In the Navy.

Howdy folks, I was just looking through a box of old stuff my sister colocted and I found a snapshot of a rather tall and scrawny fellow. This knucklehead's wearing just some trousers and a dixiecup (sailor's cap) and leaning on a palm tree, grinnin' ear-to-ear. On the back is written:

"Hey Peg, Just sayin' howdy from Gulfport, Mississippi. Timmy."

Oh shucks, that brought a tear to my eye. This must of been when I first started ECS training, oh say 1982. Oh yes siree, I say started cuz I didn't smile once afterwards. Just to give you folks a pretty scary fact this is where I learned proficiancy with the ole M-16. You just remember that, Mr. John Sloss.
Ya see, at 17 my life was pretty messed up. Peggie had married Ken and she tried to help strighten me out but ole Ken said it wasn't her responsibilly. I was flunking out of senior year and was stoned more often than not but I was using less than the previous years. I managed to just get by the the last two years of high school, but I had put myself into a hole. I was going to hafta' repeat when a USMC recruiter came in to give us a talk. The principal told him about me and well they called my Sis and Ken and we had us a little sit down. I don't recall much but I got my H.S. diploma and had been signed on to a two year stint in Uncle Sam's Navy (the Gunny said I wasn't Marine material). Navy boot camp was hell and ship life wasn't much better (Peggie sez I shouldn't mention what ships and bases I was at). I snuck a sip of booze or beer at every oppertunity but going stone cold turkey on the hard drugs was rough. I spent a lot of time in the infirmary that first year. Also for some reason or 'nother people didn't like me. They would call me Rice Krispies and a game they soon had was to dunk my head in water and scream "Let's hear ya snap, crackle and pop!" Yeah, I got beat up a lot. One time when I was hauling up cargo I dropped the whole load and the Boatswain's mate told the other guys to lock me in an equiptment locker.
My life on ship came to an end when after showing an aptitude for electrical repairs I was transferred to the Construction Battalion, the ole Seabees, where I became a CE (construction electrician). I bounced around a lot until I was assigned as a lineman on a Marine base. The Marines used to beat on me pretty bad. After 3 years with the Navy I got a medical discharge when I broke my femur in a pretty nasty tangle with 4 drunken Marines. After which I ended up in Reno and looked up my Dad, but that as the good book sez is another story.

Construmus Batuimus! or just Can Do!

Hoo-rah! CE Timothy A. Kisper

Kids you don't want to end up like Andy Ackerman.

Back in the days of youth when Summers were always endless and future seemed to sparkle with vigor and luster, Andy Ackerman was king.
He was a few years our senior as a result of staying back twice and when we started sixth grade, he dropped out. That was like, wow! He was afraid of nobody and adults were afraid of him. When we were sucking on Tootsie Pops and drinking Pepsi, he was smokin' Kents and drinking Ballentine. Me and Andy had in common that both of our Dads were "killed in Viet Nam" this was a euphanism for our Dads being skirt chasers and us in effect bein' basterds. In retrospect I guess it seemed better that we gave these fellers some kind of heroes death rather than suffer the indignities that these bums got a woman pregnant and high tailed it. Back then, folks had standards not like today. Bein' a single Mom was a stigma, even worse if she were a drunk. So if some Commies killed my Dad folks could understand my Mom's drinking, nevermind he was really out in Reno having impropper relations with a dozen or more showgirls and prositutes. Anywhoes back to Andy Ackerman. This guy was brave, braver than brave. He'd hop the fence and wrestle with the O'malley's dog, the meanest dog in town. He stole gum from the pharmacy right under the pharmacist's nose. He talked back to teachers, cops, you name it. He even introduced me to smoking grass. We would have followed him anyware, he was our hero. All that changed one Fall day at Meatloaf Hill.
Meatloaf Hill was this tall eroded hill at one end of the woods, we called it that cuz the dirt was a reddish color and the little bits of green scrub that grew on it looked like Parsley sprinkled on top of meatloaf. Since all the sand and dirt had eroded away with the rain a bunch of big rocks and boulders had settled at the bottom of the hill. We always dared each other to ride our bikes down but no one ever did, even as kids we knew it was dangerous. But Andy Ackerman didn't care. He had just stolen a brand new Schwinn Stingray off some kid and was itching to push it to its limits. So we all sat on our rides (that what we called our bikes back then) at the top of ole Meatloaf Hill and cheered our hero on. He would be the first kid to achive the impossible. That cool autumn day life and the world seemed limitless. Andy chugged down a whole can of beer and took off down the hill and imediately ran into trouble. The sand was too soft and his bike couldn't find purchase (this was before the days of mountain bikes) he started to slide sideways and eager to impress us he showed no fear. Then he tumbled and lost the bike, two meteors falling to earth, Andy hit the rocks first and the noises were horrible, his labored grunting and bones cracking. Then the bike hit him, when the dust settled we could see his broken and twisted body lying on the rocks. Blood everywhere or red sand we couldn't tell. I've seen a lot of accidents in my days from my time in the Navy and the 21 years I spent as a lineman and a couple of tragic deaths but none of it had the impact on me that ole Andy Ackerman's ill fated ride did. Andy eventually recovered but he was never the same, we had lost our hero. We also learned that disappointment would play a big role in the future. Andy would sit on his front porch and drink, we saw less and less of him and it wasn't a big surprise when we found out he hung himself in the woods. Andy was 17 when he killed himself and my hero truly died. Sometimes when I lie awake at night I cry to myself and remember that day at Meatloaf Hill. Drugs and alcohol have erased all memory of my highschool graduation, senior prom and other pleasant events that I would like to remember but this seems like it was yesterday. Ken Jr. has an old bike in the garage so maybe later today I'll take a ride out to Meatloaf Hill and drink a toast to our old hero. I miss you, Andy.

Tim

Turnib Stone turns me into a loser.

Howdy,
This'll be a shorty folks as I'm pretty bushed. Ole Ken Sr. had his stupid football party today and I had to get out. First, I grabbed me some snacks he set up and I see a big ole banner hanging over there Fancy Nancy TV. Steelers? Ken Sr. is a Steelers fan? The Bills man show some hometown pride. Down in The City they can argue over the Jets and Giants 'till the cows come home, but up here in north country we have our Buffalo Bills. If your an Upstater, they are your team. Now I know you folks who aint from 'round here will say that the Bills had the murdering numbskull OJ. But hey, if he was once on your hometown team would you hate them? Steelers fan, Good Gravy Marie! Lord, I know it is wrong to hate others, but this feller is malkin' it too easy. C'mon Big Guy, can I have one for the Gipper?
Anywhoes, Big Sis gives me this free bus pass to Turning Stone with a coupon for35 buckeroos in chips. Now I aint a gambling man and those Injuns scare the Bejesus out of me but what the heck? I lost all of my $35 two minutes after I walked in and security guys kept bothering me. They said if I wasn't playing I'd have to leave, plus the bar was way too pricey. So I took me a free shuttle bus into Utica and mulled around some. Had a nice dinner and God's Honest Truth some really good beer. I don't care what they say 'bout you, Utica!
Just got home, Ken and some of his Bozzos're still yukking it up. I am so glad I burnt his comics. Sorry Lord, but I hope he gets hit but an Indian Casino bus.
Tired Tim

Howdy

Yuk, yuk folks ole Tim here again, I must say a special thanks to the Puppet Kid for all his replies as of late and to you other pranksters enough with the Ed Harris stuff. Well I was sneaking around down in the laundry room last night looking through the family's pockets for spare change ($7.46, a nice haul) and I overheard Big Sis and the ole bro-in-law talkin in bed (there room is right above the laundry room). Seems Ken Sr. is gonna have some big get together on Sunday to watch the Bills play. He sez he wants me out of the house on Sunday. I guess I embarrass him in front of his friends and relatives (hey I anit the one who's a cripple), but the Big Sis sticks up for me and tells him to invite me. Well, It's a courtesy invite but hey, I aint upset. Truth be told and beggin' the good Lord's forgiveness I don't particularly like the feller much. He's family so I put up with him and I get the gist the feelin's mutual. Ken Jr. and Sara, the same but they came outta my Big Sis so they're kin, but there dad's a hornweasle! So this morning ole Ken got's to go to Cosco and load up on supplies for the big sheebang. They got this ole handicapped van with a little elevator for his wheelchair, but he can't drive. Normally that's okeydoke cuz Peg or one of the kids does the driving, 'cept this time Peg and Ken Jr. are at work and Sara's in school. So Ken tells me to drive him, 'cept I don't have no license. State O' New York took care of that, permanatey revoked. I know he knows this and I try an' explain anyway but he tells me that even though his legs don't do nothing he still has an active NY driver's license and I would be proxy driving under his license as far as the law was concerned. I aint ever heard of this proxy driving but heck, I haven't drove in ages so I'm game. We get to the Cosco fine an' dandy, he sez he's proud that I'm sober, 'cept he don't know that I already had about 5 drinks so far. So anywho's we dod the shopping and after a bit I gotta use the john, so I tell Ken he sez okay so I go in an do my buisness snort a small bottle of Jack I had in my secret jacket pocket and when I come out ole Ken's gone! He just vanished, I check all the aisles I have him paged an' nothing! I look again, nothing. So I left but I don't want to get pinched for driving the van without a license so I walked down the road, I was gonna call Big Sis and tell I lost her crippled husband or maybe he was mugged and killed or kidnapped by aliens (Hey, Spork grab that one over there with wheels instead of legs), but she told me to NEVER (all caps means business) call her at work. So I was nervous so I went to the liquor store and the dounut shop and sat in the park and drank and ate donuts and wandered home when it got dark. The cripple van was in the driveway and Sara and her slutty friend Madison (John Sloss would like her, maybe you can spank her next week) are smoking on the breezeway and she sez you are otta here, #$%&! And they laugh at me. Ken's in there at the supper table and he just looks up what happened man? is all he sez. He was in the handicapped toilet and he fell and some dang kids cut the cripple helpper string alarm thing. Well I got to stay in the garage on Sunday, I'm not allowed in the house and I can't have any mozzerela sticks either even though he bought a big box of like 400 of them. Lord, forgive me but I hate that cripple Ken, Peg how come you couldn't marry someone cool who could walk?

Peace & love,
Tim

Funny books sure have gotten expensive!

Howdy pardners, it looks like ole Tim is in trouble. Remember I told y'all 'bout burning them funnybooks I found in the garage for warmth? Well they didn't belong to Ken Jr. No siree Bob, they belonged to Ken Sr. He saved them from his childhood and having at it that I'm a half buck shy of him that would put them at oh about 45 to 50 years old. Now, I aint no dummy (jurry's still out on that one, yuk, yuk!), I paid my dues at the antique store manning the register so I know these got value. So I ask the ole' bro-in-law, say Kenny, what're them old comic books worth ya got there out in the garage? He sez, well they're in rough shape but will still fetch about 10 G's, there're gonna pay for my retirement. Ya see, the guy's a cripple an he don't work, big sis pulls down some serious doe but with today's market who knows how they'll fare in another 15 years easpecialy now that there nest egg's gone up in smoke. It's gonna break my heart to tell the old man that I saw a couple of Ken Jr's shifty friends cart the box off the other night.



10 thousand dollars for a few minutes of heat, a fare trade?

The voice of the Home Depot gives me the willies.

Well, howdy doody folks. Ole Tiny Tim checking in. Well, me and the nephew, Ken Jr. went to the Home Depot today to get some insulation and drywall and supplies. We got frost on the pumpkin so you know I'm freezing at night, even with the electric blanket I say. So this here weekend we'll be finishing off my room. Went down the Salvation Army Store and picked up a hotplate and coffee pot to go with my microwave range oven. So anyways, Ken Jr. wants to go to the Home Depot. I tell you that place scares me, sure it's big, but it's that voice on the commercial that scares me. So I asks ole Ken the Junior, who's that guy talking on the commercial and he tells me it's Ed Harris. He's a pretty scary guy. I was scared with that submarine movie, but that was more the water snake than ole Ed, but he's still scary. Now when you fill your body up with dangerous and illegal chemicals for 40 and change years, plus drink pretty heavily you get what them Navy Head Shrinkers like to call psychosis. That can make you think some pretty creepy stuff, like Ed Harris is following you around Home Depot with a ten pound hammer trying to crack your skull open. Luckily you can carry around a fence post digger for protection. Ken Jr. yelled a lot and we didn't get the stuff we went for, he went home and told his Mom that Uncle Tim is a "wanger nut job" whatever that means. So I'm wraped up in the electric blanket freezing my knickers off, burning some of Ken Jr's old Spiderman comic books on the hotplate to keep warm. We should of went to Lowe's, they got Gene Hackman doing there voice and he's a kindly old man, like a high school history teacher, 'cept in that cowboy movie, he was pretty scary in that. Gottta go, I gotta pull all these X man comics out of the plastic bags so I can burn them to keep warm.
Your bunk house budy,
Tim
Stay out of Home Depot Kisper you rascal!

Howdy pardners

Hoo-boy I'm more beat than a dead dog. Muscles I didn't even know I had are sore. In other words, man I'm gosh darned tired. Just sittin' here over the garage sipping some diet Dr. Pepper and munching on some Hot Pockets (brand names, I gotta capitalize them kids. Registed trademarks, ya know). Ken Jr. my nephew owns a carpet installin' buisness an he got a big contract to replace all the carpet at this motel (he says I can't say the name). Well it's a big job, he's a strong young buck at 25 but he needs a little help. He got 2 guys that work or him every so often but it's still a BIG job. His dad Ken Sr. (the ole bro-in-law) is a cripple in a wheelchair so he can't help. So when the chips are down who do they call to the plate, your pal Tim. Been laying carpet all week, 14 hours a day. Ole boy Tim's a laying rug and he's purdy good at it too, only screwed up like 300 square feet, not much. Got some money in my pocket, but they say I can't spend her on no booze. Ah heck! What should I buy? I got me 200 smackeroos. My little apartment's comming along, I installed the electric baseboards and wired them up. When our backs stop a aching me and Ken Jr. gonna put up some insulation and hang some drywall. It's gettin' pretty nippy at night now with them cool breezes comin in off the lake. We're in for a cold winter, yes siree Pop.
I'll hook up witcha down the trail,
Tim

The happiest time in my life.

Howdy pardners, Childhood is typically not a good memory for myself. I hardly knew my dad and I inherited my drinking from my mom who was as they would now say an abusive parent. If not for Peggy, my big sis' and Uncle Sam's Navy I don't think I'd be around today. There was one happy time back then and a birthday gift I recently got from Peggy and Ken and the kids brought this cloudy memory back. They gave ole Tim a video disk set of the television series Wanted Dead Or Alive starring Steve McQueen as old west bounty hunter, Josh Randall. Easilly my favorite television program of all time.
Look at him with his cool pistolized Winchester rifle. I'm not much of a TV watcher these days and a down own a video disk player, but the thought was nice. Anyhow, when I was but a wee boy for some reason I had to stay with my Grandmother for awhile, this was before I was in school. I think it was summer as I don't recolect it being cold and I know it was very far away but don't know exactly where. It could of been local or out of state to tell you the truth I don't even remember my Grandma's name. But that's not surprising with all the chemicals I injested over the years. While I was there I remember watching a lot of TV, it was black and white and it was pretty much westerns. I had said before I don't like western movies too much but these old TV shows were dfferent and pretty fun and my favorite was Wanted Dead Or Alive. It wasn't first run I know but in re runs. I also fondly remember grilled cheese sandwiches and a scary looking blue and white glass owl that I smashed on the sidewalk. After awhile my Grandma died and I was sent back to my mom. I asked my big sis' Peggy about this and she says we didn't have a Grandma and it was probably a foster mother because when I was 4 and she was 8 our mom was really drunk and threw Peggy down the stairs and broke her collar bone. Mom was locked in a mental hospital for a year and Peggy lived with her girl friend from school's family. She doesn't know where I was for that year. I don't know who that old lady was, but to me she will always be my Grandma and I'm sorry for breaking your owl statue but it scared the bejesus out of me.

Friends again

So this feller Mike shoots me an electronic mail and tells me to give John Sloss another chance. So the hathet is burried. John, let's talk, I guess you're not poop aftr all.

The Guitar Man by Bread

This here's the real stuff, folks. From the man himself, Mr. David Gates.

Get in line gals...

Ole Tim wants to be your guitar man.

I want me a sexy lady.

I want to meet a sexy lady, who will love me and my homespun sense of humor. We will marry with an outdoor wedding with friends, family and at least one celebrity guest in attendance. Our children will be tall and blond and we will teach them to sing and dance and make merry. We will perform as a family at country fairs and the crowds will cheer and appauld. When I'm old and sick on my deathbed my great brood will gather around me and I will tell each that I love them and kiss them farewell. When I die I will be buried on a hilltop overlooking a river valley and sparrows will sing to me. My wife will die some time after and if she hasn't re-married she will be laid at my side. Our children and grandchildren will lay flowers on our graves but will stop after a few years too busy with their own lives and over time the wind and rain shall erase our names from our tombstone. A Boyscout trying to earn his Eagle badge will clean up the grave yard and consulting old cemetery charts will mark our grave as that of Bernie and Paula Berkowitz, who are actually buried two plots over. Our great grandchild whom we had never met will try to find our graves to no avail before the bulldozers plow over the ancient graveyard for a new residential development. A young Indian couple will buy a house there and the wife will plant roses in the yard but only two will ever bloom, me and the young and lovely blond goddess who is my wife. Next store an Italian man will plant tomatoes but only two would turn red, they would be Bernie and Paula. Bernie would be sour and give the man really bad heartburn which will kill him and he will be buried in a new graveyard nearby and so the future moves on.

John Sloss is poop!

Yes, he is. He pretends to be my friend but as I'm looking at his postings that I missed I see he says I went to jail and well he makes pornographic pictures with my head on them.

You are not my friend! You are POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP, POOP!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sorry folks, Yuk, Yuk

Howdy partners,
Old Tim has been lost in the woods for awhile. Truth of the matter is I got kicked out of my room at the Y. I was caught drinking in the hall and well they told me to leave. So for a little bit I bunked with Manny Ortiz this guy I knew from way back well, then he got busted by the cops for looking at dirty videos of kids and they locked up his apartment so I had nowear to go so I lived on the streets. Good thing it was Summer. Lucas arested me for taking a bath in duck pond and well he got in touch with my sister and she took me in. So now I'm bunking over the garage with sis and her hubby and the kids. They hope to have my room insulated and a heater installed before it starts to get cold. But my bro-in-law dont want me drinking in the house he says I got to get into a 12 steps program. I don't think I have a problem. Thats whats up with me, how have you all ben?

Girlfriend wanted.

I need me a cute gal that likes to swim and hike and enjoys live music to go out on a date this friday night. I cant go to Rosie's cus I broke some stuff so we have to go some other place. I need a nice an find lady who has long blonde or red hair and uses hernbal essence by clairol. Do you drinks wild turkey? cus I drinkls it alots . its do hot in here an my dang fan gone an broke i got to go to lowes an buy another ones but i don't habve moneis cus my check from the state dont come now an i can steal a fans an klgh.u.bj,,.m.m,nkkkkkkkkkkkkknj,........

./>/>klmkkkkkkkkkkkkmmmmmmmmmmmmmmlllll

Holy cows, I got 2 followers...

...whatever that means. The ventriloquist dummy and some weird football guy. Other than that went to Rosie's last night had a bacon cheeseburg and a few beers, well a lot of beers and I broke the pinball machine. Lucas drove me home and he wrote me up for the damages I gotta pay Rosie's 200 bucks or I spend 3 months in the slammer. Got back to the Y after curfew and I had left my key-kard upstairs, sleept in the alley. Good thing it was warm and didn't rain. Hope they don't ban me from Rosie's.

A hole bunch of comments!

Woo-wee folks, I got a buch of comments, someone must like me. Well, now off to reading them.

Why I hate cowboy movies.

Howdy folks,
Guess where I've been? You ever see in them old cowboy movies how when a guy is drunk the sheriff let's him sleep it off with a night in jail. They don't do this in real life, right? Well, yes folks they do. Timothy Allen Kisper- 3 days drunk and disorderly. Guess what I got in jail? that's right- head lice. Why did I get so drunk that they threw me in jail, well Missy Walters and her stupid mother, Heather! Missy is a slut, I'm not defaming her, it's common knowlege. When I hang out with the high school boys behind the rec center and smoke cigarettes they all talk about her. So Friday night at the barbecue she goes and tells her mom I looked down her blouse, the moms starts screaming, I'm all ready slightly drunk. So see tells Steve Levine and he says I can't be life guard at the pool this summer. So I throw a beer bottle at Heather everybody's yelling, that's all I remember and the next day I wake up in the gray bar hotel. She don't press charges so Lucas let's me out today, hope you learned your lesson, Tim! he says. I used to kick Lucas's ass good back in high school, now he's a cop, big man. Been soaking my head in a bucket of vodka to kill the lice for an hour. Bill T. says to use gasoline but since I don't drive no more what do I do with the gas when I'm done, at least I can drink the vodka.

Shout out to Groovy Stallions!

Folks,
Tim here again, it's my blog who else would it be, yuk, yuk! I'm on fire tonight! Anyways I been hunting and pecking around on the web and I found this great blog by a guy called the Stallion, Groovy Stallions! He's got guys dressed like spiderman, junky toys and comic page folks waterskiing plus I think he sells authentic 1970s clothing, got to get me some, I'd need lady repelant when I walk into the coffee shop with one of his outfits on.

Looking for a good book.

Howdy folks,
Ole Tim here is on the prowl for a good book, not The Good Book, no I have a few Bibles including one that is hollowed out and holds a whiskey flask. That one sure comes in handy when you got to make it through a long prayer service. Nope, I need a good book to read this summer, actually several, as I'm going to be lifeguarding at the local pool this summer and well it gets mighty dull sitting up in that tall chair. Yes, Todd Fellows the gent that regularly lifeguards the pool for the YMCA broke his legs in a skiing accident this winter, so they asked me to fill in since I already head a wood shop class on Thursday afternoons. I sure hope Besty Addlebury goes under, giving her mouth to mouth would be a wet dream come true. Yuk, yuk. You get it wet as in fantasizing about an attractive lady, a little course for me I know, and wet as in swimming pool. Brillant I have to write that one down and tell it at the next lodge meeting. On second thought, not a good idea as Besty's husband will be there, yuk, yuk! Oh I kill myself, should of been a comedian!

James Garner is a good looking man.

Gosh darn it, I wished I had his rugged looks, I bet he has zero problems with the ladies. Now a bookish fellow like myself feels like a million dollars if a pretty girl even smiles at him, Jimmy Garner doesn't have that problem. Sometimes I try to stand inline behind a pretty girl in the coffee shop and lean over and smell her hair.
He is one classy guy, look how he mugs the camera. Anyone would feel completely at ease chatting with him. Shooting the breeze with Jimmy Garner on the front porch swing, sipping iced tea and watching pretty girls walk their tiny rat-like dogs, a perfect afternoon.
Even as an old man he's still got it. I bet he dries a cool car, I'd love to drive a cool car, heck I'd love to drive period. Dang pesky DWIs.

I'm thinking of leaving.

When my sister gave me her old computer last Christmas, well darn it, it scared the heck out of me! I plugged it in and tinkered around, got my web service, borrowed a bunch of computer books from the library and like everything else I've ever learned I taught myself. It took my friend, Cassidy's passing to get me to jump into blogging. So six months out now and no friends or comments or passengers or whatnot I'm getting discouraged. Please tell me I haven't wasted my time. God bless.

Tim

Let's here it for Uncle Dave!

Uncle Dave Macon (October 7, 1870 — March 22, 1952)—also known as "The Dixie Dewdrop"—was an American banjo player, singer, songwriter, and comedian. Known for his chin whiskers, plug hat, gold teeth, and gates-ajar collar, he gained regional fame as a vaudeville performer in the early 1920s before going on to become the first star of the Grand Ole Opry in the latter half of the decade. Macon's music is considered the ultimate bridge between 19th-century American folk and vaudeville music and the phonograph and radio-based music of the early 20th-century. His polished stage presence and lively personality have made him one of the most enduring figures of early country music

Some beautiful chickadees

The good ole state bird of Maine, folks.




One of my best pieces, what can I say- I love chickadees (yuk, yuk, yuk)!

Cereal box fun

I think this is a tad disrespectful, but in all honesty if they made a Ralph Nader one, I'd be first in line to buy it (yuk yuk).

Farewell Cassidy

My neighbor and friend Cassidy Yarmoths lost her battle with cancer last night, in other news God welcomed a new angle into Heaven. I will miss you Cass.

July 18, 1963 to January 17, 2009