Round I Voting Results, Jackson County HOF

Posted on February 10, 2009 by travellinbaen

Quote of the Day:     

MD: Hey TB, don’t you think 30 is too big of a class?

TB: Yep, I think you’re right. I’ll lower it.

And with that, it was decided in the grand tradition of democracy that the inaugural class of inductees will be limited to those elected on 2/3 of the ballots cast each round for III rounds. Round I is over. There were no unanimous selections, no hanging chads and no dead people participated. Forevermore these men will hold the distinction of being the first men elected to the Jackson County Sports Hall of Fame:

  • Rooster Jones
  • Terrell Buckley
  • Shane Matthews

If you know any of these guys, the committee thinks it would be pretty cool if you would contact them to let them know of this honor and ask them to say/write a few words in this space about what it means to them.

Posted in Mississippi, People, Sports | Tagged , , , , , , , | 2 Comments

In Memoriam, Johnny Smith

Posted on February 9, 2009 by travellinbaen

Quote of the Day:     “I am a part of all that I have met.”     –Alfred, Lord Tennyson, Ulysses

A Goula boy, Johnny Smith, PHS Class of 1988, Pascagoula Gulf League champion 1981, trumpet player, Marine, childhood friend of TB, and no telling what else died this morning in Atlanta, Georgia, with his Mother at his side. I haven’t seen Johnny since our class reunion back in 1998. Before that we ran into each other by happenstance in Starkville, Mississippi, at a party where I heard about him getting in a fight earlier that day in his Ole Miss Band uniform and clocking some guy with his trumpet. Before that, I can’t even say. 

Johnny and I were teammates on Mississippi Chemical in 1981 and spent a lot of time with each other from ages 10-12. I was obsessed with sports while Johnny was interested in, well, everything. He understood music, computers, and pool tables. He could handle a fishing pole, paddle a canoe and watch The Exorcist in the middle of the night without fear. He liked to stay up all night. He liked to roam the secret passageways of his neighborhood tormenting his buddies. We lost touch when we went to junior high and really didn’t come into contact much between 1982 and that meeting in Starkville. But like many of the people who have shared stories on this site, we seemed to pick up our conversation that evening where we’d left off 10 years before. The same thing happened at our reunion in 1998. I was, and am still hacked that Johnny didn’t show for our 20th, our last chance to catch up.

I feel a little undeserving, a little self indulgent in grieving for Johnny to the degree I am. So many more people have more dearly earned their tears today. So many more people knew him during all those years that he and I lived on separate paths. But I can’t think about him and the random, tragic way his life was cut short without choking back the tears that I know he would never understand. I’m sad for Johnny. I can’t even express how I feel for his Mother. And I’m sorry for myself. It’s not that I would go back and change anything. It’s not like we had a falling out. Its just that his passing highlights the impossibility of knowing well all the good people I wish I could. There’s just not time in this life. Few people are as smart or as tough or as funny as Johnny Smith. And there damn sure wasn’t enough time for him to share those traits with those of us who knew him.

Posted in Blank Stares, Life, People | Tagged , , , , | 7 Comments

TB’s Guide to Interesting Party Conversation

Posted on February 9, 2009 by travellinbaen

Quote of the Day:     “Conversation should be pleasant without scurrility, witty without affectation, free without indecency, learned without conceitedness, novel without falsehood.”     –William Shakespeare

TB just got back from a whirlwind 1500 mile round trip drive to Folly Beach, South Carolina, to attend a special birthday celebration. It was a lot of fun. I just wish we could’ve spent a few more days on the beach watchin the world go by in slow motion. But we were there to help put on and enjoy a birthday party attended by the honoree’s friends, all strangers to TB. There is a word for my personality type but I don’t know what it is. Actually, there are probably several words, but for purposes of party conversation there is one. It’s a word that describes someone who likes to go to parties where there are new people, but would prefer to be left to his own devices to have his own kind of good time watching everybody else have a good time. 

It is not in my nature to make small talk at such events, but through a lifetime of experience and occasional necessity, and to avoid looking like a prick, I’ve learned how to get by. My technique is to say absolutely nothing all the while appearing to say a lot. Here are some common conversational situations with stock, meaningless answers and TB’s more interesting sounding, but identically meaningless substitutions:

Party going stranger–“Hey there, I’m Bob Smith. I saw you sitting over here by yourself and wanted to come over and introduce myself. How are you?”

Instinctive response–“Fine. How’re you?” This will get you a blank stare, a quick, though merciful end to the conversation and a party buzz that a probable prick is in the room. There’s really nothing wrong with it, but it conveys nothing, and it connotes that you don’t give a damn who Bob Smith is and are wondering why in the hell he’s bothering you. The fact that is exactly what you are thinking is not germane here.

TB’s equally meaningless, but socially successful response–“Welllllllll…..” (sip drink) “I’m gettin better and better all the time.” Ok, the drawl tells your assailant you are carefully considering his fascinating query. The drink tells him you’ve taken a moment and decided you can trust him with the truth. And the “gettin better all the time”–you should look across the room and grin when you say this–tells him you’ve got something in mind that is a lot cooler than what his night is looking like. But he assumes you are assuming he’s hip to your hidden meaning and he feels like he’s in on the caper with you. Because you’ve been so good as to let him in on your deep thoughts, he feels man-code bound to scamper off and leave you to your plotting. Nine times out of ten, you’ll get the response, “I hear you man” followed by a knowing nod of the head, raised eyebrows and a quick, friendly departure.

But sometimes the approach is more complex. What if Bob follows up with something like, “so what do you do?” The natural response here is, as usual, the boring, conversationally painful truth. For me, “I’m a lawyer.” I often am so surprised Bob didn’t leave after letting him in on my scheme that I’ll fall prey to this trap. When that happens, it leads to a slow party death exchange of inane responses to questions like, “oh yeah? what kind of law” and “do you know anything about DUI’s” and “have you ever met my brother-in-law’s nephew Smitty? I think he does corporate law.”  TB’s tried and true response can prevent this, if only you are alert enough to avoid the trap of answering candidly. Instead of “I’m a lawyer” (or doctor, banker, plumber, etc), say “I piddle.” Sounds stupid right? Try it, it works. Bob will laugh, accepting your gentle unspoken rebuke that shop talk really isn’t appropriate at a party, particularly one at which you are currently scheming.

One final scenario for the truly persistent Bob. He drops the career talk and goes for the jugular. “How do you know (the honoree)?” By now, I’ve realized the perilous position I’ve put myself in by virtue of answering without using the TB guidelines. I know that if I say “my wife is her sister” I’ve blown the whole thing to kingdom come. Not only will it result in Bob calling over some other guy we’ll call Fred to tell him about how you’re a corporate lawyer  who can clue him in on DUI law; not only will it result in a long discussion with no response listed in TB’s guidelines about where you are from and who you know two towns over; not only will your night of peaceful introversion be outed; but your original cocky scheming will be exposed as the hollow bluff that it is. This is party armageddon for my type. To avoid this you just keep it simple. “We go back a ways.” This can mean anything and a lot of the possible meanings are clearly inappropriate for public discourse. Unless Bob is a complete dimwit, he’ll accept this answer, attribute your vagueness to gentlemanly discretion and finally, move on down the line.

Of course, there’s always one other option. You can try from the start to respond to Bob truthfully, ask him the same dumb questions back and pass the time until he gets all your boring details and finds someone else to quiz. That’s what I ended up doing this weekend although it was against my every instinct. The Bob that mistakenly thought I looked bored and alone over in my corner turned out to be an alright guy. He even laughed at a couple of my one-liners. Truth be told, I liked him a lot and we’d probably become friends if we met on turf a little more in my comfort zone. But if you see me (or one of my readers) at the next small talk event and hear one of the TB Guideline responses, cut me some slack. I’m really not a prick, maybe just still a little weary from going against the grain on Saturday. And if somebody there isn’t clued in on the guide, keep it quiet for me. I’d prefer they think I have something up my sleeve.

Posted in Humor, Life | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 8 Comments

Jackson County Sports HOF Voting Thread, Round I

Posted on February 4, 2009 by travellinbaen

Quote of the Thread:     “Syco, you ain’t nothin but the man for coming up with that info.”     Quail09 during the nominating period

This might be a little cumbersome, but here’s how I propose to proceed. Let’s limit the inaugural class to 30. At least a third of the class(that’s 10 for you Gautier guys) must come from outside Pascagoula or Pascagoula schools (PHS, OLV, Carver). Gautier players are considered part of the Pascagoula group until the schools were split. If you want to make an argument in favor of someone, put that in the original nomination thread. The ballot is the comments section below and I ask that you keep your comment in this thread to simply giving 10 names. Any names on a ballot after the first 10 will be disregarded. Anyone named on 2/3 of the ballots is enshrined. We’ll continue with future rounds until the class is completed. If you have any suggestions on additional voting procedures, make those in the other thread too. Please spread the word to anyone who might want to vote. I’ll keep the voting on this round open until February 9, 2009. The criteria is what you think it ought to be. There are some good suggestions on the nominating thread, but ultimately, its just your subjective opinion that matters.

Posted in Mississippi, Sports | Tagged , , , , , , | 26 Comments

The Greatest (gambling) Story Ever Told

Posted on February 3, 2009 by travellinbaen

Quote of the Day     “so why don’t you shut up? You’re just a bitter old man.”     –TB’s first and only words to the old coot to my right in this story

Old stories, more appropriate for telling over a beer or three in a bar or on a boat, are hard to recapture accurately in written words. But as doing so is not only one of the goals of this site, but the only way they can be communicated until I get a podcasting contract, that’s what you get.

It was back in about ought-one or so I guess. TB, Larry and Stone decided for some reason that a run over to Vicksburg’s showplace destination, the Rainbow Casino was in order. I swear, in a rush to get gambling money flowing the original Rainbow was little more than a double-wide trailer slapped upon an abandoned barge and sunk in the mud. It seemed like we were dodging cigarette butts, peanut shells and cow manure while threading our way between the Las Vegas Sands’ castoff slot machines. But TB was feeling it this night and determined to shoot some dice. I spied a suitable table over behind the compost heap, and while Larry disappeared to do whatever the hell it is Larry does, TB and Stone took up station at opposite ends of a three dollar minimum table.

As the dice went from person to person, I was “breaking even”, as the term is used vis a vis gambling. Stone was too. In fact Stone broke so even he had to sit out by the time the dice reached TB. A three dollar table, as any craps player knows, is a ripoff due to the poor odds you get on most bets. So TB went all out and played in five dollar units, one of only two players of about ten exceeding the minimums. The old coot to my right was playing with mostly c-note chips, and some 500 dollar chips. He’d been “breaking even” for quite awhile it seems. At any rate, the dice finally made it to TB and the fun began in earnest.

You know that feeling athletes call being in the zone? I was in the zone baby. I was making those freakin bones dance. I hit a point right off, then nailed a couple of 7’s and 11’s on the come out. I established another point and started hitting place bets and moving my bets slowly up. I hit a couple of more points and about that time I noticed the old coot next to me was starting to crowd me a little. I glanced over at his chips and saw he was playing the “don’t pass.” For those of you not clued in on craps, basically I was off to a good start, making a little money and the guy playing for a lot more money than me was betting against me instead of with me. It’s perfectly fine to do so, but is considered anti-social and the person is shunned by most players. What the old bastard was doing was trying to interfere with TB’s perfect (that night) form and rhythm because his stack of blacks was rapidly vanishing. There is absolutely no empirical evidence that once dice leave the hands of the thrower there is any way to control them. I know that to be true. But when I’m shooting, I don’t feel it to be true, and neither does anyone else, be it a monopoly player or a Vegas whale or the casinos themselves. I was making those dice hit exactly the same place on the table, bounce in to the precise point on the far wall at which I aimed and come down showing anything but a crap out. I was rocking back and forth in perfect harmony with the gods of luck, rubbing my hands together to keep them hot during the lulls. I was in the heart of the zone. The boat went to its first move with a hot shooter and changed the stick man, but to no avail.

After about 10 minutes of success, and the opposite result for the coot, I kicked in to high gear. Point after point, 7’s on the come out, hitting hard ways and parlays, and now the old coot was blowing cigarette smoke in my face and elbowing me in the ribs. It didn’t matter, I was taking the hits and making my throws like John Elway  in the two minute drill on a cold day in Cleveland. The stick man changed again, and the dice got examined by the pit boss. The three dollar patrons were cheering my every move. Larry materialized from thin air, said something to which I responded, “get the hell away from me.” He got the hell away from me. The old coot started to cuss and I could see his spittle beginning to accumulate on the outside of my glasses. Another point, then another. The old coot asked for a marker for ten thousand. I looked up while they took care of his business and saw Stone, all two hundred seventy five pounds of him, pirouetting at the end of the table and high fiving a street bum with one of those beards that you can identify the individual hairs on and a watered down whisky and coke sloshing over onto the felt. Another point, and another and the old coot took another marker, then another. Stone’s dance moves threatened to upend the table, or maybe it was just a rogue Mississippi River wave or maybe it was the casino trying desperately to ruin my groove. But I was unstoppable.

Finally it was all over. For forty minutes the Rainbow and the old coot could not stop me, but the law of averages did catch up and allow them to contain me. My pitching arm was spent, rotator cuff inflamed, glasses irreparably smudged. I hadn’t breathed deeply the whole time. Stone was getting dizzy. My pile of reds were spilling off the table, climbing out of my pockets and protruding from my socks. The old coot wasn’t beaten though. He got in my face and berated me. “You stupid bastard!”, he wailed, you should’ve won at least ten thousand dollars on a roll like that. You don’t know what you’re doin!” For the briefest  millisecond I considered his position. Any gambler feels remorse when its all over–either because he shouldn’t have bet, if he lost, or because he should’ve bet more if he won. But I felt the pleasing weight of all those plastic chips. My peripheral vision picked up Stone barreling over and through a throng of redneck humanity to get to me and slap my back and rub down my arm. Larry was peering out from a black jack table a couple of rows away waiting to see if it was safe for him to come back out. I would later find that I’d made nearly a thousand bucks, a lot of money for ole TB, then and now. I recovered my wits and reared like a grizzly after being hunched for so long and showed my size advantage and my glazed MD style crazy eyes to the old coot who immediately cowered beneath the table. “Listen you old coot! You could’ve bet with me and won fifty grand. That was damned stupid, so why don’t you shut up? You’re just a bitter old man.” It wasn’t the highlight of my retort career, but its what I said, and it was pretty satisfying at the moment. And the old coot shut up, beaten at last. And TB and a couple of his ARB’s went out to celebrate in style.

Bonus Quote of the Day     “If I lose today, I can look forward to winning tomorrow and if I win today, I can look forward to losing tomorrow. A sure thing is no fun.”     Chico Marx

Posted in Humor, Life, Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 27 Comments

Year One, Coming Soon to a Theater Near You

Posted on February 2, 2009 by travellinbaen

Yeah, TB’s been a bit lazy with the blog lately.  I think I used up too much brain power trying to figure out what to do when a new checkout line opens up and you are 5 deep in line next to it. To make up for it, check out this two minute trailer for  the movie “Year One” with Jack Black and a bunch of other funny dudes coming out later this year.

Posted in Entertainment, Humor | Tagged , , , | 4 Comments

A Weekend Tune For Elle

Posted on January 30, 2009 by travellinbaen

Quote of the Day:     “To a father growing old, nothing is dearer than a daughter.”     –Euripides

I’m pretty sure this song wasn’t written with the intent that it be sung exactly the way TB does–in pitch or meaning. But it’s a special day and weekend at my house, and this is one of the tunes we’ll be dancin to in Ridgeland. Enjoy.

Posted in Music | Tagged , , , | 2 Comments

I Aspire to Write Like This Guy

Posted on January 29, 2009 by travellinbaen

Quote of the Day     “There is creative reading as well as creative writing.”     –Ralph Waldo Emerson

It’s too long to cut and paste, so I’m linking a great article by a Mississippi writer that appeared in “Lost” magazine. It is about the author’s and his ARB’s efforts to track down and interview Jan Michael Vincent in rural Warren County, Mississippi. If that name is familiar but you can’t place it, he was a 1970’s era movie star well known for playing the young stuntman opposite Burt Reynolds in Hooper. He was in a lot of other things too, including “The Winds of War.” At some point, things went down the tubes with him. Anyway, I thought it was a great article and wanted to give you the opportunity to read it too. I wish I could’ve been in the pickup with them that day they went looking for him. The pair’s quest is marked by dry humor and a heavy undertone of pathos, and the two, as they often are in life are inextricably linked.

The writer is Alan Huffman who is a friendly acquaintance of mine. His buddy Neil is a friend. Alan is an interesting guy. He’s the author of a book I plan to read soon called “Mississippi In Africa.” It chronicles the experience of a group of slaves freed from Mississippi, who settled in Liberia and established a community based on what they learned as slaves, essentially creating a small version of Mississippi across the ocean. He also wrote “Ten Point” which is a photographic book about his family’s deer camp in Issaquena County, Mississippi. Alan also is the host of a well known and attended pig roast once a year out in the country. The house where he hosts the party (so I am told) is an antebellum home that was transported by he and Neil and probably some others from another county board by board and rebuilt on his family land just as it was before being torn down. I love to talk with Alan because he’s one of those folks who has the quiet, gentle ability to make you feel he can see through dissembling or exaggeration yet exercises no harsh judgment on whatever your thoughts on a given subject may be. The result is conversation at its most refreshing.

Anyway, click here for the link to a really neat article

Posted in Life, Mississippi, Writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

Stuff You Just Know If You Were Raised Right

Posted on January 28, 2009 by travellinbaen

Quote of the Day:     “Everyone should just be quiet and uncomfortable. Avoid eye contact. Look pensive. Don’t trap me in your stupid convo where you say “I’m in the elevator so I might lose you.””     –Aubrey Leigh Goodwin, explaining in the funniest line of the week how offensive it is for someone to use a cell phone in a shared elevator

As fate would have it, TB was on the road today driving back and forth through the Mississippi Delta for work in Greenville. I love driving in the Delta. It’s a great place to think. Somewhere near Onward I got to cogitating on the subject of etiquette. Particularly road etiquette at first, but then my mind naturally turned to other instances where if people would just act right, life would be so much more enjoyable. My mind moved on(ward?) to other subjects, but somewhere in the back, it kept the issue of folks actin right working in the realm of subconsciousness. Then I walk in the house, fire up the laptop and see Aubrey Leigh’s poetic rant staring back at me from her Facebook page. It seemed like a sign. I should publish an essay of etiquettalia you ought to know if you were raised right. And so I shall, but don’t be offended if you don’t know all of these. So long as you long ago figured out the majority for yourself, you can feel safe your folks performed the task of raising you well.

Cell phone etiquette is a perfect example of something your parents could not have taught you, unless you are really obnoxiously young. But if you were raised up right, you know not to talk in the elevator. And Aubrey Leigh’s description of appropriate elevator behavior is so perfect I cannot hope to improve upon it. But it’s not the only place you must put your phone away. One of the worst places to talk is on an airplane before it takes off. A quick buzz that the doors are closing and your arrival will be on time is acceptable, but only if you speak in a muffled murmur and  make it snappy. I can tell you from experience there is nothing so boorish as to wait until you board a plane to pull out your new flip phone, turn your head toward the center aisle and begin to loudly boast to your phone of the deals you closed today, all the while running your fingers through your overly moussed hair, winking at the flight attendant as you ask for a double Jack Daniels and ostentatiously kicking off your Bruno Maglis. Do not be this dude. And for pete’s sake, and mine, don’t talk on your cell phone in a restaurant with metal or better cutlery. As a matter of fact, silence the damned thing in all these places.

Speaking of airplanes. If someone is reading next to you, do not speak to them except to excuse yourself from the row or to alert them the wing is ablaze. Do not rearrange the overhead baggage without asking those around you if they mind. So long as you ask, they don’t. Don’t recline your seat in coach for a one hour or less flight, and don’t ever recline it if its not absolutely necessary. I swear some people lean back just because they want to push the button. It really adds nothing to your comfort level. But it sure as hell makes it worse for the poor guy behind you. If you are on a three seat row, the middle guy gets two armrests. When its time to deplane, wait until everyone ahead of you has gone, but let no one pass whose seat was behind you unless you want to start a riot. And when you get to the terminal, keep moving. Do not stop to make that call you somehow managed to hold off on in the plane about all the deals you closed in the middle of the walkway. Finally, those moving walkways? The airport ain’t Disneyland and those things ain’t rides. They make you walk faster, which is how you walk in airports. Fast.

What started this train of thought was a vignette I participated in while leaving Greenville today, the reason for my later cogitating near Onward. I happened to be astern of an old pickup coming out of Hardee’s where I’d been on the phone with a client. There was a lot of traffic and no light and the old codger ahead of me seemed content to just wait until the traffic passed for good–probably around midnight tonight by my estimation. But some kindly soul held up traffic for just long enough for the pickup and TB to pull out. The old man was busy listening to his AM/FM radio though and didn’t see the gesture. So I gave him the lightest tap of the TB horn to get his attention and take advantage of the opening. Ok, stop. That’s a double lesson–first, the person who let us out was obviously a scholar and a gentleman,  to say nothing of being well bred. And TB’s light horn tap is an example of the second move in the well mannered waiting driver’s arsenal. The first is to pull up a few feet in hopes the movement shows in the front vehicle’s mirror and gets him rolling. Had he ignored the light tap, I’d have had no choice but to lay on the horn louder and longer, but thankfully, it seldom comes to that. Anyhoo, lest you think the old man was raised by wolves, he appropriately gave the sheepish wave in the rearview mirror to me and the two finger “thank you” point to the man who let us out. As did I. All of this happened over the course of about 5 seconds, but the fact that all involved showed such grace gave TB a warm feeling for my fellow man in the soul. If only it were always so.

It’s late, so I guess covering only these few areas will do some good. God knows if a higher rate of folks would show some better cell phone and airplane, and driving manners we’d reduce anti-depressant usage in this country by at least half and probably do serious damage to Al Queda’s terrorist recruiting efforts. But before I sign off, I’m wondering….how many of you caught it? To borrow a phrase, there was a slight breach of etiquette in my driving incident of good feeling. You see, the original kind driver who set all this into motion (ain’t life strange?) bent the rules when he held up traffic to let not one, but two cars out in front of him. The rule is to let out one car. Someone behind you is responsible for the rest of those folks. But being that it was in TB’s favor, I appreciated the intent, and to save the scholar from getting a light horn tap from the guy behind him I sped into the opening with alacrity, something you must always remember if faced with a similar situation. At least if you were raised right.

Posted in Humor, Life, Philosobaen | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 68 Comments

The Job Market–I Gotta Get a Good One

Posted on January 23, 2009 by travellinbaen

Quote of the Day     “All paid jobs absorb and degrade the mind.”     –Aristotle

Times are tough. Big corporations and hometown shops are losing money and shedding workers at an alarming pace. Keeping up with the latest bleak news is enough to get you down. But there are a few stories floating around right now that serve to remind us all that a guy/girl can still make a go of it in this crazy old world. The job TB would like pays a hundred grand and requires relocation. I’m down with that. It requires keeping a daily blog, which would be a little more than I’m used to, but I think I could do it. Here’s the hard part–you have to snorkle, beachcomb, bar hop and generally live the life of Riley in a beach bungalow in Australia. That really is the hard part unfortunately, because hundreds of thousands of applicants are expected, and there is only a single lonely opening. TB thinks the Obama stimulus plan ought to include a billion or so to create identical jobs at various U.S. travel destinations. That would mean ten thousand really kick ass jobs. (It would only be fair for TB to get the first one, having thought of this awesome idea before anyone else.)

I have also been following the online auction (as a spectator only) of a young co-ed with a bold entrepreneurial spirit and a willingness to provide a unique service to the person who hires her. She only plans to work a short while, calling in to question her dedication to the job. But for anywhere between a few seconds up to as many as 4-6 hours (according to the fine print disclaimers I see occasionally on commercials on the tube) the top bidder will have the privilege of deflowering this young business girl, I mean up and comer, I mean future reality TV star. The last bid I saw was for over 3 million. Now that’s what I call a stimulus plan, I mean a lot of money.

Assuming Congress blocks my proposed earmark on the spending bill, I guess I ought to be thinking about the services I could auction off.  Feel free to go ahead and bid on any of these, or add your own items to sell. Here’s what I’ve got so far, based on my diverse talents:

  • I will sit in your home and play XBox and surf the internet and work on my blog. I’ll need you to leave me some money for beer and pizza on the counter each day.
  • Have you ever seen that Seinfeld episode where Kramer sells all his personal stories? I can do that. Plus, I’ll dish all the dirt I have on MD, Smily and Sweet.
  • Has a coffee table book on the great beer joints and barbecue shacks of the South been written and distributed yet? Wanna do it? Need an expert?
  • I’m an excellent driver.
  • I’m old, fat and slow, and I never could shoot worth a damn. I’ll come over to your house, or meet you at your gym or church and you can beat the hell out of me in hoops. If the bid gets high enough I’ll get Sweet to meet me in your front yard and we’ll all race. A little bit higher and I’ll throw as many curveballs as I can before my shoulder flies away from the rest of my body (one). And you can put it all on video. Come to think of it, has the business girl thought of all the revenue she could generate with a DVD? Maybe she needs a pimp, I mean an agent.

Bonus Quote of the Day:     “It’s just a job. Grass grows, birds fly, waves pound the sand. I beat people up.”     –Muhammad Ali

Posted in Humor, Life, Lists | Tagged , , , , , , | 15 Comments