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Monthly Archives: July 2007

Why is it?

Posted on July 31, 2007 by John Sellers

That the telephone rings immediately after the ‘first bite of your dinner’?

That you think that everyone is looking if you happen to slip and fall?

That you cannot find a parking space within two miles, when it’s raining?

That the shortest line always has the “Slower and most talkative Checker”?

And the lady behind is in such a hurry, she ‘pushes her cart into your ankles?

That the waitress asks if “everything is all right;” just when your mouth is full?

That the guy next door could have “saved you hundreds;” on the new lawn mower?

And everyone he knows has “had trouble” with that particular brand?

That no one will suggest a ‘place to dine’, but everyone will complain about this one?

That Nordie-Trac turns everyone into ‘muscle bound specimens’; except you?

That the product that goes on sale today was “sold out” when the doors opened?

That the appliance explodes one day after the warranty expires?

That all your neighbors want to talk when you are trying to finish mowing?

That clothing stores have developed a “size 40 that becomes 34 when you buy it.”?

That you get an itch in your ‘crotch,’ just when you stand before an audience?

That everyone can get better gas mileage than you have ever been able to?

That the person behind you at a theater talks you through the action?

That the grocery ‘bag clerk,’puts your Milk in a “ripped bag”, and the Twinkies in “Doubled Ones”?

And the coupon for 50 cents off on the Twinkies “Expired Yesterday?

That your telephone bill increases by “57%” when you sign up to “Save 25%”?

That there’s nothing good on “The Tube;”  except ‘Prime-Time Wrestling.’

That you mention to a friend that you’re reading a book and he; “Relates the End.”?

That you have to spell a word correctly in order for your computer to ‘Spell-Check’?

That after hours of hearing about other children, the subject changes when you mention; “Some cute remark or action attributable to your own offspring”?

Finally you become so disgusted, “You tell everyone to go to hell; Assume an attitude of “I don’t give a tinkers damn;” move to the green swamp and become a hermit?

That’ll teach them all that you do not intend to be intimidated by a bunch of scalawags who have nothing better to do than to take the time to read junk like this.

Demijon

Posted inUncategorized

My Addiction revealed

Posted on July 31, 2007 by John Sellers

There are times when I think that television is the devil’s advocate, at least so far as someone like me who is so naive that we believe that Ed McMann will indeed send us the ten million dollar check. Every month I rush down to New York Carpet World in order to take advantage of the sale of the century before it’s gone forever. I am even convinced that Nordic-trac will rid me of the unsightly bulges around my waistline. I once refused to purchase an automobile from Ajax Motors, Inc., because of a commercial from a competitor that guaranteed to “beat anyone’s price.” They did. I saved $3.26. In fact, I ordered the “Amazing Work-No-More” polish and used it on this car. Afterwards, I grew to love the dull primer-gray finish.

As proof of my dedication to the medium, I have even thrown caution to the winds and “tried at home” some of the stunts performed by “professional drivers on a closed course.” Do you care to see my scars? Look quickly, before they load me into the ambulance and the wrecker arrives for my car.

You asked about the swollen, black eye. When the telephone company told me to “reach out and touch someone,” they did not mention that her husband was nearby and weighed 345 pounds.

My ugly, gray, hair has been remedied by the “New and Improved Color Restorer.” It has saved me the bother of combing and brushing. Now, I can fix my hair as I wash my face. In addition, “Wrinkles-Be-Gone” has eliminated my need to shave. Along with the wrinkles went the whiskers and three layers of skin.

Headaches are no longer a problem for me. When doctors got around to recommending “Seagrams-a-Nol” headache powders 2 to 1, I was one of the first in line. After my initial three-month’s supply, I do not notice the pain. Sure, it’s still there, but now, I simply don’t give a damn.

Several times each week, I call the law firm of Snodgrass & Snodgrass. Not out of need for an attorney, but because the commercial states that they are “Experienced Professionals Who Care.” Each time they assure me that “It Weren’t My Fault.”

My addiction to “the tube” is such that I am on a first name basis with all of the psychic friends on the network, and I can easily relate to the guests on “Sally Jesse” as well as “Jerry Springer.” My credit card number is passed around between promoters of such products as the “Veg-a-matic,” “Bob Villa’s Toolbox,” “Eddie Arnold Sings Bach,” and the Don Knott’s workout video, (not sold in stores).

If there is doubt in your mind as to the authenticity of any product that sponsors your favorite program, please give me a call. The number is BR-549. Your doubts and fears will diminish after a brief testimony from one who has tried it all.

Demijon

Posted inUncategorized

S’funny how some folks ackt

Posted on July 30, 2007 by John Sellers

Now, I ain’t never been ’round many uv’em ;but I’m heah ta tell ya, they’s strange. My daddy always told me, Said, “Son, you git too close to a Yankee, an’ you’s bound cotch sumpin’  They’us one come in th’ diner one day when l;se a-eatin’ dinner an’took ova.  “Wander,th’ waitress, she had put th q uarter whot I had give her fer a tip in th’ jukebox an’Merle Haggard were asingin Workin’ Man’s Blues, an’ whotcha recon he done? He marched rite ovah an, canceled thatun’ an’ hit th button fer one uv them rock an”roll records. Jus’come rite in an’ took ovah. I told Wander that he needed a rock up â-‘side his head. That thare aint thu wus uv hit.’’ wust though. Maw had sont me ta’ git her some bakin’ powders at th’ store t’other day an’ they’us jus’ a whole slew uv’em in thare. They’us a’millin’ ‘round an a’buyin’ th’ quarest stuff. Stuff lack Petezers,bagles an’ them big ole long saugages an’ I thinks Ia myself, we ain’t never give rations lak that ta’ th’ hogs, say nothin’ ‘bout eatin’ hit ourselves.
Yeah, they’s quare awright. An’ sassey ta’ beat th’ band.
Whot mos’ uv’em needs is a razor strop a’holt uv they behin’s. That thare’ud
simmer’um down. Kinda makes a feller wont to buy’em a bus ticket jus’ to git rid uv’em.
One day, Jessie Barlow wus a’drivin’ that ole truck uv his’n, th’ one whot th’ clutch’s always a’slippin’, out on number 326 an’ one uv’em flew up behint him an’ commencet a’blowin’ th’ horn. Now ole Jesse’us doin’ th’ bes’ he could an’ they kep’ on a’tootin that horn. Wells’r, Jessie, he stopped an’ taken that ole 12 gauge shotgun ouften th’ rack behint th’ seat an pumped a load uv buchshot rite square in th’ middle uv they radeater. Then he got out an’ flat laid a cussin on’um. Jessie said he didn’t kere if they did call th’ law on him. He said th’ rations in th’ jailhouse were better’n whot he had at home.
An’ that hi-fo-luttin talk they uses jus’ plain gits me. Can’t unnerstan’ haff’uv whot they say. Lik thai time when one come out ta th’ sawmill an axed me if I’ wud be so condescending as to inform him of any local ordnance concerning trapshooting. Hell, I ain’t never hyeard uv nobody wastin’ shells when they’s done got somethin’ trapped, an I told him so. He sez, “You are right close to a fool, aren’t you?” I jus rared back an’ sez ta him, I sez, “Damn straight, fella’, jus’ ‘bout 3 foot.”
Th’ sooner they learns that we ain’t gonna take nothin’ offen’em, th’ better off they’s gonna be. Like I say, they’s quare.

Arvell Wayne Bledsoe
As told to Jay Henry

“My Prayer”

“Please, dear God:” Make the words that I write today sweet and tender, because I probably will have to eat them tomorrow.”

I am certain that I am not the only person who breathes this prayer on a daily basis. It is indeed hard to put to paper: Or for that matter, to speak what is on one’s mind without the risk of offending at least one person.  We do not do it deliberately, but there are times when even the most innocent of our thoughts will strike a sore spot.  Humor is at its best when it can be related to the speaker/writer as well as the listener/reader. We must be willing to laugh at ourselves before we should be permitted to laugh at others. You know the idiom; “If you want to dish it out: You’d better be prepared to take it.”

Perhaps this is the reason that I write a lot of fiction. Fiction is the perfect vehicle for venting emotions and feelings. You invent a character and a setting, and then you can make them into anything you wish. A disclaimer at the beginning states that any similarity is coincidental and that the persons and places are products of the writer’s imagination. What better place to; “Tell it all.”

Someone once said, “If you write, write about something you know.” With this in mind, large amounts of my writings are based on my memories. Most of these memories are from an era that few know about, and hopefully will produce a small amount of nostalgia in others.

Our minds contain the capacity to remember some minute detail of long ago, and when dwelling on this particular incident will expand it to reveal relevant information that can be woven into a readable article. The hardest part is attempting to relate the story in a method that will appeal to the rank and file.

For instance, no one would be interested in Joe breaking his leg trying to get the best of his young son in a game of tag football.

NOW:  Place Joe’s son on the banks of a flood-swollen river; while, making a futile attempt to rescue a prize Hereford calf. When Joe jumps into the river to save both his son and the calf; a floating log rams into his leg and breaks it in two places.

From his hospital bed, Joe is proclaimed a local hero by his honor, ‘The Mayor;’ In attendance is Joe’s lovely wife, and his doting son. Joe’s remarks are, “Shucks, t’weren’t nothing.”

To complete the narrative;  The calf must go on to win first place at the County Fair and “Joe’s son must grow up to become President”. This is just the way it works.

Granted, there have been very good books and articles written with every word truthfully told; but those authors are the ones who are successful and do not have to rely on a fading memory.  Incidentally:  Most of them are also rich.

Demijon

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I’ll bet that you didn’t know –

Posted on August 29, 2006 by Demijon

Webster’s dictionary contains thousands of words which old Noah himself was not completely sure of the correct definition.  This article is intended to dispel any inaccuracy, therefore, preventing your “skinning your ignorance” when the occasion arises where you have a need to impress someone.

APPEND:  Webster defines this word as, to attach or affix.   Now, everybody knows that this is totally incorrect.  It is the rear-most part of the body of a large Gorilla:, The part that he sits on.

BROADAXE:  A weapon or a tool to hew timber?  Wrong again. This is a question, covering a wide variety of subjects and is usually axed by a “good ole boy.”

CALCIUM:   Silver-white chemical, found in limestone, right?  No:  Cal is the fellow who observed Corry Mae Poovey and Wadlow Jarvis making love on the fodder in the barn loft..

DEFEAT:   Certainly not, to win victory over; or overcome. Simply put;  “Dis is the part of the body dat de shoes go on”.

ETHER:  Commonly designated as a sleep producing agent but those of us with superior intelligence are aware that;  “Ether, You pay me that dollar you owe me; or I’ll whup-up on your Sunday Clothes.”

FUTILE::  Useless, vain, and hopeless.  “Ugh-ugh!”   Correct Usage; “Futile your kitchen and not the hall, you’ll have a mess in wet weather.”

GENTILE:  Mr. Webster says; any person; “not a Jew!”.  Right interpretation; “Flooring, removed from the Cotton Gin and used in the hall.”

HANDBILL:  In the book, it states; small printed notice, advertisement. Precisely put;  “HAND BILL”, that hammer so he can nail them shingles down.”

INDICATE:  to direct attention to; the right way;  “Billy Joe broke his hand when he got it caught  – “IN – DI – CATE.”

JUNCTURE:   A point or line of joining; “Another Boo-Boo”.  “Bobby Frank tole me that you juncture’ car atter you wrecked hit.”

KICKAPOO:  Noah says, a tribe of Indians; I say, “If you sass me jus’ one more time, I’ll haul off an’ “‘kick a poo” outten you.”

LOCALE:  Incorrect definition; a place of locality; Proper usage; a fitting greeting for former race car driver, Yarborough, You know;  you know, “Lo Cale.”

MATER:  Definitely not, the mother, as depicted in the dictionary.  It is a red fruit produced by ‘mater vines’.

NAIRN:  I will not doubt that this was a county in Scotland, however the correct definition is.  “How come you got two co-colers an’ I ain’t got nairn.”

OUTWIT::  to overcome by cunning; Totally wrong; exact pronunciation;  “Joe Lee went inta’ that poker game wiff two dollars an’ come OUTWIT  Seben.”

PETTY CASH:  Money for incidental expenses; No, No; The amount of winnings derived from the , NASCAR CIRCUIT by Driver; Richard.

QUOTIENT:  Certainly not, the result obtained when a number is divided by another; Literal usage refers to, “I got a Ticket when I ran that Quotient light.”

REPLY:  Here is another of old Noah’s mistakes.  He indicates that this means to answer or respond.  Everybody knows that this is what you do when your plywood rots.

SCREEN TEST:  testing suitability as a movie star?  “Hail no!”  It’s simply determining if a fly can get through the mesh covering your window.

TELEPLAY:  Not a written account of a television play; Used mostly by coaches in the game of football, i.e. “Teleplay to that dumb-ass quarterback and he forgets it.”

UNPOLLED:  You would think that Webster would know that this does not mean, not canvassed in a poll.  It means that the boat merely sat there, “UNPOLLED.”

 VACCINE:  The stuff in a shot?   Definitely not; It is simply, what Bubba callsl the waitress at the diner because he pronounces an “M”  like a “V”.

WET BAR:  Once again, incorrect; Not a serving counter for drinks.  “They ain’t nothin’ slicker’n a wet bar of soap.”

X RAY;  Not a photograph of the bones in ones body;  “Stella is like a different person since she divorced her “X RAY.”

YAM:  Surely everyone knows that this in not a ‘tater.  This is dialogue used by cartoon character “Popeye”, i.e. “I Yam what I Yam.”

ZEAL:  Noah’s book says intense enthusiasm;  Not so;  This is one of them animals that swim around  in the cold waters near the north pole.

I sincerely hope that you have learned something.

Demijon

Posted inUncategorized

Observations

Posted on August 28, 2006 by John Sellers

            There was a time when I was not as attentive to patterns of misinterpretation among my fellow man; however, now that I am older and perhaps a little wiser, things really “get to me.”

*********************************************

            For instance, shopping for a pair of shorts at a well-known “super store.”  I maneuver my cart to the men’s department and find the rack containing hundreds of pairs of shorts.  The majority of these were size 28 through 36 and only one pair of size 42.  To compound the fracture, this pair was the color of pale vomit.

            Now, my question is:  Is the store under the misinterpretation that the ones of us who have a big belly and gaunt legs are not to appear in public while wearing shorts?

            The same holds true in the shirt department.  If, by chance, we can locate a size large enough to contain our bulk, the tail will not cover our belt.  Again, there are hundreds of sizes 14, a few of size 15, but if we are lucky we may find one size 17 and it will be tucked underneath the rack, wrinkled and dirty.  Who decides that the only ones who have a need for a shirt are the small, trim, undernourished of the species?

            Another problem is in the area of footwear.  While browsing in a name brand shoe store, I discovered that the majority of their stock consisted of expensive jogging shoes; ankle hugging, tongue bulging, nylon with tire tread soles and some even containing air bladders and pumps.  And they expect a person of my caliber, who becomes winded with even the thought of getting out of a lounge chair, to consider the purchase of a pair of “running” shoes?  Where were the glove-soft slippers with bunion protectors and the smooth tread that doesn’t jar the teeth when taking a step?

            Let’s face it, the world in no longer geared to the mature.  Somewhere, someone has decided that the young are the only ones who matter.  Where the heck do they think the young gets their money?  From us old folks, that’s where.  Judging from the attire that  some of this younger set wears; it is my opinion that they have been forbidden to eat at the money trough for quite some time.

            I believe that the time has come for shop owners to realize that the ones of us with big bellies and a pension check are just as important as those scrawny, young dudes who have nothing but a credit card from “Toys ‘R’ Us.”

Demijon

Â

Posted inUncategorized

Observations

Posted on August 28, 2006 by John Sellers

            There was a time when I was not as attentive to patterns of misinterpretation among my fellow man; however, now that I am older and perhaps a little wiser, things really “get to me.”

*********************************************

            For instance, shopping for a pair of shorts at a well-known “super store.”  I maneuver my cart to the men’s department and find the rack containing hundreds of pairs of shorts.  The majority of these were size 28 through 36 and only one pair of size 42.  To compound the fracture, this pair was the color of pale vomit.

            Now, my question is:  Is the store under the misinterpretation that the ones of us who have a big belly and gaunt legs are not to appear in public while wearing shorts?

            The same holds true in the shirt department.  If, by chance, we can locate a size large enough to contain our bulk, the tail will not cover our belt.  Again, there are hundreds of sizes 14, a few of size 15, but if we are lucky we may find one size 17 and it will be tucked underneath the rack, wrinkled and dirty.  Who decides that the only ones who have a need for a shirt are the small, trim, undernourished of the species?

            Another problem is in the area of footwear.  While browsing in a name brand shoe store, I discovered that the majority of their stock consisted of expensive jogging shoes; ankle hugging, tongue bulging, nylon with tire tread soles and some even containing air bladders and pumps.  And they expect a person of my caliber, who becomes winded with even the thought of getting out of a lounge chair, to consider the purchase of a pair of “running” shoes?  Where were the glove-soft slippers with bunion protectors and the smooth tread that doesn’t jar the teeth when taking a step?

            Let’s face it, the world in no longer geared to the mature.  Somewhere, someone has decided that the young are the only ones who matter.  Where the heck do they think the young gets their money?  From us old folks, that’s where.  Judging from the attire that  some of this younger set wears; it is my opinion that they have been forbidden to eat at the money trough for quite some time.

            I believe that the time has come for shop owners to realize that the ones of us with big bellies and a pension check are just as important as those scrawny, young dudes who have nothing but a credit card from “Toys ‘R’ Us.”

Demijon

Â

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“WAY TO GO”

Interstate travel is the fast and sure method of going from one place to another; however, it is not necessarily the most scenic route. To view all of the wonders in this great land, one must avoid at all costs, these boring stretches of concrete ribbon. There are no “Bubba’s Reptile Farm” situated beside the interstate highways.

I am convinced that the interstate system was responsible for the idiom, “You’ve seen one, and you’ve seen them all.”  Mile after mile of nothing more exciting than huge signs with neon letters that read,  “SEE ROCK CITY” or STUCKEYS”, exit 10. In addition, travels on these expressways do much to increase animosity among family members. With conversation limited to: “Are you sure that you turned the coffee pot off?” and; “If you children don’t sit still and shut up, we’ll go back home:”  Is there any wonder that family break-ups are on the rise?

Enjoyable vacations are the ones that traverse the country by way of the Back Roads. You know, the ones where you circle the courthouse five times before you can exit, and chances are you still get on the wrong road and end up in the parking lot of the Fertilizer Plant. This in itself is not bad, simply because you can educate the children in the proper methods of fertilization while attempting to find your way to “Joe’s Flea Market: Things, Stuff and Junk.”

The sleepy towns with a few cars angle-parked on Main street and an array of straight chairs leaning against the store fronts on a wooden sidewalk are as much a part of Americana as “The World’s Largest Mall.” The towns that have yet to sport even a McDonalds or Wendy’s are nevertheless more exhilarating than the high-speed lanes of the interstate highways. It is here that you find the historical markers that announce the birthplace of the colonial governor of Arkansas or where General Jason P. Snodgrass was slain during the Civil War.

Attractions of educational appeal are in abundance when “Back- Roading.” Where else can you find plots of land where “Funk’s Hybrid” corn seed is tested? Abandoned buildings with huge weed infested parking lots that once housed a thriving cotton mill. “The Pig & Whistle Drive Inn” with the now silent speaker posts anchored in rows that were the gathering place for countless teenagers consuming the famous “Burgers and Fries with large Coke – .69 cents.”

Individual one-room cottages with a neon sign that reads; “Stella’s Tourist Cabins, No Vacancy.”  Or “Arthur’s Used Auto Parts: If we don’t have it, you don’t need it.”

“B and G’s Filling Station” is another must on your trip through America’s heartland. It is here where your gasoline is pumped for you, your oil is checked, your windshield cleaned, your car is vacuumed of all the candy wrappers and spilled popcorn and the proper amount of air is put into your tires, all while you enjoy a soft drink from the ice box and a package of cheese crackers from the wire rack just above. A trip to the outside “PRIVY” in back, and you are on your way to another adventure.

A vacation of this type can and does offer enough “Show and Tell” material for an entire school year. Here one experiences firsthand the fabric that made this country great. The metal that forged uniqueness found only far from the endless stretches of highway called the Interstate.

By the way:  Be sure to have your picture taken with “Chief Redjaw” of the famous “True Arrow” Indian Tribe,” or alongside the “Stuffed Bear at “Red’s Burger Barn.”  It will  “ALL” be unforgettable, to say the least.

Demijon

 

 

GRAN-PA’S “DUM-DEVIL.”

My paternal grandfather was somewhat of a practical joker. He thoroughly enjoyed playing pranks on other people. Although he died when I was eight or nine, I remember some of his antics and others I learned from my Daddy and Uncles.

He made one keg of ‘Persimmon Beer,’ every year. When I was very small and was permitted to visit him, he would let me sit on his lap; puff on his pipe; and sip this concoction. This made me feel very grown up and was a secret between the two of us.

He was also a champion teller of tall tales. One of his favorites to tell young children was about ‘ABBIE-DALE.’ (I never knew the correct spelling, because this was a figment of his imagination).

‘ABBIE-DALE’  lived in a hollow tree stump and was; covered with hair.  He would only come out of his lair at night, to prowl the area looking for children that had been bad.

Abbie-dale’s favorite food was young children who, for some reason, had not obeyed their parents or had failed to do something that was expected of them.

Sitting there on his lap, terrified of this monster; but afraid to move: I would listen until he got to the part about what he would do if this monster got after me. He would simply get his ‘DUM-DEVIL’ and chase him back into his stump hole.

Grandpa’s Dum-Devil was his own invention. It was a hollowed out log that he had smoothed on the inside as well as outside. Over one end; he had stretched a piece of rawhide.

In the center of the rawhide he had made a small hole through which he passed a twisted string. Fastened on the outside of the rawhide, it ran the length of the log. The last operation was to wax the string.

Always careful to wait until a dark night, Grandpa would carry the Dum-Devil to a location near anyone’s house that he planned to “scare.” Cradling the contraption in one arm, he would slowly slide his fingers down the string inside the log. The tightly twisted string together with the wax caused vibrations in the stretched rawhide and produced a blood curdling moan.

If a lamp was ‘IMMEDIATELY’ lighted in the “victims” house; or sounds of voices were heard; “Grandpa’s mission had been accomplished and he would return home and hide the Dum-Devil until another time.” I’m not sure if anyone,”other than our family knew about Grandpa’s Dum-Devil; but we all knew how much enjoyment that he got from it.

My older brother has told me of two, other favorite “Boogers” of Grandpa’s; that were similar monsters called “Rawhide and Bloody-Bones.” I am glad that I was not subjected to these two because I’m not certain that I could have handled more than ‘Abbie-Dale’: “Even if I had been fortified with Persimmon Beer.”   

After his death, I remember seeing the Dum-Devil around his house. I tried to operate it as did others in the family; but no one else could produce the hair raising sounds that Grandpa could coax from this simple invention from which he got so much pleasure.

“Our Family did not know, then: That it was possible, a “Gran-pa and a ‘six-year old;” could have planted the seeds for  a thriving, ‘Multi-million dollar’ industry called; “Toys – R – Us.”  “Simpler things have happened.” 

Demijon

“Money-Saver?” “I Recon.”

I suppose it all began when I was desperately trying to get a handle on this computer.  Although some may think that I am just downright cheap and will refuse to buy any store- bought items that I can manufacture from materials on hand.

I assure you this is not the case.  Once, while browsing in an office supply store, I came across software that allowed a novice to create greeting cards ‘from scratch’.  Granted, the first ones that I attempted were a far cry from the professionally designed ones; but as I struggled with this box of wires, , buttons,  dot-coms ‘etc.  I began to understand Computer-eze to the extent that they looked almost decent.

Thus began a barrage of greeting cards sent to friends and relatives for any and all occasions.  Generic cards were created for birthdays, holidays, graduations, weddings, etc., and stored within the bowels of this monster.  Then, when an occasion arose, all I had to do was to change the name of the recipient and I had saved a dollar or two.  “Smart”; wouldn’t you say?

Over the years, a problem arose when I realized that I had been sending the same card to the same people for quite some time.  Fortunately, most folks were kind enough to overlook the fact that they had received that identical card last Christmas, and again, for their last birthday.

My family has been telling me for years to read the manual.  It took days of digging through mounds of papers, books, trash, boxes and the like, before I finally found the instruction book that was included with the software.  By extensive reading, I discovered that it was a relatively simple matter to change the design of any card by deleting a photograph or any text and re-installing a different photo or text.

Recently, I created a card for a friend that was celebrating her 77th birthday.  As soon as she received it, she called to offer her thanks and to praise the design of the card.  Her words were, “It is the best card that I’ve ever received.”

Needless to say, I just about “Swole-Up;” since I have never had anyone voice their approval of my warped sense of humor upon receiving one of my creations.

Now, if I can only remember to take advantage of the Spell-Check feature that Bill Gates has built into this monster, perhaps any future greetings from Demijon Studio will continue to be appreciated.
“Thank you Elsie:”  “You made my day.”

Demijon

I wonder if any reader can remember how to make a “Peashooter”: or “Sling-Shot?”

PROFESSIONALS AT LARGE !!!

The telephone call comes at 4:30 PM. “Fred? Harvey. Listen, the little woman and I thought that you and the missus might like to have dinner with us at the Dixie Diner this evening. Our treat. Around six o’clock okay with you?”

With the plans finalized, you ready yourselves for an enjoyable evening of food and conversation. Although they are not your favorite people, you decide that it will be a change of pace and the mere fact that your pension check has yet to be delivered makes the offer more enticing.

Upon arrival at the diner, Harvey is quick to say, “Now y’all order anything you want. The chef is a friend of mine and I will personally see that he prepares it just the way you like it. And besides, the little woman and me have been planning to have y’all to dinner for a long time. “Ain’t that right, Agnes?”

Taking him at his word, you both throw caution to the winds and have the prime rib with mushroom sauce and all the trimmings; Even a carafe of wine. Harvey excused himself and casually walked into the kitchen. Evidently he was sincere when he stated that he was on friendly terms with the chef.

Although the conversation leaned a little toward Harvey’s exploits and his vast knowledge of any and all subjects, the evening went quite well. The food was as delicious as Harvey had predicted.

After desert you sit through another period of Harvey’s expounding on the merits of being a fertilizer salesman. Each time that he would relate some off-the-wall story would send Agnes into peals of laughter and garner glances from the other patrons.

Finally, the waitress sensing that you are considerably uncomfortable brings the check. Almost immediately Harvey says, “Y’all will just have to excuse Agnes and me. We have this little problem, you know. If we don’t get to the little buoy’s and gull’s room soon our eyeballs are going to be floating.” The entire dining room reverberated with Agnes’ laughter.

You wait until you observe the restaurant being cleaned for the night, and still you see no sign of Harvey’s return. Searching the recesses of pockets and purse, you come up with enough to pay the tab and leave a small tip. To say that you are dejected would be a misnomer. Perhaps unbelief would be a better description of your feelings.

As you enter your car, Harvey and Agnes emerge from the rest rooms and approach. In an extremely loud voice Harvey said, “You shouldn’t have done that. I told you that the dinner was on us tonight. At least you should have let me leave the tip.”

Congratulations, my friend; You have just been taken in by the masters.

You have been out-fumbled by Harvey and Agnes.

Demijon

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“THE ‘SUSIE MAE’ SUNDAY:”

Susie Mae were some more nervous th’ fust time them folks at the Church axed her to play th’ Pieanner. She had sot up most uv th night, a-rollin her hair up on socks an’ a-arnin her frock. She sez to me, “Jay Henry, honey; Jus whot’s I’m gonna do iffen I gets all flabergasted an’ mess up?”

I tolt her that hit wern’t nothin’ to git so ‘cited bout ’cause them folks wus jus folks; an’ hit wern’t like she were: ‘Makin’ her Day-Bu on th’ “Grand Ole Apry.”

When we got to the Church an’ parked th’ log truck, we noticed that everybody what seen us wuz a-laughin; somethin’ terrible.   I tolt Susie Mae that hit shore were nice to make so many folks happy by jus drivin’ up. I kinda ‘spected my new overalls had a lot to do with hit.

They had tolt us before;  that the Preacher were a Doc. too.  Now: Susie Mae:  She  thought that were awful sweet uv’ them folks to hire somebody to take care of sick folks and do th’ preachin’ too.

We went in an’ got us a seat way up front so Susie Mae wud be close to th’ Pieanner an’ she wonted to make shore them folks noticed her new frock whot them “Spiegal Folks,” had just went an’ sont her. I had ta’ keep remindin’ her to not git carried away an’ commence a-playin’ her favorite song, “Ain’t No Boogers Out Tonite.”

Well, things went along perty smooth; up ’til hit come time fer her to play.  Whenst she got up, lo an’ behold: Her stockin’s fell down. I will have ta say that she handled hit perty good by playin’ wiff one hand an’ a-pullin on her stockin’s wiff the other one.

The folks must of enjoyed hit fer they wuz still laughin’ whenst we got ready to leave. Susie Mae wonted ta axe the Doc. fer a pill fer her rhumatiz but I wudn’t let her. Myself; I mis-doubt that he toted his satchel wiff him to preachin’ anyhow.

Thangs has settled down some since that fust time:  An’ Susie Mae’s careful to put on her garters ever’ time they axe her ta play th’ Pioeanner.

Funny thang though; We still has th’ knack fer makin’ everybody happy ’cause they all bust out a-laughing ever’ time we comes ta church.

Me an’ Susie Mae:  We’uns ‘preciates hit.

JAY HENRY

Based on a true occurrence.

“STOVE-UP !!!”

I am positive that many readers are not aware of the meaning of the phrase, “Stove-Up.” This post is primarily for the education of those miserable souls who have never experienced total “exhaustion.”

They are the ones who have spent the winter months on the golf course or actively working out at “the Spa” Those creatures have attuned their bodies to the rigors that springtime is certain to awaken.

I, on the other hand, have spent most of my waking hours during the winter huddled in a lounge chair, bundled in blankets, with a convenient supply of ‘Stuart Woods’ paperbacks stacked nearby. The task of rising to open a can of soup at lunchtime was enough to cause heavy breathing. I even attempted to train the dog to “hold it” until I finished another chapter.

Fortunately, my “Weaker-Half” of better than 60 years, did not suffer from the same malady since her throne was the ‘King Size Bed’ until well after the soup was hot. Neither of us had considered what the first warm days of Spring would effectuate to our winter-softened bodies.

On one of the first warm mornings during the last week in March found a note beside the coffee pot at 04:30 a.m. with a brief message that read; “Wake me at 10:00 o’clock. I want to ‘tour around’.” I am well versed in what ‘tour around’ means. It is simply trying to max-out at least one of the charge cards. I complied and went back to the stack of ‘Stuart Woods’ chronicles and the dregs from the coffee pot.

I was definitely not prepared for what awaited in the driveway upon her return. Huge pots containing several trees and smaller ones with an array of flowering plants were lined up beside the house. This caused me concern because I was sure that ‘Mr. Woods’ would want me to finish with his works before tackling the chores of digging holes.

Yesterday, another note was positioned beside the coffee pot, to-wit, “Wake me at 08:00 a.m.” I knew for certain that for her to be awakened this early was serious business. The first rays of daylight found me hooking the trailer to the John Deere and loading shovels, potting soil, mulch, fertilizer, etc. in the trailer. Needless to say, the day was spent in digging, stooping, spreading the mulch, and crawling on the ground to dig weeds from the hard, clay soil.

At last; the trees and plants were in the ground and we had withdrawn to the comfort of the lounge chairs. It was possibly a couple of hours before my ‘Child-Bride’ said, “I can’t move!”  “Are you ‘stove-up?”  Amidst grunts and groans, I replied, “Hail yes, and it’s all your fault.”
Attention; all of you non-believers: Getting Stove-Up is not something that a normal person would happily engage in…

However, COME SPRINGTIME, IT INVARIABLY HAPPENS. So now you know.

Demijon

“TEACHING” by “DOING” !!!

I am not exactly certain when it all began. One of my first notable observations of the major change was shortly after I had undergone surgery and was recuperating with admonitions from my doctor to avoid unnecessary exertion. This decree was unwarranted due to the fact that I was hardly capable of more than my daily walk around the block.

At this time, my wife and I were spending almost every weekend at our small farm that was located about fifty miles from our home. We were engrossed with the raising of a huge garden that we not only enjoyed but also felt necessary for our subsistence.

Since I was somewhat incapacitated, my wife had gone to the farm on this particular Saturday:  “To gather the fruits of our labors, and I was left to rest and make a feeble attempt to regain my strength”.

Having taken my walk and returned extremely tired, I retreated to the comfort of my bed for a period of total preoccupation with the healing powers of sleep. I was awakened shortly thereafter by the sounds of activity in and around the house. With sleep-numbed eyes and muddled brain, I investigated and found; “The house filled with strangers”. “Young ladies engaged in dusting, moping, and the washing of clothes, dishes and various other chores”.  “Even one was busy with the preparation of my lunch.” 

“Outside, young men were mowing, clipping, painting, raking leaves, and repairing things that were in need of attention.”  “Every young person at our home this day; was happily, engaged in some project that had been neglected.”

After spying a familiar face, I approached “OUR SON” for an explanation. I was told that these strangers were members of a group of teenagers, who were involved in a “Church sponsored project called “YOUNG LIFE.”  Their involvement at our home came as a result of their commitment to:  “Hire themselves out to anyone in need”.

They expected nothing for their efforts, neither would they accept any pay for their labors. They decided that since I was “laid-up:” and my wife had assumed the responsibility for any and all of the required duties:  Ours was a worthwhile project; therefore, they had chosen “US” as the recipient for this weekend’s venture. They all seemed to derive pleasure from the role of “SERVANTS:”   “And serve, they did”.

Our son continued with this work through high school, and was active as a leader in “Young Life” throughout his college years. Little did we suspect that this “helping hand” perspective as a teenager would lead to his chosen profession as a MINISTER’.   However: Through the benefits of loans and part-time work, he entered and graduated from Princeton Theological Seminary, earning a master’s degree.

I suppose that the training he received there played a part in his ability to relate to others on their own level, but his major attributes are found in his enormous energies. His unique and sometimes unorthodox methods of teaching and leading have gained for him prominence in the field of religious education.

His belief that he can indeed make changes by demonstration rather than merely oration has achieved for him respect, even among his peers, for his competence as a “Leader as well as a Teacher.” 

Seeing a need and doing something about it is what has done much to transform this Typical Teenager into the Dynamic Minister, who still adheres to these beliefs, and;  I Suppose that “The rest is history”.

Demijon

A “NEW” Word?

I wonder if there is such a word as UiN-COOL”.  If there is, I suppose it would describe me to a tee. Let’s face it; I belong to a generation that most of today’s youth would characterize as UN-HIPP.” In fact, I have difficulty conversing with anyone who is not a recipient of Medicare.

Today’s technology, i.e. Television, C.D.’s, Cyberspace; and even many of the best-selling books have suggested that the use of profanity and especially four-letter words are the norm for modern speech. I distinctly remember a definition for the use of profanity; “Displays ignorance:  It  illustrates that ones vocabulary is inadequate to express ones-self.”   Enough said:  “Right?”

I grew up in an era when children were taught to respect others rather than to rob, maim, or even kill; simply for the thrill of it. Our mentors were always The good guys.

In my day, what little entertainment we were exposed to, (be it radio, newspapers and/or the movies), carefully portrayed our hero’s as always being on the side of right. We understood that the bad guys would be shot or jailed without all the graphic blood and gore that is predominate in most of today’s motion pictures and even in recent comic books.

Another area that proves my “Un-Coolness;” is the matter of dress.  Men nor women of my generation would never consider appearing in public unless they were fully dressed.  Granted, many of the latest fashions were sometimes cost-prohibitive and much of our work clothing sometimes contained patches. However, our dress (or Sunday), clothing was always clean and pressed.  No one would EVER purchase a pair of jeans and tear holes in them before the first wearing. And they fit;  rather than the crotch hanging around the knees and the legs dragging the floor.

Another little tidbit; In the ‘Olden Days’, underwear was meant to be just that; ‘UNDERWEAR.’   Not something to be displayed above or below outer clothing. The statement  that we Old Folks made back then,’ was that self-respect was something of which to be proud.
It is never hard to spot all of us Un-Cool Folks.’  We’re the ones with the bill of a Baseball Cap pointing forward instead of backwards. AND, generally speaking, we are fully dressed:  Albeit; that the clothing we had on, was “IN” before World War II.

Demijon