-------

2009-09-25T22:45:00.000-07:00

It is done. I've killed The Local Malcontent.

It was time.

2009-09-05T23:53:00.000-07:00

two nights ago I dreamed that my father was even more of a madman, than in reallife.

Finally, he frightened me. I woke up in a sweat,
panting and heaving.

He was the monster with a shotgun pointing in my face
again, as he/you did once
~
ever growing in menace more, than in life he was.

2009-07-28T22:19:00.000-07:00

there's nothing like ignoring Krazy Talk from Krazy Town.

July has really been a strange month

2009-04-29T22:22:00.000-07:00

A truly, bizarre dream last night.

Bizarre.

I dreamed that my entire family from years past, were all assembled in some worship service.
But we were all widely spaced out in that great hall.
I was sitting next to my beloved grandfather. My parents were two or three pews in front of us.
My cousins and uncles and aunts were on the front pew of that gathering.
My cousin Phillip was both the speaker and seated in that front row.

While my grandfather and I spoke privately between ourselves,
a nurse burst into that room, carrying a pair of human lungs.
While I understood they were lungs, they looked like a big piece of pork. Meat.

Then suddenly, I knew that those lungs were meant for my grandfather, for a transplant to save his life.
Then suddenly, she dropped those lungs onto the floor.
I leapt up and grabbed up those lungs, and began running to a nearby hospital,
two blocks away,
where I knew that my grandfather was waiting for his transplant. And save his life.

I ran, carrying these organs along a long, grey, treeless street,
past a huge hotel, to the intended building.
Carrying those lungs, I got lost in the hotel instead.

My grandfather 'Frosty' died of emphysema, in 1985. But
It was sure comforting to see, to sit and to talk with him again,
there in that church.

2009-04-27T19:03:00.000-07:00

I just returned from a special place, where last year today,I met my little brother.
Uh, I didn't meet him HERE, but we became best/of/friends at this relatively, altitudinous, lofty, skinney-piney spot.

Dear brother, Oohgah Tleh,

Well, it's been awhile since we were together. Though we spoke with each other on the phone this week TWICE, I still wanted to go up and consecrate our friendship today, where we'd once sat and thought and talked much together.

For what it's worth, I found in the underbrush, then brought home, a ceramic, green bowl, of mine, which you had since at least last June or July.I hope that you remain happy in your service to man, at SubWay® Sandwiches of FW/TX.********This afternoon, I sat alone, where you and I had sathalf-a-hundred times earlier last year-Today, along the hilltop above Hwy. 1, amid the skinny Pines,Where I ran amuk once at 3 AM, last summer in the darkness to impress you.Remember?? It scared you, instead. That scar on your right cheekbone... Remember that sad and fateful night for us?Today, I only felt lonliness, the sadness of your absence,all because of your personal insanity.I drank three beers out there, in 'Our' place, and drained two for you onto that smooth rock where you'd once sat, along/aside me, Oohgat Leh.In that way, I intended to honor you...And your memory within me. *******Until I walked back to the O.M.R. parking lot, and again needed to piss.I entered the men's public bathroom, where I'd never been before, but you evidently had-that's when I recognized your handwriting(s) on its stalls' walls,old, dated and faded as it was,On the men's stalls' walls,offering invitations for oral sex on the weekends. ***That Broke My Heart, that BROKE my heart,THAT broke MY heart IN HALF, Oohgah Tleh, Seeing that, Recognizing that.Since I'd just been remembering you, my dear friend,near Your, Our first campsite there-Tears, and tears and tears flow now from my eyes-- Why, why why did you never confide in me, little Brother?Could I have eased your pain then?YOUR recognizable handwriting, which I've seen on dozens of documentswhen you were here, -many in my possession still--and would know instantly,were a utter shock to see on a rural bathroom stall wall.Signs, signals like our shaped twigs and whistles we'd share in the night air to alert each other,Once.Elsewhere,Otherwise.FarAway.
Dammit.

2009-04-22T03:43:00.000-07:00

Ya want to know what it is like, to be an easily identifiable minority in these United States?But not to be Black?Or Latino? Or Asian?
It is to suffer your unrelenting, innocent jokes- "This your little papoose?" "What's in your medicine bag- POT?" or worst, "Is that your Squaw?"
The endless, "well, I've got a little Indian in me, too-" remarks.
Having to hear one hundred million, "Cowboys and Indians"-game stories of your youths.
And yes, I CAN make it rain. Why, can't you?
I tire so easily of you and your stories, to be honest. You wannabes. You nominal, casual racists.You who seem so eager to abandon your own race for momentary inclusion within mine.
You forget meeting me too quickly, too easily dismissing me. Because I am just an Indian. I feel your dismissal of me deep, in my soul.
We fight within ourselves, the urge to dismiss you in the same way. But we can't.We're just Indians, afterall, and subject to your beneficence.To many "Americans", we are children, grown up children. And talked to, as such;treated as such. Trusted as such.
Never mind that I have a college degree or a superior English vocabulary, as many of my brethren also have; or even, that a full One-third of these United States have Indian names, from 'Arkansas' to 'Illinois' to 'Wyoming'.We have to learn the White history of this nation; you MAY accidentally hear of ours, but only in passing.
Or momentarily seen, in Hollywood's, White-directed/edited films.
And now, our country is being given away. Piece by piece, bit by bit.Again.To illegal immigrants who haven't got the balls to fight within their own nations, but instead will work for 2-bucks-less per hour than anyone else,-- because you've made it so damn easy for them to enter here, now.
Rather than work to rehabilitate your Red friends, your Red forebearers, who need the work so badly,you just open up the floodgates to your dinted and diminished, American dream workplace.
The revolution in this country which I hope for, is NOT the one which you do.Our grievance is far older than yours. Or that of the Blacks.

2009-03-31T15:35:00.000-07:00

LET'S RIDE....
With the Family Down the Street
With the
Help of
Ron's Two Big Feet
"courtesy of
J.W. Pepper's
Two big feet"....

2009-03-31T13:44:00.000-07:00

For You~!

Ahha, you've found it~! Congratulations!
Just click below the Easter Egg image, Do find out what's inside, ESPECIALLY FOR YOU,
For you, My Child.
"It happened, so that you are no longer separated from God because of your sin."

2009-03-25T22:41:00.000-07:00

I'm tired.

Tired of having to always be UP, to be strong, having to be The Local Malcontent.

I want so much to delete that other blog. Forever.
It IS me, but it is much less than me, but it is what people expect of me
To be.

I'm Tired. I wanted to end the Local Malcontent last August, or July whatever- but was convinced to do otherwise, and keep it going, and look what happened? it languished.

There will be a sudden and quick end to the LMC soon, I think, if I follow what my heart says.
The LMC doesn't make a squat of a difference in anyone's lives, anyway, so why does it need to keep going? I'll move the music, the playlist over here, and just keep blogging infrequently at my new bloggie, Krazy Talk from Krazy Town.
The music is all I'd want to save....

2008-09-07T14:05:00.001-07:00

My gosh. The crows who are my neighbors, my friends and the daily, momentary advisors along my path-
were sure in deep throated song this morning.
I sat in my yard, simply marveling at the crow talk, their communications
between 6:30 and 8:00 am today~.

INCREDIBLE.
There must've been two dozen different voices, different crows calling to each other, from all 360° around me.

2008-09-03T06:23:00.000-07:00

strange dream last night. I dreamed of my friend Glenn, Oogha Tleh, the Wirilwind and my first college roommate Tim, from Sand Springs, Ok.

They had joined forces against me, in a large city park somewhere; at the time that there was some sort of huge craft show going on. They had not only joined forces against me, but were also romantically involved together, making my old, great friend Tim attempt to create a wedge between me and Glenn, deliberately and physically keeping me from seeing him as he moved around the park, commenting of the crafts.

So I did the only thing which I could think of, and made some sort of rock collection and paints. something or another, hoping that Glenn would come and visit it and me.
He didn't, but he and Tim instead led me around that park in a false hope of speaking with them.
By the time I learned their intentions, Glenn was claiming possession of my crafts, the rocks and all.

So I asserted myself, and claimed them to be mine, too- but by that point, everyone was believing them two and not me. I had some contraption then, like an old rusty front-end loader, which was operated by a crank to move- try and pick up my craft of rocks.

Became distracted by these two once again, and led away from the rusty red machine to the other end of the park- where I discovered my friends had disappeared, but crews were digging up the park with better earth moving equipment than mine. I hurried back to my craft and my old machine, to claim what little from this betrayal by my friends that I could; but they'd doubled around behind me, and taken it all.

I was left empty handed and friendless at the end.

MESSAGE FROM THE LOCAL MALCONTENT:

2008-08-01T23:51:00.000-07:00

For whatever reason, or due to whatever virus that I've picked up, over on the Local Malcontent side of my life, I can no longer visit there, my own bloggie, OR these seven other dear blogs which I visit daily, regularily:

Abouna's "Hitting Another Brick Wall" blog;

Charles' "Dustbury";

Jungle Mom's "Jungle Hut Blog";

Mike's "Okiedoke";

"Hatless In Hattiesburg";

Dave's "Oklahoma Lefty";

"The McGehee Zone".

and I cannot access my Sitemeter account either, i discovered just now

Again, for reasons I cannot YET explain, or KickAss for, I cannot even go to The Local Malcontent blog, except to post thereon before that deadly warning sign appears, freezing any other action like scrolling or pagedown, and that "Doooom" sound is heard, by any method formerly available to me.

I will be dominant, will be victorious against this shit (*this language, uh, is allowed over here), and when I track it down, I will name names, hit hard, and count up the wounded.!

This embarasses me so. How foolish of me to publish comments from a hacker/buttwipe.

I will have revenge, against this. Prepare.

**As a temporary precaution against the same happening to me here on Krazy Talk, I have now set up COMMENT MODERATION, like over at my LMC.**

2008-07-19T21:50:00.001-07:00

I'M GITTIN' MARRIED

I'M GITTIN' MARRIED

We. me and the FINEST GIRL IN THE WORLD!!
cAN'T6 THINK STRAIT, SO FR4EAKING HAPPY
LETICIA SAID "YES"! tO MAKING ME THE HAPIIEST MAN INT EHWORLD, IN THE UNIVERSIE.tHE TEARS FROM MY EYES HAVVE BEEN FALLING 10 FEET, CAUSE i'M WALKING 9 FEET OFF THE GRUOUND.
wANTED YOU TO OKNOW... joyb eyond words
MY HONEY SAID YES!

2008-06-05T18:10:00.000-07:00

My soul was happy today. I spent a little time with a holy man, a shaman today who has the most pristine spirit I've yetmet. For that (too-) short a time, the rest of the world ceased to be important, laughable. The world was so small today for less than an hour, just this wise, old soul and me.

It is somewhat hard to put into words, how just walking and talking about spirit, about owls and coyotes and cedar trees could make the other world like a vague dream.

My heart leapt that he invited me to his sacred place. To say 'no', or 'later maybe' never entered my head. I hope I can be lucky enough to know this man many years.

Oogah Tleh.

2008-06-03T12:39:00.000-07:00

Never have I known someone so bitter and so hateful. My neighbor takes such delight in spreading misery. And she takes such pride in her own hatred.

When I or anyone tries to tell her why nobody likes being around her, because she is the highest authority on EVERY subject, and will talk your head off telling you so, until you run away from her, she will take that as vindication of her wickedness. Pride in Wickedness.

She will talk your ear off, nonstop rambling on about 55 subjects in a row, and never say a thing.
When she's put into the nursing home, this month hopefully, I will attend the whispered party, celebrating her absence around here, celebrating the peace.

2008-05-07T15:34:00.000-07:00

What does a blogger do, when he (or she) just wants to say a zilliion things?

1) I am so happy today, the grin cant be sanded off my face! I hate to admit this, but remember that "One Fine Day, When Everything Was Fine" meme, a couple weeks ago??!!
I think it's today. Honest - today.
I am busy making dinner for the most wonderful girl in the world, and she claims to like me, too
(There was an orange rose and card on my porch screen door, when I got home this afternoon--)
The Cardinals are in first place, and winning!
The weather today here, was ordered from a menu: Cool, damp, breezy.
The garden is growing, and the freezer is full of catfish and buffalo.

2) Today, I seriously entertained the idea of doing some shopping soon......... in a jewelry store. Leticia's birthday is July 19th.
Wouldn't an engagement ring be a nice BD gift for such a sweet girl?

More later maybe-

2008-04-09T06:15:00.000-07:00

The latest update in the weird dream file is the most weirdest.
I dreamed last night, that I was laying in bed awake, and reached behind the mattresses at my head, to find:
a pair of scissors, with broken off blades,
then a second pair of scissors, in working order,
then a pair of tweezers,
then two cans of bug killer,
then a small, black desk lamp (with hi-intensity bulb),

then I dreamed that I moved over to the other side of the bed, where I noticed that two people had written messages to me, on the headboard post. Unreadable.

All this time, I thought I was awake.
So I got up. And with my dog at my side, we walked into the kitchen in the dark, to start the day.

That's when I first, first realized that I was dreaming. I realized that I was still in bed, still in the original place in bed. So was Amos still sleeping, at my feet.
But back to sleep, I got out of bed again, and this time, I knew I was dreaming inside the dream.
so I went outside, to let the dream take off in the direction it wanted to.

Outside my house, there was a two or three story building which was a school, but students were crawling up the walls, Spiderman style, and crawling into a second story window.

Weenies and beans, about a half hour before bedtime, did this.
It was cool~!

2008-04-05T11:13:00.000-07:00

'Ain't Misbehavin'
I came to Her today at her work Again. To HER obvious great surprise.
Ha. Ha. Ha.

A neighbor of mine needed me, needed me to drive her to her nearby, 0ut-0f-town bank on business. And wouldn't let loose of me, until I did her biddying.

But unlike my elderly kno-wi-tall neighbor, when I accompanied her into the bank, (for a changie) it was really to see the young Lady again who went with me to the pow-wow last night in Tuskahoma, and who ended up sleeping on my sofa here, and whom I drove back home in LeFlore only about four hours ago.
What fun!
What fun!!!
Exclaim// Ation Point, Oklahoma, zip code// password.....
What fun we had together~!
My god, what go9od care She took care of me last night~!~!
Her Hands in my hair lassnigthghty brought a comepltget new feeligng to meWQ@~!!
Zing!
When my bank tellergoddess saw my neighbor, She shuddered like the rest of the bank employees Usually doo.

But when my bank teller saw me again, in the background this time, with my neighbor, SHe rolled her big brown eyes at me and smiled Her disarming, beguiling smile**.

Wasx t hat aHer blush iSaw?
Then the lighs went out I lost conscious. Nness, momentaril yAgain.
Thank goodness for their island, in the center of the banks' foyer. Damn weak knees!
Buy me some peanuts and CrackerJack, I don't care if I ever come down--

THE girl with O-those warm and limpid~ brown eyes
ah, the girl with that smile**,
The girl with the brown and gold-streaked hair,
Jesus, juses, SHE REC0GJNIZED WO SCOTT JOPLIN IS,.,, for yersake!!

gLorious brEathLEssness...!
mOTHER EARTH Iloveyou
Who struck me into sheer dumbnumb Ness, with hER demure,defenseless looks oft to me!
Oooh! Her hair smelled soo goood, like warm-lemon-lime tomorrows.
my breathing heaves, in attempts to recall it. gasping in recall.
Could? She? Be?
We've had four dates so far, including the pow-wow last night.
And she said she enjoyed each with me.
With Me?!! Doesthatinclude oUR Kissing;':.,?"!
mY.. OUR KISSES reMind meof FUTURE KISSES we can sharE#

don't She Know i'm A Localmal Cantbeliked?
THeE>?
I want ot become her theLocal Romanticontent with her
Mor eThanany Thing;

Right now, I don't even know if I'm the Local Halfsavant or uh, what... ever...
cheerfully vvote for hillarying-ism.... kissda donkeyBama...,,ok,cando,sure.

PPPlease, dont toy with me again, God...
Don't take this away from me again.
Because this is too good!11
OK? PPPleae?

2008-03-20T14:17:00.000-07:00

A few thoughts on the significance of today.

My mother has been dead for 15 years. Today. That I miss her beyond words does not begin to convey. I realize now that I was her hero, well her other hero besides her father.

Time has healed that wound but the scar is a noticable one, reminder to always strive to be, and accept only the best.
And time since has caused me to now understand how your world crumbled shattered, I am sorry I did not see it then.

The knack of numbers in my head force me to realize that 15 years has both begun and now ended on the first day of spring, inclusively. You always liked numbers, too, mom.

I wish , you know what I wish. That very strange day in 93, that part of the nightmare still is.
and it won't go away.

2008-03-07T11:41:00.000-08:00

Tommorow is Crazy Wanda's 76th birthday, March 8th.

She used that fact to push me into a guilt-ridden series of errands for her, this morning.

She had learned that I was off work today, and through the weekend to make up a list of chores for me to perform, and to correct, regardless of the local snowcover, bad roads, or if I might have other things to do.

"I have a levelor-blind, that is stuck open, the cords are stuck" she announced at the luxurious hour of deep and dreamy sleepiness, 7:45 am.

"I don't know anything about Levelor Blinds, Wanda," I said sleepily. "Do you want me to take them apart, and make them draw down closed again?" I then asked.

"NOO!! I want some new blinds. They sell them at Atwoods (A regional department store), and I need you to come over and measure them, and go get me replacements," she barked.

That is all I remember of that first broadcast phonecall from her today.
I made the mistake of going back to sleep until 8:15 am., when she dialed me up again, more aggrivated this time...

"And I need some eye drops from the pharmacy. I called them. They told me the cost was $74.00 a bottle, but then they said that it was only $29.00 for the generic version. But that it would be a $50.00 delivery charge to bring them out here. I can't afford that, and they always send out the wrong medication, each time they come!" she bellowed.

I got out of my bed, and put on my clothes, and the snow-soaked boots from yesterday, and prepared to go to Talihina for her.

But at that point I remembered the toll free number to the Eye Clinic in Arkansas, where Wanda had her laser-surgery performed last week, so I called it, hoping to speak with a nurse or someone else, who would know her condition.

I dialed up the Eye Clinic, and eventually spoke with a nurse named 'Lee', or 'Leigh', who instantly knew who I was calling about: "Oh, yes, Wanda has been calling here constantly, since last evening. We sent her home with enough eye drops to last for a month, last week, sir" Leigh told me.

Evidently, Wanda has lost or misplaced her eyedrops,
as she has her false teeth,
and the 40-watt lightbulbs,
and the cash she got from the grocery store,
and her divorce papers,
and ......,
and....,
and.....

I confided to Leigh, that it was me, Wanda's closest friend and neighbor, who composed that letter to the 'Adult Protective Services' division of the Oklahoma Department of Human Services, advising them about her condition, and her deterioration lately.

"If you need to, have OkDHS call us, and ask for me.... I'll confirm everything," Leigh said to me, in a whisper.

Her whisper is significant, there. She knows. She knows what a struggle it will be,
for Wanda's sake and safety.

Wanda is a menace to herself, or to her home and safety, and to a lesser extent to me, her last friend. She makes my blood pressure sky-rocket in her presence; I hate being in her home, for it all smells like shit and death in there. I won't let her come inside my home anymore....

But for her birthday tomorrow, I bought her eyedrops, a lamp for her bathroom, a magnifying glass, more 40-watt lightbulbs, and a chocolate cake and card for her birthday.
When I delivered her many parcels to her, she began to tell me again about the 'stuck' Levelor Blind, and what to do with it, for her.

I told her that her one window's blinds was not my problem, and walked out, and drove home.

Priorities, priorities, priorities.

2008-03-01T19:42:00.000-08:00

I composed the -THE letter to Ok. DHS today, regarding Crazy Wanda, asking them to hurry and intervene in her case.

Anonymously.

Is that pathetic or what? At least cowardly, for if that letter does not do it, she will know who wrote it, and then we'll all have serious hell to pay round here.

.......AS WANDA AND I VISITED THE TALIHINA POST OFFICE TOGETHER,
CHECKING OUR MAIL, I STOOD BEHIND HER, IN LINE,
HOLDING THE MANILLA ENVELOPE OF HER UNDOING.......

2008-02-16T08:22:00.000-08:00

Had one of the strangest dreams this morning, I've ever had. One that both woke me up, at it's end, and with a plot so intricate and well laid out, that I lay in bed remembering, reliving it again: Getting it down, understanding it, putting a moral to it.

The dream was unpleasant and garish and had a starring role for an older woman I do not know in waking reality. Honestly, after I did get out of bed, I came here to the internet, to confirm who it was who starred in this dream.

Bette Davis.

Or, more accurately, "Jane Hudson". It was Jane Hudson in a vivid morality play in my head. Odd, I have never watched the entire movie "Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?"; and it was easily over 20 years ago. There was no "Blanche" in this dream at all- but there were alot of other people whom I also don't know in waking reality.

I drempt that there was a woman whose ego was just monsterously huge and out of control; this woman, played throughout my nightmare by Jane Hudson-Bette Davis, demanded adoration by everyone who knew her. In her own mind, she could do no wrong thing, no matter how atrocious.

{There is just no language or verb tense available for describing vivid dreams. For in dreams like this one, I had a sense of a past immediately; I knew from the start this woman's bad temper, her unmatched ego, and I knew that other people in my dream also knew these things}

The woman was some kind of celebrity, but neither a movie star nor politician. But again, she demanded and expected everyone who knew her to virtually worship her; and I understood that she expected even those who did not know her to also revere and worship her, from afar?, that is the feeling I had in this dream.

The dream began with a scene which must've been a waiting area, or a dressing room where the woman, some other people and I were awaiting for her name to be called. She would again sweep out, onto a stage somewhere to graciously be. I knew that I was to praise her at that and every moment in her presence, and the other people did so too.

Next, I remember that I was expected to write something on a blue, sparkly book for her; I remember writng "You've Never Been Second to Anyone" on the blue sparkly book, in fawning tribute to this woman.

She leaves the room. I "knew" that everyone really disliked this woman; it bordered on hate- but no one dared to ever, ever tell her anything but loving praise, for fear of her supreme temper.

Next, I am in my grandmother's kitchen, where my Mamaw is making a pastry dish for this woman. My Papaw is also there. And on every wall of my grandmother's kitchen, are pictures of this woman, or little figurines of her.

And the woman appears there, in Mamaw's kitchen, and she is enraged at her. The woman steps in front of my grandmother, and swings her arm at the bowl or something, and flour goes flying everywhere. The woman is shrieking at them, my grandparents, and she tears off my grandmothers clothes in her fit of rage. She continues to throw the photos of herself and the other tributes around that kitchen at them, derisively, condescendingly. The things of my grandparents' adoration of this woman are "not good enough".
Again, she leaves that room. I begin to sweep up the flour on the floor, thinking to myself that I must not look up, and see my grandmother's nakedness, standing there next to me. I concentrated on sweeping up the mess, and looking only down on that floor.

In the next dream image, another guy my age and I are going around room to room in my own house-- we have been instructed by the woman to remove every single item which had her likeness on it. It would seem that I had alot of things-- again, pictures, figurines and even a knick-knack stand of little items of her in one corner; this guy and I went from room to room, taking down every picture, unscrewing a big plaque-like thing from my hall wall.
She had demanded that every item must leave my house.

In another room in my house, there were many people singing a song to her, and it was something like the many verses of "The Twelve Days of Christmas" song, with each verse singing a differing virtue of this woman. But I knew that not one of these people really loved her, that they only sang in fear of her. This woman stood there listening to her song being sung, as my pal and I took out things with her image on them, outside.

The last scene of my dream is the point of morality, the point of irony:
Now, instead of my house, all these people and I were in a large room in a tall building, on an upper floor, and the woman has just left our presence. But then I see that someone has shot her in the stomach, killing her, and that her body is in a dumpster, behind the tall building, in a shaded alley way. A policeman comes into the large room on the upper floor where all this group and I are, and askes us if any of us know anything about the woman's death.
A prominent man in the middle of the group, tells the officer that 'No, nobody there had anything to do with murder, that we all are rehearsing a play.

Then all at once, as if to prove to the policeman that we all were indeed, rehearsing a play, he began to sing the same song with many verses, and with each new verse, more people there caught on to what this man was doing, and they too, played along, singing verses to a song, as if it were a scene to a play.

But this time, the verses sung were not adoring the woman, but had different words: Words in celebration that she was dead. And some people danced around in circles.

This is the woman who was in all parts of my dream:

Jeez, I'm freaking out, freaking out, I'm freaking out: The dream is still going on, right now, and I've been awake for two hours now, typing out this during a thunderstorm...

The very song to which Jane Hudson, as "Baby Jane" danced to in that movie, "Manola del Avapies (Tonadilla)", is CURRENTLY PLAYING ON MY SPEAKERS, from sky.fm, the classical channel.

I hate creepy shit like this.

2008-02-15T17:20:00.000-08:00

RECIPE FOR 3-ALARM CHILI

Get out and dust off your biggest pot, or a Crockpot.

Go buy yourself these ingredients:

*1-1/2 # ground buffalo (Wal-Mart), or ground sirloin, or ground beef
*1 # pkg. mild or sage pork sausage
*1 large yellow onion
*2-3 jalapeno peppers
*1 pkg. "Lone-Star" brand chili 'fixins'
*1 # new, red potatoes
*2 cans of cheap chili, pinto beans, since I forgot to start soaking the dried beans earlier I got yesterday....
*1 can of "Hot" Ro-Tel brand chopped tomatoes/peppers
*1 12 oz. can "Hunts" brand chopped tomatoes
*1 pkg. bag, real Cheddar Cheese, in those long slivers

**********************************************
In Crock pot, or large, dusted-0ff pot, over medium heat,
add the following, IN THIS ORDER:

Buffalo and sausage; let brown only slightly, then drain off ONLY HALF THE GREASE;

--try not to drain this grease onto the floor where you will be cooking your masterpiece--

Add the Lone-Star chili 'fixins' to the meat

As this mixture is browning and releasing their magical, intoxicating aromas--

add the beans, from whatever source- either the ones you remembered to soak earlier, or the store-bought ones

Allow to simmer to a slight boil*, as you
Chop into small cubes, the new red potatoes, Vice President Dan Quayle,
and ADD THESE NOW TO BOILING, SEETHING MIXTURE

Chop into little, tiny slices BOTH the yellow onion and the Jalapeno peppers,
and ADD THESE NOW TO THE CHILI POT

NOW: It is recommended by 'Choosy Mothers' magazine,
of which I am one, that you allow this mixture to simmer on LOW heat
for about 47 to 62 minutes, just to make sure...

Remembering to Stir the chili mixture every 5 minutes or so, no longer than 15 minutes,
like I did back at Christmas time, and ruined that good
"Teflon" (HA!) pot I'd had for years. Have you ever eaten Teflon flakes?
Tastes like dried paint.

ADD THE two cans of tomatoes, which have been drained previously. Crud, did I forget to tell you that part?

Drain the cans of tomatoes by opening them a little, on each end of the can, and let them drain into the sink--
ADD drained cans of tomatoes.

TURN OFF THE HEAT, UNPLUG THE CROCKPOT, WHATEVER

Mix the ingredients fully.

allow to cool, as you yourself take a much-needed nap, for about 20 minutes-
*************************************************************************************
SERVES ONE, 12 times.

2008-02-09T12:57:00.001-08:00

I shall endevor to write about my feelings more here, instead of Crazy Wanda, in future.

2008-02-09T12:54:00.000-08:00

I have an awful decision to make, probably sooner than I'd prefer. But the conditions leading to my decision are becoming both intolerable and dangerous.
And to put off making that decision, is itself a decision, huh?

I am the last one standing in the way, of a neighbor being taken to a mental health clinic, or hospital, or to the nursing home. I am the last becuase I am her last friend. All the others, including Crazy Wanda's in-law relatives have distanced themselves from her. Despite her anger at me last month when I helped the law remove her brother from her home and back to the nursing home in Wilburton, I am again her friend this month, as she needs me.

I drove her to TWO different hospital emergency rooms this week, for zero physical reason. There is nothing wrong with her, until the ER doctor gets into the room, then she goes into these fake pains and worries; then when the doctor exits the room, why, Wanda reverts to her real self, and feeling great.

But it is her non-stop talking, and I do mean NON-STOP, that has me on the verge of seeking out mental health help from Adult Protective Services for her. When I walk up on her home's porch, I hear her inside ranting, arguing with someone years removed from the discussion.
She tells me about any insignificant conversation that she had 30 years earlier. With no point to her story, but only a segue to her next narrative. Ad infinitum.

It does not matter if I am in her presence, or if there's no one in her presence.

Her behavior is getting worse, or at least stranger than usual too.
I live approximately 6/10 of a mile North away from Wanda's home. She drove to my place here twice today, to ask me -in person- if I would drive to the store and buy her a case of bottled water. Twice. The second time, to hand me some money to buy it with, after I told her I'd first shower, 30 minutes earlier on her first visit.
The little grocery store is only another half-mile North away from me.
I Am Errand Boy.

She's lost her false teeth, somewhere in her garbage strewn home. And her neighbors have installed microphones in her bedroom. And in her car. And Thursday, she thought listening bugs were in my truck as well, as I drove her to the second ER in Poteau.

If that were all, she would only be 'kooky'. But her problems extend so much further...
She's told me about her 'rape', in 1948. That event seems to have warped her alot throughout the rest of her life.

I have an awful decision to make, probably sooner than I'd prefer.

2008-01-13T21:48:00.000-08:00

Update:

Mrs. Spears, Junie laid down the law! With the use of the law. Maybe now with the attention of Latimer county law and DPS on Wanda, could she be next?

2008-01-13T14:52:00.000-08:00

Ahhoooh, that's just great. I've just come from a visit with my neighbor Wanda. Around here, she is known as Crazy Wanda. For real good reason she's called that. But you don't dare ever to cross Crazy Wanda.

No. At best you tolerate Wanda and her non-stop talking. She will literally talk your head off, or she'll make you fantasize about the joy of killing yourself, about that time, usually around an hour or two into her meandering, drop-down stories.
Drop down stories are stories she begins telling, when something in the last story she was telling reminds her of yet another agonizing story. Therefore, no story she tells is ever finished.

But, I like her (I tune her out and interrupt her babble when something important needs to be said). And best of all, she likes me too. I am willing to come work around her house for her, as I did yesterday and today. She told me about her need to add more shelving space in her 64 sq. foot kitchen yesterday, and I went and bought her some nice steel shelves at Wal-Mart in McAlester, intending on assembling them today for her. And I have, and did.

Now, though, I know why she needs them, and it's bad. Very Very Very bad. very Bad Bad Bad.
Wanda has removed her older brother from the nursing home, where he'd lived since October last year... Unhappily. To live with her instead.

That's right, her older brother is Granpappy Spears, who is not crazy himself, maybe soon will be, but not now. He is still married to his wife Junie, Mrs. Spears, who could not deal with his Alzheimers any longer. Till yesterday.

Lordy! Lord, give me strength, because I know who it is who will really actually be taking care of him, of her, them both. My utter and lingering shock at seeing Granpappy there at Wanda's house is one OF THOSE SINGULAR MOMENTS in life. She is 75, he is 84 or 85 if he is a day.

All Wanda does is bitchand complain about everyone in her life, family included. All Granpappy does is sit around with his straw hat and dark green sunglasses on. Yes, inside too.
But he is an elder and commands my respect and my ear when he speaks.
Especially now, IF he can ever get an edge in word-wise, around Wanda.

Unlike his sister, who has told me the same story about some ice cream and Kool-Whip four or five times since last Sunday already. Today in her kitchen she SHOWED me the ice cream in question... as if I had never heard the story... or cared about it after hearing it for the first time.
[You do not want me to go there, believe me]

Did I happen to mention the Birthday gift she "got" me this week?
A serape blanket, that smells like kerosene.
No, I'm unwilling to ask why it smells of kerosene.
Afraid she will tell me, over and over and over and over.

This Is Not Good.

2008-01-06T15:16:00.000-08:00

(continued from The Local Malcontent)

I have never done this before, maybe will never do it again. That's the way it is,
with a word like "maybe".

Maybe is it's own opposite. Maybe yes means maybe no.
# # # # # # # #

But for the music I promoted over at LMC earlier, it is true:

This soft, deep music is like no other-- it strikes me, it affects me on a spiritual level, causing my soul to leap up.
For it is not necessary to understand the language sung, to understand the intent of the song, of the chant. It is the language of my spirit, and I suspect of your spirit as well.

But, since there are no English words to direct the thoughts of most people, telling them what to think, how to react to the song-- it is somehow less, somehow inferior. Relegated to the "reservation" of one, maybe two public radio stations across America.

AIROS, "American Indian Radio On Satellite", has a listenership counted in the dozens; not
hundred of thousands or millions, of listeners. The link to AIROS is from Lincoln, Neb.
IT IS YOUR LOSS, NOT TO LISTEN, WHITE AMERICA!~!

White America has proven conclusively, that White radio music is superior-- with it's rap music, rock music and yeah even talk radio- ear pollution. And too many whitefolk would be afraid to listen to Indian music.
there are no commercials for Geico insurance or for Rudy stinkin Giulianinani.

sometime I will speak of the traditional, and accepted racial slaps to my Indian heritage... which I get from some of you on a daily basis... and am expected to benignly accept and laugh with you, at. Since we are only dumb American Indian, or Canadian 'First Peoples', you somehow expect us to roll with your flow(ing gibberish).
Honestly, If I had a nickel for everytime someone ever told me "I've got X-amount of Indian in me, too", I'd be a zillionaire.

"Well, good for you..." TMI, TMI, TMI
********************************

this would not be acceptable or popular reading, over on the Local Malcontent side of my blog. Where I feel I must color my speech, my words for you.

"racist". "separatist".

Ge Keshteh Shaa Chacta Eyh, "America".
Live with it, I'm Choctaw, "America".

2007-12-21T17:52:00.001-08:00

Stairway to Heaven, Quick Trip to Krazy Town, Spoonful of Zowie

I've learnt a val. lesson. today. Periods. are. val.

And that if you or I decide to not give applesauce cakes to some friends for Christmas,
it is not right to take a tablespoon to the Duncan-Hines French Vanilla canned Icing.

I tis notasn Ack. BRrrrrrrrrrrrRfrerererererr!~ I asm shiogh! I can play the piano with otut a song at all!

CValories? 12,500 per tablespoon./ My take????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????

the whoe lelelele can, nam, namehr4, man! lBZZZZZZZZzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

I am the flashlight

2007-12-14T12:37:00.000-08:00

Coincidence? Supernatural? Who cares?

Today is the 26th anniversary of my beloved grandfather's death. I miss him so much. Through my 12+ years of his company, he was my idol and my best friend; he taught me to hunt, to fish, he taught me of my Indian heritage and all it's pride.

I took a short nap yesterday afternoon, during which I drempt of him in a strange way. Before that, I had not dreamed of him, my granddad, my papaw, in years.

It was strange, dreaming that I was thinking of going to see him today, as a 38+ year old, instead of a 12 year old, and wondering if he'd think it strange to see me so much older, so much bigger, fatter, and worrying that he'd think it wrong to be bearhugged by another man.

I drempt of parting his hair on one side of his head, like I used to as a child, so he'd look more like me then.
Now, I pull my hair straight back like his always was, to resemble him. And I so look forward to my hair turning silver like his- I hope I never have to cut my hair short.
I am so happy that despite my weight, I resemble my grandfather; I see some of him each day in my window-mirrors.

2007-12-06T13:25:00.001-08:00

Good eats for a week, for less than $ 10.00

Went to the Dollar Store, and got a 30-pack of corn tortillas, for $1.00. Got two cans of clams, two cans of chicken, all for $5.00. Got one box of Zatarains' rice and beans, another $1.25. And with tomatoes and banana pepper chilis from the garden, made a delicious meal (last night I ate only 8 clam tacos!!), with leftovers again for tonight!

In a saucepan, boil 3/4 C. water, and add one-half the Zatarains rice/beans mix, keeping it thicker than usual.
Stir, and cover, according to directions for 20 minutes.

In a small frypan, sautee the clams and chicken in olive oil. Add some purple onion if you like, here.

Make a homemade salsa, of the well chopped tomatoes and pepper-chilis outta the garden. I like lotsa black pepper on this, but knock yerselves out! Less is more, more or less.

Warm well the tortillas 0ver an open flame for authentic flavor, then pile on the ingredients.

JUST FANTASTIC! CHEAP TOO. SLEEP WELL TONIGHT.

2007-12-03T11:01:00.001-08:00

This will be one of the songs played at my funeral, much to the dismay (or maybe not) of all 4 mourners.

Saloon

And if I can get away with that, I'll add
The Pine Apple Rag and then, as they wheel me out of church in my squeeky, copper-plated wheelbarrow,
an extra $5.00 will get Mrs. Teasdale to play
My alltime favorite Joplin rag, sort of a tearjerker, at the end of all things.
Except for the big dance, bonfire and cookout,
scheduled for 8 pm, that same night.

2007-11-29T20:55:00.000-08:00

Have you ever had a moment like this?
Say you're removing your trousers for bed, and although you checked all your pockets moments before, as you take one leg out, a coin falls from one pocket of the trousers. The coin lands on its rim and begins to roll. At the very same time, you are thinking about a serious choice you have to make very soon, and instantly, you decide that if you can catch that coin before it stops rolling, then your decision will be made for you, one way or the other.

You instantly, silently agree to these terms with yourself. So with one leg in the air, one on the ground, and an empty pants leg somewhere in between, you dive for that coin, confident in your athletic abilities, despite the truth that you've not used any athletic ability since 1999.

As you are reaching for the rolling coin, a fly decides to land on your nose, thoroughly disrupting your aim, reaching for the now tettering coin.
You wipe your face with one hand, and grab at where you last saw the coin with the other....

Neither have I.

2007-11-10T11:30:00.000-08:00

Uuggh. Current Score: Krazy Talk from Krazy Town 35, the Local Malcontent 20. And not much time left.
Meaning, only one is gonna win, unless we allow for ties. Upset in the makin'?

Posted by Wendell L. Scotchpoodle, NOT the Local Malcontent

2007-11-10T07:41:00.000-08:00

I slept like crap last night. Does crap sleep? I slept like something that doesn't sleep at all, last night. And lucky you, I'm going to tell ya all about it.

Slipped between the sheets at about 2:30 am on this cloudless, moonless night. The stars were very clear out the windows. Amos was happy to just sleep at the foot of the bed, on the floor, as it wasn't a frigid cold night. In fact, I had the wooden door that leads out to the deck opened up, to let in the mild, 45-degree air.

All was set; the situation was perfect; deep, restful sleep was overtaking me in no time.
Until he began barking.

Amos' first bark wasn't the threatening variety, but the second one, the one which got my sudden, 100% attention, WAS. That deep, growly 'grrrr-Barruuk'. He stood there at the screen door with his short fur standing. Looking for the threat.

Funny how, that growly bark is so recognizable from the depths of slumber. I shot up in bed, looked out to the deck, the motion detecting lights were still off... I reached over into the table for my .38, just in case.

Then I heard what made Amos bark, too. Somewhere down the hill, another dog was howling. It sounded like a painful howl, and like I said, there was no moon out last night, so I was able to dismiss both stoned hippies nearby, and a werewolf. It could have been a coyote; having identified the cause of Amos' alarm to my minimal satisfaction, I scolded my friend to keep quiet, and I lay back down.

And listened to the radio, hoping it would perform its function, and lull me back to sleep. But NO, instead it featured a news story about which I couldn't stop thinking, literally. That story was about the bad reviews a new Broadway musical had received earlier that night.

Does anyone else just hate it, like I, when a good idea just will not leave your heads, until you do something about it? Welcome to my world, last night at 3:20am. I just had to rise and post an idiot Local Malcontent blog on Young Frankenstein. The thought of how good a couple of Chocolate cookies might taste about then, didn't help matters. So I got up and rapped out a post and ate two cookies.

Back to bed, I did go to sleep. But then I had one of those dreams! A dream of such clarity and detail, that the ability "to rest" was again a defeated conclusion.
I drempt that I was drafted! Drafted in the army! And though I was drafted, I already had a bad fitting uniform, and I showed up very late at night to the draft center, the army base?, and the two guards on duty were relaxing, eating a meal, kicked back. I ran up to them, with my uniform shirt all unbuttoned, hanging out, and I smack fell down onto the long table behind which these two sat. Ka-thunk.

I stepped back to see that there was an open gap in the floor, just in front of their table, and my feet had slipped into this gap. The guards were not amused. But I was allowed in, and the next stop for me was the barber shop. I stood as the barber shaved my head while I watched in his mirror, with other draftees standing there waiting. Only the guy being shaved in the mirror was not me: This didn't seem in the least way unusual to me, the same guy on the outside of the mirror. I thought he looked like Charlie Brown, and I was more pleased, than alarmed.

Next image was the mess hall for breakfast. There was a sign at the beginning of the chow line, which said that thanks to me, two guards had quit, the night before. Breakfast that morning in my army dream consisted of toast and eggs, mixed with Miracle Grow plant food? Yeah.

And finally, thankfully, the next image of the dream was of us draftees standing at attention, in a straight line, for some kind of inspection. A sergeant or a colonel or whoever came by, looked me up and down, and asked about my uniform. I looked down at it, to see what he was asking about.

And suddenly I was wearing blue. I was in the Air Force instead!
End of adventure. Now for some sleep?

NO. To top it all off, a neighbor who is not a stoned hippie calls me at 8 am sharp, and needs some help with her furnace. She can't get it lighted. She tried different ways, all night long.

So that's who was howling.

Posted by Wendell L. Scotchpoodle, NOT the Local Malcontent

2007-10-20T22:46:00.000-07:00

My friend Jon knows what I am feeling. Would he do what I did tonight?
An unqualified yes, to that question. A dear, dear wish for Jon and her.

Four hours on the phone tonight with her, confessing it all, hearing that and more.
Laughing, screaming, doubting, and laughing again.

To the point where fatigue set in, in her, in those wilderness mountains.

"Talk me to sleep," she asked-
"I will, goodnight." I replied.

later, only half an hour in, I'm talking about my home's tin roof, and the sounds of rain and of hail on same.

Drowsily, she comes back to say, "enough".

Reminding me that I can bore even the drowsy to the edge, when I speak.

Ahya`ett`ettohnoyahA`.

Choctaw, for 'Sleep, cherished'. I told her.

But after she had already hung up.

Posted by Wendell L. Scotchpoodle, NOT the Localmalcontent.

2007-10-09T03:48:00.000-07:00

Man, I made some good soup tonight, in between rants over on the LoCal side.

Chunky homemade mushroom soup!

1 C. regular Progresso mushroom soup.
1-1/2 pkgs. of chopped white mushrooms.
2 bell peppers
1/2 yellow onion from the garden
2 stalks celery
about 1 C. elbow macaroni
pinch of celery salt
pinch of black pepper

I took my biggest knife and cut up the veggies into 1/2 to 1 inch cubes.
Mixed all of them up, and sauteed about half of them.
Boiled the macaroni, drained it.
added the soup, the sauteed veggies and mushrooms, and a little water, far less than the can of water suggested.
Allowing this mix to boil again, I added the rest of the veggies.

This made for some good eatin', with the flavor of the sauteed vegetables, and the crisper ones too.
Probably about 20000 calories, since I used Land-0-Lakes butter to sautee...
But I can always convince myself that it was a 'lo-cal' dish.

I had some homemade buscuit dough still in the fridge, so I popped three into the oven at the same time.
It was all so tasty that I decided against driving tonight to Tyler Texas to meet my newest friend. Rather, I watched the demise of the New York Yankees. Dessert!~

posted by Wendell L. Scotchpoodle, NOT the LOCALMALCONTENT

2007-09-09T18:14:00.000-07:00

Has anybody else ever noticed this besides me?

The same characteristics that every good person loves in a dog or a cat, (probably any pet) we hate to see in an insect?

I have a dog named Amos. Love Amos with all my heart, too. He sleeps with me, or at my bedside every night, he manages to push his way in and smell everything that I cook for meals; he rests his head in my lap when I sit here and type these very words!, and I love his curiosity. Amos will smell around my house, the truck, the chicken house, whatever- and I don't mind it one bit.

But just let a fly-- a house fly get into my kitchen and sniff around food, or buzz my ears while I try to sleep, or hang around me as I do this or that, and I am angered.

Hold on, for just a minute, while I try again to kill the fly who is walking around on my computer screen-- Rats, missed the little monster again!

But if my pet, my Amos were to get between me and this screen, this monitor, it would be a different story altogether, huh?

Posted by Wendell L. Scotchpoodle, NOT by the LOCALMALCONTENT

2007-09-02T17:04:00.000-07:00

... yeah.

for all you really clever smarty-pantsed readers, this is my intimate bloggie. Welcome!

Take off your uncomfortable clothes, if you want; I have.

More surgery for me, your ' Wendell L. Scotchpoodle' to occur Tuesday.

To be more honest with you select and clever readers of mine, I am disturbed and frightened by this stuff. Hernia surgery is pretty commonplace, but in this case, it may be serious; it may be double-hernia surgery, and that means alot- that means a total change from my once, robust active life.

Thank you for Visiting Krazy Town, and Thank you for kindly understanding duality, and the need to express both sides of same.

I will keep up 'Krazy Town', once I'm back too, like The Localmalcontent bloggie.

I can't keep upp the constant insistance to stay 'cognizant and sane', all the time... thus this outlet. 'Ppreciate your understanding. And prayers always!

On a separate subject, have you ever seen a "dock spider"? If you had, you'd know. You'd never ever forget an encounter like that!

Once, I walked outside my house to get something from the trunk of my car, then. LONG TIME BACK~ alright? And once I'd gotten it, and closed the trunk lid, there was this big-assed, SOB spider is 5-inch wide, 8-inch long, grey bastard spider staring at me on the trunk lid! No kidding~ causedmyfirstheartattack it did!
After recovering from faint, but still scareddddddd of this monster-mutant-spider, I went back inside my hut, grabbed both a broom and my cutting board from my kitchen (HEY- it was all I could think of-), went back and swatted, then covered this big beast, then stompt his ugly ass into the ground, atom by atom.

I did not stop until he was juice.

I threw away the cutting board the same day.

The Last Time I was Really Scared! ever. About 7 years ago. Big bastard spider....
So bring on ALL the Muslim towelheads!
They'd be no problemo, no sweat for me, your Wendell L. Scotchpoodle!~

Posted by Wendell L. Scotchpoodle, NOT THE LOCAL MALCONTENT

2007-08-30T04:18:00.000-07:00

I was ~~fantasizing~~ thinking overnight, how much fun it would be if the President of the United States was Ricky Ricardo. Not so much for what this ex-Cuban could do for them Cubans or us Yankees, but for the daily news, capturing the wacky wild escapades of First Lady Lucy Ricardo.

Washington- (AP) First Lady Lucy Ricardo today was seen in the Senate Chamber, arguing with the Senate Finance committee chairman, stressing that she needed more money for visits to the beauty salon. When told that the U.S. budget did not hold enough money for that kind of service, Mrs. Ricardo revealed she was indeed wearing a burlap bag dress, and paper sack shoes. The fun though, was just beginning....

Couldn't ya just love having a ditzy redhead in the White House? yeah, me too.
*************************
Tick tock

tick tock

tick tock

tick tock

tick tock
that is how time is wasted.

Posted by Wendell L. Scotchpoodle. Not the Localmalcontent

2007-08-25T23:07:00.000-07:00

Two boys are playing football at this park in a small Oklahoma town, when one of the boys is suddenly attacked by a crazed Rottweiler.

Thinking quickly, the other boy takes a stick and shoves it under the dog's collar, twists it, and breaks the dog's neck, thus saving his friend.

A local sports reporter who was strolling by sees the incident and rushes over to interview the boy. He tells the boy he's going to write the story and says, "I'll title it 'Young Sooner Fan Saves Friend From Vicious Animal'".

"But I'm not a Sooner fan", the little hero replies.

"Sorry, since we're in Oklahoma, I just assumed you were", says the reporter and he starts writing again. He asks "How does 'OSU Fan Rescues Friend From Horrific Attack' sound?"

"I'm not an OSU fan either", the boy says.

"Wow, I thought everyone in Oklahoma was either for the Pokes or the Sooners. What team do you root for?", the reporter asks.

"I'm just visiting my cousin, I'm a Texas Longhorn fan!" the boy replies. "They're just the best!"

The reporter smiles, starts a new sheet in his notebook and writes:

"Little Longhorn Bastard From Texas Kills Beloved Family Pet".

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

A first grade teacher in Austin, Tx, explains to her class that she is a Longhorn fan. She asks her students to raise their hands if they, too, are Longhorn fans.

Everyone in the class raises their hand except one little girl...

The teacher looks at the girl with surprise and says, " Janie, why didn't you raise your hand?" "Because I'm not a Longhorn fan, " she replied.

The teacher, still shocked, asked "Well, if you are not a Longhorn fan, then who are you a fan of?"

"I am an Oklahoma Sooner fan!" Janie replied.

The teacher could not believe her ears. "Janie, WHY are you a Sooner fan?"

"Because my Mom is a Sooner fan, my Dad is a Sooner fan, so I am a Sooner fan also."

"Well" said the teacher, in an obviously annoyed tone, "that is no reason for you to be an Oklahoma Sooner fan. You don't have to be just like your parents all the time. What if your Mom was a snotty, arrogant jackass and your Dad was a snotty, arrogant jackass, what would you be then?"

"Then" Janie smiled,"We'd be Longhorn fans."

^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*

What does an UT graduate say to an OU grad?....Welcome to McDonalds, can I take your order?

How do UT grads park in the Handicap parking?
They stick their diploma on the front windshield.

How many UT football players does it take to change a light bulb?
Only one. But he gets three credit hours, a new car, and about $5,000 in cash for it.

How do you keep an UT student busy for a month?
Give him a package of M & M's and tell him to alphabetize them.

A UT grad wanted to get in the cattle business so he went out and bought a cow. After about 6 months a buddy asked him how it was going and he said, "I still don't have any calves yet". Another 2 or 3 months pass and the same friend ask again how it was going and he said, "I still don't have any calves yet". The buddy told him he needed a bull.
So the UT grad took his cow to the auction and bought a bull.

A Texas grad is driving home from work when his cell phone rings. He answers and his wife says "honey just wanted to warn you and let you know that I am watching the news and some idiot is driving on the wrong side of the interstate."

The UT grad then replied " honey I am already on my way home, but your wrong it is not one idiot but hundreds of them."

Albert Einstein goes to a party. He introduces himself to a lady and says, "Hi, I'm Albert Einstein. What's you're IQ?"
"240," she says.
"Great, we can discuss the mysteries of the universe and other things. We have a lot we can talk about " he replies.
Later he is talking with a man and says, "Hi, I'm Albert Einstein. What's you're IQ?"
"145," he replies.
"Great, we can talk about thermodynamics," says Albert.
Later he is talking to another man and says, "Hi, I'm Albert Einstein. What's you're IQ?
"43," the man manages to say.
Einstein gets a puzzled look on his face for a minute then says, "How about them Longhorns?"

Do you know why UT installed artificial turf on their field?
To keep the homecoming queens from grazing on the ground, but now they can't keep the groundskeeper from mowing it.

Posted by Wendell L Scotchpoodle, NOT by The Localmalcontent

2007-08-25T22:01:00.001-07:00

Wow, I tried a whole new recipe tonight for my supper, and it was just SOooo good, I had to share it with all 3 of you readers.

Here is the delicious -ness recipe:

Take 4 slices of plain white bread;
4 slices of garlic balogna (I like "Bar-S" brand, because they give me coupons for it);
One ripe tomato from the garden;
One yellow Onion;
2 teaspoons of Kraft sandwich spread, the spicy variety;
Approximately 8 ounces of sweetened, iced tea;
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Slice 5 slices (longways) from garden tomato, and
slice 2 slices (longways) from yellow onion, too, and place to one side:
Open jar of sandwich spread, removing one teaspoon of spread at a time, and
smear allover either one or two slices of white bread;
Repeat, with the other two slices of white bread.
Place one slice of onion on one slice of bread;
Repeat, with another slice of white bread.
Cut one of the tomato slices in half, and then
place exactly 1-1/2 tomato slices onto a slice of white bread, ON TOP of onion slice;
Repeat exactly for the other onioned slice of white bread.
Apply two (2) slices of Bar-S garlic balogna ON TOP of tomato slices;
Repeat exactly with the remaining two (2) slices of garlic balogna.
Pour approximately 8 ounces of sweetened iced tea into tall glass or plastic cup.

Here is the trick, now: PLACE THE UNADORNED SLICES OF PLAIN WHITE BREAD
ONTO THE GARLIC BALOGNA, thus making a "Sandwich".

Now, along with a paper towel, take the "Sandwiches", and the cupped iced-tea to your pre-assigned, plastic-covered seat cushion, usually found in front of your television set.
**(Television set may be replaced by a computer screen with no problems)

Serves 1 person.

Go away now, I am deep into experimentation mode with twice this recipe's ingredients!
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
On a separate topic, if you also are homophobic, avoid "Oscar Meyer" brand bologna.
WHY???

Because their bologna has a "first name", (it is O-S-C-A-R)
Their bologna has a "last name" too, (it is M-E-Y-E-R)
This is clearly a sexual inuendo, don't you see it too?
YUCKKK!
[My bologna has a first name, too, it's _-_-_-_] ....
Now do you get it? You should be worried, worried just like I am.

posted by Wendell L Scotchpoodle, NOT The Localmalcontent!

2007-08-24T17:30:00.000-07:00

Seeing as how you didn't ask, I want to tell you about my California kinfolk.

They are some good, upright and important people, despite their living in Satan's livingroom, there.

One of my nieces works for a candy company, where she paints gumballs by hand, 10 hours a day. She paints em blue, red, yellow, green, pink, orange, purple, magenta, ocher, brown, silver, black, gold, fuschia and white. She got these little bottles of food coloring all laid out if front of her, along with a conveyor belt where the little grey gumballs ride past. She picks up each one and then grabs the proper paintbrush, dips it into the proper little jar of food coloring, and goes to town on them gumballs.

I got another family relation out there, only he's not as smart as the gumball painter. He is damned good lookin' however, and he is into makin' moving pictures. Act-tor, he is; He did his little job on a very popular TV show, back in the 1960s, back when TV was worth watchin'!
He jumped around alot on this show, did a little singing, did a little romancin', too. A "heart-throb", to use his words.

I got another fella whut's related to me, and he is a good speaker. He can really tell you whut for, on that Public TV show he talks on. He is a "Narrator". That is because he has good hair.

And then there's a cupple of other ladies, who admit to bein' kin to me: One is an IN-vent0r-- she invented that stuff you wipe onto screwups, makes em go away, like they disappear, too. Then you wipe your hands onto your trouser legs, and the goop does NOT go away, nor does it disappear. She made about a million bucks from that, I reckon.

And last of all, there is the jewel of the family, who lives in California, on the beach somewhere.
She can tell people (ANYONE SHE WANTS) to take off all their clothing, and they have to do it. Otherwise, they do not get what they want. NOW, how's that for a claim to fame?

Bye. Go Away while I eat my supper. Biscuits an' mustard, uhha-humm.

Posted by Wendell L Scotchpoodle, NOT The Localmalcontent

2007-08-24T07:19:00.000-07:00

I am forced by this Blogger format to confess something:

I am The Localmalcontent. Most of the time. I carry on with politics and all sorts of raging Muslim hormones on that blog; rants really. Why, it is no wonder that after having over a month free from the nagging Internet, I fantasized during that time about having a nutty, off-the-wall blog as well.

One called "Krazy Talk From Krazy Town". A spin on something I heard Homer Simpson say.

One which would allow me to further explore my delusional sidedish, while enjoying my main entree of psychosis and gravy.

'Blogger' won't let me make distinctions between the two: Here, I am Wendell L. Scotchpoodle, or even my other altered-ego, Mr. Cephas Dovegargle. He's cool, you'll like him.
But noooooo, I have to be one person, one person only, serving two blogs.
When I am here, I am less... you know, Malcontent.

So I hear that the Burger King and the Dairy Queen had to get hitched-- seems that they had a little Jack-in-the-Box, snicker snicker. Reckon that they'll live in a White Castle?
Nothing says Lovin' like somethin in the oven!

Later--

2007-08-24T04:15:00.000-07:00

I am Michael Jordan.... shwoosh! I am Michael Jordan.... shwoosh! I am Michael Jordan.... shwoosh! I am Michael Jordan.... shwoosh! I am Michael Jordan.... shwoosh! I am Michael Jordan.... shwoosh! I am Michael Jordan.... shwoosh!

Ok, I am NOT Michael Jordan.... airball!

So it's a lie to say that believing something so much can make it so. I dare YOU to use the word "so" three times or more in a sentence.

I am Wendell L. Scotchpoodle.... so! I am Wendell L. Scotchpoodle.... so! I am Wendell L. Scotchpoodle.... so!?

Am I the only person who just really loves to have stupid, pointless and absurd dreams? I just awoke from a doozie. I dreamed that I was lying on the ground, outside a big hotel, at night, in a city I have never been to. Must've been a Southern city, like Miami or Rome or Rio de Janerio.
Wasn't Miami, cause I have been there, but it seemed warm at night there. Maybe San Diego. But I been there, too. I did some weird stuff, like peek into some of the windows into people's hotel rooms, but then a group of boy scouts or something like them were marching by, and two or three of these kids ran over and hid on the side of the hill where I was also hidden. But I was really clever, and rolled up into a ball, and these kids never even saw me, even though they were right next to me! Then I reached into the hotel window and grabbed some guy's wallet right out of his trousers and ran off, counting the money within.

There ought to be a word which describes a compound word or phrase that defines it as something which both poses a problem, AND proposes it's own solution.
Like "oxymoron", which describes a compound word where a rhetorical figure in which incongruous or contradictory terms are combined, as in "a deafening silence".

Cause I have the compound word, just lacking another word to describe it: Political Suicide

It's a play on words. I spend alot of mental energy contemplating plays on words.
Or hadn't you noticed?
Perhaps you noticed instead that I dislike politicians.

More of my wasted, mental energy exposed for all to see later! Bye!

Posted by Wendell L Scotchpoodle, NOT The Localmalcontent

2007-08-23T17:40:00.000-07:00

Now I have no idea what would be the worst job in the world-- have you?

But "logic" dictates that there must be one job, or one job title, which is the very worst in the world. You hear people all the time claim that they have " the Best Job in the World", so does it make you wonder too, like me, what would be the worst job ever?

So here's what I'm thinkin: It would have to be a downright demeaning duty, and it would have to be nasty to the point that if it was your job, you would wretch and vomit before, during and then after.

Let's move forward with the demeaning part here: Say, you work for Queen Elizabeth II, or for Fidel Castro, or for some other higher-and-better-than-everyone-else type. And let's imagine also that this magnificent Lord or Lady has someone who does absolutely everything for them, so's that they never have to even lift a finger.
Well, even these types have to go to the bathroom sometimes, am I right?

I think the very worst job in the world would have to go to the person who's job it is to wipe that Royal Butt. Or more.

My first blog entry. On what I think would be the worst job in the world. There is nowhere to go from here, but up.
Till my next blog entry, Goodbye!

Posted by Wendell L Scotchpoodle, NOT The Localmalcontent.