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“What does a Rubber Band, a Broken Thing, to many Blue Hawaiian’s, and a Single Crutch, all have in Common?”
I’m now Glad you Asked!
But You, You may not be so Glad, before this tale of Sad Twisted Heartstring-Wrenching Tear-Drenching reaches its four or five gone gong show concussion conclusion, supporting no Unknown Comic’s paper bag anonymity, ripping and rending the tender veneer of civility from the once smiling now snarling caricature of a fellow Cougar of Stephenson 7th South as he swung and I jumped and twisted and landed with a loud pop as my left knee gave way and I started screaming!
He said “Get back up and stop screaming! I haven’t hit you yet!”
Turned out I had torn cartilage, and would have to have surgery. Only day open and soon was the day after I had a hot date scheduled, and she didn’t want to take my being on crutches as an excuse for not going over to Moscow.
I somehow managed to use one of the crutches to shift gears on my beat up Thing, and got to her place, and she offered to drive. Great! I could drink more!
About half way there something went thunk, then all the hamsters and gerbils in the transmission started screaming and tearing chunks out of the floor boards.
Forgot to tell her not to touch the 4 wheel drive stick as it was a might touchy. Touche…
Luckily we got picked up by a trucker, I sat next to him to keep him away from her. Big mistake, guess he liked guys, so tried to keep myself from becoming one of his hand fulls.
Some how I only ended up with one crutch by the time we hit the dance hall.
But hey! I only needed one, the other was kept full with Blue Hawaiian’s.
Then it was time to head back.
She left me.
One crutch.
Facing a ten mile trudge.
In the 1st mile I was siill fairly inebriated, so wasn’t hurting much yet.
Then I slowly became aware that I could see things in front of me better, like I was emitting light from my neck down! Night Vision Cool!
But how was I generating the red and blue flickering bits?
Then I tripped and fell, and slowly focused on a U of Idaho campus cruiser that must have been behind me for a couple of blocks, sigh, so much for Night Vision, swiftly changing to visions of my sugar plums dancing in a Jail cell trying to avoid wayward truckers.
I struggled to a sitting position, found it was really hard to stand up for some reason. Must have been some combination of the booze, one crutch, a bad knee, oh, lets not forget the now rolling Palouse invading the Moscow flatlands, causing me to keep falling back onto my hands face and bum knee.
Thoughts of getting arrested and not having to continue to embed random gravel bits into my carcass started to have a bit more appeal.
So I clutched my crutch, dragged and crawled towards the cops, for what seemed like forever. Took me about 2 blocks to realize that they were backing up for some reason, and thats why I hadn’t reached their back seat of happiness and security of no interior door handles. Those darned door handles always bother my knees in back seats of cars anyway, so at least my knee would be better off soon.
All I needed was for them to stop backing up! So I started waving my crutch, hopping on one leg, and shouting for them to stop and be more like Calgon and take me away from all this!
Maybe I scared them?
They turned off the flashers, and started speeding towards me! Yah! it worked!
They were coming right at me my eyes finally flogged my brain, so I bent my one good knee, planted my crutch, and tried to pole vault it against the curbing in an attempt to fling myself out of their way!
Olympians cheered, Judges raised score cards of 10’s across the board, as in my mind I felt myself soaring like a bird!
Out of the corner of my eyes I saw the two cop cars, no one, yes two, my eyes couldn’t stay focused I was moving so fast,turn a corner about 10 feet from me and left me in a spray of more loose Palouse gravel, grovelling in the gutter realizing that the bird I most resembled at the moment could best be described in the immortal words of your fellow Radio legend KRPW’s Less Nessman “Turkeys are hitting the ground like bags of wet cement!” Oh what I would pay for a copy of their dash board camera footage now.
Well thats the Highlights, or should I say Low Lites of the night.
I banged on most of the doors down Fraternity row, until I found the one person that I knew.
Found out that Sleepy Vandals are not big fans of Drunken Cougars.
Slept it off.
Got a ride back to Pullman.
Car was towed before I got back to it, but lets keep that part for another contest story.
Morale of the story, Don’t Shoot a Rubber band at anyone wearing just a towel, it might go to your Knee, and Break your Car and your Heart.

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Are we Mice and Shrews? Whats the Country to Do!.

Passing Time (Poetry)


Passing Time (Poetry).


Speechless Appeal, Fruit Salads the Deal, Nothing is Real.


When 21 is not 21, and a Black Jack is not a black Jack, butt all Jacked UP!.

Peeing Pong


Baby Playing Ping Pong!
00:01:35
Added on 2/04/12
29,721 views
This kid is good………….

http://youtu.be/VWKO4YSXfzc


Make Way Paper Mache! Calvin Nicholls Tears you a new Holls!

By paper artist Calvin Nicholls.There is nothing simple or ordinary about his paper art. Where we would simply use a piece of paper and a pair of scissors, Calvin uses everything you could possibly think of to carve, cut and rip perfect details onto his creations. The motifs are all wildlife, and that must be one of the hardest categories of things to make with paper since there are sometimes impossible details on animals. These details are amazing and I can’t even fathom the time it must have taken to create these masterpieces of art.

 


Abject and Totally Awkward Idiot here, no ME!  Its Chris Myers, not Meyers, I Fred ed out there.

http://www.sculpturesbychristopher.webs.com/

As kids we always went by First names all the times. In Fact: I did not know my original last name until about ’97 15 years ago! I was born in ’63 a Leetch, and had to suck up my way into the Foster clan for 9 years before officially becoming a Foster in ’72. So what happened to my memory you might ask? Thats a long and complicated story that I am still figuring out. May a post for another day!
Am I thick or What!
Yeah, its the or What!
So, remembering Last Names has never been a big thing for me I guess.
Give that Loren, my 1st name, in Latin means….
Well, lets take a little test shall we.
What does the meaning of the following words imply?
ForLorn? Sad and Lost
LoveLorn? Lost at Love
OK, if you were paying any attention at all does Loren / LORN
mean
A) Sad Love, Sad Lover, Love Sadly
or
B) Lost, Lost, Lost

If You said A) then you might want to tell your parents and teachers they didn’t get their moneys worth!

Oh, by the way?
Foster is translation in Old English as
Guardian of the Forest, a Forester.
So I think You should Carve Up a many limbed Tree waiving a whole Grove of Chainsaws!
What better way to guard the Foster Forest then with Chainsaw Armed Trees!

Again, Sorry Chris Myers!


Connect the Dots . . . What do Cannibals and Zombie Cows have in Common?

Well back to that in a few minutes, got to have a Cliff Hanger to build tension and get you worked up for a little Trauma, E.R. Trauma that is.

Well, I say, Speaking of Cliff Hangers, or even just reading between the lines or on old Dot Matrix printers the line would really just be closely spaced dots…., my brain tends to ramble and go out on Walk About out of Walkie Talkie range at times, and what did they have to eat out on the old Open Range, besides free Range Chickens that is, which were rather hard to keep indoors what them guys being right ornery independent cusses and mountain man madness aside they warnt much inta being all hen pecked, inta beans and fatback bacon yah, yep ya betcha bottom dollar, cause if ya had any money, it would be at the bottom of yer pocket, lessen ya had a hole in that there pocket, which would of an in itself be a Darned good reason ta go get hitched to some thang besides a wagon just to have around to do the cleaning an cooking and all that darned wimmen stuff.

Lookit here son, I say son, did ya see that hawk after those hens? He scared ’em! That Rhode Island Red turned white. Then blue. Rhode Island. Red, white, and blue. That’s a joke, son. A flag waver. You’re built too low. The fast ones go over your head. Ya got a hole in your glove. I keep pitchin’ ’em and you keep missin’ ’em. Ya gotta keep your eye on the ball. Eye. Ball. I almost had a gag, son. Joke, that is.

I say, I say Uh-uh-uh, I know what you’re gonna say, son.  You might be asking yourselves what I am thinking, and you would be smack dab on the money, if a little dab would do ya, unlessen it fell outa your pocket hole into some smack dab do, thats doo doo, do ya get me or doo doo ya get me, son. I am and was channeling Foghorn Leghorn, that paragraph above being from

The Foghorn Leghorn (1948) http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0040361/
, who was not a big fan of wolves an coyotes, 2 and 4 legged varieties them varmits being chicken rustlers, he might of gone along with ranchers intentions to tend to keep them younguns cooped up so they had a chance to get a few chickens counted amongst the hens a laying, and the maids a milking all sod busty like, and get some chicken feed expenses recooped.

For some getting a leg up on your Foghorn Leghorn quota check out some quotes at

http://www.imdb.com/character/ch0029619/quotes

Now getting back to the Cliff of the Cliff Hanger, or should I rather say to someone over the Cliffs of Dover way, to whom I would like to dedicate this post.

T.J. Cliffe  of Goodreads.com who has posted his interests as “I am interested in just about anything I learn about. Knowledge is just so… interesting.”

It closely mirrored my own philosophy.  Or what I refer to, but not in a Maryjane way, or a Voyager Janeway, as a philosophy.  My parents clued into it long before I did by the way, hence the gift of a shirt with the quote “Why Be Normal?” at an early age.

Random thoughts, ran them damn thoughts down, down I say, down on the farm, keep them down boy, get down, boogie down, get out of town, get off the furniture, were you raised in a barn, or did you even ever help to raise a barn, barn raising not being an easy thing, but a darn good reason for a social get to gether, to gather friends and neighbors, tho some might say Nay, but Hey, Horses eat Hay!

I have always been one to connect the dots.  To mix metaphors and slice similes.

Take for example Mad Cow Disease? For years I have been telling people that it was the same disease that the cannibal headhunters suffered from called Kuru. Same symptoms. Something most humans didn’t suffer from, except those that ate other humans Brains, like the Fore tribe of Papua New Guinea. Animal feed tends to recycle all sorts of non edible parts, by human standards at least, rendering once vegetarian bovines into Zombie-esquenessity!

From Prion Wikipedia

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Prion

“Prions are responsible for the transmissible spongiform encephalopathies in a variety of mammals, including bovine spongiform encephalopathy (BSE, also known as “mad cow disease”) incattle and Creutzfeldt–Jakob disease (CJD) in humans. All known prion diseases affect the structure of the brain or other neural tissue and all are currently untreatable and universally fatal.”

“The Fore tribe of the highlands of Papua New Guinea was investigated at length beginning in 1957 by D. Carleton Gajdusek, who won a Nobel prize in 1976 for his study of the neurological-degenerative disease kuru, which he determined was caused by human contact with infected human brain tissue. Kuru, Creutzfeldt-Jakob disease, and bovine spongiform encephalopathy are all transmissible spongiform encephalopathies (TSE) and were formerly believed to be caused by a slow virus infection; recent evidence indicates that they are conveyed by proteins called prions. Among the Fore, the principal pattern of contact with infected human tissue was during the mortuary preparation associated with endocannibalistic consumption of dead kin. In 1979 William Arens challenged Gajdusek’s explanation for the spread of kuru on the grounds that there were no direct observations of cannibalism in the Fore people.”

“Whether cannibalism reflects pathological behavior depends on the circumstances of consumption. Starvation cannibalism appears to be tacitly condoned by Western societies, and other societies have sanctioned a variety of exocannibalistic practices. But perhaps the most abhorrent practice is that of sadistic or psychopathological murder and consumption of human tissue. Jeffrey Dahmer is a most recent example. A deranged young man who did not appear to be abnormal, he was arrested in Milwaukee in 1991 for the murder, dismemberment, and partial consumption of seventeen individuals. There are many other examples of such bizarre and pathological behavior in the literature.”

Read more: http://www.answers.com/topic/cannibalism#ixzz1b6fkjrnu

Now when you get right down to it, mankind should be grateful that we as a race were able to find and domesticate other species for our food needs.  Humans, despite Jonathan Swift’s “A Modest Proposal for Preventing the Children of Poor People in Ireland From Being a Burden on Their Parents or Country, and for Making Them Beneficial to the Publick”  

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Modest_Proposal

which states, “A young healthy child well nursed, is, at a year old, a most delicious nourishing and wholesome food, whether stewedroastedbaked, or boiled; and I make no doubt that it will equally serve in a fricassee, or a ragoust.”

Humans having a 9 month gestation period, and generally giving birth to singular offspring are just not economically suited for a sustainable food source.

On the other hand, take the movie, The 13th Warrior. An awesome movie, one of Antonio Banderas’ earlier works.

Now there was an Army that travelled on its stomach.  You win, you get to eat.  No lengthy supply lines, or baggage trains, no cooks and bottle washers, just hungry warriors out to conquer and get a little T&A.  Even if you loose, just run away to sneak back and eat again another day, or night, scavenge the recent dead or dig up a few for the stewpot.  Brings new meaning to statements like “I’m a Leg man myself”.

They called it  “The 13th Warrior”, rather than the title given to it by the author Michael Crichton”Eaters of the Dead”, because “Eaters of the Dead” would have given away to much of the impact and horror that the scenes of the butchery provide.  Read it, enjoy it, digest it…

Long Pork.  Is it really that human flesh tastes like pork?  Or could it be that the butchered bodies of both Pigs and Humans are very similar?  Pig corpses are often used in simulations to determine the extent of bodily injuries.

I submit that the visible differences between headless human and pig carcasses would be the longer limbs.

If thats not enough Dots, just wait till you get to read the Dashes!

Once again, this is dedicated to, but not to be held to blame for or by, T.J. Cliffe.

Check him out at Goodreads.com or his website at

http://www.autarkik.com/


Might want to jump on this Twitter fast, 1st 1000 following have a chance to win!

http://twitter.com/intent/user?screen_name=philathans

Arron of the Black Forest

The Haunting of Dragon’s Cliff

The Haunting of Dragon's Cliff (Arron of the Black Forest)
http://www.amazon.com/gp/reader/B005P3AMUU/ref=sib_dp_kd#reader-link

Keep an eye on Philip Athans Twitter feed (@PhilAthans) and his blog, Fantasy Author’s Handbook, for more on those projects and other stuff. And speaking of Twitter, if you follow him before he get to 1000 followers, you’ll be in line to win a signed copy of every one of his published books, which will go to one random winner, not number 1000.

http://fantasyhandbook.wordpress.com/

http://twitter.com/intent/user?screen_name=philathans

Also be sure to check out his company!

Athans & Associates Creative Consulting

http://www.athansassociates.com/index.html