Monday, September 28, 2009

Monday's 5

Karen has given me 5 words and she wants me to share my thoughts on them. After you’ve read my comments, if you feel inclined to play along, say so in the comments and I will send you five words of my choosing.

Utopia – Sir Thomas More was definitely smoking something when he wrote the book on this topic. My thoughts on this range, I mean, is it truly possible? No, at least not on earth and I don’t mean us visiting some far off planet in hopes of developing a whole new society. Don’t buy into the Hollywood version of crap they want to sell us. So, why you ask? One, we are not mentally evolved enough to accept a perfect society. Oh don’t lie to yourself, you wouldn’t make it. You are too cynical, to close minded, to over educated, to imbalanced in thinking through the processes that really matter. We tend think that if we become more intelligent, we can conquer all the things that are wrong in this world. Well, the best we can do is put a bandage on it. We are hemorrhaging all of this hate, distrust, contempt, jealousy, and vanity and just out right lying to ourselves in everything we do. It has polluted our minds and our thinking. Utopian society is simplistic in thinking. It is child like. So if you can think like a child, maybe Utopia will have a chance. Oh, BTW, I never read the book.

Magazine – When I first think of the word magazine, my mind images a periodical the details stories related to news topics or human interest. I could be about food, health, clothing or just life in general. They cover all ages and variously anything we do from computers to flying airplanes. Some much information, so much interest, so much life is stored in a magazine but then on the other hand, it also represents the delivery of a cold hard death. It spews from the fire of a barrel the hot lead of our discontent. Our hatred ravishing and taking so many lives on a scale unknown. If Nobel had any ideal that his invention of dynamite could yield destruction and devastation from such a simple word, he would have never got out of bed that day.

Cyclone – Growing up in the Midwest, this word takes on a more physical state as a weaker but just as devastating version of a tornado. At a younger age, I experienced the effects of a cyclone on several occasions while living on the Island of Okinawa. As a musician, the Cyclone is a modified version of the Fender Mustang. As a nerd, I know it as a programming language. It is also the name of a rollercoaster located in Texas and one of my favorite places to go when I was a kid, Coney Island. I even think the vacuum cleaner industry is using the term for its method of picking up dirt.

Egg Roll – My ex use to term the egg roll as a garbage roll. I laughed at her. Maybe that’s one of the reason she’s an ex now. Not my fault. I thought it was funny. She was always one for a good joke but it was always at my expense.

Somewhat of a mystery of how it came to be but I am quite sure Ming was sitting around his palace wanting something hot and quick to eat and all he had was cabbage, some rice flour wrappers and duck sauce.

So goes the story. He called for his chefs to make a portable quick meal of these items or they would loose their collective heads. Knowing only Dim Sum, the came up with a steamed version but it was too heavy for the wrapper and it fell apart. They schemed and calculated how much stuffing could be supported by wrapper and came up with a perfect size. They prepared all the rolls they had supplies for and where taking them to the steamer. The cook’s assistant tripped and the whole tray of wrapper flew into the air. The cook looked in disgust knowing he would lose his head for this blunder. Still twirling in the air the rolls headed for a big vat of oil that was being heated to cook the emperor’s other favorite dish, Peking duck.

The cook yelled to the assistant stand in the way of the flying rolls to duck. He turned just in time to see the rolls flying towards him and dropped to the floor, the rolls all landing in the hot oil. The cook screamed in disgust, “Arrggh! What am I going to do? The emperor’s dish is ruined.” At that time, the emperor called for his meal. The cook having nothing prepared to replace this disaster gathered the egg rolls from the hot oil and placed them on another platter. Embraced to show his face, he sent the assistant to present the dish to the emperor thinking the emperor would cut off the assistant’s head first and give him some time to come up with another dish.

The assistant shaking and sweating profusely as he bowed presented the dish to the emperor. The emperor looked at the odd looking rolls and dipped one in his duck sauce. He was delighted, he called for the cook. The cook came running knowing his head was to be cut off. He entered the emperor dining chamber and bowed and prepared his head for the ultimate decision. Ming called for him to rise and he offered the cook one of the tasty treats, so the egg roll was born. You should hear my stories about Cashew and General Tso’s Chicken.

Playful – I have always been told that I have a very playful sense of humor. I have to have something to balance the more serious side of me. The business side that most people see is always masking a more sinister playful person in me. I let him out every now and then but it usually takes a beer or two to coax him out to come and play. Sir Arthor Conan Doyle suggested, “You know how easily and suddenly these things happen, beginning in playful teasing and ending in something a little warmer than friendship. You squeeze the slender arm which is passed through yours, you venture to take the little gloved hand, you say good night at absurd length in the shadow of the door. It is innocent and very interesting; love trying his wings in a first little flutter.”

I love the playful teasing music of Scheherazade as well as how the story blends a playful story line on so many levels. No writer today writes in such a playful manner on such a serious subject that cover all manner of human devices. Amazing that in the story that the King had killed over three thousand women before Scheherazade presented her story. So compelled by her wit and playfulness, he made her queen at the end of one thousand nights hence the book One Thousand Arabian Nights which was the collection of stories the she told the king.

Saturday, September 26, 2009

Shiny Rod’s Game Day Chili

Shiny Rod’s Game Day Chili

This is a quick and easy to fix chili recipe that I use. Nothing to difficult because it uses ingredients that can be purchased at any grocery store. Some ingredients may be altered or omitted to taste.


2 lbs

Carne Picada (Thinly cut up flank or sirloin steak can be substituted)

2 lbs

Ground Beef ( I use a blend of beef, veal and pork)


Red Onion


Vidalia Onion


Whole Jalapeño


Box, Shot Gun Willy’s Chili seasoning


Box, Wick Fowlers Chili seasoning


Can, Rotel Diced Tomatoes


Can, Stewed Tomatoes (Original or Mexican style)


Can, Diced Tomatoes


Can, Bush’s Dark Kidney Beans (Can be omitted it you want authentic chili)


Can, Bush’s Light Kidney Beans (Can be omitted it you want authentic chili)


Can, Bush’s Chili Beans (Can be omitted it you want authentic chili)


Package, Sliced Crimini or Brown Mushrooms (Can be omitted it you want authentic chili)


24oz Bottle of Guinness Stout (Don’t skimp here, taste is the key but you can use your favorite beer if you like) Relax, you only need half the bottle, enjoy the rest while cooking.


Packet, Taco Seasoning (This is to season the Carne Picada)

¼ Cup

Turbinado or brown sugar

¼ Cup

Masa Flour (usually comes with the Chili Seasoning mix)


1. Start by browning the Carne Picada and then the ground beef. I add taco seasoning to the Carne Picada.

2. Dice ½ of the Red and ½ of the Vadalia Onion and slice and de-seed the Whole Jalapeño.

3. Drain the ground beef and place the Carne Picada in a bowl. We’ll get back to those later.

4. Add Olive oil to a 5qt pot and start to sweat the onions and add the Mushrooms and Jalapeño (Mushrooms and Jalapeño can be omitted).

5. Add two tablespoons of butter to the mixture.

6. Add back the both meats and stir the mixture together.

7. Add all your dry ingredients to the mixture making sure everything gets coated. This will help the seasonings to blend better. (You can also omit the cayenne pepper if you want a milder chili).

8. Add the Rotel, diced and stewed tomatoes and stir mixture.

9. Add tomato sauce and stir mixture.

10. Add the Guinness and the sugar.

11. If want an all meat chili, stop here and let simmer for 30 minutes to allow seasoning to meld. Add Masa flour and serve with crackers, corn bread or chips.

12. For a hearty chili, add the beans and stir mixture again. Let simmer for 30 minutes to allow seasoning to meld. Add Masa flour and serve with crackers, corn bread or chips.

Tip: For more heat, use Habaneras or Scotch Bonnets.

Wednesday, September 23, 2009

Ah! The dreads of life.

I am searching for a real good reason why tomorrow should even exist. Beside the premiere of a new scifi series, I am just clueless. You see, this would be any ordinary day. It happens to be a special day for me. I could explain it but what would it matter. We live an existence marked by time and for me it is mostly uneventful.

So I take from this that the things I can change, I do. Those that I can't, well, I'll leave that up to somebody else. Why argue over semantics? I mean, I can't for the life of me understand why people choose such trivial facts to argue about. Take for instance, I was in the store the other day and a husband was shopping with his with wife. They kept arguing about what he wanted and what she didn't like. He would put something in the basket and she would take it out and replace it with something else or a cheaper brand. She ended the argument by removing a package of steaks and telling him "Besides the steaks, guess what else you won't be getting?" I chuckled quitely. Not for him, I think she had had enough of his nonsense and she put her foot down and then some. It made me think, is that all I have to look forward to? Arguing about what to put in the grocery basket. I think not. I'll save my arguments for more inclusive items.

So being tomorrow or today or yesterday or last week will be/is/was my birthday depending on your perspective of time and when you decide to read my post. Well just keep it in mind that I ain't getting any younger. Before long, somone will be using my wit in a shit my dad says post. Have a nice day folks and enjoy getting old, I know I am.

A new, special kind of store just opened up in a Manhatten shopping center. This store sells husbands, yes that’s right – women can browse men from floors of choices.

Actually, there are 6 floors of men, and with an increase in the floor level bringing an positive attributes… a nifty setup – with a catch. As you open the door to any floor, you may choose a man from that floor but if you go up, you cannot go back down except to exit the building. Interesting, right?

So a young woman goes to the shopping center to find a husband. On the first floor the sign on the door reads: Floor 1 – These men have jobs. The woman reads the sign and says to herself, “Well, that’s better than my last boyfriend, but I wonder what’s further up?” So up she goes.

The second floor sign reads: Floor 2 – These men have jobs and love kids. The woman remarks to herself, “That’s great, but I wonder what’s further up?” And up she goes again.

The third floor sign reads: Floor 3 – These men have jobs, love kids and are extremely good looking. “Hmmm, better” she says. “But I wonder what’s upstairs?”

The fourth floor sign reads: Floor 4 – These men have jobs, love kids, are extremely good looking and help with the housework. “Wow!” exclaims the woman, “very tempting. BUT, there must be more further up!” And again she heads up another flight.

The fifth floor sign reads: Floor 5 – These men have jobs, love kids, are extremely good looking, help with the housework and have a strong romantic streak. “Oh, mercy me! But just think… what must be awaiting me further on?” So up to the sixth floor she goes.

The sixth floor sign reads: Floor 6 – You are visitor 7,548,652 to this floor. There are no men on this floor. This floor only exists as proof that women are impossible to please.

What'd You Think?

Thursday, September 17, 2009

Alright, I got the message

So once again, here I am facing my most enduring public. Aw crap, you thought I was going to writing about my craziness? No, not this time. I'm back to my normal sane self again, maybe. I will see when my meds run out. Oh please, I'm not on meds. Well not for that at least. The ones I am on, I'm trying to get those reduced or get off them all together by dieting and exercise.

I will discuss one thing though. Back in August, my mom passed out and my brother called the emergency service and had her transported to the hospital for which they kept her a few days for evaluation. Now I won't say that this is a big problem with me but it is. I'll get to that later. This isn't the first time something like this has happened. As a matter of fact, this is at least the third time in the past year or two that I have been made aware of it.

The first incident happened, my mom was sitting in church enjoying the service. They thought she had fainted but they were having problems reviving her with smelling salts. They called the paramedics and she was transported to the hospital for which they kept her for an extended period and then let her go home.

The next incident happened during a family gathering. She once again fainted and attempts to wake her where futile. They called the EMT's and they promptly took her to the hospital. When she was released from the hospital, I called her to get an update to find out that she was having problems with her Doctor not refilling her medications. I told her she needed to find another Doctor because the outcome of the first incident was result of being over-stressed and over-medicated. This Doctor didn't want to acknowledge the hospital's recommendations. I'll address the stress part later.

She further told me that she was not getting any help from family members who were staying in her home. My younger sister and her twin sibling were of no help and pushed the problem on my brothers daughter who is barely able to handle her own issues. I had a fit. I even threatened to move back home. That ain't gonna happen. Seems as though, all my siblings are dumping their children and grand children on my mother when they feel damn inclined to do so. I'm talking infants to teens. Don't get me wrong but I think my mother raised her children. She does not need to raise anymore. I can see them stopping by occasionally for a visit but they come and stay for days and that means my mother has to feed them, make sure they have clean clothes, get them up for school, you know the drill. WTF? Am I to understand that when you get tired of raising your children, you can dump them on mom? They had no answers and refused to call me about any other problems.

The last incident happened, I didn't get a call. I found out about it after the fact when my brother posted it in Facebook. WTFF? I do have a phone and it is on 24/7. Granted, I'm online most of the time. But this is not the way you contact someone about your mother being taken to the hospital. Of course, this made me furious and when I get that mad, well watch out. But I held it in, add this to me just coming out of surgery for a torn meniscus and my emotional meter just red lined. Once again, I held it in. Before the end of August, the shit hit the fan and I had had enough of their issues.

I would like to say that my mom's issues are resolved but that's only temporary. She finally got to another Doctor and they have adjusted her medicines to a more agreeable level for her health's concern. My biggest concern is the family is not listening to her. She has said that she frequently has these spells but she goes and lays down and she feels better after she has had a short rest. I asked her if she told the doctor about this. She said she didn't think it was a problem since she felt better after resting. I told her I beg to differ. This is not normal behavior and she need to let the doctor know about. So, I am waiting to hear back on what the doctor had to say about this symptom.

Monday, September 14, 2009

Rescue on the high seas

Before I start, here are some military acronyms I am using to save space:

OPS = Operations

SAR = Sea Air Rescue

DO = Duty Officer

LPO = Leading Petty Officer

SEAL = Sea Air Land

LCM = Landing Craft Mechanized

We were steaming south headed for Diego Garcia. It must have been somewhere between 5 and 6 in the morning when the chief came in the OPS berthing area and woke several of the SAR team up and told us to muster by the armory after we signed out our weapons. The morning had just broke but there was still a wash of fog lying heavy on the water.

The ship had dropped to slow and steady as the chief and the duty officer came into view. The LPO shouted “Attention on deck!” and the DO replied, “As you were.” The DO stated. “We have a small boat about 3 miles south of us and they are giving a distress signal according to the lookout. We are sending a team to the boat to assess the problem and render any assistance needed. Two of the Seal team and two marines have already been assigned but we need two from the SAR team to also assist.” The chief chose me and another PO to help. The other team members suited up and went on the flight deck to ready the SAR helicopter.

We scrambled down to the well deck to meet up with the SEAL and Marine teams. The SEAL team was readying the zodiac. I looked at my partner and we both gave each other the “oh shit” look. The SEAL guys said to us that one was going to drive the boat and the other would be on the bow manning the M60. Your weapons stay holstered unless we say otherwise. We nodded in agreement. We finished packing food, water and medical supplies on board and get the zodiac ready to launch.

The ship came to a halt and we waited for the word to launch. Crew members were starting to collect around the top of the well deck wondering what was going on. We were a bit in the dark too. Not knowing what we where going up against. For all we knew, it could have been pirates out there and their boat had broken down and we were their free ride home.

The zodiac boat crept through the fog, riding the swells which were cresting from 6 to 10 feet. It was not a pleasant ride. Fortunately, I don’t get sea sick but my partner was starting to get a little green around the gills. I wish I could say the approaching the boat was a pleasure. The SEAL team leader told us to ready our weapons once we saw the outline of the boat bobbing up and down at the crest of each wave we topped.

We made a finally approach by circling the boat to assess if there was danger. The team leader slowed the engine down and the SEAL guy on the bow readied the line to toss to the boat occupants. It was not pleasant; the stench of urine and feces permeated the air and made it even more difficult to perform our job with a smile. An older man waved at us to approach and we came closer to the boat. The line was tossed to him and he tied it off as we started tossing food and water to the people on the boat. The team leader started counting heads.

After counting more that 70 people stuffed on the boat, he called to the ship. “We got more than 70 people on this boat and some are in desperate need of medical attention. Some women started trying to pass the small children to us. We had to wave them off for fear of swamping our small zodiac. The fog was starting to lift but the ship was still not in sight. The team leader fired of a flare and then another followed by a third. The ship came across the radio. “We have your position now; we are sending an LCM to assist.” We continued opening boxes of food and water and looked for any one who needed immediate medical attention. There were a couple of pregnant women on board so we wanted to make sure that they got off first with the children.

The LCM came in sight and the team leader waved to them. They pulled aside the small boat and lowered the front end of the LCM down so that the people could get aboard quickly. We started getting the people off the small boat and were making head good headway in the task. Now came the task of getting some of the older people off would take some doing. We had to lift several of them on board the LCM. The small boat was taking on water and we knew it would be long before it would have sunk. With the LCM loaded, they lifted the front gate and started backing away from the small boat now empty and bobbing wildly in the ocean. The team leader made a second call asking for the disposition of the small boat. They told him “Sink it.” You could see a shit eating grin come on his face. These SEAL guys get off on blowing shit up.

He reached in a big bag stashed under the seat and pulls out three smaller bags packed with C4. I was starting to get into it myself. We placed the packages front, center and aft and connect a receiver and battery to the packages. The team leader called to the ship and told them the packages were ready. The ship returned the call stating to wait until the LCM was back on board and we will give you the go signal. We sat bobbing out in the middle of the ocean with the stench of the small boat still racking our sense of smell. It would not be soon enough to sink this thing.

We finally get the go ahead and we all secure everything and take our positions on the zodiac. The team leader starts the boat back up and we head back to the ship. Once we are about a mile away from the small boat, the team leader pulls out a transmitter. He calls to the ship and states, “We are in safe distance, are we clear to ignite?” The word comes back, “Blow, Blow, Blow!” The team leader releases the safety and flicks the switch. Nothing happens. We look at each other with an “Ah shit” look. The Team Leader smiles again and says oops. He inserts a key into the box and turns it. The boat blows up in a giant splash of water and when it all settles down, nothing but a few pieces remain floating on the water, another job well done. That’s all for now folks…

Wednesday, September 9, 2009

A Big Heaping Pile of Apology eh Apathy eh Epithany

If I were to term the past couple months of my life in a song, it would probably be something like "What a fool believes" or "Something going on crazy inside my head". I mean what the hell was I thinking? You don't have to answer that. At least not yet.

I owe a very big public apology to someone and here it is. I am so very sorry that I didn't hear you when you first mentioned how you felt about some of my posts. I had to work through some personal issues and now that I got it out of my system, I am in a much clearer mindset and able to move forward. So I ask your forgiveness. Regardless, I was being very insensitive and immature and that is not what someone would expect of a mature professional man of 51 years. It also is not an image I want my children to have of me and I am glad you brought it to my attention. I have never felt something hit me in the gut that hard and believe me, I have taken a few to the gut before. I value your friendship more than I value what silliness I can post in a blog and I will not violate that trust again. Personally, I never want to hear someone tell me they were in tears over something I posted unless it is something worthy of those tears.

With that having been said, I have removed several posts that I felt were below my standards of writing. Yes, they were about me but they were stories I should have never availed to public viewing. Even though I took care to write them in a manner not to be blatantly descriptive or in some sense pornographic, the fact remained that they were. As much as two of the stories were very true, the other two were slight exaggerations of the facts. Other post were just mere banter and added no value to what I like to write about. I am a good writer and I can make most any story believable. I'll stick to the truthful facts from here on out and no more personal relationship stuff. I'll leave the fantasy stuff to Penthouse. I think you get the point.

So to my many friends and fellow bloggers, I bid adue for now. Yeah, this was short and sweet but I need to get this out. Maybe I'll have something new this weekend to write about. My video projects are coming along pretty good and we are working on several 30 min segments for broadcast on public TV. Michael Stewart Issac (Hip Hop Wall St) is hyped about the project and has some good material. I'll be sharing some of that with you including a bit of some inside footage of one of our taping sessions in the near future. I also got conformation that I will also be producing an interview with Nick Hagelin and his lovely wife. So look forward to some more good stuff coming out in the next few days.

Friday, September 4, 2009

Great Grand Father's Story - Circa late1800's Texas

I posted this story several days ago on the West Virginia Surf Report when the questions was asked: "Tell us about your saddest, or most interesting family tragedies, from a long time ago. Not recent stuff, that’s too personal, but stories you’ve heard about people you never actually met." I have made some edits and grammatical corrections to this story. I chose to write my about my great grand father on my fathers mothers side. Other tragic stories about my family are just to close to me to tell.

The story was set in a small town nestled about 70 miles northwest of Houston, Texas. This story is short but very poignant and has some racial overtones so I need to warn you before you read any further. This story may have been played out millions of times all over the country throughout history but was kept inside the minds of the victims and survivors.

Needless to say, my GGF was born a free man around the mid 1800’s. This story came from my aunt and the only way that I know about it was that she was telling the story to my father and mother back in the 70’s when we came to visit them in Texas. I hid out in the other room listening to what she had to say.

My GGF owned land outside of Brenham, TX and had a small farm with livestock and enough acreage to grow a few things to feed his family. Enough said on that. He was lonely and decides to search for a wife. His search took him to New Orleans where he met a most unusual woman. She was Creole and her name was Lillian Spencer. They soon fell in love and married and he packed all her belongings and moved her back to Brenham and soon after started a family.

They eventually produced several children, one being my grandmother who was given my GGM’s name. In 1800’s Texas, it did not take long for the word to get out regarding my next bit of details. If you know anything about Creole people, well dammit, go read about, I don’t have time to explain.

The problem was that a great mistake was made one day; a nearby white farmer came by my GGF’s land a saw my GGM out hanging clothes on the line. What he thought was a white woman was actually my Creole GGM. He stood back and watched my GGF come up and get a glass of water and then give her a kiss. Enraged at this sight, he got back on his horse and rode off. Later that evening, a group of men came a calling and they were not there for my GGM’s biscuits. They wanted to know why a (you know what they said) was kissing on a white woman.

Most of them being drunk and already looking for some retribution, they were able to subdue my GGF, take away his shotgun and tie him up. My GGM shouted to them that she was not a white woman, and that she was Creole, being both ignorant and drunk they did not want to listen to her. My GGF was carried off into the night and hung. Several of his close friends went looking for him the next morning and they found his body beaten and mutilated. My GGM never recovered from the loss of her true love and died several years later from grief leaving my GM to raise the siblings and run the farm. They buried his body on the farm near a pecan tree he had planted. The tree now shades both of their graves, the land was eventually sold back to the city long before my birth.

So that is my story. It is one that I have kept secret for a long time since I was a teenager. Peace ya’ll. I’m outta here…

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

A Day In My Life - The Cafeteria Days

I attended so many schools; it would take a novel to just to get through kindergarten to middle school. The price you pay for being a military brat. One story sticks in head from my middle school days.

Being a very awkward teenager and just returning to my hometown of Burlington NJ from a school in Hampton VA, I found reconnecting with childhood acquaintances was becoming quite difficult. To avoid being ostracized, I hung out with the smokers, occasionally taking a puff just to show I was cool. We always hid out between a building and the statue of Wilbur Watts, also the name of the school, and did our dastardly deed. Since this was the bad ass crowd, not to many people fucked with us and we remained relatively safe from the threats and hazing by the jocks. They were afraid we might cough on them and give them some kind of disease.

I remember this day so vividly. After the bell rang for classes to start, we all grabbed our books and head into school for first period. I was finishing up the last puff so I smashed the cig on the ground and took off for the door. Some dickweed jock came running up behind me and pushed me into the door and didn’t even have the good graces to say excuse me. I was pissed and I recognized him as one of the asshole wrestlers who pinned me down in the gym and rubbed his funky ass arm pit in my face. It was time for retribution.

I sat through all my morning classes not even paying attention, just thinking of a way to get back at this douche wad. What made it worst was that I had seen him in my lunch period before with his other jock buddies. I would have my chance for revenge before the day ended.
Lunch time came around and we had “shit on a shingle” that day. For those who don’t know what shit on a shingle is, its ground beef in some horrible tasting tomato sauce served with mash potatoes and sitting on top of toast. Not a pleasant looking meal.

When lunch period started, I got my meal and hid behind a pillar so not to be seen. Sure nuff, said asshole comes strolling in with his entourage of hooligan’s grab-assing and all sorts of jock shit. After drinking my carton of juice, I opened the carton up and tried to make the folds as weak as possible then stuffing it full of the nasty crap and those watery mash potatoes. I folded it back up and waited for the right moment when they were so engaged in their own laughter and banter they would not see it coming.

They were so full on themselves and talking about their glories on the mat and conquest with the girls that they where oblivious to my presence. Then it came, he mentioned a name that just sunk into the pit of my stomach. This was all the catalyst I needed to launch my attack. I launched the carton in the air and it sailed towards its intended target with the grace of an Eagle sailing on the up currents of the wind.

Oh the name, I forgot to tell you about that. Well I had a deep crush on a girl at school named Tony Tupea. She was an Italian girl who I knew from grade school and we always walked to school in the mornings and I carried her books to school for her. Boy was I a sucker.

Oh, the carton is still in the air isn’t it? Ok, the carton came crashing down on his head splattering crap all over him and his crew. No sooner I started laughing my ass off then a teacher grabbed my shoulder and said come with me, you’re in big trouble son.

It was worth being expelled and the subsequent ass whopping I got that evening. My dad didn’t understand why I was laughing while he was whipping me. He quit in frustration and left nodding his head. I never forgave Tony for kissing him but that’s how love goes.