30 September 2017

My Dad's gone now

I don't remember him so much in my youth. He was busy doctoring. Making house calls in a Buick but went for a VW 412 when they came on to the market.A kinda sorta station wagon thingie, but not really one or the other. This was during the track period. My dad was doing serious running, along with some that's when I learned to do the metric conversion  factors. I can't do that now.
More later.

17 September 2017

More about my dad

I've seen their wedding pix.  They got the fire in their eyes.I found a white dinner jacket at a resale shop one time.  Shawl collar with black piping. Thought it made me look like James Bond. Made me look EXACTLY like my Dad in the wedding pics, but with a bearded-Spock-with-a-bad-haircut vibe.  Showed it off to my Mom and she nearly fainted. But on HIM it looked good. Think a white Cab Calloway, but without the pencil moustache. Good looking man.

Recuerdos de mi padre

I really can't say it in English.  It just seems so clinical.

But I remember being sent with my father, sitting in the old Blue Rooster, a POS example of a marque lost to history. He was an intern physician, and there were these interesting flashing lights.  Sometimes he would stop at the great Shamrock Hilton Hotel for a shoe shine. Because that's important.

I don't know if my brothers were there then. I remember the lights, and my dad crying. I was very young at the time.  I thought maybe he hurt his toe, and tried to help. Not a good idea. Having an infant crawling under your feet whist driving a '56 Nash Rambler. Doubleplus ungood. There was a thing called "Hamm's Beer" that seemed to make my daddy feel better. It was from the country of elevenhundred springs. More on this later.

13 April 2016

Do I trust Trump?

Well, no.

His response to the questions of heavy contributions to Democratic candidates is essentially “I rent whores”. (this is established in his marital record).

What's his price?

Barry O'Bama, I'm sure, is looking for Sec Gen of the UN as his job after POTUS. George W. Bush (bless his heart) would have been GREAT Commmisioner of Major League Baseball (and I mean no slur on him. Rilly, Astros in AL East?).

If he were to become President of the Most Powerful Country in the World, where would he go?

By all accounts, and by all his personal history, the man is a dictator. I say frog, you jump. I must have this house that's been in your family for generations to make an improved limo dropoff station for my casino. If you don't stop saying true things about me I'll sue you.

The dictatorial urge is strong in this one, young padawan.

He does not respect the rule of law, save that he can afford lawyers moreso than anyone else

31 January 2016

Green Onions

Johnny Cool and the Ktels
Let's see if this works: 

14 November 2015

'Cause Johnny Cash

You thought you had a heart.  Just had it ripped out.  Me too. 

07 November 2015


I have made no secret that I live in Houston, or that I am a Libertarian, or that I went to Rice University.

I smoked reefer with Annise Parker and with Lisa Gray, who-is-but-isn't an editor of the Houston Chronicle.

I remember that about that time there was a great push for parity in Women's Bathrooms. It seemed that instead of 1:1 parity on sewer connections, JUSTICE required something like 1:1.6 M/F ratio, 'cause guys could just whip it out but the Fempersons had to sit, leading to an early version of the Occupy movement. Women would block the doors to protect their fellow warriors who needed to piss.

Can't have men in here, you understand.

29 October 2015

The Donald

I don't like him.  He's a narcissist on the order of the current office holder.  He abuses his contacts,  the bankruptcy laws, the Eminent Domain laws, and is probably the only man to lose money operating a casino, and has actually lost money by any reasonable standard, .

You, Sir, are a Narcissist.  Your properties must shout your name.

You, Sir, are a rent seeking bottom feeder

You, Sir, are  a Deadbeat. 

You, Sir, are a thief of other's property

You, Sir,  are ugly, tactless, tasteless, well-over-the-borderline sociopath, and personally vain.

You, Sir, are a balloon so full of himself that were your asshole not tied into a knot you would explosively deflate.

You, Sir, have such a small penis that the women you wed are bound by pre-nuptial agreements not to mention it.

"SLAP".  Here is my glove, Sir.  (Drops glove).
Have your seconds get in touch with mine..

I Got Me A Neighbor

He's got back problems, caused by jumping out of perfectly good aircraft. Broken neck, broken back, shattered collarbone, broken scapula. No family anywhere near to help him. He tells me that I'm his only friend, and if that's the case then boy is he fucked.

He goes to the VA Hospital here in Houston, and seems to get prompt and responsive service, so far as I can tell. His back injuries entail upon him an unnatural gait which will lead to a hip rebuild. Now I am not a doctor, but my father is, and a damn good one. Sitting in the shoe department of Sears Robuck he taught me limps from the ankle, knee and hip.

My neighbor limps from the neck down. Broken neckbones pinch on spinal cord. Truth? I have no idea if he were going for SOF or just mandatory static cord jump. He tried, which is a hell of a lot more than I would have done. (Eta service in Grenada, Panama, and Desert Storm).

I'm trying to get him one of those “LifeLine” Telephones. Maybe some maid service.

Well, I got him the phone, but I need to get a medical opinion from the VA to get the service thingie. Persistance will prevail.