Tis that time-o-year again, folks.

Yesiree, this ole knucklehead's at the rescue mission for my turkey and dressing on ole T-Day. You got to love the fine folks at the rescue mission, God bless 'em. Like usual they got telephones and laptops set up so us unfortuates can reach out and touch someone, oh I crack myself up. Well, I'd like to tell ya'all I'm doin' fine and everything's spiffy and just dandy, but I'd be a liar. And the Good Lord don't like a liar. I'm out on the mean streets again, just surviving. That's all I can do. I;m dealing with Hepatitis and sleeping in the cold ain't helpin' my old bones either. This may be my last message on here unless Lord Jesus sees it fitting to keep his humble servant on this ole rock-in-space fer another year. I'm tired, I'm not too happy with where I'm at in life but I don't blame no one but myself. Mom, Peggy, Ken and the kids, Vivian, Sweet Jill, I've wronged you all durring my trip down this dusty winding road we call life. I'm sorry, I seek your forgiveness. I'm meek and humble and a drunkard old bum who don't deserve no-ones dang forgiveness. Mom and Sweet Jill I hope the Good Lord's treatin' yer well in his ole house up in the sky. I hope I can make up for all my transgressions so I may enjoy the sweet Baby Jesus' bosom with ya. I'd like to say hi to Joe Sloss and the Puppet Guy and hope you and yours are doin' well, may the Good Lord keep yer safe on life's journey. And thanks to young Darren here, a kind hearted volunteer who took time out from spending this day with his kin and helped out us knuckleheads here at the rescue mission.
God Bless,
Tim

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Insubordination

Insubordination! Insubordination I say, yup folks that's just what ole Steve Miller down at the Job Lot said to yours truly. Seems I can't defend my good name against customer complaints. Job Lot rules and regs. And gosh dran it, I may lose my job. Heck it might be a lousy job and all, but it's what I got, plus Vivian'll throw me out if I get fired. Ole Tim's in a real pickle, folks. Yes Siree Marie. I know all about insubordination, as you may recall I was in Uncle Sam's Navy. There was this time when I was workin' in the Corpsman's office at Camp Pendleton and me and some of the boys wanted to head up to La Jolla to catch a girlie show at this night club. So me and Terry Waitte and Mike Fernandez snuck out one night and took the bus up. We'll your's truly missed the bus back and I had to hoof it. Got back 0600 the next mornin', yes sir, I was in the dog house. The Chief wanted to bust me down and yelled and yelled. So, yes, I know all about insubordination.

Folks, I am angry.

I'm kinda upset folks, you know Ole Tim don't like to speak bad about the gentler gender but Ihad a custome today who was a real B I double hockey sticks if you'll pardon my French. This old bird goes and tells the manager that some weird guy is looking at a couple of young girls and touching his privates. Although she used the M word. Mr. Miller asks Zach who she's talkin' bout and he says Orangeman. Orangeman is my nickname due to the fact that I'm from Syracuse, Lou gave it to me (God rest his soul) and I called him Statehouse seeing as how he was from Albany. So ole Steve Miller says "Kisper, this customer saw you touching your privates". Although he uses the M word too. Well I says look I ain't no John Sloss, I don't touch my privates 'cept so I don't hit the wall when I tinkle, and yeah in the shower when I wash them. The Episcopalian Church don't go for no touching your privates, I don't do none of that Puppetshow boy stuff tying up gals and spanking them, like that John Sloss.Tim Kisper don't do none of this malarkey and he, I mean I, sure don't touch my dang privates. He ain't havin' it and says a drunken bum like me should go and kiss his ole feet for him a hiring me in the first place and makes me apologize to the old bird. She says she ain't shopping at the Job Lot no more and I get suspended for a week. Ole Steve Miller says I owe him one for not calling the cops. I wish he would fly like an eagle right out a here. I got a good mine to go on down there tomorrow and raise me some Cain. There's a bottle o houtch out there a callin' my name, I feel like I jumped out a plane with no parachute. TIM KISPER DON'T TOUCH HIS DANG PRIVATES! THAT'S A SIN!

A sad day at the Job Lot

Howdy folks, ole Tim here. Been busy working and spending time with my sweet lady-friend. When the weather gets nicer we're gonna take a little weekend getaway. Anyhow, the Job Lot where I been working seems to be a den of kindred spirits. Most of my co-workers seem to be in my same boat, a bunch of washed up misfits and knuckleheads looking for a new lease on life. One gal, Mary's an empty nester who lost her husband and seems to struggle through her lonely days. My heart goes out to her. Then there's Lou. Lou was an old Navy man like myself and that gave us some kinship. Swappin' tales of encounters with Marines who, well, if ya ever been in the Navy you know how them Marines treat us. Well, Lou had throat cancer. Lou also didn't like going to the docs and well, just last night I found out he's no longer with us. Take care of my shipmate, Oh Lord. Lou you just try and keep on keepin' on. Boy, could I really use a drink.
Tim

Please Oh Lord, forgive your lost child.

howdy folks, Yuk, yuk I tell you I am a new man and I owe it to my sweet Vivian. Ole Tim's been a single guy his whole life, I tell ya. Sure I had girlfriends but I ain't ever shared a home with a gal. It's not like I have much of a choice these days, yuk, yuk. Being happy and in love after my absolute worst year with failed sobriety has really made me appreciate life more. I can actually be happy without the Devil's Brew. Old whiskey has cost me a lot in my almost half century here on God's green Earth. I spent 1,378 days of my life behind bars. 93 days in hospitals or rehab clinics. Lost 4 jobs including a twenty one year career with Con Edison. Done over $100,000 in property damage. Destroyed at least 6 motor vehicles. Lost my drivers license forever. Own nothing 'cept the clothes on my back. Alienated my only living relatives and Good Lord forgive me, killed two people. I don't like to talk much 'bout that last part. Sweet Jill, such a precious young Angle. I was a young lad of 16 and didn't have a care in the world. If you could smoke it, swallow it or inject it and it was bad for you, not to mention illegal, I tried it. I tried it all. But nothin' took a hold of me like my Mamas favorite, aged whiskey. If I weren't stone faced drunk I was at least buzzed all the time. Jill was a party girl, she liked to have fun and she played fast and loose if you know what I mean. She was 18 going on 19 and decided this young buck was somethin' special. I wasn't! I was a stupid drunk, know nothin' adolescent, nobody could tell me a thing. Well after ditching school one Spring afternoon we went up to Bald Eagle Rock. I had borrowed Jimmy Solucci's green Mustang and we tore up the road. We were a late 1970s Bonnie and Clyde, I tell ya. "Cept for the guns and the robbin'. So we got wasted that afternoon, smashed wiskey bottles against the rock and watched the sun go down. That's the last thing I remember. I remember Jill's freckles, her tanned skin and long auburn hair that smelled like a field of wild flowers after a Summer Rain. I remember her belly button peeking out from under her almost long enough top and the patches on her blue jeans. But I can not remember her eyes as hard as I may try. When I woke up in the hospital they told me we had come down the hill with no headlights on and hit a truck head on. I had a concussion, a broken wrist and glass in my eyes, I was blinded for a week. The cops asked me who was driving. Now the God's honest truth to this day I don't remember. It seems we were both thrown from the wreck and well, I said Jill. Two days later they told me she was dead. Massive blunt force trauma to the head. Her skull had been crushed. My sweet Teen Angle. You think ole Tim learned his lesson. Like in them little films they show you in high school. Don't drink and drive, right? No. I now had guilt and sorrow and I dealt with it Kisper style. They way Mom dealt with dad leaving her with no money and two hungry kids to feed. Old Whiskey! Alleluia and Amen! In the following year I nearly drank myself to death. Till Peggy and Ken got me in the Navy after the school felt bad for me and gave me a pity diploma. Uncle Sam's Navy saved my life but Ole Tim's future had more pitfalls in store and even though I was done with the bottle, the bottle wasn't done with me. I had a lock of Jill's hair I kept for many years. I braided it into a small loop. Kept it in my pocket where ever I went. When I felt especially bad I'd put my hand in my pocket and twist it between my fingers. One time I broke a store window and when they arrested me and confiscated my personal effects they took it and burnt it.

Springtime wildflowers softly grow...
Where is my Sweet Angle? I don't know...
I was weak when I was supposed to be strong...
A fateful ride and now you're gone...

You in Heaven, though sad and blue...
An' every day I try to go on without you...
Unfinished dreams and a young life lost...
And that Old Whiskey has such a high cost...

Oh Jill... How could I kill...
My sweet Jill?
Heavenly Father take pity on me...
And let her run wild and free...

Happy Valentimes Day

Yuk, yuk. Howdy folks, ole Tim here. Reading the comments I hope I didn't worry y'all to much. I took a bus down to Schenectady to call on an old Navy buddy and well he didn't live there no more. So I didn't have any money to go back home not that I really had a home anymore so I went to this church to pray and met these fellas who hookd me up with an outreach program and well the Goodlord smiled on me cause I met this here, pretty lady, Vivian and now I' living with her. She's 11 years my senior but that don't bother ole Tim none. Suchs, I even got me a job at the Job Lot, been sober 5 weeks. How y'all been?

Your old pal, Tim