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Entries tagged as ‘ARB’s’

A Bad Night

May 10, 2010 · 10 Comments

Quote of the Day:

Most loathsome events become humorous tales with the passage of time.” –Jimmy Buffett, from “Tales From Margaritaville

From the archives….

Six foot two, one hundred and twenty pounds, a permanent sneer, pale skinned, hair hanging down closer to his ass than his ears and one helluva beer drinker. Greekson had taken it easy for some reason that night, for reasons I’ve long since forgotten. Probably had a six-pack or so, just to have something to occupy his nervous hands while he waited on his opponent to shoot and miss so he could get back to sticking all the solids in those gently sloping, nearly worn cloth pockets that characterized the particular billiards room we frequented in those days. He was also the finest automobile operator I have ever known. Smily and me, we were drinkin’ a lot harder, so naturally, Greekson volunteered to drive. “I’m fine. Y’all get in.”

So we did. And fifteen minutes later we all saw the dizzying blue lights in the distance, the tell-tale signs of a roadblock. “Turn off Greekson,” we implored. There was a twenty minute detour we still had time to make to avoid the trouble ahead. “I’m fine,” said Greekson. “Y’all just sit still and shut up. And put those beers down.” And he was fine, least he was by our standards. But the law, well, the law sees things its own way. They took his skinny ass to jail. The cop just shrugged when I said, “you really want ME to drive the rest of the way?” They were getting their numbers, that’s all that really mattered.

Greekson had never been to jail before, not even the drunk tank. He wasn’t drunk either, so he was fully mindful of his predicament as he handed over his shoes and belt and looked over his shoulder at the half-dozen new roommates he was about to meet. There was one cot. Upon it lay a very large man, with tattoos and muscles and scars. He was holding his package with one hand, beneath his orange jumpsuit and snoring loudly. A couple of benches lined the walls but there was no room for him so Greekson sat off to the corner in the only space available, on the floor, right next to the toilet. It smelled bad. He tried not to see it. He sized everyone up and knew there was damn little he’d be able to accomplish among them, but Greekson was a philosophical sort, so he just stared blankly but alertly around the room and considered the folly of volunteering the good deed of driving us all, now several hours ago, and wondered what we were doing.

We were still drinking and toasting Greekson’s loyalty and working on these two girls we knew and trying to find out how to get Greekson out of the drunk tank as soon as possible because that was no place for him and scrounging up the hard cash to bail him out from all our friends at five a.m. ten bucks at a time.

His thoughts were interrupted when a tray of fried bologna and egg sandwiches were shoved through a slot in the door and everybody grabbed one. Except for Greekson. He had no appetite. And the big guy. He was still snoring.

By and by the next biggest dude in the room, an athletic black guy with an unkempt, out of style afro and a probable attitude problem (if looks were any indication) got up and shuffled toward Greekson. Or maybe the toilet. In the moment, Greekson couldn’t be sure. Either way, it was not a positive development. He stood over Greekson and looked down at him menacingly. Greekson just cut his eyes upward, defiantly, inquiringly. The dude turned his head toward the man on the cot. “He gonna wake up soon.” There was a pause while that probability sunk in. “You with him, or us?”

Greekson looked over at the scars and the tattoos and the muscles, then straight ahead and then back at the inquisitor. “I’m with y’all man.” What else could he say? He would later tell us there was a part of him curious if he’d have stood by that pledge if it came down to it.

“You gonna eat yo’ bologna?”

“Nah, man, its yours.”

An hour later or so, Smily and I stepped carefully over the threshold of the Starkville jail and triumphantly slammed down our hundred and eighty-five bucks, mostly in fives and ones, with about a dozen quarters. Greekson could hear us from the tank, but he showed no emotion or any other sign of recognition to his cellmates. Our slightly overloud, partially slurred demands that he be released immediately to our custody reached his ears and in spite of himself he had a little hope that the night would soon be over. At the very least he stood to pick up a little company. Then he heard the steel grating on steel and allowed his natural sneer to replace the blank stare as the jailer motioned for him to leave.

The big man began to stir with the commotion and Greekson noted the nervous looks of the remaining allies as he strutted out the door. “So long, suckers.” He flipped the hair away from his eyes and nodded crisply at the forlorn prisoners in his wake. He took one look at us when he emerged from the back and said “I’ll drive” and nothing else until he woke up many hours later and we admired the rising sun together and I wondered idly how we’d find beer money for the next week or two.

———————————————-

Johnny Cash, telling about and singing “Starkville City Jail”

Categories: Blank Stares · Humor · Life
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Salty

March 10, 2010 · 8 Comments

Quote of the Day:

Among TB’s excuses for neglecting the TBU lately is that I am actually “working on something.” It will probably wind up being a collection of stories, except you know how in almost any book there is a disclaimer stating something to the effect that “This is a work of fiction. Any similarities to any person or event is purely coincidental.” I won’t be able to use that disclaimer. What I’ve got so far is all made up, but if you are an ARB, or if you know an ARB, you will recognize “similarities” between the characters and certain ARB’s. What follows is something I got to thinking about this morning and it may go in the collection. This is just a first draft of the first part of an idea; I hope I can make it better eventually. Please stop here if you are offended by foul language.

————–

“How’s my back look?”

“You’re good, dude.”

“Well, I’m plannin’ on sittin’ right here on top of this picnic table and drinkin’ as long as I can, so if you decide to go back and take a shower before going out tonight remind me to put some more sunscreen on when you leave.”

“I’ll be right here with you counselor. I got nobody to impress.”

“I love this fuckin’ place.”

The two dudes on the picnic table were still getting used to the fact they’d had their last Spring Break several years ago. But they still managed to get a few days sandwiched around a weekend at the end of April to go over to Florida and drink and chase girls and remember what it was like before. They sat at opposite ends of the table and a collection of dead soldiers was already filling the space between. The taller one with the bigger, but well-tanned beer gut sat hunched with his elbows on his knees, a Corona dangling from his fingers between his legs, the condensation occasionally dripping down and caking stray grains of sand on top of his left foot. The other one wore a sweat and salt stained Atlanta Braves cap to conceal his prematurely balding head and picked up a paper Coca-cola cup stuffed with paper towels and spit with experienced nonchalance.

“That’s disgusting dude.”

“Your mother likes it.”

The lawyer took a swig of beer and chuckled. “So what did you tell your Principal?”

“I told that bitch I get five sick days and I haven’t taken any and school’s almost out so I’d see her fat ass Tuesday or Wednesday and she shouldn’t bother with a sub ’cause those dumb shits they gave me this year wouldn’t even realize I was gone.”

“In other words, you called in sick this morning and apologized for the inconvenience.”

“Exactly. What did you tell your boss?”

“I said I needed a couple of days and did he mind. He said “you’re a professional, I don’t care when you get your work done as long as it gets done, have fun and don’t bother me with shit like this next time.”

“I shoulda went to law school.”

“You won’t be saying that come June.”

“Damn right.”

They sat in companionable silence for several minutes and nursed their beers. The lawyer finally set his bottle between them and walked away without saying a word. The Braves fan lifted his eyebrows and watched him leave and put his own empty between them on his side and picked up the Coca-cola cup and spit. Left to his own thoughts, he reconsidered quitting early so he could go back to the room and shower. He’d pretty much given up finding a decent girl for the time being, but he wouldn’t mind getting laid. Then again, their track record at places like this wasn’t too damn good, so what the hell, might as well just enjoy getting fucked up and diggin’ on the band. The lawyer returned as suddenly as he had left and handed him a beer and said “look over there in front of the Port-o-lets.”

“Day-um.”

“You took the words right out of my mouth.”

“Why don’t you go talk to her, counselor?”

“Conditions ain’t right.”

“Pussy.”

“Well then why don’t YOU go talk to her if you’re such a badass?”

“Conditions ain’t right.”

“Uh-huh. That’s what I thought.”

“I think your shoulders are starting to get red.”

“Dang. Rub some of this on me.” The sunscreen hung between them for several seconds as they stared blankly at one another.

Eventually, “Fuck you counselor. Not here. I’ll get a reputation and there won’t be a bitch on the panhandle willing to jump in the sack with me.”

“There already ain’t a bitch on the panhandle willing to jump in the sack with you, Coach. If I miss a spot and get skin cancer and die I’m coming back and hauntin’ your ass.”

“Maybe it’ll help me pick up a goth chick.”

The lawyer’s beer was already getting warm in the bottom so he slammed the rest and placed the bottle on Coach’s side with a flourish. “Your turn, make sure they get us a cold one from the bottom and make it snappy.”

The coach got up and went the long way around via the Port-o-lets and smiled to himself. “Gonna be a long night.”

Categories: Life · People · Writing
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Thursday Pickin Season II Week 14

December 3, 2009 · 40 Comments

Quote of the Day:

Please excuse my first picks. I messed up.” –BW Buzz, in route to a winless week.

It’s grind it out time for Thursday Pickin. Most of you took a break between desserts last Thursday to make your picks, though it is clear that interest is waning as the season leaves many of our schools licking their wounds and many of our pickin egos bruised from being out of contention for the Season II championship. Of those who played, there were 7 POTW winners and 11 losers. The Daily Wit and Special Guest Picker Doc Scoop have retired from the race in a badly mauled condition. Irv, Greeg and Fig couldn’t pick last week due to unknown causes, probably associated with a full day at their in-laws for turkey and dressing, but not the way their Momas made it, holiday politics and the Lions game. Any of those could cause a stomach illness severe enough to stay on the sidelines for a week.

This week’s standings are brought to you by the 2009 Egg Bowl Champion Mississippi State Bulldogs, who remind you all that there is one website in this universe that is on the rise. (Sorry, Rebs, you knew I had to get in one more reference–I’m finished now. Good luck in the Cotton Bowl.) Top 7 won their POTW, bonus picks in parentheses. Face won SOTW and RSR won theme. TB won my POTW and went 2-3 in bonus picks to run my season record to 7-5-1 in POTW’s and 37-27-1 in bonus picks. Zeek has vaulted into third place, in prime position now to challenge for a birth opposite Sweet in the TBCS. Of course, RSR and Mac still have something to say about that.

Last Week’s Results

  1. SmilyJ (4-1)  68
  2. Zeek  68
  3. Sweet  68
  4. Mac  68
  5. JLM  68
  6. TB  (2-3)  44
  7. S&M  (0-1)  44
  8. CTJ  (3-2)  26
  9. Q  (1-0)  26
  10. TKH (1-1) 20
  11. RSR  15
  12. Face  15
  13. Fish  10
  14. MD  10
  15. BR  10
  16. Larry  10
  17. Feidt’s Follies (2-4)  8
  18. BW Buzz (0-4)  -4

Season Standings

  1. Sweet  660
  2. RSR  613
  3. Zeek  604
  4. Mac  597
  5. SmilyJ  550
  6. CTJ  535
  7. Feidt’s Follies  518
  8. TB  504
  9. BW Buzz  496
  10. Fig E  496
  11. JLM  493
  12. Irv  490
  13. TKH  449
  14. Larry  443
  15. S&M  420
  16. BR  366
  17. Face  349
  18. MD  343
  19. Fish  342
  20. Q  325
  21. Greeg  280
  22. TDW  224
  23. Special Guest Picker Doc Scoop  180 who I expect to make a pick on the SEC Championship Game this week

Here’s the Link to Sheridan’s Odds for this week

My Week 14 Picks

  • Oregon State  +9′
  • USC  -7
  • Cincinnati -2
  • Houston  -2′
  • Ga Tech  E
  • Texas  -14

POTW

  • Alabama  +5′  I like them to win outright

My “on the rise” Tunes (Ok, NOW I’m finished with the Egg Bowl)

  • Elevation–U2
  • Bad Moon Rising–CCR
  • Back in the High Life–Steve Winwood
  • Sittin on Top of the World–Howlin Wolf
  • Ring Them Bells–Bob Dylan

Categories: Music · Sports
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Mardi Gras 1995 (Anatomy of a Hangover)

November 11, 2009 · 23 Comments

–BASED on a true story–

Quote of the Day:

“Always do sober what you said you’d do drunk. That will teach you to keep your mouth shut.” Ernest Hemingway

It all started out so innocently. Sweet came out of his eye exam, eyes dilated, vision blurry. The clerk had pretty hair, of that he was certain, a pleasing voice, and a friendly, outgoing personality. He drew out the process of settling his bill and ordering his contacts, making small talk, putting on the charm, because back in the day Sweet could roll like that.

A couple of days later he went back to pick up his contacts. The girl had a pretty face to go with her hair. He couldn’t tell much else because she was seated behind a glass window. I say “much else” because he could see the telling gleam in her eye–she wanted to give him her number. And so he got it, because back in the day, Sweet was the man like that.

That weekend TB came to visit, the weekend before Fat Tuesday. Sweet said he’d talked to this girl he recently met a few times on the phone and she was pretty cool. She even had a friend and they wanted to do something that weekend. Sweet stepped out and said let’s go down to New Orleans for Mardi Gras and see the Endymion parade, so he called her and she and her friend were willing and so we set off at a moment’s notice, because back then Sweet was like that.

We stopped at the 7-11 and picked up a case of beer, a bag of ice, a styrofoam cooler and some Rolaids, because even back then, Sweet was like that. As we pulled up to the girl’s apartment she saw us coming and stuck her head out telling us to wait just a moment. I turned and looked at Sweet and he grinned hopefully, but not without uncertainty. The girls came out laughing and hopped in the car. I was in luck–the friend was really good looking. The girl….I couldn’t put my finger on it exactly. I’d never encountered anything quite like it before, or more precisely, quite like them. I kept trying to get a better look and it took awhile because I didn’t want to get busted. Sweet kept glancing blankly in my direction from the rearview mirror. He’d seen it/them too. A few beers later we all needed a pit stop. When Sweet and I had a moment of privacy I pulled him aside. “Are those cankles?”  Sweet just shook his head in resignation. “I think so,” he said dully. “How could I have known?”

So we all loaded back up for the rest of the drive and Sweet recovered quickly. He was like that back then. After all, the girl was cool and her friend/my designated target was hot so Sweet shifted deftly into the role of friend guy/wing man, a seldom played role for him, but one he could willingly take on when necessary. It turned out to be unnecessary because the hot girl viewed me (I must assume) in much the way Sweet viewed “Cankles.” No matter, we all somehow realized how things were gonna be among us and silently assented to having a fun evening as pals.

For some reason on this night, maybe it was because I held out hope for the friend, I had decided not to go overboard with the beer. Overboard, back then for TB, wasn’t easy to do. I could pack away a lot of beer. Really, a lot. So I was probably only on about my tenth as we made our way down to the parade route hauling a Hefty bag full of beer and ice–the styrofoam cooler made it less than ten steps from the car, so we improvised. Back then we were like that. The hot girl was lost in the crowd, probably looking for her boyfriend. Sweet was slapping Cankles on the back like an old construction worker buddy ahead of me as I took my turn dragging the Hefty bag. Cankles was playing along, laughing and joking–she was well accustomed to her role too it seemed.

We found a likely spot for viewing the parade. Sweet and Cankles were carrying on, dancing in the street, sloshing Bud Light on one another occasionally, keeping enough daylight between themselves to satisfy any junior high dance chaperone. I stood back from the crowd, sipping my suds like a gentleman, thinking on how I might turn the tide with the good looking friend. Suddenly the crowd began to part and all eyes turned to a girl marching down St. Charles dressed as a nurse and holding a twelve pack of beer in one hand and a funnel in the other. “I can outdrink anydamnbody here!”, she shouted repeatedly. “Who wants to funnel with me? I’ll drink anydamnoneofyou under the table.”

I chuckled to myself. A twenty-four and a half year old pre-professional, I’d outgrown such shenanigans but could still freshly recall the times I’d have taken up her challenge. That’s when Sweet accosted her. “You can’t outdrink everybody here!” The nurse stared back at him resolutely, mutely challenging him to back up his statement. A thousand eyes watched Sweet, including mine, as he paused just a heartbeat before replying. “He can outdrink you!” Sweet’s index finger and a thousand eyes turned to me. The nurse glared in anticipation of another conquest. Well, I wasn’t gonna take that crap. “Yep”, I said in a calm, assertive voice. “I can outdrink you.” The nurse smiled and said “I’ll go first.”

She funneled a beer, then poured one for me and I sucked it down. Within another minute we’d finished number two and in another couple of minutes went numbers three and four. After four, the nurse had had enough. The crowd was cheering, I was in the zone. It was time to claim the victory. “Give me another.” I drunk it down. The nurse wasn’t even paying attention now but the crowd was cheering. Sweet was taunting her one moment like Jimmy Hart, the Mouth of the South, and tussling my head in celebration the next. “Give me another.” The crowd roared. Sweet rubbed my shoulders. The nurse was on her knees. If I was gonna be challenged by God, by a girl no less, there wasn’t gonna be any doubt over the outcome. I put away number 6 and after that my memories of the night are soundless and few.

I’ve never been one to pass out for too much drink. I black out. I go catatonic. I do crazy ass things, at least I did back then when I was like that. There are a few hazy images that survived the night in my memory. I remember the hot girl coming back and perching recklessly on my shoulders to watch the parade. I remember KC and the Sunshine Band. I remember the pit stop in an alley and the cold ride in the bed of a random cajun’s pickup truck. I remember a gray Motel Six hallway. And I know I had one of the worst hangovers of my life the next day. But Sweet took care of me, we made it home, and on this story I’ve gotten my props now lo these many years. Sweet’s like that after all. As for me, I retired from funneling after that day. That hangover must’ve been really bad. It’s funny, I think, and telling, that the memory of how it came about lasts longer than the memory of the pain. Hangovers are like that, and that’s one helluva silver lining.

Categories: Humor · Life
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Thursday Pickin Season II, Week 10

November 5, 2009 · 73 Comments

Quote of the Day:

This is for FF, when the power rears its evil head around 2:00 Saturday.” –Coach TeaJay

As you may have guessed, FF won his POTW again, now 8-0 on the season. Known far and wide as the South’s preeminent “Gentleman of Leisure”, the question is, is he feeling the pressure. The other question is, will it get to him? I also wonder, are Waldo and Sweet on this train yet? Another question is, to be or not to be? TB has lots of questions actually. For instance….uh-oh, I feel a digression coming on. Better just skip ahead to the results.

Last week saw 12 POTW winners and 11 losers.  As always, the 12 winners appear first, bonus picks in parentheses. SOTW was divided up with a point apiece to Coach TJ, S&M, Sweet and Larry. A point was left over so I’ll give it to Mac for voting for his post 12 times and giving everybody else one star. Theme points are split between Irv and Smily 2 apiece and I’ll give Zeek my point since he really wanted to vote for himself anyway. Smily’s extra bonus point vaulted him to his first weekly win in a quietly successful overall campaign.

  1. SmilyJ  (4-2, plus bonus) 64
  2. Sweet (all-in plus makeup points plus bonus) 63
  3. Mac  63
  4. Zeek 63
  5. BR  62
  6. Greeg (2-1)  56  (Is this Greeg’s first ever winning record?)
  7. BW Buzz (2-2)  50  (Should BW Buzz change his moniker to Even Steven?)
  8. Irv (1-2, plus bonus)  46
  9. S&M  (0-1, plus bonus  45
  10. Feidt’s Follies (2-3)  44
  11. TB  (2-3)  44
  12. CTJ  (1-4, plus bonus)  33
  13. JLM (3-1) 32
  14. TKH (2-1)  26
  15. Q (1-0)  26
  16. Larry  (2-3)  14
  17. Face  10  (Should the all-in penalty for losers have been harsher?)
  18. Special Guest Picker Doc Scoop  10
  19. MD  10
  20. RSR  10  (Is RSR unfairly handicapped in tuneage bonuses?)
  21. Fish  10
  22. TDW  (1-4)  8
  23. Harmony  (kept a spot on the bench nice and warm)

Season Standings

  1. Sweet  453  (Will TB “let” Sweet win?)
  2. RSR  453
  3. Mac  441  (Will Mac think he got screwed on the tunes again?)
  4. Feidt’s Follies   436
  5. SmilyJ  422
  6. Zeek  407
  7. TB  364
  8. BW Buzz  360 (Should we call you “Even Steven”)
  9. CTJ  352
  10. Irv  339  (Can he adequately service both his love of music, the TBU and his girlfriend?)
  11. Lazy Larry   316 (Will he chant at the end of Dixie?)
  12. Fig E  310  (Is Jimmy Johnson the greatest driver ever?)
  13. TKH  308  (Navy again?)
  14. Face  304
  15. S&M  292  (Does she like us, really really like us, or is she just being nice?)
  16. JLM  262  (Does she like us, really really like us, or is she just being cruel?)
  17. Fish  260  (A Notre Dame alum or what?)
  18. MD  246  (Any record highs today?)
  19. BR  227
  20. TDW  224
  21. Greeg  214
  22. Special Guest Picker Doc Scoop  170  (Do they have internet in Rocky Creek?)
  23. Q  160

TB’s record on the season is now 5-3-1 on POTW’s and 24-20-1 on the bonus. Here’s the link to Sheridan’s Odds.

My Week 10 picks:

  • LSU  +7′
  • Oklahoma  -5′
  • Illinois  +7
  • Syracuse  +21′  (Why do I EVER take the ‘cuse?)
  • Connecticut +16′

POTW–Houston +1

Some tunes:

  • So This is Love?–Van Halen
  • Can I Sit Next to You Girl?–AC/DC
  • Should I Stay or Should I Go?–Clash
  • Is This Love?–Bob Marley
  • Where Do You Go To My Lovely–Peter Sarstedt (from the Darjeeling Limited Soundtrack)

Categories: Music · Sports
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Cookie Monster, Revisited

October 28, 2009 · 19 Comments

Quote of the Day:

Confess and be hanged.” –Christopher Marlowe

This morning TB left home a little earlier than usual. I had a long drive and needed some extra time. There was a chocolate chip cookie left over from last night in the microwave. It wasn’t mine but I took it. I figured I could just make more tonight if anyone missed it. As I walked out the door I started to take a bite but stopped myself. “I’ll save it for after breakfast so I can savor it,” I told myself. Before I got in the car it was gone. The act was completely involuntary. I was powerless to stop it.

That cookie was dang good too. So good in fact that I rerouted in order to get breakfast at Fresh Market on the way out of town. At Fresh Market I picked up three more chocolate chip cookies, one to savor after breakfast as originally planned and two for lunch. It was going to be a long drive after all.

There is nothing like a long drive for reflecting on one’s life. Complex political issues, the origins of the universe, awesome blog topics…in the car all alone eternal questions like these get within a hair’s breadth of resolution, the threads of logic interrupted only by an overwhelming urge to self examine one’s own life and come to profound realizations. And so it was, as I devoured a stray crumb rescued from the crease in my shirt, that I thought of my childhood friend Cookie Monster and the great controversy that has always stood between us.

In 1979, Citizens National Bank fielded one of the greatest T-ball teams in the history of Pascagoula, probably the world. Our centerfielder was a heavy hitter, the only kid on the team bigger than me. After running roughshod over the eleven opponents available to us and winning every title we competed for, we convened for the final time at Beach Park for a team party. I don’t recall much about the party except that everyone got a game ball from the season and I happened to get stuck with a crummy one from a blowout of one of the worst teams, probably Toulme Tire or some such, if you were wondering. Undoubtedly there were hot dogs and chips and of course there were cookies.

I honestly have no recollection of what happened that day. What I know for sure is that my friend was accused by the coaches of pilfering the cookies, not only before they were to be served, but in numbers so great he left the plate near empty. He was immediately convicted in the court of public opinion and christened the Cookie Monster, a name that has stuck with him for all his years.

Cookie Monster and I went our separate ways after that season and it was several years before I saw him again. I happily greeted my old CNB comrade and eagerly raised the topic of our 8 year old greatness. To my shock and confusion Cookie Monster did not want to rehash the good ol’ days. Instead he wanted something I could not provide–evidence of his innocence in the cookie stealing matter, moreover, an alibi. The issue was so settled in my mind that I did not even consider his accusation of me as the guilty party plausible, much less credible. I laughed off the incident while CM seethed. As we passed through our teens and entered our twenties I saw CM regularly. Never, not once, did he fail to accost me about the matter of the cookies and never did he fail to demand my confession. The man would not release the grudge. I always laughed.

Then today I ate cookies until I was almost ill. I love cookies. I love the buy 5 get one free at the mall. Did you know if you buy ten they give you two? It’s a sweet deal. As I drove, my subconscious mind worked over the old faded memories of childhood, turning over every shred of the summer of ’79 it could find. A definitive memory of the incident just doesn’t exist. But how can a dude hold a grudge about something he’s guilty of against another who is innocent for thirty years if he doesn’t truly believe he is expressing the truth? How do I explain my inability to keep the cookie I stole from my child out of my mouth for even thirty seconds? When the juxtaposition of my undeniable cookie love and CM’s enduring recriminations against me is considered, what does it prove? The case is circumstantial for sure, but it feels right. It is a burden lifted off my shoulders, a renewal of my spirit, a cleansing of the soul. I will never recapture the memory in my mind, but in my–in my taste buds–the knowledge is true. You’ve gotta be right Cookie Monster. You were wrongly convicted. It had to have been me.

Categories: Humor · Life
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The Unvarnished Truth About How I (not TB) Got Famous One Time

October 22, 2009 · 19 Comments

Quote of the Day:

Glory is fleeting, but obscurity is forever.” –Napoleon Bonaparte

From the age of 6 up through 16, this guy …..

….was a pretty dang good baseball player. After that, well, lets just say I needed my education. But that’s not the point.

Like any former athlete, be they a Hall of Famer or simply a neighborhood menace, TB loves to relive the glory days. Hell, I even like to relive my asshole runnin’ buddies’ glory days; we have to like each others’ old tales of courage and heroism because no one else really wants to hear them. And what’s a story without the tellin’?

And so it happened that one night a long, long time ago that TB, BR, Smily, Rob and maybe somebody else were out ridin’ around with the windows down one summer night. We were talking about how good Perk’s Juco baseball team was that several of my ARB’s, including BR and Rob, were playing for. At some point in the conversation somebody decided to make ol’ TB feel good and said something of my childhood exploits on the diamond, comparing me favorably to some other really good ballplayers who were still on the ascending side of “the hill”. I was pretty much sittin’ back by the cooler with a grin on my mug thinkin ’bout how much I loved these guys, especially when pretty much all of them chimed in sincerely with something good. Of course, there was a small undercurrent of discomfiture because as anyone knows ARB’s don’t make a habit out of saying nice things about one another. We’d come all the way down Beach Boulevard, turned around at the Point and were heading back up Market when I decided to join in, cut things off and agree that, you know, they were right. I’d been damn good back in the day.

At the precise moment I spoke a car passed us on Market and as luck would have it their windows were down too. Must’ve been a nice night. We all heard, clear as day, one of them call out “You’re DAMNNNNNNNNNNNN RIGHT!” Of course, the dude wasn’t talking to us, probably didn’t even notice us. TB, to lighten the mood and to get everyone to laugh off the emotional awkwardness of such a heartfelt ARB conversation, said, “Did you hear that? I AM Famous. That guy just said “there goes BENNNNNNNNNNNN WHITE!” Well, that lightened the mood alright. Everybody “thought” (I’ll never be sure if they really did/do or not) that I really believed this stranger said “Ben White” instead of “Damn Right”. After a good quarter hour of TB love, my ARB’s made up for it by laughing and mocking me unfairly and mercilessly for the next hour over my poor hearing and inflated ego. So be it, it was worth it to hear all those nice things. And that was the end of it.

Except that was not the end of it. When I next came home from college for a night out with the boys I was introduced to one of their buddies from some other town on the Coast. His eyes lit up when we met. “You’re BEN DAMN WHITE!” I was confused. Everybody else was laughing their ass off. As we moved around that night from bar to bar I got the same reaction. Then I started hearing people across the room who’d not even known I was there saying it. At the pool table somebody asked their opponent if they wanted to bet a beer on the next game. “You’re Ben Damn White,” came the reply. A dude asked a girl if she wanted to go out to the car to look for something he left and she said “you’rebendamnwhite.” On and on it went. My friends, lifelong pals, bosom buddies, ARB’s, had turned our moment of genuine male bonding into a catchphrase that had taken hold over a radius of two hundred miles outward from Perkinston, Mississippi. For years I heard “you’rebendamnwhite” all across the coast and north to Hattiesburg, from people who had no idea why they were saying it, still do occasionally, all because I tried to be a stand up guy and get everyone to move on by injecting a little reverse self deprecating humor. In fact, that’s what inspired me to tell the tale, I got a “Bendamnwhite” on Facebook today. And you’ve been wondering, I bet, why I call them my asshole runnin buddies. I hate those dudes.

But they could all play some dang good ball, I ain’t gonna lie.

Bonus QOTD

When you are young you get blamed for crimes you never committed and when you get old you get credit for virtues you never possessed. It evens itself out.” Casey Stengel

Categories: Humor · Life
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Thursday Pickin Season II, Week 8

October 22, 2009 · 56 Comments

Quote of the Day:

I haven’t gotten to spank anyone in a long time.” –Jessie Lou McFall

Also worth repeatin’:

I’m corn-fused. Is this football-ese? –Calicobebop

The highlight of the game was when Millimeter somehow got into the suite and almost rallied the team to victory with his dancing Homer impression.” –Undefeated, Untied, Feidt’s Follies

If any of you are gamblers, and I hope none of you are unless you are in Vegas, because its illegal otherwise, I hope you are paying attention to the Picks of the Week coming out of the Travellinbaen Universe. Last week was the best yet with seventeen winners against only 4 losses and a tie. TB, for the record, won my POTW and went 3-1-1 on bonus picks. This put me just over the Mendoza line for the year with the record standing now at an even 3-3-1 on POTW’s and now 18-16-1 on bonus picks. Mac’s reign at the top was a brief one as he lost his POTW and came in dead last for the week, while Sweet won his and went 2-0 on bonus picks to assume a tie for the lead with RSR who regained the other half of that lofty perch at the midway point of season two. Notably, BR won his second POTW in a row after starting the season 0-5. Song of the week goes to Larry’s Charlie Mars pick and list goes to Jessie Lou. Here are the numbers.

Week 7 Results (top 17 POTW winners, Greeg Tied, the rest lost; bonus record in parentheses)

  1. Fish (4-1) 68
  2. Sweet (2-0) 68
  3. Smily  68
  4. Face  68
  5. Special Guest Picker, Doc Scoop 68
  6. RSR  68
  7. Q  68
  8. Feidt’s Follies (3-1-1) 62
  9. TB (3-1-1)  62
  10. Larry (3-2 plus SOTW) 61
  11. TDW (3-2) 56
  12. Zeek (3-2)  56
  13. Fig E (3-3)  50
  14. Coach TJ (2-2-1)  50
  15. BR (0-1)  44
  16. BW Buzz (1-3)  43
  17. TKH (1-3 )  43
  18. Greeg (1-3)  43
  19. JLM (4-1 plus bonus 43)
  20. MD (2-1)  26
  21. S&M  10
  22. Mac  (1-3)  8
  23. Irv (distracted by his girlfriend a la Tony Romo) 0

Season Standings

  1. Sweet  375
  2. RSR  375
  3. Feidt’s Follies  330
  4. Mac  316
  5. Smily J  290
  6. Face  284
  7. Zeek  276
  8. CTJ  276
  9. Leapin Larry 276
  10. BW Buzz 260
  11. Irv  252
  12. TB 252
  13. TKH  238
  14. Fig E 232
  15. Fish  230
  16. MD  210
  17. JLM 210
  18. S&M 179
  19. TDW  172
  20. BR  155
  21. Greeg 150
  22. Special Guest Picker Doc Scoop 150
  23. Quail  124

Before I make the picks for this week I want to take this one last opportunity to revel in the fact that the Florida Gators have not won a game in Starkville in over twenty years. After beating the Dogs in 1985, the Gators lost there in 1986 when the Wayne Peace led team was upset 16-10, in 1992 when the Dogs crushed Shane Matthews’ Heisman hopes 30-6 on Thursday night, in 2000 when the Bullies rolled 47-35 (remember that one Smily?) and the Gators faced the infamous 3rd and 57 from their own goal line and finally 2004 when the Ron Zook-led Gators got Croomed 38-31. These games all had one thing in common–TB didn’t think we had a chance in any of ‘em. No chance this week either, and so, I gloat. One last time. But we will cover the number, so we’ll have that going for us. Which is nice.

Link to Sheridan’s Odds

  • Vanderbilt  +13
  • Tennessee  +14
  • Kentucky  -14′
  • Mississippi State +22′
  • Auburn  +7

POTW–Oklahoma  -7′

My Weekend Tunage

  • You Give Love a Bad Name–Bon Jovi (1986)
  • Teen Angst (What the World Needs Now)–Cracker (1992)
  • Kryptonite–3 Doors Down (2000)
  • Cold Hard Bitch–Jet  (2004)
  • Do It Again–The Beach Boys

  • Do It Again–Steely Dan

Categories: Music · Sports
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Thursday Pickin Season II, Week 7

October 15, 2009 · 52 Comments

Quote of the Day:

Some people just don’t understand the art of being a “Gentleman of Leisure”, do they?” –Feidt’s Follies

There were 9 POTW winners last week, the top 9 in the list below, led by TKH’s stunning performance on bonus picks at 4-0. TB’s record on the year fell to 2-3-1 on POTW’s and 15-15 on bonus picks. A big Bama spellout to BR for winning his first game of the season in the big showdown up in Oxford. Mac took over the season lead with a well timed and chosen “all-in” on the Tide. Last week’s results:

  1. TKH (4-0) 74
  2. BR (all in, plus bonus, plus SOTW) 67
  3. Mac (all in plus bonus) 62
  4. Sweet (3-1) 62
  5. Fig E (3-2) 56
  6. Q (3-2) 56
  7. Irv  (2-2) 50
  8. Fish (2-3) 44
  9. TDW (1-4 plus TOTW bonus) 37
  10. Feidt’s Follies (1-4) 32
  11. Coach TJ (1-4) 32
  12. SmilyJ (2-1)  26
  13. BW Buzz (2-1) 26
  14. Larry (1-0) 26
  15. Zeek (2-2) 20
  16. TB (2-3) 14
  17. S&M (2-3) 14
  18. Face 10
  19. Special Guest Picker Doc Scoop 10
  20. MD 10
  21. RSR 10
  22. JLM (1-3) 8
  23. Greeg (1-3) 8
  24. Mac (tweaked hammie)

Season Standings

  1. Mac 308
  2. RSR  307
  3. Sweet 307
  4. Feidt’s Follies 268
  5. Irv 252
  6. SmilyJ 222
  7. BW Buzz 222
  8. Zeek 220
  9. Face 216
  10. CTJ 216
  11. Larry 216
  12. TKH 195
  13. TB  190
  14. MD 184
  15. Fig E 182
  16. S&M 169
  17. JLM 167
  18. Fish 162
  19. TDW 116
  20. BR 111
  21. Greeg 107
  22. Special Guest Picker Doc Scoop 82
  23. Quail 56

My Picks:

  • Texas -3′
  • S Carolina +17
  • Arkansas +24′
  • Louisville +13
  • Georgia  -8

POTW–Mississippi State  -4′

Some tunes while Saturday Football Bloggin by myself

  • Oh, Lonesome Me–Kentucky Headhunters
  • Lonesome, Ornery and Mean–Waylon
  • London Homesick Blues–Jerry Jeff Walker
  • Poor Poor Pitiful Me–Warren Zevon

SOTW–Desperados Waiting for A Train–Guy Clark

Categories: Music · Sports
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Thursday Pickin Week 6 Season II

October 8, 2009 · 37 Comments

Quote of the Day:

I think I came in a little hot.” –Fig E, describing his recent encounter with Baseball Legend Eddie Murray

Last week’s Thursday Pickin was impressive. This week, even better. If any of you are in Vegas, you might give serious consideration to using the POTW’s you will find below. Well, I guess it depends on if you’re an optimist–in which case you’d want to ride the TBU wave–or a pessimist–in which case you’d assume we’ve peaked and are due for a big fall. Last week the TBU went a collective 17-6 on Picks of the Week. Time will tell, it always does. Notable and worthy of a shout, The Daily Wit rejoined Pickin last week with a two-fer POTW that sent me scurrying to the Rules Committee and 10 picks. Of itself, this was of little consequence. But his bonus picks were an astounding 9-1. A hearty “well done” TDW, from the whole gang. Here are last week’s rankings, the top 16 won their POTW (TDW went 1-1), the bottom 5 lost, and bonus pick results are in parentheses, while Jessie Lou and Mad Dog were awarded the tunage bonus:

  1. TKH (3-1)   62
  2. RSR (all in)  62
  3. Face  (all in) 62
  4. Special Guest Picker Doc Scoop (all in) 62
  5. TDW (9-1)  58
  6. Feidt’s Follies (3-2)  56
  7. Fig E (3-2)  56
  8. Larry (3-2)  56
  9. Mac (2-2)  50
  10. BW Buzz (2-2)  50
  11. Sweet (0-1) 44
  12. TB (2-3)  44
  13. Smily J (1-2)  44
  14. JLM (1-4 plus bonus) 37
  15. Irv (1-4)  32
  16. Greeg (2-5 plus make up points to stay even with the top loser)  32
  17. Zeek (3-1)  32
  18. S&M (1-0)  26
  19. MD (1-1 plus bonus) 25
  20. CTJ (2-2)  20
  21. BR  (all in)  10
  22. Harmony (goin with the Patriots next week)

Season Standings:

  1. RSR  297
  2. Mac  246
  3. Sweet  245
  4. Feidt’s Follies 236
  5. Face  206
  6. Irv  202
  7. Zeek  200
  8. Smily J 196
  9. BW Buzz  196
  10. CTJ  184
  11. Larry  184
  12. TB  176
  13. MD  174
  14. JLM  159
  15. S&M  155
  16. Fig E  126
  17. TKH  121
  18. Fish  118
  19. Greeg  99
  20. TDW  84
  21. Special Guest Picker Doc Scoop  72
  22. BR  55

My Picks For This Week:

  • Indiana  +6′
  • Ole Miss  +4′
  • Florida  -8
  • Kentucky  +9′
  • Georgia  +2

POTW

  • Auburn  -2

LINK TO THE ODDS

My Tunes for dodging Reb fans, Bama RV’ers and raindrops and lightning strikes in Oxford Town

  • High Voltage–AC/DC
  • Purple Rain–Prince
  • Shelter From the Storm– Bob Dylan
  • Thunder Road–Bruce Springsteen
  • Shout Bamalama and Dixie Rock–Wet Willie (these are for you Q)

My SOTW, which mainly Smily will appreciate, but Reb fans might find soothing come Saturday sunset

  • Blame it on the Rain (yeah, yeah)–Some Army dudes I heard–always wondered why they didn’t get their own recording contract

Categories: Music · Sports
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