The history of blogging part XVIII

Let's see, today is Tuesday, I posted on Sunday, so that's only one day, and I guess I can live with that, because you see deep down inside, well, not really deep, but sort of mid level down inside I am afraid that if I go three, four, five, or six days without posting that I might just stop posting. The longer you go without posting the easier it is to stop, or ... the harder it is to start back up.
I don't believe that most bloggers that stop blogging actually start out to stop blogging, or stop out to start blogging, or even try to prevent forest fires, it's just that mumble mumble blah blah blah [fill in the blank].

Anyway, my surgery is almost set up, by the way, the surgical procedure is called an anterior cervical spinal fusion, and if you are interested in just what it entails you can Google it, and the reason I didn't Google and link it for you is because when I Googled it seven years ago when I had my first anterior cervical spinal fusion and then read the article I almost backed out of the surgery, but I didn't, but I considered it.
So, where was I? Oh yeah, my surgery is almost set up. My sister will be off the whole month of July so any date in that time frame would be good. I'm just waiting for the paper work from my visit on Saturday to catch up with the doctor's scheduling department, so we can set up a firm date, mmmmm firm dates.
And really, July should be open, don't you think, unless he takes a month long vacation, which I don't think he does, because he is a bit of doctorholic, and on and on and on ...

Dr Hunter Douglas ... internet stud Part III

Dr Hunter Douglas replies to his new Russian sweetheart.

My dearest Lubya,
I am sorry that I haven't replied to your reply to my last email sooner but I had to spend the last two days in jail. Don't worry, it was nothing serious, and my lawyer, Perry Mason, was able to get me released on a technicality because the restraining order that my ex girlfriend Oprah had taken out on me had many words mispelled and that made it not legal ...

Scroll down and the email is
Continued here

The first cut is the deepest

It's official.
I need surgery.
I went to see the neurosurgeon today and even though it isn't critical he wants me to have surgery by the end of year.
We looked at the MRI today.
Not only is the disk bulging and pressing against nerve endings, it is also hindering the flow of spinal fluid, which I guess is what the doctor is most concerned with.
It would only be surgery for the worst of the two disks because surgical techniques are improving all the time and they only want to operate when it is absolutely necessary.

The hardest part will be scheduling.
I would like to have it done either in the late summer or early fall, and there would be no problem scheduling it that way with the doctor.
The hardest part is on this end.
MB will need someone to stay with her a few days, and I will also need someone to drive me to and from the hospital which is about 80 miles from here.
I discussed it with MB earlier today, and her preference would be for my sister and brother-in-law to drive up from Florida, and since my brother-in-law is retired, and my sister pretty much makes her own schedule, I think given this window of opportunity of late summer to early fall we can work something out.
Our second choice would be for my niece, my nephew, and my other brother-in-law, who all live about 150 south of here, to all pitch in and help, but ...
I don't know, I just don't feel that I can depend on them, I mean, they mean well, and I'm sure they would want to help, but with them things always seem to come up at the last minute, it's hard to explain, but yeah, they're only the second option.
The last option I never would have expected. Another nephew, my Florida sister's oldest son, called out of the blue today, and I told him about the surgery, actually, besides MB he is the only family member who knows about it so far, and he told me that if there was any thing he could do to help just to let him know, he even said if push came to shove he would fly up and help. I would only do that as a last resort, but it is good to know that he is there if we need him.
So anyway, I'll call my sister tomorrow night and spell it out for her, and then blah blah blah, we'll go from there.

Dr Hunter Douglas ... internet stud Part II

I got a reply from the woman who will be visiting my place and would like to meet me.
(See previous post)

I haven't replied to her latest email, which is very very long, but you can read it here.
These are the two photos she included of herself.




She asked for a photo of me and I am thinking of sending one of these when I reply.

Dr Hunter Douglas ... internet stud

Received this email earlier today:

Hire,
i am he!re sitting in the internet caffe. Found your email and
decided to write. I migaht be coming to your place in 14 days,
so I decided to email you. May be we can meet? I am 25 y.o.
girl. Ia have a picture if you want. No need t!o reply here as
this is not my email. Write me at ojiiq@mailforfreedom.com
Jewel

I replied:
Hire,
Are you by any chance Jewel the famous American singer?
Hahaha, I am making a little joke.
Are you kidding, or course I would like a picture, you sound like a
real "hubba hubba" girl.
Are you really going to be visiting Boz City Iowa in the next 14 days,
wow, that would be so neat, and if you did come to my place we could
go visit the the Phlegm Museum on Highway 69 right outside of Boz City
Iowa, and I could show you off to all my friends who think I am too
big a loser to have a 25 y.o. girl visit my place.
Anxiously waiting to hear from you in your reply to me.
The Big Man
Dr Hunter Douglas

The attack of the 2X underpants

I went to the store yesterday, and in the men's clothing clearance section, which by the way is my favorite part of the store, I found a four pack of men's 2X underpants reduced to $3.00. I'm an L, ok, I'm an XL, but this was such a bargain that I couldn't turn them down.
When I got home and opened the package they were HUGE. I mean they were the male equivalent to Granny Panties, hey, maybe we should call them Bozzie Briefs and anyway, after my shower this morning I decided to try a pair on.
Oh man, they were HEAVEN, no binding, no chafing, no waistband rollover, I mean, I could pull them all the way up to my armpits and still feel comfortable.
I mean, well, yeah, I mean ...
Yeah, I mean, I feel so liberated!

Bozzie Briefs as compared to regular briefs.

Look what I found under the Birthday Tree

It happens every year at about this time

Movie review Sunday

1. Aussie Park Boyz - The disk was cracked so I couldn't watch it, and it only took me about a half an hour to figure it out, I mean I thought my DVD player was broken, and isn't that always the case, you think whatever the problem is that that you are to blame, but at least I'll get another DVD rental out of this, and I'll take a current $2.50 release and not another fifty cent release, so that's not all bad.
2. In China They Eat Dogs - It had subtitles and it was late, and I was kind of tired, and I didn't feel like fooling with sub titles, so I turned it off after about a minute, but there was gratuitous nudity so I'll probably watch it later when I am more wide awake.
3. Penn and Teller: Bullshit - It started out pretty good, but by the third or fourth episode the big fat guy who does all the talking, I think that's Penn, and what kind of parent names their son Penn, well anyway, after about three or four episodes the big fat guy who does all the talking started getting real annoying, you know, all patronizing and self-righteous, and then when I got to the second disk the second episode was on Feng Shui, FENG FUCKING SHUI, they were debunking FENG FUCKING SHUI, I mean who the fuck cares???
So I turned it off, but I'll probably go back to it, because they had one episode with a lot of naked bodies in it, and who knows they might have another one.
4. Bullfighter - Ok, I don't think this is the worst movie ever as some of the reviews on the IMDB think, I mean really the people who wrote those reviews are just people, it's not like they KNOW or anything, and really wouldn't you have had to see every movie ever made before you could truthfully say that it is the worse movie ever, but no, it isn't the worst movie ever, and actually so far I kind of like it, yeah, I've only watched about half of it, but it has it's moments, and there are a lot of cool actors and actresses in it, and do you remember back in the 80's when it was PC to refer to both actors and actresses as ACTORS, so anyway, yeah, I'll definitely finish the movie, and the only real gripe I have with it so far is the actor who plays the Bullfighter has this very thick French accent, and I'm all WTF, this movie takes place in Mexico, so why does this guy have a French accent, and you know, I'm not sure if it a real French accent or a fake French accent, all I know was his French accent made it very hard to understand what he was saying, you know, sort of like Meryl Streep in Out Of Africa where she had that really thick I think it was Dutch accent, and really there was no need for it because we knew she was the great Academy Award winning actress Meryl Streep who could do any accent known to man, or woman, and have you noticed since then Meryl Streep hasn't really gotten any good roles?

Producer: We could get Meryl Streep.
Executive Producer: Yeah, but she might want to do an accent that no one can understand.
Producer: Good point. How about Nicole Kidman?
Executive Producer: Yeah, that would be great, and after being married to Tom Cruise all those years she's so starved for sex I heard she'll do it with anyone and you don't even need a couch.

So yeah, except for the French accent guy, the movie isn't really all that bad.

Klaatu barada nikto

I was 21 years old when I was abducted by aliens.
It was the summer of 1971 and I was home on leave from the air force after serving 18 months on the island of Crete.
It was very hot that summer. The temperature easily topped the 90 degree mark every day that I was home.
The nights were even hotter in the upstairs bedroom where I slept without benefit of either air conditioning or fan, and the only relief was the occasional cross breeze from the open windows on opposite sides of the room.

Ok, this isn't going anywhere, but I really was abducted by aliens in the summer of 1971, and they took me to bars and parties, and made me drink alcohol and smoke dope, and hit on girls just out of high school with round bottoms and full firm breasts who I may or may not have scored with depending on whether these are true or false repressed memories that I am just now unrepressing, but I think I might have, but then again it might just have been an alcohol and drug induced euphoria that led me to believe that whatever I just said was true, and the spaceship looked a lot like a coffee colored 1963 Chevrolet Impala Super Sport, and the aliens maybe, just maybe, could have been Wesley from across the street and Ronnie T. Brown from two streets, no, make that three streets, no, I was right the first time, just like Ronnie T. Brown from two streets over, and isn't it funny how the mind plays tricks on you?

Movie rental Saturday

I like off the beaten path movies.
I went to the video store today and rented three movies and a something that isn't a movie but is a video.
I haven't watched any of them yet, and this time I didn't read any of the favorable reviews on the jacket of the DVD, so I have no expectations on what I've gotten myself into.
The movies are:
1. Aussie Park Boyz - An Australian action movie about minorities and gangs in Australia. I'm sure I'll like this one, because I like Australian movies, and this is an Australian movie, and I've worked Aussie, or Australian, or Australia into this description eight times, which I think is a new record for me.
2. In China They Eat Dogs - A Danish gangster movie, what else can I say? I hope it's not cheesy ... GET IT Cheese Danish!!!
3. Bullfighter - Some Mexican movie that according to IMDB everybody hates, but hey, these movies were only fifty cents each for five days, and at least Russell Crowe, or Brad Pitt, or Tom Cruise, or Tom Hanks, or Ben Affleck, or Ben Stiller, or Ben Franklin aren't in it.
4. Penn and Teller: Bullshit - I guess this is from a series they did on Showtime a few years back debunking all sorts of paranormal type crap, and I love anything that debunks paranormal type crap.

Four shirts to the wind

One of the four new birthday shirts I got for my birthday even though my birthday isn't until Monday.



I've never really cared that much for Polo shirts but they are a lot easier to wash than regular shirts, and since I do all the laundry now ...

This is really the ugliest of the four shirts, and the only reason I'm wearing it today is because I don't have anything planned and I needed a shirt, well, I did have to go to the Medicine Shoppe and pick up a prescription, and my, didn't all the ladies down at the shoppe look summery today, and no one actually laughed and pointed and told me that my shirt was ugly, at least not to my face, and come to think of it I did hear some snickering as I was walking out the door, but that could have been anything ... right?

So ...

Not much happening.

I wore my underpants inside out today, not on purpose, but sometimes things like that just happen, I mean, it's not like when I was a kid and I used to wear them inside out, and sometimes even backwards, just because, and anyway I rectified the problem as soon as I noticed it.

I bought three $1.00 DVDs yesterday. The kind where you get two movies on each DVD. I don't remember the titles of all of them but one was called Pigs and another was called Doctor Butcher MD, I guess the Academy was asleep when those two movies came out.

I bought a real good $1.00 DVD this past weekend. It had two really old, like from the 1930's old, Jimmy Stewart movies. One was called Made For Each Other and co-starred Carole Lombard, and the other was called Pot O' Gold and co-starred the hauntingly beautiful Paulette Goddard, the same Paulette Goddard that Charlie Chaplin used to shlump when she was like 15 years old, ok, I don't know that for a fact, but Goddard was in a couple of Chaplin movies, and Chaplin had a predilection for underage age girls, and Goddard as I mentioned earlier was hauntingly beautiful, so I'm just assuming ...

I wonder if blogger is back up? I've been trying to make a post sort of off and on for most of the day, and for the most part blogger has been sending me back error messages, and suddenly I've lost the ability to spell and type at the same time, and has that ever happened to you?
Anyway, I'm writing this one in Word so when or if blogger decides to come back I've got it covered.

I guess this is a post

So, I've got a dentist's appointment in forty minutes, nothing serious, just a check-up, but I'm really kind of not looking forward to it because both my lower back and my neck are killing me and not in the softly with his song sort of way.
Actually, I should be laying down right now, because getting up after sitting down makes me walk like Groucho Marx except without the funny mustache and the ...
Fucking Groucho Marx, now that guy was funny, I mean seriously funny.
Chico and Harpo not so much, but Groucho, yeah.
I wonder if Groucho and WC Fields were friends, they should have been, and you know, he wasn't called Groucho because he was a grouch, he was called Groucho after a type of money bag that you wore around your neck called a grouch bag, hey, I'm not making this stuff up, he actually said it in a book he wrote one time a long time ago before he died, or maybe I'm thinking about someone else.

So, what's up with you guys?
The only bird that is left of the three birds that used to mock me, is mocking me.
Oh, I thought I had another dead squirrel in the yard the other day.
The idiot squirrel had it's head stuck way deep into a knot on a tree and it wasn't moving, even when I said things like:
Hey squirrel, you'd better get out of there before I hit you with a shovel.
And when I got up closer, well, as close as you can get when a squirrel is stuck twenty five feet up in a knot hole of a tree, and the damn squirrel still wasn't moving. So I thought I'd get my camera and take a picture of the World's Stupidest Squirrel and post it in here for everyone to laugh at, but when I went and got my camera the World's Stupidest Squirrel was gone.
And now, so am I.

Who cut the cheese?

Ok, I tend to lie sometimes in here.



For instance, I like to tell people that the first record album I ever bought was Meet The Beatles, but that's a lie, the first record album I ever bought was ...
Jose Jimenez Talks To Teenagers Of All Ages.



Yeah, a comedy record, recorded by a jewish guy who talked like a retarded mexican guy.
How is that for politcial correctness.
But hey ...
I was only thirteen years old and retarded sounding mexican guys were almost as funny as jokes about boners and farts.
So what can I say???

Jose Jimenez Talks to Teenagers of All Ages - The Astronaut.
And yeah, it still cracks me up.

But seriously, Meet The Beatles was the second album I ever bought.

Sleeping with the fishes

I had another weird dream last night.
I dreamt that I had crossed the Mafia and I was on the run for my life.
My whole sleep pattern last night was like a bunch of short stories all inter connected by the crossing the Mafia theme, and you notice how I capitalize Mafia as a sign of respect just in case they monitor my site.
The only dream I really remember was the one where to escape the Mafia I steal a row boat, row to Malaysia, dress like a woman, and live in the jungle.
I woke up in a cold sweat, and the wind was kind of blowing, and the house was making weird noises, at least I thought the wind was blowing and the house was making weird noises, I mean it might not have been a dream after all, and maybe the Mafia was the one making the weird noises, and to tell you the truth, I was kind of afraid to move, you know, I was still half asleep, and you know how the mind plays tricks on you, and I was half expecting somebody named Guido to jump out any second and garrote me, but eventually I had to get up and take a leak and the whole Mafia spell was broken, and maybe I shouldn't have called the imaginary Mafia guy Guido, maybe I should have just referred to him as Bob.

Fab, Gear, and Groovy

Check out all the cool music videos from the mid-sixties on
Shindig
and
Hullabalo

My two favorites are ...

Marianne Faithfull



Sam the Sham and the Pharohs



Brought to you by You Tube

The cigarette butts of my youth

When I was a teenager I had the attic bedroom, which was cool because it was the biggest bedroom in the house, and it had a huge walk in closet which I didn't use as a closet, I used it as my hippie hangout pad instead, and it had a bunch of posters, and it had a black light too, and an AM/FM radio, and my record player with detachable speakers, and all my LPs, which included Country Joe and the Fish, and Steppenwolf, and Peter Paul and Mary, and the Lovin' Spoonful, and the Jefferson Airplane, and then there was my stash of Playboy magazines which were hidden way in the back, in a foot locker, behind the STOP sign I had stolen when they were repaving the street I lived on, and my favorite Playboy was the January 1968 issue with Connie Kreski as the Playmate of the Month, and Connie Kreski was cool because she was from Detroit and she was blonde, and she had perfect breasts, and even perfecter puffies, and I didn't even know what puffies were back then, but she had them, and they were perfect, and she was perfect, and who cared if she was air brushed, because we were going to get married, and have kids, but then I graduated from high school, and she moved out to California, and she started hanging out with Hef at the Mansion, and then I enlisted in the Air Force, and we started drifting apart, Connie and I did, and then she married James Caan, yeah, that James Caan, the actor from the Godfather and all those other movies, and that hurt, but the marriage didn't last, but still we never re-connected, it wouldn't have worked out anyway, she was Hollywood now, and I was in college on the GI Bill, and after Hef, the Mansion, and James Caan, I don't think she could have made do on the few hundred a month I was raking in from Uncle Sugar ... that's Uncle Sam to you non GI Bill recipients, and just when did this post lose focus?

I thought they'd never end

It's one of those days.
My back is still killing me to the point where I'm walking around the house looking like some latter day Quasimodo in search of his Esmerelda or his shoes.
And it's raining too.
And it's humid, like a zoo.
And a song by Little Feat just finished.
And a song by the Pogues and Sinead O'Conner just started.
And it's two thirty and I haven't even combed my hair.
And there is a need for cranberry juice.
And I had a dream last night about being in college and trying to get it on with a girl named, I don't know, let's call her Sophie, and people kept busting into our room looking for a party, and I mean geez, don't these doors lock, and then Sophie got all out of the mood, and she wanted to watch quiz shows on the black and white tv with rabbit ears that was sitting in the corner of the room on top of the milk crates that were used for storage.
And yeah, it's one of those days.
Play us on out of here Bruce.
Rosalita jump a little lighter
Senorita come sit by my fire
I just want to be your love, ain't no lie
Rosalita you're my stone desire ...

Ah, the French

Blind?



Or just some hipster french girl hooked on Godard, Belmondo, Gainsbourg, Birkin and Gauloises.

Kill the brain, kill the ghoul

Ten reasons why I'm not posting today

1. It's too hot.
2. My back hurts.
3. Zombies ate the post I had already written.
4. Zombies and I then watched The Night of the Living Dead on DVD.
5. Zombies rooted for the zombies.
6. I explained to the zombies that the movie was an allegory for the social unrest of the 60s.
7. Zombies looked bored.
8. Zombies cried at the end.
9. Zombies and I went out to the Dairy Queen for ice cream.
10. Zombies ate the high school girl who is working part time at the Dairy Queen for the summer.

Iargo Springs

Today I went for a walk around Iargo Springs, which is part of the Huron National Forest on the Au Sable River, about 15 miles from where I live.



You can see the rest of the pics here.

If Roy Scheider and William Devane had a boxing match, who would win?

Ok, I can't sleep.
I watched the last twenty minutes of Jaws II on the SciFi channel and kept slapping myself on the forehead trying to remember that Roy Scheider's name was Roy Scheider, and then I was going to watch the next movie on the SciFi channel, but it was another shark movie, and that's when I went to bed.
I tried to sleep, but nothing happened, so here I am again.
I was going to write the second part of my trip to MRI Land, but there wasn't really anything to it, except for the second part of the MRI I had to get two injections of some kind of watery stuff that had some kind of metallic stuff in it so it could highlight the MRI, or something like that.
Oh yeah, I had ear plugs in and after he gave me the second injection it sounded like he said there were only four or five more injections to go and that would be all, and that sort of freaked me out, because it's not that I hate needles, it's just that he was running out of places to stick me, but I guess I misunderstood him, because the second injection was the last injection, and the four or five other ones never happened, unless I passed out, and then he gave them to me.
I'll find out the results of the MRI on my next appointment with the neuro surgeon on June 17th, and just between you and me, I think he is going to recommend surgery, which is seriously ok with me, because I was ready for surgery three years ago when this whole problem started.

A Friday morning in MRI land

Got up at five thirty.
Took my time getting ready.
Left at six twenty five.
Got to the hospital at six thirty five.
Registered.
Went down to x-ray.
Signed in, sat down, and waited.
There were only two of us in the waiting room, another guy and me.
Short bald guy wearing a lab coat carrying a clipboard walks in walks up to the other guy and says ...
Mr (((Inaudible)))?
The guy says yeah.
The short bald guy wearing the lab coat and carrying a clipboard goes
It's time for your M(((inaudible)))I(((eye))).
The guy gets up and they head off to MRI land.
I thought to myself that I was the first scheduled M(((inaudible)))I(((eye))) for the day.
No biggie.
Forty five seconds another slightly taller non bald guy wearing a lab coat and carrying a clip board walks in, looks at me, and says ...
Mr. Sandler?
Then it hits me.
The guy who is getting my MRI is Mr. Sandler and I am Mr (((Inaudible)))
I tell the slightly taller non bald guy wearing a lab coat that I think that Mr Sandler has been mistakenly taken down to MRI land.
Slightly taller guy rushes out, I assume to rectify the error.
I hear a conversation down the hall from the vicinity of MRI land.
A minute later the short bald guy in the lab coat and carrying a clip board re-enters the waiting room looking and sounding all embarrassed and says ...
Boz???
I say yeah.
I get up and we make small talk about the mix-up as we walk down to MRI land.
To be continued ...

Magnetic Resonance I-owwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

I think I'm in a leg phase.



MRI in the morning.
MRI at seven in the morning.
MRI at seven in the morning that was supposed to be in the afternoon.
So I guess I'll go to bed and toss and turn, and get the sweats, and wake up after about an hour and a half of sleep, and have heart burn, and a sinus headache, and a chill, oh yeah, I can't forget the chill, and I'll stumble into the bathroom and stub my toe, and the tooth brush will slip and gouge the inside of my mouth, and I'll probably swallow the wrong way and start coughing, and then I'll get sick to my stomach, but yeah, I'm cool with an MRI at seven in the morning.

Garota de Ipanema

Not the Girl From Ipanema, but only because she doesn't want to be.



Five minutes ...
Ten minutes ...
Twenty minutes ...

I guess that's it.

The fishnet phenomena of the mid 60s

Woman in fishnets with hooker purse.



Do you find it odd that when I was in High School forty years ago that teenage girls wore fishnet stockings? I mean 15, and 16, and 17 year old girls wore fishnet stockings. Ok, so they didn't carry hooker purses or wear hooker dresses, and really, these were just your normal average teenage girls, not the ones who allegedly had to have their stomachs pumped after every home basketball game, but hey, it was the 60s and the 60s were fab, and hip, and groovy, and gear, and I don't know what the fuck I'm talking about anymore, but I do know that teenage girls wore fishnet stockings, and they also wore brightly colored and patterned stockings, and while I'm on the subject of stockings and the girls that wore them when I was a teenager, when I was in 7th grade girls wore black stockings, and I remember when my newly married sister came to visit from New Jersey she was aghast that 12 and 13 year old girls were wearing black stockings, which I find kind of ironic, or that word that means something like ironic, because when my sister's daughter was 12 and 13, I bet my sister wished the only problem she had was her daughter wearing black stockings.

Boz, the squirrel humanitarian

I am not a squirrel killer.
Here is what happened.
There was a squirrel, see, that must have fallen out of a tree in my front yard, and I'm surprised that doesn't happen more often they way they jump around from branch to branch like some kind of cult of suicidal banzai maniacs.
Well, this squirrel was laying out in my front yard, and he wasn't moving too well, just sort of going around in circles, so I went out to see what the matter was and the squirrel was laying on it's stomach with it's hind legs obviously broken, or at least severely sprained and it was trying to pull itself to safety just using it's teeny tiny little front legs, and it really looked kind of funny sort of like the WWII homeless veterans who have lost their legs and hang around the downtown area on their little wheeled sleds and who have to pull themselves along using their hands, arghhhhhhhh, I'm not doing a very good job describing this, wait ... like the Eddie Murphy character at the start of the movie Trading Places, yeah, that's what the poor little broken bodied squirrel looked like, and when I said it looked kind of funny like a WWII homeless veteran, well, that was a misprint, I really don't think homeless people, be they veteran or non-veteran are in the least bit funny, unless of course they are wearing clown make-up, which would actually make them more scary than funny.
So anyway, there's this broken bodied little squirrel laying in my front yard, and it's obvious to me that no little squirrel ambulance full of little squirrel paramedics is going to come to his aid anytime soon. So, what could I do?
I'm a non-violent kind of guy, just putting it out of it's misery was out of the question, and how would I have done it anyway, a gun, ha, a rock to the head, ha, a lethal injection, ha ...
No, there was no way that I could kill it, so I did the next best thing, actually, I did the best thing, the humanitarian thing. I went to the shed and got a shovel, and sort of scooped it up, which wasn't all that easy to do because I don't think squirrels like to be scooped, so I scooped it up in the shovel and carried it over to a little wooded area across the street from my house, and I gently placed the squirrel down in the relative safety of the woods where I hoped he could die with a little peace and dignity.
So, does that make me a squirrel killer???

Libe Node Grils

A serious set of legs.



I don't know what it is but it feels like I've gotten about seventeen flu shots in my left butt cheek, I don't mean in my life, I mean all at once, about five minutes ago.

Tuesday is just like Monday only shorter

Drove up to Oscoda earlier today.
Had to go to Kmart to get MB some store brand Depends, and you get a 10% discount on Tuesday if you're over 50.

Why does everyone in front of me drive so slow?
And why doesn't the head of the driver of everyone in front of me go up higher than the head rest? I think what I am trying to say is why is everyone who drives in front of me so short, but I was trying to write it in a cool and pleasing manner.

And why doesn't my keyboard anticipate what I am going to type, and just go ahead and type it correctly. I think the spellcheck lobby has something to do with it.

So anyway, I stopped at Kmart and got the store brand Depends, and some Right Guard for me, and while waiting in line I saw that they had past due candy bars on sale for 25 cents a piece, so I got MB a Smore and a Rolo for myself, and I've already finished my Rolo, and it didn't really taste past due, well, maybe only a little, but still it only cost a quarter.

I stopped at the Speedway Mini-Mart intending to get gas, but all the pumps were taken, and that is saying a lot because they have about sixteen pumps, but it was lunch time, and I guess people like to get gas at lunch time, but I went inside anyway because they had two liter Coke on sale buy 3 and get one free, which made it come out to 75 cents a bottle, so I bought six and got 2 free, you know sorting of stocking up for the Memorial Day holiday, and everyone was buying make it yourself hot dogs, and they smelled so good, even with onions on them, but I didn't get any, I just got a 44 ounce fountain drink for 79 cents instead, but the dogs sure did smell good.

Stopped at the gas station that used to be Clark but is now Admiral and got gas. Now that gas is so high I try to trick myself into not getting upset by stopping at 20 dollars and trying to make myself believe that it's a full tank, and guess what, today it was, and further guess what, I saved a penny a gallon by getting my gas at the station that used to be a Clark but is now Admiral, so take that Speedway Mini-Mart.

Made one more stop up in Oscoda at the local Drug Store. They've got a dollar only section in there and I thought I'd try it out, and yeah, they had coffee for a buck a can, and since I don't drink coffee I really don't care what it tastes like so I bought a couple of cans for MB, I mean, her taste buds are pretty much shot anyway.

I guess that's it except for on the drive home I got stuck behind some old guy and his equally old wife doing 30 in a 55 mph zone, and as I passed them they were arguing back and forth, and I bet his wife was yelling at him for going too damn fast.

And now I'm home, and did you notice I put a link list in?

That's all right with me

Hey, Todd Browning's Freaks is on Turner Classic!

Not one of Todd Browning's Freaks



Not even a freak, well, not really, well, not even remotely.

When you've got nothing to say ...

Say it with pictures.

Monday or something

The FDA didn't approve the new disk replacement surgery.
So, I'm going to get a new MRI to see if my condition warrants waiting another year to see if the new surgery is approved, or whether it is prudent to just go ahead and do the spinal fusion procedure.

Prudent is a good word.

I'm listening to a really really really old Donovan CD.



It's good.

The bulb in one of my lamps is about to burn out. It was flickering about a half hour ago, but it's good now, but I bet when I turn it off it burns out, so I've got a new bulb ready just in case.

I am really bored.

I was going to pay some bills tonight, but I forgot.

Blogging, flogging, schlogging.

I chatted with Mrs. Martin Sheen today. She told me I'm not sick, but she thinks she's Mrs. Martin Sheen, so ...

The Benson 48 Marathon on TVLand in two weeks.

I guess that's it for now.

Saturday waiting for the neuro surgeon

Neuro surgeon in forty five minutes.
I wonder what wonders this wondrous visit will hold in store?
I should just go in there and smack him silly and tell him to HEAL ME!!!
But I won't.
But I will be wearing a short sleeve shirt today, kinda cool, kinda zippy, kinda withit.
I'm having another one of my sinus escapades.
There's a dog barking outside.
Someone just slammed a car door.
This morning the guy next door woke me up with his weed whacker.
I got all pissed off when I got a phone call this morning right after the weed whacker woke me up, but I was brought back down to earth when I found out it was one of my mother's cousins telling me that another cousin had just passed away. Those crazy 80 year olds, you never know what they'll do next.
The last of the birds that mock me has been chirping away non-stop for at least an hour, oh yeah, sure, now that I mention it, she stops.
There's a plane flying over head, one of those little private ones. There's a small airport about two miles from here, so I imagine that is where he is heading, and why did I refer to an airplane as a he?
My computer is making that grinding sound again.
The bird is chirping again.
I bet I have to get another MRI.
The dead skin from where I burnt myself a couple weeks ago is peeling like crazy.
I need a cough drop.
I just found the candles I was looking for last week when the power went out.
I think the short sleeve shirt I'm wearing today may just be a bit too cool, too zippy, too withit, and too LOUD!!!
I'm about to lose the toe nail on the toe next to the big toe on my left foot from when I was laying in bed a few weeks back and I had a muscle spasm and I kicked the wall ... hard.
The sun is shining today after a week or more of dreary, rainy, cold weather.
I like the weather on the 8's, but not as much as I used to.
I guess I should stop.
Wish me luck, and pray that the neuro surgeon doesn't go mental on me during my exam and cut off a couple of my limbs.

The year my parents had their problem

When I was a child I went to live with my aunt the summer my parents had their problem.
At first I slept in the utility room on a cot next to the hot water heater and furnace. It was a small space, but it was clean, and I had enough room.
One day my aunt asked me to help her clean the attic out. My aunt told me the attic would be my bedroom for the remainder of my stay.
After we finished moving everything out to the basement I noticed a hinged hatch way in the floor. My aunt opened the hatch and motioned for me to come and have a look. The hatch opened up into a four foot crawlspace between the first floor and the attic of the house.
It looked like a little miniature apartment.
I asked my aunt if I could make the crawlspace into my bedroom instead of the attic. She shook her head and laughed a little but she said she guessed it would be alright.
So with the help of about a half dozen extension cords, two lamps, a clock radio, a thirteen inch black and white television, a foot locker full of comic books and magazines, and god only knows how many blankets and pillows, this is how I spent my summer the year that my parents had their problem.

So, there you have it

Ok, I'm a little embarrassed about the last two posts I made, but I'm back on zoloft, and I've almost convinced myself that even after only three days I am beginning to feel the effects.

Sweet sweet surrender

Ok, I should go to bed now, right?
Nothing on television, right?
Nobody on IM, right?
I'm not in the mood to read, right?
I'm tired, right?
Morpheus ascending, right?
Morpheus descending, right?
I'm feeling kind of dizzy.
I'm feeling kind of whoozy, and I think I prefer the zy whoozy to the sy whoosy, but that's just me.
I'm feeling kind of stuffed up.
I'm feeling kind of jittery, yeah, really jittery.
Ok, let's dial that jittery down a notch. I don't want to get carried away, but I am feeling jittery, but not jittery jittery, at least not yet.
This is the kind of night where I want to keep my mind active, you know what I mean, don't you.
Forget that idle hands are the devil's workshop.
It's an idle mind that is the devil's ... playground.
You should see me right now.
I'm wildly gesturing with my hands, like some traffic cop on one of those british protectorates down in the Caribbean, and I can't stop ... I can't stop ... I can't stop ... gesturing.
See, I'm doing it again.
You see what I'm trying to do here, don't you?
I'm trying to type and type and type and type until I am completely exhausted and then I'll just slip the surly bonds of flight.
Goddamnit, I was gesturing so wildly that I knocked over the glass on my desk, and isn't that a creative way to spell goddamnit ... I think.
So yeah, I'm staring over at the bed, and it looks pretty inviting. I just wish that the covers were already pulled down, and the pillows were fluffed, and I didn't have to wait for the computer to shut down.
So, does anyone want to chat?
Does anyone want to play a game?
Does anyone want to slap some sense into me?
Does anyone want to ooobie doobie doobie doo?

Slipping and a sliding

I think I'd better call the doctor tomorrow and ask to be put back on zoloft.
My anxiety levels have been high at night for the last week, and tonight they have been exceptionally high, high to the point where I have been yelling at the little guy inside the computer, you know the little bastard I mean, don't you, yeah, the one who likes to fuck with your mind, oh yeah, but I'm not going to let the cocksucker get to me, and my apologies to any of you out there who might be cocksuckers, I mean no disrespect, and would cocksuckers be plural, or possessive, or plural possessive, see I can't even conjugate or whateverthat-gate is that deals with grammatical possessiveness.
So anyway, I'm going to call the doctor tomorrow and tell him to slip me some Z.
I mean, it was a noble experiment, trying to get off of it, but I'm feeling this tightness in my throat, and that's the first sign, the tightness, and I don't even want to think about the second, third, fourth, and fifth signs.
So, bright and early tomorrow morning I'm going to call Dr. Bobby Hill, not his real name, it's an inside joke, but yeah, tomorrow morning, I'm going to call him, and hopefully by tomorrow night Ziggy Stardust will be coursing through my bloodstream once again.

Une quizlette

1. Who was president, or prime minister, or chancellor on your 18th birthday?
2. Name three secondary characters from the Simpsons TV show you identify with?
3. If you were to lie to someone and tell them you saw a certain group or singer in concert which group or singer would you pick?
4. Would you drink a gallon of spoiled milk for a thousand dollars?
5. If there was a cause that you really believed in would you join a public nude protest rally in support of that cause?
6. Would you be a sperm or egg donor for a same sex couple who wanted to have a baby?
7. What's the worst gift you ever got for xmas?
8. If you could invite any 5 people to have dinner with you, past or present, famous or non famous, who would you invite?
9. How do you feel about Custer's Last Stand and the Battle of the Little Big Horn.
10. If Germany and Australia were to have a fist fight who would your root for?

Happy Mothra Day !!!

And this is why I love the internet

A series of related articles I found in the Detroit Free Press. Just read the articles in order.
Number One
Number Two
Number Three
Number Four

Bizzaro Drew Carey

I woke up this morning at six am and turned on the television and after surfing around for awhile I found a re-run of the Drew Carey Show on Fox 66 out of Flint and decided to watch it.
I used to kind of like the show the first couple of years it was on, but then I got a computer and television viewing went the way of New Cole ... New Coke.
So, I'm watching away, and after a few minutes I start noticing that everything is different, the tall skinny guy who wasn't named Waldo was no longer around, the fairly cute "gal friend" who even though she was a "gal friend" managed to have sex with just about everyone at least once or twice wasn't around, and Mimi was starting to look strangely attractive to me was no longer an outcast but part of the inner circle which means she too probably had sex once or twice with the fairly cute "gal friend" who was no longer around, and, and, and, and,
Oh yeah, and Drew had a hot pregnant girlfriend, well, not hot hot, but someone who was obviously to anyone with SIGHT too hot for Drew, and doesn't the thought of Drew Carey having sex with anything higher up on the food chain than his right hand just sort of want to make you stop and reconsider that maybe, just maybe, Dr Joseph Mengele's research into sterilization was a step in the right direct... well no, but you get my point.

TMI

My entire body is humming, vibrating like a tuning fork.
I can feel the tingles swoosh down from the top of my head to the tip of my toes and back up again.
Swooooooooooooooooooosh.
I don't know if I should just lay back and enjoy the buzz or call 911 and tell them I think that I need an ambulance.

Why did my grandparents name my father Dillard and other flights of fancy

Ok, so my grandparents named my father Dillard, but why?
My grandfather was married twice and had something like fourteen kids, nine or so with my grandmother, and my father was the youngest of six sons, and his five older brothers had mostly normal names, there was Haskell, and Monroe, and Everett who were my dad's half brothers, and there was also Ernest and Lawrence, and do you notice a trend here, yeah, the names are getting more common as they go along, I mean after Ernest and Lawrence you might expect something like William, or James, or John for my father, but no, my grandparents throw everybody a curve and name their youngest son Dillard, I mean what kind of WTF is that to lay on a poor unsuspecting kid, and thank god my parents, one of which was named Dillard, didn't name me Dillard, and yeah, when I was a kid my mom used to joke that she was going to name me Aloysius, at least I thought it was a joke until years later when she named her dog Aloysius, and really, if I would have had any choice in it I would have named myself Kent, like the cigarette, well, when I was four years old I would have picked Kent, like the cigarette, and wouldn't that also have been a fine name for a Native American, Kent Like The Cigarette, but I'm not four years old anymore, and I never was a Native American, and I've really been on a Native American kick since I've started reading The Lone Ranger and Tonto Fist Fight in Heaven haven't I, so I learned to live with Ken, until the internet came along and I became Boz, and I wonder what kind of internet name my father would have picked for himself had he lived to experience the wonders of said internet, because actually this post is supposed to be all about him and why my grandparents named him Dillard, and luckily he had many nicknames, like Pickles, and Pick, and Dill, and yeah, Dill was the name of the sickly little bespectacled kid who Jem and Scout befriended in To Kill a Mockingbird, and yeah, that same Dill was based on the real life Truman Capote, who was a childhood friend of Harper Lee, who of course wrote To Kill a Mockingbird, and isn't it odd that my father was also a sickly, but non bespectacled kid, who was so sickly that when my grandparents moved from Tennessee to Michigan when my dad was about seven years old, my dad made the entire train ride resting on a white satin pillow, and too bad Harper Lee didn't know my dad because then he might have grown up and wrote Breakfast At Tiffany's and In Cold Blood, tra la la, tra la la.
So, why did my grandparents name by father Dillard?
It seems that back then it was a common practice to give your children the last name of a politician or general as a first name, and I guess there was a Confederate general in the Civil War named General Dillard, but hell, there was a General Lee, and a General Jackson, and a bunch of other generals with a lot cooler last name than Dillard, and I guess that's enough proof reading, so what do you think?

My crazy cousins

I had one cousin who never knew he was adopted.

I had another cousin who shot himself in the foot in Vietnam so they wouldn't send him back into combat, they sent him back anyway, and he got shot again, this time by the bad guys, and now he is the president of some postal union somewhere in the suburbs outside of Detroit.

I had another cousin who just a couple of months after she got her drivers license had an accident killing her best friend. My cousin spent some time in the hospital and after that she refused to drive, then she became anorexic, then she got married three times, then she found jesus and now she is running a youth camp, whatever the hell that is, down in North Carolina.

I had another cousin who joined the army, and was then kicked out of the army for not being able to conform, who claimed he lived in a cave on the California coast with some ex Manson Family members, who once borrowed twenty dollars from me and never paid me back, who worked every con in the book until he tried to work a con on a guy who knew how to swing a mean two by four, and is now living in a nursing home somewhere out west and wondering why everyone has turned their back on him.

And I don't know why I keep saying I had another cousin, because I still have them. Well, except for ...

I had another cousin, a drunk, one of the lovable kind, who died in his basement all alone, too drunk to do anything about it.

It's raining now, or maybe it's just Carlotta Monti with a garden hose, either way I'm going to try to get some sleep.
Kiss, kiss, take care.

The Andy Griffith Show

When I was in fifth grade our school took a poll among all the classes to choose the most popular show on television.
The Andy Griffith Show was the hands down winner, and I think the student council drafted a letter and sent it out to Hollywood thanking the producers for making such a wonderful show.
Of course this was before Barney left for Raleigh and a job with the FBI and Gomer joined the marines, married Rock Hudson, and made us lose the war in Vietnam.
This was before Floyd had a stroke, and before Aunt Bee married that old guy and moved away, and before Emmett got his fix-it shop, and before Howard Sprague caught the world's biggest catfish, and before they started filming the show in color, and before Jack Nicholson was arrested for being different, and before anyone noticed that there weren't any black people in Mayberry, and probably none in Mt. Pilot either, and before Opie joined a rock and roll band, grew a wispy little mustache, and started neglecting his schoolwork thus proving that Barney was right all along about bud nipping, and did you ever notice what a self righteous piece of crap Andy really was???
I want to change my vote to Leave it to Beaver.

No sky, no diamonds

There was a girl the same age as me named Lucy who grew up down the street from me.
There were a lot of girls and guys the same age as me who grew up down the street from me, we were right smack dab in the middle of the baby boom.
On my street there must have been at least twenty of us who graduated the same year from high school.
Anyway, back to Lucy. She was a tall girl, not unattractive, of Italian descent, who because of her height always seemed to be stooped over. I don't know if she was stooped over in an attempt to hide her height, or because if she didn't stoop over she couldn't hear what anyone was saying to her, and trust me, that is a real possibility, because it used to happen to me, the being tall and having to stoop over to hear people part.
Lucy and I were never friends growing up, she lived way down on the other end of the street and she was a girl and all. I think we had some classes together in grade school so we must have talked or at least spoke to each other, but that was it. By the time we reached junior high and then high school we had no classes together and no contact whatsoever.
Ok, now this is the strange part.
You know when you graduate from high school you paint all sorts of stuff all over your car and drive around honking the horn? Well, ok, I didn't do it, because I was way too tragically hip, but 98.9% of the rest of the graduating class did.
So yeah, Lucy did it too. You know the usual things ...
Sixty-eight is great
Free at last
Look out world
and
KVC
K-V-C???
KVC were my initials!
I mean KVC???
Is there anything else that could be an abbreviation for???
Ok, maybe Kill the Viet Cong, but ???
Did I miss something here?
Or am I reading too much into something again???
Or Maybe I misread it and it was KFC and she just liked chicken?
Who knows.
Who cares.
Well, I must care, because this has been bothering me for 38 years. So if any of you know a tall Italian woman who is kind of stooped over would you go ask her WTF for me?

A Scurvey

What's worse?
1. Being ignored or being yelled at?
2. Eye boogers or nose boogers?
3. Finding blood on your kleenix or finding blood on your charmin?
4. Not being able to fall asleep or not being able to wake up?
5. Finding a dead pet or finding a dying pet?
6. Being bombarded by advertisements for something you hate or being bombarded by advertisements for something you like?
7. No food in the fridge or inedible food in the fridge?
8. The Kennedy's or the Bush's?
9. Mental anguish or physical anguish?
10. You or me?

Zonkboard highlights from me on the rw ... bs

One of our most popular features over on the rw ... bs is our zonkboard.
In the last two years there have been slightly more than 90,000 comments.
The following is a sampling of my comments from the last twenty four hours.

boz: this bedwetting chat has really struck a chord with Jonnie, I have a feeling we are about to hear some suppressed memory stories in a minute or two

boz: I bought some Faygo Fruit Punch last week, I drank so much it made me sick

boz: next time I'll mix it with blood so it won't be as sweet

boz: I'll have to order some more "blood of innocents"

boz: I think I am going to start spiking my hair

boz: I wish I had some dippity do

boz: Jonnie, do you want to open an adult store on Ebay with belle and me?

boz: both urine and blood soaked sheets

boz: belle is all pissed off because she could be making a fortune off the stuff she donated to Goodwill

boz: Jonnie I think your Pirate Salute pics would be a hit with the gay community

boz: you are making no sense

boz: no, wait, I'm making no sense

boz: belle takes a vacuum cleaner to all her interviews

boz: and a bazooka

boz: I feel like vacuuming

boz: Will they let Sandra bring her vacuum with her?

boz: Jonnie, have you ever had sex with a vacuum cleaner?

boz: never put unusual strain on your back trying to reach your penis with your mouth. It's not worth the risk!

boz: plus it gives you more free time to masturbate

A prayer to the gods to quit haunting my soul

I just want to wash my shirts.
I just want to match my socks.
I just want to tap dance on the head of a pin.
I just want to make you shake your head and smile a bit as you walk away.
Go ahead and empty out my bags.
There really isn't nothing there.

Today Ole!!!

I just woke up, and I'm cranky, and I don't feel like wearing my glasses, and all I feel like doing is eating tin foil wrapped chocolate easter eggs right out of the freezer, and then throwing the tin foil on the floor.
Or maybe I'll just start eating the chocolate easter eggs right out of the freezer with the tin foil still on, yeah, what the fuck do you think about that?
Yeah, that's what I thought.
No spell check for you!!!

Third year is a charm

Ok, so I set up an appointment to see the neuro-surgeon for Saturday the 20th, and what kind of doctor has appointments on Saturday ...
Anyway, I had lost his office number so I had to check the online yellow pages for Saginaw, and in his little yellow page ad it said that he had over 50 years of experience ...
Over 50 years of experience would make him 80 something, and do I really want someone who is 80 something operating on my spine. I mean MB is 80 something and I don't even let her answer the phone.
So yeah, he is supposed to be one of the best there is. So I guess I'll go see him on the 20th, because he told me last year that the new procedure that he wants to do, the replacing of the 2 damaged disks with artificial disks is supposed to be approved by the FDA by July of 2006, but then again, I don't know, because I've been checking online and no one says anything about cervical spine replacement surgery being approved in the US by July ...
So yeah, I don't know.
Maybe I'll just get my spine removed and become
Boz, the Jelly Man!!!

Book Chat

I'm half asleep, and I've been reading a book I got off the for sale shelf at the library, and I actually did stick a dollar in the donation box this time, because people were looking and I'm only a creep when I can get away with it.
Anyway, the book, a novel, is titled The Long Ranger and Tonto Fist Fight In Heaven, and it was written by a Native American author named Sherman Something Or Other, well, Something Or Other wasn't his last name, it's not one of those Native American Talks To The Wind type of last name, I just can't remember what Sherman's last name is. Ok, I just looked, his name is Sherman Alexie, and don't you just love how politically correct I am, and that also has to do with me only being a creep when I can get away with it.
So, the book is titled The Long Ranger and Tonto Fist Fight In Heaven and it is written by Sherman Talks To The Wind, ha, I made a joke, I do that once in awhile. The book is titled The Long Ranger and Tonto Fist Fight In Heaven by Sherman Alexie, and that's a name a person of any race, color, or creed can be proud of, isn't it.
The book, the book, the book, yeah the book, is about a guy named Victor who ...
Ok, I just started reading the back cover of the book, and it really isn't a novel, it's a collection of loosely related short stories about a guy named Victor who ...
Hold on a second, let me read the rest of the back cover.
Hey, this loosely related collection of short stories titled The Long Ranger and Tonto Fist Fight In Heaven and written by Alexie Sherman, make that Sherman Alexie was the basis for the film Smoke Signals. I saw Smoke Signals, I don't remember a lot about it, but I did see it. It was about this guy named Victor who ...
Read the book, rent the movie, whatever.
I did say I was half asleep, didn't I?
It's seriously good, seriously.
I wonder if it would be ok if I started referring to Native Americans as NatAms?
It would make it so much easier for me.

Ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch

I'm going to let my hair grow until it gets in my way.



Or until David Crosby gets the flu at Christmas.

My blue period

Mars Needs Women

I'm procrastinating a bit today.
Today is the day I am going to mow the lawn.
Yeah, big deal, right?
Well, yeah, it is, because I haven't mowed the lawn in two years.
Yeah, the back problem, the two deteriorating discs in my neck.
I'm a little bit scared, and I'm a whole lot nervous, and that's why I'm procrastinating, I don't know if I can do it.
No, it's not a big a deal as waiting to see if you've been accepted to grad school, or if you got the new job, but it is a big deal to me.
I don't particularly like mowing the lawn, but it is sort of emasculating knowing that you can't. It's just something that you have to prove to yourself that you can do, and then you can slough it off and hire the kid next door to do it if you want.
It's a lot like the old guy who has to sit in the passenger seat while his wife wheels the Crown Vic around town. Have you ever noticed the look in his eyes? It looks like he's had his balls cut off.
But anyway, yeah, that's how I feel about that.

Short and Screeeeeeeeech

This is one of those days where it seems like it's Friday, except that I know that it's Thursday, but it's actually Wednesday.

It must be post burn stress syndrome.

The kid next door, who mowed my lawn last year, just knocked at the door, I'm assuming he was going to ask me if I wanted him to mow my lawn again this year. I'm only assuming that he was going to ask me if I wanted him to mow my lawn again this year because I didn't answer the door, and I didn't answer the door, because I didn't want to crush his hopes and dreams of financial prosperity by telling him that I was going to try to mow my lawn myself this year.
In many respects I really am a sensitive person.

burnt boz

I am in great pain

2nd degree burns on my thumb and first two fingers.





A word of advice. If you are heating something up on the stove and one of the burner grill thingies slips out of place and is about to fall on the floor. Do not try to catch it. Let it fall.

I'm the guy who got kicked out of the movies for refusing to stand up during the playing of the national anthem

I just retired the american flag that has been on continuous display in my front yard since 9-11. I knew it was in bad shape, but I really couldn't tell how ripped and frayed it was until I took a real close look at it.
I guess when I go to the city hall today to pay my water bill I'll just take the flag along with me and put it in the drop box sponsored by the VFW and let them dispose of it in the proper manner. It's the least I can do.
I don't think I'll be putting another flag up either, and no, I'm no super patriot, or staunch conservative, or jaded liberal, so don't go looking for any hidden political message in any of my actions.

Who are those guys?

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, since I've had the blues, about what the blues actually are.
I'm not really sad, or unhappy, or depressed.
No, like I said, I've been thinking, and I think the blues are mostly just feeling sorry for yourself.
Listen to any blues song and tell me you don't agree.
Yeah, I'm sure that's it.

I was watching Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid just a few minutes ago, and of course I was reminded of the first time I saw it back when I was 19 and going to Tech School in the Air Force down in Mississippi, and a couple of the guys asked me to go see it with them at one of the base theaters. I guess it was just a spur of the moment thing. It was always a spur of the moment thing where I was concerned back in Mississippi. If I were around it was, hey Boz let's go to the show, or go to town, or whatever. I was never included if it was planned, You know, if they planned to go to the show, or to town, or whatever ...
I guess what I am trying to say is I was always included if they couldn't get anyone else to go, or if plans fell through, you know a last second thing, a last resort.
It's always been that way with me, as a kid, as an adult, with friends, with family, with anyone.
I'm convenient!!!
Yeah, I'm convenient!!!
Damn, it's like a light bulb just went off in my head.
I'm convenient!!!
Convenient!!!
I still am.
Convenient.

The blues? Yep, still got 'em

I think the best way to describe the blues I have is:
You know when you watch a really bad movie and say to yourself, well, that's two hours of my life that I'll never get back?
I guess that's how I feel when I wake up in the morning.
Well, that's another day in my life that I'll never get back.

Hello, I'm Hervé Villechaize for Fantasy Brand Condoms

Nothing's illegal if you got the blues

So I was surfing around this morning. Checking out some of those orphan blogs and message boards, you know the ones I mean, the blogs and boards that are there one day and gone the next. The kind of blogs and boards that offer sort of ehhhhh illegal music downloads, and I found a board this morning that had a Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young bootleg concert performance, now I'm not a big CSNY fan, but hey, Neil Young is god, and further hey, did I ever tell you that I saw Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young in concert back when I was home on leave from the Air Force in November and December of 1969?
So anyway, I see the link for the CSNY concert bootleg, and I click on it.
So, it's Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young in concert,
December 14, 1969, the Masonic Auditorium, Detroit, Michigan ...
December 14, 1969, the Masonic Auditorium, Detroit, Michigan ...
December 14, 1969, the Masonic Auditorium, Detroit, Michigan ...
December 14, 1969, the Masonic Auditorium, Detroit, Michigan ...
Hmmmmmmmmm, huhhhhhhhhhhh, what????
That's me, that's my concert, yeah, the one I saw, Air Force, leave, home, December, 1969, yep, I was freakin' there!!!
Oh man, could I tell you stories about that concert, and some of them would even be true!!!
So, yeah, I downloaded it, because you know, I've had the blues lately, and ...
Well anyway, it took a few minutes for the file to download, and yeah, I'm getting excited, because, well you know, the memories, and the stories, and ahhhhh, I started getting goosebumps in anticipation.
Soooo, the file downloads, and I open it, and blah blah blah, a couple of songs, a lot of random guitar tuning, a lot of lame and inane I'm cooler than you banter between Crosby, and Stills, and Nash, and I'm about to write this off to experience, when all of a sudden ...
Neil Young cuts through all the bullshit and starts singing
On The Way Home
And there I am.
Nineteen years old, in a concert hall in Detroit, home on leave, just a week before I was heading overseas, not knowing what was in store ...
And Neil Young just sums it all up in a three minute and fifteen second song, and I guess that's why Neil Young is God.
I'm sort of gashlumpting all up right now, so I guess I'll leave it at that.

Even Davy Crockett gets the blues

Oh man.
I woke up this morning about six o'clock and turned on the History Channel and there was a program on about Davy Crockett, Davy Fuckin' Crockett. When I was about 5 years old Davy F Crockett was the biggest thing in the world, thanks to TV and Uncle Walt Disney.
F Crockett was bigger than Elvis, he was bigger than the Beatles, he was bigger than god ... Davy Fuckin' Crockett was god!!!
I had Davy Crockett underpants, which I would show to anyone interested at the drop of a hat.
I had a Davy Crockett coonskin cap, not the bogus one with the short tail, but the genuine one with the long tail.
I had the little orange and yellow Davy Crockett phonograph records that you could buy at the supermarket for about a quarter each.
I had a Davy Crockett rifle ... Old Betsy, yeah, Old Betsy, yeah, he named his fuckin' gun, wanna make something of it???
I had a complete set of Davy Crockett peanut butter glasses, and yeah, I still have one of them, and maybe if you're lucky I'll take a picture of it and post it in here.
I had a Davy Crockett pocket knife that I got for my fifth birthday, a real goddamn pocket knife that my parents took away when I tried to eviscerate my sister after she failed to show Davy the proper respect.
Yeah, Davy Fuckin' Crockett was a "guy thing" but even the girls tried to horn in on it. My little down the street girlfriend, who really wasn't my girlfriend, but my mother and her mother thought we looked adorable together, so I guess she was my girlfriend, even my down the street girlfriend had a white coonskin cap which supposedly Davy Fuckin' Crockett's wife Molly Fuckin' Crockett wore, but it never would have worked out between us, and when I say us I don't mean Molly Crockett and me I mean my little down the street girlfriend and me, because I was five and she was four, and the age difference was just too great, and she started hanging around with the guys in a rock band, and then she got mono in college, and how can you spend your life with a girl who gets mono in college, and I bet she doesn't still have her coonskin cap anyway.
Yeah, and where's Davy Crockett now that we need him, huh?
The hunter hero.
The common man.
The dreamer.
The adventurer.
Yeah, right.
I bet he didn't even like peanut butter.

Alright, who stole my Davy Crockett glass?

No Way VIII

I told you I had the blues.

No Way VII

It's seven a.m,
And I've got them again,
The early morning,
They strike without warning,
My ennui is showing,
Negativity growing,
Harmonica blowing,
Good lord, I've got them again ... blues

Take meds - check
Make coffee - check
Turn on tv - check
AMC - check
TCM - check
FUC - check
KME - check
Ponder life - check
Forehead slap - check
Sneeze, again, again, again, again, again, again ... again - check
Tap out a melodic tune with my fingers - check
Swivel back and forth, back and forth, back and forth - check
Stifle a yawn - check
Suppress a fart - check
Clear my throat - check
Cut the deck - check
Ummmm - check
Hey look, the Three Stooges are on - check
It's a Curly - check
N'yuk, n'yuk, n'yuk - check
But I like Shemp too - check
Ehhhh - check
I'm going back to bed - check

No Way VI

What could be causing these blues of mine?
1. Lack of cheese, and when I say cheese I mean sex?
2. Too much 60s dirge like music?
3. Fat guy pants?
4. My act is no longer an act?
5. The one step away from being retarded woman who always tries to talk to me at the Burger King?
6. The fact that they automatically give me the Over 55 discount without even asking?
7. The crap I used to post is 100 times better than the crap I post now?
8. Bruiser Boz Detweiler's lack of impact?
9. Realizing that none of you will read down this far?
10. My blog title becoming a self fulfilling prophecy?

No Way V

Me: I'm going to the supermarket do you want anything?
MB: I can't think of anything.
Me: How about some cranberry juice?
MB: Cucumbers???
Me: No, cranberry juice!!!
MB: Hamburgers???
Me: No, CRANBERRY JUICE.
MB: Garage floor cleaner???
Me: No, CRANBERRY ... ah, forget it.
MB: Oh, cranberry juice.
Me: Doh!!!
MB: You should write down all these mistakes I make, I bet you could
make a book out of them.

And still I have the blues.

No Way IV

Ok, so I still have the blues, and I also have a bad back and a draining sinus, and to top it all off there are gale force winds blowing outside, and Gail, or Gayle, or yeah even Gale was a pretty popular girls name when I was growing up. You couldn't fling a dead cat without it landing at the saddle shoed clad feet of some chick named Gayle/Gail/Gale, and yeah, there really was a very popular actress who starred in a couple of 50s sitcoms who was named Gale Storm, and she always played this petite, perky, plucky career girl who, along with her older best friend usually played by Zasu Pitts, would spend the whole thirty minutes trying to snag a man, well, Gale would try to snag a man, because even back in the 50s it was pretty obvious even to a wee lad like myself that the only person Zasu was interested in snagging was Gale Storm, if you get my drift, yeah, so Gale would spend the whole thirty minutes trying to snag a man, usually a rich handsome one, or at least a handsome one who would one day be rich ... but still I have the blues.
And ...
Gail was also a pretty popular guys name if you lived in the south, and I think that whole girl name for a guy is pretty much limited to parts of the south where cousins married cousins or sheep.

Perky, plucky and petite Gale Storm

No Way III

Still got the blues
Da dah da dun
Bib overall blues
Da dah da dun
Oh yeah

No way II

It's two thirty in the morning and I'm listening to the Jefferson Airplane.
Oobie doobie doo.
Nah, I've changed my mind, I'm not posting.
I've got the blues.

No way

I've got the blues.

Yourself you'd touch, but not too much

This song is one of the reasons that I am glad I am not young, or a girl, or blue.
Young Girl Blues by Donovan

Doo Doo Doo Looking Out My Front Door

Ok, my front window, but maybe ever wrote a song about looking through windows, well, except Look Through Any Window by the Hollies, but that's looking in not out, and this is looking out not in.
Anyway, I woke up and there they were the dreaded East Tawas Killer Deer.

Floppy Diskette Pics

While rooting around looking for something else I found five floppy diskettes with a bunch of pictures from way back before the digital days.

My soon to be Aunt Rachel, my Uncle Danny, and a not quite 13 year old Boz.



They were like my two favorite adult people at the time. My Uncle Danny had always been more like a big brother to me, and Rachel was the first adult who treated me like a person and not a kid.

Rach and Danny had met when they were about 13 years old when Rachel came up from Kentucky to spend the summer with her brother and his wife who were neighbors of my grandparents.
Years later she told me that she knew from the first time she saw my Uncle Danny that he was the guy she was going to marry, unless Elvis somehow became available.
It's been six years since my Uncle Dan passed away and my Aunt Rachel still hasn't gotten over it.

The Detweiler Brothers

Check out the Detweiler Brothers, a homage to 70's style midwest independant wrestling promotions maintained by Rebel Leady Boy and myself.

Talk like Samuel L. Jackson Weekend, Part II

Samuel L. Jackson reads the Gettysburg Address.

Samuel L. Jackson's version

Four score and seven years ago a bunch of pasty skinned white ass mother fuckers got together to see how they could keep my black mother fuckin' ass down.

Now what we got here is a bunch of crazy ass white mother fuckers busting caps in each others ass. A bunch of white mother fucking gang bangers if you will, trying to prove to each other that their mother fuckin' white ass dick is bigger than his mother fuckin' white ass dick, and my mother fuckin' black ass dick just ain't gonna buy it. Puh-lease mother fucker.

It don't matter what those crazy white ass mother fuckers are trying do, it ain't up to their mother fuckin' white asses or my mother fuckin' black ass to preach no mother fuckin' words about what went down in this mother of all mother fuckin' drive by shootings. We'll just have to leave that to the mother fuckin' brother upstairs. Dig.

Abraham Lincoln's version

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate -- we can not consecrate -- we can not hallow -- this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract. The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here. It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced. It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us -- that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion -- that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain -- that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

Touched for the very first time

So, Boz, how are you?

Crap, I feel like crap.

Oh, this isn't a good time. Should I just go?

'Sup to you.

Wait a second. It's one in the afternoon and you still aren't dressed, and your hair's a mess, and I bet if you were to breathe on me ... well, just don't even try to breathe on me.

Fuck you. I'm in pain. I think I have two broken toes, and everything hurts. Nobody knows the pain that is Boz.

C'mon Bozzie. Up, up, up and at 'em.

Maybe you should just go away. Did I tell you my vocal chords hurt too?

Say, Bozzie, why don't you wash up, get dressed, have a nice HAM sandwich and go out to the Dollar Store. Everyone knows you love the Dollar Store ... and HAM!!!

Hmmmmm, I do sort of hear the siren song of the Dollar Store beckoning me.
Hey ... I told you I like ham, I don't love ham, I just like ham, ok, it's not that I need ham, or obsess about ham, or dream about ham, or have a freezer full of ham and ham by products, I just like ham, ok.

Fine, yeah, so anyway, what you been doing lately Bozzerino?

I'm re-inventing myself ... holy shit, did you see that???

What???

Oh never mind, it was nothing, nothing, nothing, forget I even brought it up. I think it was another Faux Vietnam Flashback, I've been having a lot of those since I stopped taking the zoloft a month ago.

Re-inventing yourself, explain.

I'd rather not go into it right now. I'd rather be totally re-invented before I speak about my re-invention. But, it's not one of those Madonna like re-inventions, well, not a LOT like one of those Madonna re-inventions. I am adding dancers ... but I've already said too much.
Do you have any cough drops, I'd kill for a cough drop, or a gun, I mean some gum, yeah, do you have any cough drops or a gun ... GUM, GUM, I mean GUM!!!
GUM, GUM, GUM, GUM, GUM, GUM, GUM, GUM, GUM, GUM, GUM, GUM, GUM, GUM, GUM, GUM, GUM, GUM, GUM, GUM, GUM.

Ahhh, ok Bozley, I'm going to run now. They're having a Kurosawa retrospective down at the Theater of the Tragically Hip this weekend, and I promised some friends that I'd do the organic popcorn. Toodles.*

GUM, GUM, GUM, GUM, GUM, GUM, GUM, GUM, GUM, GUM, GUM, GUM, GUM, GUM, GUM, GUM.


*And as always the voice of Boz's conscience was played by the bastard love child of Frank Sinatra and Gracie Slick, Hieronymus Glick Flick Slick Sinatra Love.

Only Sixteen Hours To Go

Hey, mother fuckers it's only sixteen hours till Talk Like Samuel L. Jackson Weekend officially kicks off.



Don't pull any punk ass shit on me now or I might have to bust a cap in your mother fuckin' ass.

I have become Bruiser Boz Detweiler!

I am Bruiser Boz Detweiler, and along with my brother Jonnie Hardcore Detweiler we will be defending our tag team belts against all comers on the tri state indie circuit this spring and summer.


Jonnie Hardcore Detweiler


Bruiser Boz Detweiler ... Fear the claw!!!

Talk like Samuel L. Jackson Weekend

From Friday 4PM EDT till Monday 2AM EDT it will be talk like Samuel L. Jackson Weekend.



Don't any of you jive-ass mother fuckers let me down.

Easter is now officially over

Easter 1961 - First roll of color film.

Happy Easter - The Ham Manifesto

No boz, is good boz

At the corner of Utica Road and Twelve Mile

So anyway, I had a dream about you the other night.
I was at home, but not the home I am living at now, I was at home in the home I used to live in before I moved up here, I was at the home I lived in when I used to live in Detroit, well, I didn't actually live in Detroit, but when you are from Detroit you refer to Detroit and all the surrounding area as Detroit, of course we drew the line at actually paying Detroit city taxes because that would have been just wrong, and stupid.
So anyway, I was at home, and I was expecting you, I mean your visit had been planned weeks, no, months in advance, and I was expecting you, and all of a sudden there you were looking in the window, and I must say that you were looking really hot, with your long hair, and bangs, and you were thinner than what I had expected, and I was all nervous and everything, so I went into the bedroom acting like I had to make the bed or something, and then you knocked at the door, and MB, yeah, MB was in the dream too, and, no it doesn't get real weird or anything, she was just in the dream, and MB answered the door, and you came in the house, and you were looking really really really hot, I mean even hotter than I acutally thought you were, if that is possible, and I sort of snuck a look at you from your reflection in the wall mirror that I didn't know I had, and you were wearing sort of red and black and white checked pants, and some kind of layered looked top all in red and black and greys, and all sorts of spangly jangly necklaces and bracelets, and a vest, yeah, you were wearing a vest, a leather vest, and MB said:
Oh look ........ is here
And I tried being all cool and witty and said something totally lame, and as soon as I said it I knew it was totally lame, and I wanted to hide under the bed, or disappear.
And then you started talking to MB, and you told her how you had been dying to meet her for years and years and years.
And you and MB just started becoming the fastest of friends.
And I was standing in the bedroom, thinking ...
Well what about me???
And you and MB were talking and laughing.
And I was getting all neurotic, and psychotic, and weirded out.
And then I guess I woke up because the dream was over.
And really, I don't even think of you like that.
You know, in that way.
It's just the dream, you know.
It was weird.
And you must never tell anyone that it was you that I dreamt about, because that would be really awkward and uncomfortable for both of us, and yeah, probably ten times more awkward and uncomfortable for you, but still, you know, okay.

Fuck it boz, quit editing and re-editing the post and just put it to bed!!!

Frank and Mike pretending they are Mike and Frank, respectively

I was actually channel surfing one evening back in, oh, I don't know, late 1967, or early 1968, when I stumbled across this little add on at the end of the Monkee's television show, and channel surfing was a lot easier back then because there were only four VHF channels and two UHF channels, and one of the UHF channels was Educational TV which is what they called PBS before it was called PBS, and I was going to say I never watched it, but I did, I did really watch it, because they had all sorts of good shows like Pete Seeger singing folksongs with Cisco Houston, and Joan Baez, and Dave Von Ronk, and a bunch of other folk singing type guys and gals.
But back to the Monkees ...
I think this was either at the peak of their popularity or just after and all the guys forced NBC to let them do little end of show vignettes to show how creative they were.
Ummm, and Mickey had Tim Buckley on the show to show just how relevant and folky he was, and Davy had some guy who wrote show tunes on to show just how Broadway he was, and Mike had Frank on because he wanted to show everybody he was more than just a stupid hat and sideburns, Mike, not Frank.
So, yeah.

Just another shot in the dark

I'm sort of tap dancing in quicksand blog wise, aren't I?
Not doing much of anything.
Just passing time.
Treading water.
Positioning myself.
Lurking in the shadows.
Hiding in the weeds.
Doing whatever consenting adults used to do in the bulrushes during biblical times, huh.

self

Jackie's in his corset, Janie's in her vest, me, I'm in a rock and roll band ... ha

Velvet Underground reunion 1993

You're number thirty-seven, have a look

Nico, Lou Reed and John Cale

Sighhhhhhhhhhhh

Lucinda Williams

And I'm gettin' old ...

Gott in Himmel, it's the Beat Boys!!!

Is that Sandra's mother in the audience???
Ok, when the Beatles first came out I read somewhere that it was hard to say the Beatles in German, so they called them the Beat Boys.