check made out to Tallahassee.

Smooth Around the Edge 26 June, 2006

It rained so hard I thought it might

Wash over Randall's Bridge

And float this little nothin' town away

We sat real close and watched it pour

We drank up all the wine

And in between you taught me how to pray

It was love for sure this morning

But I don't believe I said

What I think you knew I thought

Was running through my head

You sure smile so pretty, Sarah

Which is good enough for me

But aimless love is such a dangerous thing

Yeah, I had my plans to do some things

But things I didn't plan

Led me traipsing half around the world

Morning skies will heal you

Miles will color in your tales

But the dusty night, she's just a naughty girl

It was love for sure this morning

But I don't believe I said

What I think you knew I thought

Was running through my head

You sure smile so pretty, Sarah

Which is good enough for me

But aimless love is such a dangerous thing

When it comes to what you're needing

You can't tell your heart a thing

Finds a gumball quarter, sees a diamond ring

Yeah, I'm that gumball quarter

Worn down smooth around the edge

From a long, long road and still ain't worth a thing

It was love for sure this morning

But I don't believe I said

What I think you knew I thought

Was running through my head

You sure smile so pretty, Sarah

Which is good enough for me

But aimless love is such a dangerous thing


Brandon FL

You cannot un-redneck some people. There is a black, 700 Series BMW in town, that has one of those $1.79 truck stop rebel flag license plates on the front. C'mon dude. Spring the cash for a reflective one, or at least an airbrushed one. Show some class.

As I stand out in front of the bank, I get asked (re-freaking-peatedly), "Aren't you hot?" "Yes I am." "Wouldn't you be cooler inside?" (Unspoken "Duuuhhhh!!") "Probably. But the job is outside." "Well, I just don't see how you can stand it." Now folks, I know that they mean well. But it doesn't matter. I smile sweetly at them all, native and transplant alike, and slowly drawl, "Well, it's what separates us from the yankees."

Wouldn't it be cool if you could just delete words from the language. Just say, "I do not approve." And poof! they'd be gone. If you could, what 5 words would you delete. Any word. English or foreign. Vulgar or descriptive. It does not matter. The only criteria is that you believe that they annoy you and the time has come for them to go. Take a few moments to think about it. My choices at the end of the post.

Last point for today. (Apparently, assuming that the time gods smile down upon me, of course, there will be another full post tomorrow. I still have a couple of PI stories to recount and some leftover items from today.) Now, let it be said that I love AI like the brother I never met. I have nothing but respect for soldiers, and this is definately not aimed at them. But it is aimed at whoever dreamed up the An Army Of One campaign. I mean, I know I don't understand it, and I'm not sure I like it. What does it mean? Join the Army, and in a firefight you're on your own? Be a man... no one's got your back? There's no "Team" in "I"? It's just kind of ridiculous. My humble suggestion, and that is all that it is... a suggestion, would be to tweak it just a little until it was something like An Army Of Sons. Lest we forget, you know.

At first mom and popa called their little boy Ned
Raised him on the banks of a river bed
Houseboat tied to a live oak tree
Home for my papa, my mama, and me... out

Ramblin' Ed

My five words?
1. I'm
2. Just
3. Trying
4. To
5. Help


1. She's
2. Got
3. A
4. Great
5. Personality

Friday, June 23, 2006

Watch This Space, Cadet

Been working on the new stuff in between episodes of SO YOU THINK YOU CAN DANCE and AMERICA'S GOT TALENT.

Anything you cant't do, I can't do better. I can't do anything better than you, out
Amblin' Red

Sunday, June 18, 2006

Fire in the camp and its song

Kumbayah, my lord
Kumbayah, my lord
Kumbayah, my lord
Oh lord,

Sooooo... that's the whole song? Makes Michael Row Your Boat Ashore seem pretty scintillating, huh?

Smokey & bare, out
Ramblin' Ed

Tuesday, June 13, 2006

Life as a cracker

Not that your baby is particularly ugly, I back tracked. It's just that I.. uh, I... well I just never learned to warm up to the little critters. Just like I swore off of chicken nuggets after watching them in the yard for a couple of days. Chickens, that is, although at the time they were more bird-like and considerably less nugget-like. Still they were pretty fowl. HaHaHa... Get it?? Bad jokes and nasty birds. Life as a cracker. Not that I am saying kids are like chickens, although they will both run around your yard pantless, eating bugs and pooping. If you let them.

I never liked green underwear on a woman. Blue is for boys, pink is for girls and green is for fermentation. Boys can wear pink, of course, but mostly it's golfers that do. They always say that they're "secure in their manhood", which of course really means "I feel pretty". "Secure in my manhood" is a masculine trait much like golf is a sport. You know I know you know what I mean too. "Just move my ball if it's in your way. FORE!play."

Fashioned means made from. He fashioned a swimsuit from a ratty blue bandana. Hmmm, I wonder if it made his butt look big. That is not the biggest question, although the bigger question does escape me. I am made from old for I am old fashioned. Ergo, fashioned from old. Or oldness. Not sure, but either may be correct in this instance. I don't want to be old fashioned. I don't even want to be old school, although it is my understanding that old school beats old fashioned on on the Cool-o-tron. I'm about as cool as bermuda shorts, so that concerns me not. I try to be hip and with it. I try to be the understanding sort. Live in let live is my praying mantra, even if it does involve biting the head off a husband I never really needed. But to this day, I still cannot help but flinch when I see a white woman dating a black woman.

It was a summer as hot as a woman can get
Looking for love and she loves what she gets
Barefoot and singing along with the radio
'Cause the music keeps her rememberin' when
But Neil Diamond helps her forget where she's been
And she's been where a song sung blue was a hard way to go

She wasn't one of them motorbike gals
Hair in the wind and a teller of tales
No, she was a softer thing with more of a smile
And though a Harley shirt fit her right to a T
She didn't look any tougher than me
Willing and able to ride me that one extra mile

She sighed and she said, "I just quit asking why
Free as the breeze and I thought I could fly
Til I went out and found me the ground underneath of my wings
Now the music, it feels like a comfortable friend
Neil Diamond helps me forget about when
You touched me right about where it was one of them things."

Keep yer politics out of my bedroom, out
Ramblin' ed

Sunday, June 04, 2006

One dozen things I know

Still not back to a regular blog. Right now I have a Math course going on and I am not real happy about that. But hey, you do what you gotta do. My life is now mellow. I like the security guard job. A lot. It's flexible and pays fairly well for a security guard job. We are comfortable.

I meet and talk to a lot of people which is perfect for me. I'm a yakker. I also stand there for 9 hours watching the bizarre goings on along a stretch of State Road 60, which used to be called Hamburger Highway for all the burger joints, but now is a low rider, giant pickup, street racing strip of foolish behavior. I just stand there and watch it all. And count Jaguar cars. 28 last night, a higher than usual number.

Some observations from the Bank Atlantic post of the Wackenhut Corp:

1. I can kick a rock pretty far. Better now than when I started. I can get it all the way across the parking lot. The secret is a low trajectory. I can get really good distance out of a plastic bottle cap, too. Particularly if it has been run over at least once. For some reason, I can get no distance out of a metal bottle cap. I don't have a theory on why plastic sails and metal fails. Sorry.

2. Puerto Ricans. Apparently, the only reason that they left PR was so that they could tell you where they're from. If you don't know what I mean, think back to every Texan you ever met outside of Texas. Yep, same thing except the P. Ricans emblazon the PR flag on license plates, bumper stickers, t-shirts, doo rags, tattoos, tailgate paintings, tennis shoes and anything else you can imagine.

3. The doppler effect on an ice cream truck's music at 50 MPH. Coming towards you, it sounds just fine. But heading away it is eerie and satanic sounding.

4. A guy walked up to the bank. His T-shirt had me rolling. It was a picture of a dachshaund's head in half profile. The text read "FEAR MY WEINER". Classic stuff.

5. The worst part of my job is the sweaty thighs.

6. There are ambulances around here and also there are these big ladder firetrucks that carry paramedics. When those big ladder truck dudes go by I always wonder, "Is someone hurt? Or are they hurt AND on fire?"

7. There is a big campain* on right now CLICK IT OR TICKET. Mother government is very concerned that you wear your seat belt and will nag you and fine you into submission. So, I wonder... motorcycles got no seat belts. Do motorcyclists get tickets? And if not, why do the folks in cars get them? Seems that the belts should be either mandatory or optional. For all.

8. After seeing some of the couples I have seen, I have revised my "Men should not be responsible for..." theory. The new one goes like this: "When they are drunk, men should not be held responsible for what they do, and women should not be held responsible for who they do."

9. Mini-Van. Gangsta persona. Mutually exclusive.

10. I hear a lot of cell phone conversations in Spanish. My translation is not perfect, but I can usually get the gist. I was hearing one that was something about somebody wanted to move into this man's apartment and they had with them a sack of concrete mix and a homosexual cat. At least I think that was it. I get the Spanish word for "cat" and "novelist" mixed up.

11. I had someone pull up in a Plymouth Horizon yesterday. I had one that I called "The Lost Horizon". It was my first car and I road tripped like a madman in it. I literally picked it up at the dealer, drove it out of the lot (in Tampa) and just kept going until I hit San Diego. Those of you who know of the Lost Horizon and the many stories... nay,not stories, legends that surround it will understand my sentimentality. For the rest of you, it was my first car and I hadn't seen one in more than 10 years.

12. There is no "I" in Team. And if you take the "I" out of "Applied", you have "Appled".

* You assumed this was an unintentional misspelling, didn't you?

I now resume my regularly scheduled fishing.

Cast...crank...cuss. Repeat. Out.
Ramblin' Ed