Friday, August 26, 2011

The Flaccid Twonks of Stink Creek

Thelma here, after a long dry spell in Stink Creek, with lots to share. We had a bit of excitement this summer. We had four old-timers convinced that the lack of rain was to blame for their lack of mojo. Mamma H had the Raisin show them how to get that back to working order with a short visit up to the Sister's, but it didn't do no good at all. They kept sitting in a circle at town square muttering to each other for most of the day.

The town council bought went crazy from concerned citizens pestering them about the old-timers, who'd grown up and grown old belonging to an exclusive team called the Twonks. Louise and I, we grew up with the twonks, and we never could figure out quite what they meant by the term, but as we got older we decided it must have had something to do with being right assholes, because that's all they ever were.

We were lucky enough, as a town, that the twonks kept to themselves, muttering over the years into their beers. But this last year, things have gone down hill, and they've gotten worse than Willa and her tendency to hide on people's decks and hollerin boo at them when they came out to get their papers. They've decided it's their job to police the town for compliance of town rules. They went to the library and found our original town charter and are going around and attempting to enforce it.

Well, what could the council do? What with the lining up right behind Willa with their clipboards and their muttering in the town square, no rain, lots of heat, and Louise's seniors seriously bent out of shape because Louise skedaddled to Vegas for the summer to run a series of workshops there, Edna and I were drafted to tackle what Stink Creek citizens were now calling the flaccid twonks and see if we couldn't help heal their mojo before the town ran them out.

Edna's husband was just glad to get her out of the house, and I've been bored silly since Louise went to Vegas and the emperor decided to take a mess of students to Rome for a grand tour. Mamma H and the raisin are so busy making the best of their remaining days they aren't fit for conversation and the damned raccoon went off to the woods again on me, due to an unfortunate incident involving Mamma H, her walker, and the raisin's amorous pursuit.

So since the Sister's hadn't managed to rouse the flaccid twonks, (go figure), Edna and I decided we'd do a rain dance down at the town square and see how many of them town ordinances we could break at the same time. Ya'll picture the lovely Lieutenant Uhura in that movie where Kirk asked "god" what he needed with a space ship, and you'll know what we did.

We got us one of them old boom boxes that Louise still has from the 80s and her flash dance music, and we set up a little tent near the town statue, and we got all nekkid and greased up...We put in that flash dance sound track, got it blaring, having warned the townsmembers to stay home since we were going to be all exposed and such. While we were doing that, Willa set up some sprinklers high up on the statue that the flaccid twonks wouldn't see. Edna and me sat there in that tent in our finest, so to speak, and waited for the  twonks to show up.

Lord, we got sweaty, and then Edna pulled out her flask, and we got drunk while we waited. And then they flaccid twonks showed up, muttering about the music and wondering where everyone was. Willa was cackling behind the statue.

Edna lurched up, smacked me on the ass (which I thought was rather rude), and out she went, up to the first flaccid twonk, and she began shimmying, shaking and, well, let's be fair, wobbling and bobbing. It was not, I fear, a pretty sight. I brought the flask out with me, handed it over to the second twonk, who dropped his clipboard.

I had forgotten to take off my combat boots. Well, perhaps I was not a pretty sight, either, but I nodded at twonk two and turned to three and four and started gyrating to "Lady, Lady, Lady" while I hoped like hell Willa would quit cackling and turn the sprinklers on.




Two more songs in, the twonks were all standing there watching us, grinning for the first time this year, and the rain still wasn't falling.

Lordamighty, there was thunder, though, and lots of it as Edna and I got to going. The weight of the world that we'd been carrying all our years was making thunder and had the twonks looking to the sky for lightning. And then the rain fell. And it wasn't Willa's doing. She'd collapsed in a colossal giggle fit.

Lordy. The rain fell. And the lightning came. The thunder ceased to be our making, and the twonks, bless their shriveled hearts, were no longer flaccid.

And that, dear friends, is how Louise found me when she pulled back into town. She's promised she'll never leave me alone again.

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

Some redemptions aint worth a nickel...

Well hey now! Me and my gal Thelma was just settin here enjoyin the lovely weather we has been havin. Sippin on some chilled Boones and catchin up on the news a Stink Creek. Been a while since we set out ta tell ya the doins of the town an all. We surely are sorry it's been so long. What with my travels to Jerusalem and Thelma's research projects. We have been busy busy women I'll tell you what!

That's right! Miss Louise cruised on over to the holy land! Now I know y'all are thinkin "Miss Louise! What could possibly inspire you to take such a trip?" Well firstly, I found out about one of them package deals with my senior group-The silver foxes. Second? The good lord gifted me with my fabulous "orbs a glory" which has kept me in pocket money and such for a good long time. I thought it'd be right nice to pay my respects to the big fella -seein that's where he was born an all. Yes sir! Redemption tours was offering a one time only special... "From Atlantic city to the Holy Land! Ya start off playing and ya end up prayin!" Thats for damn true! Good lord an a side 'o Leviticus! By tha time we was half way done I was a prayin to come home! Did y'all know that tha "Gaza strip" aint a gentlemens club? No siree! Shame of it is..I didn't know till we got there! And I had dressed for the occasion! Now..I must confess..it wadn't ALL sand and scripture. We had some fine times as well. The night life was inspiring! We even met up with a local like-minded senior group, "The Jerusalem Cruisers." Well I'll tell you what-when the foxes met the cruisers, the fireworks flew! Seein as most of us folks was worried about hip replacements an dentures an such..it was more like Bridget meets Bernie than Sodom meets Gomorrah...but a wild time was had by all. Us foxes are hopin to sponsor the cruisers on a trip to good old Stink Creek. I'll keep y'all updated on fundraisin an such....Now Thelma my gal..Why don't y'all fill us in on the goins on here? Specially about good 'ol Daddy sorebottom! Last I saw he an his woman friend Cora was beggin for redemption  ...yellin he was full a the holy spirit an whatnot..fulla horsecrap iffen ya ask me..but the Lord does work in mysterious ways.....


Louise, you know even though half of Stink Creek up and left with you on that cruise, that just means troublemakers had more chance to stir things up around here. Bad enough we couldn't convince Edna to go with you; she and Willa were certain that things were gonna get interesting here around May 21st and wanted to ride it out. Nothing did happen. Well, nothin much anyway, that day. What we had left back here was the backsliders and heathens, and sure we have a good time an all. Now, y'all member that Daddy Sore-Bottom had to visit the sisters for a time, but he'd been makin himself some good progress, he'd joined the Stink Creek Book Club and was participating up a storm at our weekly meetings. Shewey, between him and Willa it was interesting times, that's for damn true. 


Well now, between Mamma H and Raisin heading off on a honeymoon tour of all the casinos in our great nations, leaving me to put up a heap of dewberry wine Mamma was in the middle of making and Edna and her waterworks, the emperor leaving for a book tour for his how-to book Teaching the Illiterates Literature, and the regular mischief the folks in this town get up to, I have been pure-dee tuckered out and unable to offer up anything other than sighs and pouring myself another shot of Wild Turkey. Louise bailin on me for the holy land had me about down in the dumps. She brought me a lovely set of doohickeys from the holy land that I'm still trying to figure out where to display, so I ain't mad no more. How can I be, now that she's home after the whole town done had THE talk that needed to be had with the new librarian and some of our problems solved. Leastways, the new ones.


Ya heard me, all these years I done been Stink Creek's informal librarian, and they went and hired a new one after I went round to everybody's with my raccoon, my Wild Turkey and my big-ass purse and threatened to hit them with one of the three if they didn't return their books on time. Shewey, didn't we have a full library again? It had gotten down to a couple self-help books and some dusty newspapers. When I was done, the whole town had filled the library back up with books.


Well, then they held a vote and brought in this tiny, pinch-mouthed woman from over in London; their library had decided to close down rather than set empty, so all their books came with Miss Verona. That was what clinched it, is what I'm sayin. 


So in comes Miss Verona and all her second comin books. Yes, she was a regular holyroller, too. And she didn't like nothin about this town; that's part of the reason Louise was able to get so many seniors to go. That Miss Verona went around town with that pinched mouth of hers just a tsk-tsking everything. She tried to get the church outa the bar, for one. Folks weren't happy about that. Then she tried to get all the folks out of the Sister's, claimin religious freedom and the right to decide for themselves how they wanted to praise Jesus. If spankin was what they was after, then who were the Sisters to decide that weren't right. 


She set up a tent revival right outside the Church and Bar of the Holy Spirit and Spirits and started passing out pamphlets about all the ways to praise Jesus and get ready for the end of days. Most folks passed her right on by on their way to the church and bar, not paying her any attention at all which got her more and more pinched looking. And then the sisters went and released Daddy Sore-Bottom cuz he'd quit spanking, said he's realized that the preacher who'd come through recommending that weren't all he'd claimed to be, and he knew better now. 


The first week or so after Daddy Sore-Bottom's release, he walked around with his pants up and almost normal for Stink Creek, but then Miss Verona started sidling up to him. See, everyone treated Daddy like he was one of the town, nothin special or odd, and the lack of attention musta got to him, cuz for we knew it, he was with Miss Pinch passing out them little handwritten and handcolored pamphlets; the town took the copy machine away from Verona  when they realized what she was doing. We don't mind different here, and truth be, we like the colorful, but there are times when folks step over the line and gotta go have a time out with the Sisters. It's about boundaries, don't ya know? And Miss Pinch and SB were going past them boundaries and doing so fast and far.


That's what Louise and the seniors, the emperor, and Mamma H and the Raisin left me with: SB and Miss Pinch in a worndown tent coloring their ideas onto printer paper and chucking them at folks as they walked by, yelling about information and signing papers, saying folks needed to know about the potentialities for hell to get them. SB built something he took to calling the  
hellometer,  hollerin at folks to give it a spin it to find out if it is gospely good. Miss Pinch yelled at people that they had all sorts of activities that were God tested-sinner approved that didn't involve no alcohol and bartender preacher. She went on for hours to anyone who got trapped between their car doors and her about what it meant to give God an  "an educated yes," talking about how all our ways weren't right, but hers and Daddy Sore-Bottom's were god acknowledged. 


It got so bad, the church and bar closed up for a week and moved its business out to the Sisters' Subway. Didn't slow Miss Pinch and SB down a bit to have nothin but a handful of folks to preach to. In fact, the less they got, the louder they got.


Well, even Trussie got to where he'd had enough of the nonsense and the piles of crumpled papers litterin our fine town square, so he sent them a cease and desist letter, but they grabbed it and colored all over it and tried to give it back to him. Trussie's a pain in our rears and we regularly pay for him to go for a nice vacation, and he weren't having none of it. Nosirree. Trussie brought it up at the next town hall meeting and insisted the tent had to go. And Miss Pinch, as we'd all taken to calling the little librarian, too, if we could make it happen. London, which ain't but a hop, skip and a jump away, laughed at the mayor, though, when he called and tried to trade the librarian and books back for Trussie's statue. We had to find another town to take the librarian and that wasn't an easy task, although we finally got one; we had to take their barber, though, who had started cutting everyone's hair into a mushroom wedge cut that looked awful odd.


 Finding an outlet for SB wasn't gonna be easy. In the year he'd been at the Sisters, his wife and kids had discovered what it was like to have some peace and quiet, and they weren't going back to that place again; they'd left town, in fact, leaving no forwarding address. He was at odd ends, too. 


We gathered, the few of us still in town, and marched on SB and Miss Pinch, and we told em nicely they had to go if they was gonna keep up this nonsense. They were welcome to continue colorin and hollerin and spankin for all we cared, but we weren't gonna have it in our town square no more. 


Corbin had agreed they'd like some books and a librarian, so we already had Miss Pinch's stuff loaded in the Uhaul, Trussie sitting at the driver's seat (and don't that speak volumes?) waiting to take her. Hell, even Edna and Willa were on either side of me the night we marched on the tent for Holy Domination, as the cardboard sign hanging crooked on the tent door said. We marched up nice as you please, each of us taking the crumpled pamphlets hurled at us, and we waited till they were through caterwauling about signing our heavenly papers on the dotted line so we knew the risks we were taking. The mayor told little Miss Pinch that Corbin wanted her and she was to go on with Trussie.


She looked crestfallen, so that we almost felt bad for her, but Edna gave everyone a look and we let Miss Pinch by. Daddy Sore-Bottom looked lost. I asked him if he wanted a lift up to the Sisters for a visit there or a ride to his empty house, and he looked even more lost. Bless him, he looked around and almost for a moment seemed to come back to himself. And then Miss Pinch, as she climbed in, hollered back at him, "Spank it for Jesus! We got it right! They's going down. It ain't a consensus, they's bein paid, SB, to keep ya quiet, to still ya hand. Spank it, SB, spank it!"


Well, I'm sure y'all can see where this is going. I was telling Louise about it and before I could conclude she spewed her Boones all over her Bobby Blake poster and laughed. Yup. SB immediately dropped trousers and commenced to spankin as he ran to the cab of the truck and knocked Trussie out of it and off Miss Pinch and SB went. We ain't got the least little idea of where they are. Corbin called to say she never showed.


It's a mystery, alright, but I'm sure they'll be back. Those kinda folks don't stay gone for long. 

Friday, February 11, 2011

Edna and the Broken Waterworks

Been busy here, what with the regular book club meetings going on, and the emperor's had to take to chucking his books at the snoring citizens of Stink Creek. There he'd perch on top of his stack of tomes, speaking in an unintelligible language to the hard-working but unedified folks about lofty and grand ideas and then make us poor saps read Anne Bradstreet and Christopher Columbus and other folks that explain why so many folks think literature is a thing that stinks. I tell you, for damn true, that even Mamma H looked ready to wap him with her purse at one point.

I didn't want to hurt my sweetheart none, cuz I could listen to him drone on for an eternity, let the words flow over me like waves on a beach as long as I didn't have to act like I had nary a clue bout what he was talking so long on. But when Edna, my arch nemesis, came to me whispering and all dart-eyed, asking for my help, how could I not? I was getting tired of hearing the emperor practice his lectures on me at home, standing astride me after a soft, sweet moment of loving, when he had me all mellowed out, the raccoon wrapped around my head, snuggled in tight for warmth, gesticulating like mad and droning on about Cotton Mather and Thomas Jefferson. I was beginning to agree with my nemesis that Harlequin romances are at least easy to read and leave you with a warm spot in your heart.

Edna's been out of sorts. Now Louise'd pipe in and argue there ain't been a damn day since our youth that Edna ain't been out of sorts, but what with her best bud Willa up at the Sisters, the days are off for her in a way that I can rightly feel. It's how I feel when my Louise gets a wild hair and lights out on me to Vegas, leaving me alone with Mamma H and the raisin and their endless supply of getitup pills.

Downright lonesome and feeling like a part of her is missing, that's how Edna's feeling. Add to that, she's been having a hell of a time with her waterworks acting up on her, and the local doc done sent her to Lexington to see a special waterworks doctor. It takes just about everything Edna's got to go to the plain old doc here in town, so getting Edna to a waterworks doc to look at her parts, well, that required me, I guess: I'm big enough and just mean enough to pick that grumpy old woman on up and carry her there myself. So when Edna came whispering to me at the end of the last book club meeting, with the doc staring daggers alternately at Edna, shooing her my way and towards the emperor who was looking glazed and dazed up at the lectern at the books strewn about the meeting room as people ran for the bar, I had a feeling my special skills were gonna be required. I just didn't know how far in I was gonna be pulled.

See, Edna has some mighty damn big issues, and there weren't enough happy pill in the world that were gonna get her to the waterworks doc and through the tests that might have to be run without some mighty interference on somebody's part. Besides, even if Willa were free to take her, she wouldn't make Edna do it; they'd end up in a craft store buying up all the yarn instead.

I told that Edna I'd show up at her trailer to get her, give her the happy pills, and I'd be delighted to drag her ass on up to Lexington, but that meant I got to tell the tale. We are too damn shy to talk about our waterworks issues or our feminine parts issues, and it's time that stopped. Lord, first off, we all got parts. And them damned parts are faulty. Shouldn't matter about what the parts are; we should be able to talk about them without feeling shame and embarrassment. Some issues we can get ourselves over.

I tell you, straight up, that being in a car with a mellowed Edna ain't much easier than being in a car with the regular old gal. She'd swing back and forth between acute anxiety bleeding through those happy pills like they were nothing and an odd sort of loopiness where she'd look at me and grin all cross-eyed. And there I was, trapped, sober. Louise had just laughed at me when I suggested she take the drive with us. Said she had some senior citizens to train on the pole dancing and she sashayed off, laughing her ass off. Ain't right.

We get to the waterworks doc and get Edna signed in. She goes on back by herself, all calm like, although she was eyeing the door like she was gonna make a run for it. I stood up and she went on, though, temporarily behaving herself.

About five minutes passes and there's this noise from the back where the exam rooms are, stuff flying, and Edna moaning about a pee torture chair. I just looked at the ceiling, ignoring all the little old ladies and men with messed up waterworks looking at me in sympathy. Apparently, they knew all about pee torture chairs, and I'm guessing a great deal more.

There was some more crashing, and then silence. The nurse came out and beckoned to me. I just looked at her. I done my piece. It was her turn. But she wasn't buying that. Nosirree. So back I went. Edna was crouched in a corner of this large bathroom. It had a regular toilet and next to it there was this fixed commode like you use for folks who can't make it to the regular bathroom anymore. Only this thing wasn't like that at all. It had a funnel instead of a pot, and at the bottom, underneath the funnel was a measuring cup like you'd use in a kitchen, a big one, and it was sitting on a metal stand. And godamighty, there were wires leading from that device. I looked at Edna, who's been known to hold her pee until there's no one anywhere around her own damn house, and who won't pee in town, nope. And I looked at that fancy get up that she was moaning over and over again was a pee torture chair, and I looked at the nurse. And then I reached for my flask of Wild Turkey, but it wasn't in my jacket. Louise had taken it from me. Damn it. Sober and with an Edna that had done gone over the hill and looked to be on her way to joining Willa with the Sisters. Shit and shinola. We were in a pickle

The nurse explained they needed to know how well Edna peed. I cocked my head and told her not well or what the hell would we be here for. She sighed, looking like she was the aggrieved party and said they needed to know precisely how not well that was. How, exactly, am I to help with that, I wanted to know.

Wrong question to ask. The nurse told me and walked out the damned door leaving me with Edna and what looked like an instrument of potential torture. Or serious discomfort, as it was up too high, so Edna's feet would dangle, and Edna's a bit plump to put it kindly, so she wasn't gonna fit too well in the chair, and then to know that they'd know all about her peeing. They might as well filmed it. It wasn't gonna be easy to go.

I picked her up, stood her up and looked straight into her eyes. I ain't got no whiskey and I ain't got the comfort of them damn happy pills, neither, I said to her. So I am outa patience. Sit on the damn contraption and go! She shuddered, and made me wanna smack her, but I have powerful restraint and I was already planning dropping her off at the Sisters and considering a stay myself.

Add in the measuring cup and metal holder and you got yourself the pee torture chair.


I picked Edna up and walked her over to the chair. I put her down. I told her to buck up. Ya can't get any help for the issues we were here for if ya won't pee. And I walked out that bathroom and took up guard. I sighed loud outside the door so Edna would know she was stuck in there till she did her business.

It took a godawful while to get there, but that Edna faced her inner demons and gave the doc what he needed. I was in the exam room with her when he walked in and told her she didn't pee right, just like that. Shoulda seen Edna's face. She's either gonna hate me more or love me, I tell you true. You can't be a party to this kinda stuff without it either bonding you for life or separating you for good. They did a little ultrasound thingy on her bladder that can tell them to the ounce what she's holdin. Ain't that something? They had a parts catalog there on various stuff that waterworks docs need to test folks or torture em or get kinky with. Some of the stuff looked right similar to the things I've seen in Louise's catalogs on sex aids. It's a frightening overlap, is what I'm sayin.

I asked the doc, as I was thumbing through the catalog, ifn he was gonna be doing some of these things to my nemesis, Edna, who at this point just wanted to pass out. I could tell. Her eyes were pressed tight and she was whispering to herself.

The doc said he held them things off, tried meds first and handed me a scrip for Edna, and then said I'd need to bring her back in a couple of weeks to redo the test we'd just been through. Edna and I both started moaning, then. And that's the easiest test. Lordamighty. 

We thanked them and got the hell out of there; grabbing the appointment slip on the way out. We decided, to be quite honest, that we both needed a drink. And a drink meant no driving. We stopped at the nearest pharmacy/liquor store we found, got Edna fixed up and enough libations and checked into the nearest motel room, where we commenced to bonding. It was that or kill each other on the way home.

Listen here, I'll take her, sure enough, to these things, cuz, well, you need someone to be with you for the indignities you experience as you age. It wasn't really that bad, not when you know all that could be done, all that might be done. And gods, I got to tell you that the internet is not always your friend. We drank and we googled. We avoided the nonsense sites and went right to the good medical sites. And we found out things about the waterworks that would make you blanch. There are all sorts of things that can go wrong that make a little leaking look like nothing, and there's all sorts of things the docs can do, replacement parts for your parts and more. Until we are becoming a patched up thing, you know? With plastics and metals and silicon and all sorts of things inside us that aren't of us, but that maybe make our lives better. Maybe notsomuch sometimes

Attitude, I reckon, is gonna be key to gettin Edna through the insults and vagaries of aging, of parts failing. And Edna ain't never had a good attitude, and she's got a measuring cup full of issues, to add to that. And there ain't enough happy pills in the world that can right a wrong attitude.

So we drank and we googled. And we had some pizza, too, because what the hell. And we worked at reshaping Edna's attitude with the knowledge we found on the interwebz, that even if it were serious, there were things that could be done, and if it were just something she'd have to live with, well, that was okay, too, because she knew now more about how some folks had to get through more. Enough liquor and a nemesis to tell you to quit being a wuss, I reckon that might help. Don't for a minute think it was the drinking, though. It was having someone to share with, who made the issue not an embarrassment but something matter-of-fact, that made it okay. It was in finally being able to laugh over it, the craziness of the way things work and don't, that made it bearable.

Now, is she gonna be thrilled to go back time and again to sit in that contraption? No, she ain't. She done told me that. But she knows she can. And so do I. And hell, I'll be honest, I may spring Willa to take her the next time.

Only so much bonding a gal should have to do with her nemesis.


Thursday, January 27, 2011

Second Official Meet Up of the Stink Creek Book Club

Second Official Meet Up of the Stink Creek Book Club

 
Edna here, ready to offer up these here minutes of the second official meeting of the Stink Creek Book Club. We had us a heck of a reading assignment to discuss; if yall are behind the power curve, you can see what we been busy with over there to the right under Native Voices. And don't forget the reading already on what literature is. I reckon I came to the decision that if it sucks that's what they are calling literature, but that KWombles assured me that it ain't all bad, nor is it all dead white men who were stuffed shirts. And that's why we're focusing on Native voices.


Yu-huh, but the Emperor done glared at me from his perch upon all those dead white men's books he's sitting on and Thelma's got that danged racoon wrapped around her neck and is looking at me. Louise is sitting beside Thelma, her six inch stiletto thigh high boots just the prettiest shade of red, but shew, as attractive as them boots are, they ain't right. Louise oughta act her age, quit wearing them hot pants and them leopard print blouses that leave her so-called "orbs of glory" spilling out for everyone to see, including my husband, who's right now wiggling in the first pew oggling her. I'm gonna ring his neck, that's for sure. Anyways, I guess I'm to hush for now and just record the minutes of our meeting.


The Emperor clears his throat, but ain't no one listening, as we're up at the Sisters of Perpetual Agony in their chapel; that way my buddy Willa can participate, along with Luther, who done went and got himself admitted yet again for his chicken shenanigans. Seems he went wild in the local grocery last week and took all the cans of chicken noodle soup and decided they needed to be set free. There he was, chucking those cans out of the grocery, and they was hitting cars, people, and even his own live chickens that he had tied up at the bike rack. Well, we are gathered here, the nuns are lining all the exits like bouncers, making sure we gonna get some edification, dangit all to heck and back whether we want it or not. I tell ya, it's a hell of a Sunday, it is. Already listened to the preacher at the bar telling us our salvation might be better found at the bottom of a mug than not found at all and all mugs were half off for the last hour of the preaching, so some of us here had to get here in the back of the sheriff's tahoe, as they was more than into their cups but still no closer to salvation. Now we gotta see straight to discuss the creation myths of the folks what was here before us, and KWombles tells us that weren't us, but were the Native Americans. Alright, I'll be quiet for now and record here the Stink Creek Book Club Second Official Meet Up.

Emperor- ahem...I'm glad y'all could join us tonight to discuss these fascinating creation tales brought to our attention by Mrs. Wombles...Can we have a round of applause for Miss Kim? Tonight I think we ought to have the Raisin lead us off in our discussion as he is a bit of an expert on the topic. before we begin is there any business to announce?....yes Miss Louise?

Louise-Well hey there folks. Boy howdy, it sure is nice ta see y'all comin out for some edification an whatnot. I just wanted to announce that me an the silver panthers will be hostin tha next book club meetin down at the senior center. The panthers an me will be doin an interpretive pole dance a sorts actin out tha creation myths an such. There'll be breast poundin an sweat wipin! thats for damn true!

Emperor-Thank you kindly, miss Louise. We are always looking for places to hold our meetings. If anyone would like to volunteer-please see the lovely Thelma at the end of our meeting. And now without further ado...Raisin? Would you care to edify us?

Raisin- Ahem...yes..Creation myths..lovely things these explanations for our very being..the Iroquois story..

Willa-What the hell do the Eyerackis have to do with how the United States was built!?

Raisin..the err uhh..The uhh...

Willa-Dang it all! Now I know some about native americans an such...why I'm one twenty seventh Cherokee..my great great great..

Louise-Hush up now, Willa-He aint talkin bout the Iraqi's! He's trying to talk on the Iroquois...EAR A KWA..iffen y'ad quit yer jabberin you'd of realized that!

Willa-Don't you tell me to hush, Louise!! My very great grandma was an indian princess!

Louise-Indian princess my bodashuss backsi.. Ouch! Mama H?!!

Mama H-Listen here, the Raisin is set on telling us all about this here creation myth and how it's similar to the biblical myths. Yall hush it now so we can get us some edification and get on outa here so we can get us some of my blackberry wine. We ain't having this in the Sister's chapel again unlessin they get the sacramental wine out and share. Ain't nobody no how should have to be edified without libations!

Louise-Yes Ma'am.

Luther-You is my princess, Willa. I'll share my chickens with you anytime.

Willa-thank you Luther.

Raisin- Uhh..well yes..uuhh..ahem..if you would all look at creation myths from the iroquois..Cusick was Christian and it is my strong belief that this affected the way in which he..

Willa-I am the way the truth and the light!

Edna here interposing to say it ain't nice that while we are up here at the Sisters so that Luther and Willa can participate that Thelma and Louise feel it's alright to be over there snickering about my best bud Willa. She can't help it if she slipped a bit off of her rocker. She stays on the evangelical kick, and she'll be out of here in no time. After all, it's more than alright for folks to wander around and proselytize and it beats the hell out of being scared out of my knickers when she hollers "bully bully" when I open my front door to get the paper.

MamaH- Alright now, folks, I can see you're restless and ready to get down to the business at hand. Raisin, my man, get to it before we lose em all.

Raisin- Ahem..yes..now..You see..if one were to take The creation story from the Bible and compare it to th..

Mayor Percy Bentpole-Now hold on! We aint gonna be comparin the Bible to anything!

Preacher-Amen to that brother!

Willa- Now this needs ta stop! First you got tha iraqi's creatin the good old U.S. of A and now you is tellin me they created the bible! That sure is some ouredee hogwash I'm tellin ya true..What in the name a all things holy is you laughin at Thelma and Louise! I done tha readin! This is ..This is..Blasphemy pure an true..some strange named fella makin ants from sweat and buzzards! Buzzards!! Why the hell didn't he use chickens! A fine American bird!

Luther-Chickens!!

Willa-y'all don't see folks eatin fried buzzards at tha church social do ya now! I thought we was gonna talk some about literature an such! I got me some fine Harlequins we all could learn from I'll tell you what! Man and woman makin babies! They even got some a that breast beatin and sweaty palms! but ya sure as H E double hockey sticks don't get no ants!

Daddy sore bottom-I have me a couple of aunts. They don't talk much about sweat an such. They is a couple a nice ladies. Don't think they'd care for this creatin stuff none..they never did marry..

Thelma- Daddy sore bottom, did you notice them aunts of yours lived with each other until the day they passed on? They were more than friends, darlin. I tell you what, leave alone the Iroquois story, although that whole turtle thing was something else, the Pima story was pretty as a picture: "In the beginning there was no earth, no water—nothing. There was only a Person, Juh-wert-a-Mahkai " And this Juh man was the doctor of the earth. That's pretty. Ain't it, Emperor, hon? Listen, you wanna go play doctor of the earth? I'll be the earth, and you can try and bring something forth from nothing, ifn you catch my meaning.

Raisin-Ahem, I fear, we're losing even Thelma. Well, Emperor, you could say I did try.

Louise-Oh darlin don't you fret none-you just wait till you see me an the panthers do our interpretive pole dance! Maybe you'd like ta do a little recitin while we're bein excitin!

Raisin- Why yes ..yes..I always was one for the creative arts and such.

Mama H-Aww, Raisin hon, you sure are. Listen here, I reckon what with Luther and Willa busy playing with the chicken, and Milo T and Daddy sorebottom busy playing pinochle in the pews, and the Mayor cozying up to Euvula, we've lost em all. Emperor, close it up, son, let's get on down to the trailer and get some blackberry wine.

Emperor- Well, this was a mighty fine first attempt at discussing literature. I want to thank you all for coming. Please check the church bulletin for the time and date of our next get together. I look forward to seeing you all then.


Edna closing off this meeting's minutes. Everyone pretty much paired off and left me here with the Sisters staring daggers at me as the others lit out without cleaning up the mess. Everyone left their readings in the pews, and ain't that a sight to see, the Iroquois and the Pima creation stories scattered about the hymnals and bibles. It's a melting pot of ideas, ain't it, and it's powerful hard, I reckon to keep clear where them influences begin and end. Bound to happen, since the white man's world won out and the stories might have been helped a bit to blend. No one wants to be the lone person left outa the party, like me here, writing these minutes. Thelma and her crew done taken off to party down at their trailers with MamaH's homebrewed blackberry wine. Luther and Willa done taken that chicken and wandered back to their rooms. Milo T and Daddy sore bottom are off together to find their own answers in the bottle, I reckon, having made a right mess of their lives. I reckon they'll get together with Trussie Begelow down at the town. The mayor and his uptight wife hightailed it out of here. I got the goods on the folks of Stink Creek,  I do, and while most not know it, that Thelma and Louise, my nemeses, and their Mama, they own almost every damn thing in this town, and the mayor knows it well. He'll give me my chance next election, but it's gonna take craftiness to get MamaH voted out and me into the President of the Ladies for the Glorification and Edification of Stink Creek. I might prefer me my Harlequin romances, but I can beat them at their game. I'll be ready at the next meeting and I'll dazzle them, even when I'm bored near to tears reading something about keys and language.


I might be against the work, but that KWombles was telling me about a saying that was posted on the door into her college today (sometimes you work with folks you is ideologically opposed to, like me and Thelma), something about responsibility and taking it, and keys to one's destiny, how we all hold them keys. Uh-huh. Well, I tell you what, folks might be holding them keys, but they for damned sure ain't fitting the locks. Maybe that edification stuff is about making sure we make them keys fit the locks. Maybe.


What the hell do I know, though? I'm tired and ready to go on home, sit in my recliner and watch Hoarders off the netflix and wait for that husband of mine to get back from Thelma's. It's a good thing that Hoarders is such a damn good show, or I might be mad that my man prefers my nemeses to coming home with me. That's alright, though. I got me my plans and my shows. Makes me feel right pleased with myself.

Sunday, January 2, 2011

Stink Creek Goes for Edification

Here it is, a brand new year, and the Wild Turkey haze from New Year's Eve has done faded away and I can see the monitor clear-like, so I reckoned I'd fill yall in on the news from Stink Creek. We been a bit down in the dumps to realize we might not be as all-fired up smart and knowledgeable as we was thinking we were. So, we decided to form a book club.

Hell, I'm gonna be nice and let Edna tell it, as she's staring daggers at me right now. The mayor chose to appoint her the secretary of the club, and Mamma H done made me swear to play nice with Edna this year since she's been mighty lonely with Willa up at the Sister's. Heck and we's trying to live up to this whole idea of community building and focusin on our commonalities. Bout the only commonality I can see is that Edna and I done been arguing for sixty some odd years, and I don't plan to stop that no time soon. We have a clear foundation laid up over the decades. Why should we mess with pure gold, right?

Anyways, here's Edna's writeup for the book club, which ya can keep up with over here.


The Formation of Stink Creek Book Club

Edna Huggabutt here, just now declared the secretary of the Stink Creek Book Club, whether I want this piece of work or not. I tell you what, to tell me I gots to sit here and write up every gosh-darn thing these here upstanding my arse citizens decide to say about books and book learning. Well, I never. But my partner and buddy, Willa, has herself locked up and away with the Sisters right now as she was beginning to take to following Luther round town and clucking. It was too much to bear, so here I am at the Mayor's request, acting as secretary while the Ladies for the Glorification and Edification of Stink Creek set up this here book club for all members of Stink Creek to partake in.

We're gonna be getting all literarified, so to speak, instead of all of us boarding ourselves up in our houses and watching episode after episode of Hoarders. Ain't no fair, but the mayor said if I behaved and recorded it all faithful like, he'd support me next election for the president of the Ladies for the GaEoSC. And if I manage to finally wrestle Mamma H from her position of power, I'm demoting Thelma to the gosh-darned secretary position.

There they all sit at the head of the committee table (we're meeting at the church and bar tonight for our first meeting), drinking Wild Turkey and laughing up a storm while I sit in this little bitty desk they got out of the old courthouse. Said a secretary and stenographer ought to have her own little place to make sure she could focus on getting all the edification down.

Har, as if these people is gonna get gentrified and gussied up by reading good works. Thelma looking all uppity, with her little man beside her, calls him the Emperor, sitting on a stack of thick, dusty books so as he can see over the top of the bar, him and his stack of books piled in front of him. Stupid little bow tie. Thick glasses, too, so as he always looks perpetually perplexed. He's gonna start the whole thing, supposedly, tell us all about how important literature is for us to read and understand how the world works. Well, hell's bells and Jesus wept. Sure he's gonna reach the fine people of Stink Creek. Them damned surveyors went through the town a few months back and Stink Creek was declared to be the most uniformly uninformed of all the towns and villages in the entire state of Kentucky! It's got the mayor in a tizzy, right enough, and the emperor done swooped in at Mamma H and Thelma's bequest and said he had a cheap and online solution to our problems: something about some Annenberg media thing with all sorts of free classes. The emperor, mister high-and-mighty said he figured the place to start was with that American Literature junk. Hoo-eeey, I tell you what, I been reading me them Harlequins now for forty some odd years and I done learned everything I need to know right there. Danged straight. Literature? What the sam-hill I wanna read dead folks for? Stuffy stuff like that? Our kids ain't got to know that to go work in the mines, nosirreee. Nope, nor to go on over to the next town and work for Walmart. Why, a diet of Hoarders, The Glee Club and that there fancy dancing show for them two-bit stars is all they need. But I was overruled. So here we is, fixing to be bored out of our everloving minds on a diet of stuffy dead folks in a course called American Passages. Lordy, it gets even better, too. Thelma was atalking to her internet friend, some stuffy goody two shoes by the name of KWombles  who just happens to be using the same old video program to get her students snoring away, and it's done been decided that some of us will be takin this here danged thing for CREDIT with her via long distance networking. Ain't me, I tell you what. No sir bob. Nope, Luther and Milo T done signed up for it. And Willa, bless her, since she's been bored up at the Sisters, has agreed to take it in order to get set on free come the end of May. So, hear tell, that them students at some little bitty college in a place called Cisco, Texas, will be alooking at this site and taking this here edification journey with us. God help us all. It's a hook up of Stink Creek citizens and Cisco College students! The emperor thinks it's all a grand idea; edification across state lines and the generations.

I'm watching the fine upstanding citizens of Stink Creek right now. Luther's out there holding a chicken in his lap. Larinda, his niece, is dressed in a red and white checked apron, with a hat of chicken feathers on her head. Shewey. The first work will no doubt have to involve chickens or they'll be gone. Milo T is peeking out from the kitchen where he works as a fry cook now. His specialty is fried chicken, of course. Darn fools, half of the folks in this room done stayed up at the Sisters. Sure, this'll make for deep learning and thinking.

I tell you what, ifn anybody needs edification, it's these folks. They think they are something else, but what they are is nothing near edified. Mh-hmmm. But I ain't at all convinced that they can handle it. Our mettle's being tested, that's for sure. 

I get my satisfaction where I can, though. Ifn I gots to do this edification AND write up all the minutes and manage this here blog, well, them students down there Cisco way ain't gonna get no false sense of how awesome my nemesis Thelma is. Won't they be surprised to read these here minutes, and it's all going out there on the internet for folks to see how the people of Stink Creek really talk and think. Got em right where I want em, I do.

Friday, December 10, 2010

Revenge of the Arkansas Pussy


Well hey now..been a while since I sat myself down and had a good old fashioned talk with y'all. I'm a hopin y'all had yourselves a nice Thanksgiving and whatnot. Boy howdy time flies when your busy an such. And I been busy!! Ya see, I been over in Butte Crack for tha last month . Had myself a job at one a them "Leisure communities" working with a nice bunch a senior gals on their competitive dance line group-The "Arkansas Pussy Cat Ladies". They call themselves that on account a tha fact that every one a them ladies had themselves a pussy! Even used em in their routine! They had long haired, short haired..calico..tabby and even a hairless one. My O My it was a sight ta see!

Now I have myself one a them reputations for dancin an such. What with my work in Vegas! an with the Grey Panthers pole dancin and scrap bookin group down at tha senior center. So tha ladies over in Butte Crack gave me a call. Ya see, their regular coach Pinky Kelleher (y'all recall her? she's an old friend a mine-used to be a soul train dancer?) got herself in a bit of a pickle. They was doin a Soul Train reunion an she couldn't miss it. So she gave the ladies my number. Seems that they had one a them dance line competitions comin up an they was goin against there biggest rivals- The Mississippi Muffin Mavins!! Now I don't know whether you folks is knowledgable of the senior dance line competition circuit or not..but the Muffins was one tough group ta beat. They been leadin the circuit for years! They wadn't good sports about it neither! They'd call up tha rival groups an poke em an ride em..break down their confidence an such. So the Pussy Cat ladies was feelin tha strain. Boy Howdy they was!

When I got there I was met by tha sorriest sight! The ladies was just a settin there..pasties droopin..hell! even their pussies was just layin there. They done quit before they even started. I knew I had my work cut out for me-that's for damn true! I said "Ladies!' "Do Y'all want ta win this thing or are ya gonna quit afore ya even start!" Well, that got their attention..I pulled out my trusty bottle a tequila an started givin out shots..tryin ta loosen em up..get em in tha fightin mood..Bout half way through the bottle y'all could feel their attitudes changin..even their pussies noticed. Alcohol tends ta do that to a gal. We started cheerin and chantin..makin up slogans an such "Pussy power" we yelled.."Down with tha muffins!" an all sorts a things. They got their moxie back! Boy howdy an a side 'o purrin pussies they did! Those gals rehearsed day an night-night an day..only breakin for dinner at about 4:30 in the afternoon because a the early bird special in the dining hall. They was gonna be ready!

On the day a tha competition we all got together me the gals and their pussies..an we had ourselves a big ol group hug! I told em that this was there day. That today the pussies was gonna take the muffins down! The mood was electric! they was on fire! When they got to tha stage an the music started it was magic. They strutted "The Copacabana"..sashayed with the"YMCA" and twirled sparkler covered pasties to the state song "Arkansas you run deep in me" They was a hit! The Muffins didn't stand a chance! Especially since their team captain took sick on account a the fact she was allergic ta cats! Aint no suprise The pussycat ladies was the winners-hands down! I heard one a tha judges say later on that tha sparklers an tha quiet dignity of tha ladies pussies durin tha state song brought tears to his eyes! Hells Bells! I'm gettin a little teary with tha tellin of it! It sure as shoot is a day I won't soon forget!

So y'all can understand I been busy what with the dancin an the competin an such. I misseed y'all fierce an I'm hopin some of our friends might drop in..visit for a while. Now I'm off ta meet with my gal Thelma. We got us some catchin up ta do. Boy howdy we does..

Saturday, November 20, 2010

Mamma H: Stink Creek Founders Day Parades and Secrets

All stories got an order, a rhythm to them. Tis a true thing I tell you. Stink Creek, still in the wilds of Kentucky, has its own story. We ain’t a big town, nosiree, and I’ve watched us shrink and swell for ninety years now. Ain’t gone far in my life, not until I got to the end times of it, but I’ve traveled far in mind and spirit. ‘Sides, Stink Creek seems to bring into it some of the most lively folks a body needs to meet, and I have been blessed to know almost every soul that done past through this little town.

In 1970, the Ladies for the Glorification and Edification of Stink Creek decided we needed to celebrate our town’s birthday with a Founder’s Day parade. Now, the Ladies as a group have existed about since the very first Founder’s Day, some 150 years ago, when three men with their women of ill-repute beside them, running from the law in Virginia came upon Stink Creek, decided it was remote enough and downright inhospitable enough that no one would look for them there, and set up camp. Since then, we’ve been attracting people running from all manner of things. We ain’t big, but we’ve got big hearts and are a right welcoming bunch.

Ever since, the Founder’s Day Parade has been a Stink Creek tradition, one more important to us than the 4th of July or Thanksgiving itself. We go all out, for damn true, each year trying to top the one before. Our lives, well, they weave in and out around the parade and the windup to it.


The Founder’s Day Parade 1970





In 1970, I had the distinct privilege and frustration of being the president of the Ladies for the Glorification and Edification of Stink Creek. It was decided among the town ladies that I had entirely too much time on my hands what with Thelma grown and newly married, and my garage and beauty parlor, although busy most times, nearly ran itself with the crew I’d trained over the years. We had a pretty sweet deal, Ronnie and Rayleen, married since the 1940s had worked aside of me and my man since we had opened up shop a few years before my Thelma came along. Of course, that man of mine liked to take off to the woods more than he stayed around, so it got to where it was the three of us running things, and then before too long, Ronnie and Rayleen handled everything but the books. Let’s be real, I’m an active woman, and book-keeping sure weren’t enough to keep me occupied. I started making trouble for the citizens of Stink Creek, what with the change of life coming on me, and time on my hands. Started carrying on with the free menfolk of the county and when I wasn’t doing that, I started telling folks what I thought about their carrying-ons.




The only real thing to do was vote me president of the Ladies and decide that a Founders’ Day Parade was just the thing to keep me occupied. Before we could settle on a theme, we had to have us a historical review, make sure we knew our Stink Creek past. The three ladies on the committee with me, Beulah Wellington, Ella Pimpshore, and Laney Sole, were bound and determined to mine back through the town library and grill to the very beginning of Stink Creek.
We must have spent the first six months digging through moldy boxes and looking at old, yellowing newspapers. We found us some nuggets, though, and started doing a genealogy. Of course, I also brought my blackberry wine and cigars with me, and the gals and I, we sat around that dim library, the grill in the next room loud and merry, the smell of grease wafting through the dusty shelves of the rarely used library, and we got ourselves thoroughly snockered. It was a great six months, and by the end we had some fine-ass secrets on all the townfolks. Power is what we got out of that six months. Well, that and the need to join AA.

In the end, though, Beulah, Ella, Laney, and I had a hell of a plan for the founders’ day parade. We decided to reenact the three couples coming into Stink Creek for the very first time. Of course, the three couples needed to be young, so we decided on my Thelma and her young husband, Elroy, Ella’s daughter Edna and her husband, and a young woman named Louise and her latest partner, Blu.

It was a hell of a parade, so wild, so well-done, that the fine upstanding citizens of Stink Creek decided the parade might need to be held once a decade rather than every year. Damn near the whole town ended up in our one cell jail that afternoon, so many fights broke out over all the skeletons revealed in the parade, that and the libations that always flow freely in Stink Creek. We are, after all, a town that combines its churches with its bars for convenience sake.

Tell ya what, though, we was sitting pretty when all was said and done; the committee had the goods on everyone, and for all that we’d revealed, we got back even more in the ruckus that followed our acting it all out in the parade in that folks had to own their pasts and their presents, a mighty good thing to do. It was a serious spring cleaning is what I’m trying my best to convey, what with all them cobwebs shook right on out of there. Thelma and Louise were on their way to being the best of friends and had made a right good nemesis of that Edna, who even forty years ago was stuffed full of herself.

Here be the truth, where folks lie, and boy howdy do they, all sorts of skeletons pile on up and get to crowding each other in that there closet you place em in. Every now and then, some of them skeletons are bound to get out and mess the hell out of life in the present. Always best, I taught my sweet Thelma and darling Louise, to be flat out honest, let them chips fall wherever the hell they wanna, and be true to who we are.

Stink Creek folks got a good reminder that parade of who they were, and it was a good thing. A thing so good, every ten years like clockwork we let all them skeletons right on out.


Sunday, November 7, 2010

Turn the Other Cheek, Keep Goin, and Take a Swing: Lordy, He Sure Missed the Point!


Ah, for pity sake, I had a point, but I took a break, had some libations, dealt with an emergency chicken call from Luther, and when I came back here, well, shoot, it took me a minute to figure out what it was about this here thing I stole from Kim that had me tickled.

Don't ya just love it when someone of faith takes a guy who writes Jesus Christ in his post and comes back at him with a line like this "So you may appreciate what that sounds like to me, may your mother be @#$%& by a pack of wild dogs. Have a nice day! :)"?

Ain't that a kick in the pants? That ain't turnin the other cheek, that's for damned true. That's deckin a guy instead. 

Sure, it gets funnier, in that this was posted on a piece about how Bill Maher called out Colbert and Stewart for their Restore Sanity rally last week; seems Maher thinks the left ain't equal to the right in the nastiness and nuttiness. Ah well, who can tell on the internet? Course, he was speakin of folks that are up in Congress; ain't a one of em worth being there representing the people's interests. 

See the folks who are the loudest are generally the ones on the edges. Most reasonable folks don't give a shit enough to go out and call people out over stuff. I ain't decided if that means me and Louise are extremists or not, since we occasionally stir up a mess. Truth be told, it may be that reasonable people take one look at some these things and reasonably conclude that running into a brick wall with their head would be a better use of their time instead of messing with the folks that think the world's flat, the world's less than 10K old, that evolution aint real, that vaccines are the root of all evil, that the moon landin was faked, and crazier shit than we got going on here in Stink Creek. 

Cain't blame em, none, neither. It's hard to read some of the nonsense out there and not fear that we're in the end times, that sanity, reason, and logic are dying breeds. I just remember, we gotta take a long picture view of this stuff. We always gonna be fightin to get people to think instead of going with their gut. Best to gird up for the long haul and find a way to laugh as we work to light the fire of reason in folks.

Sunday, October 17, 2010

Chives and Chickens




For whatever reason, chives and chickens seem to be two of the visual (and literary) themes that run through this blog, along with a great deal of alcohol, Bobby Blake, and intimacies between the elders. 

Chives are one of my favorite plants; they're prolific, they're rich in smell, and they are charming in their complexity and ever-changing looks. As for chickens, well, they're interesting creatures, aren't they? 

Thelma and Louise are busy gals these days, what with keeping up with all the going-ons in Stink Creek. It's a unique community they've got, with lots of technicolor  folks stirring up dissent and trouble. They've assured Kathleen and me that when time permits they'll sit a spell and share the events that have kept them otherwise occupied.

In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the chives and the chickens.





Saturday, October 9, 2010

A Poem Or Two

I'm teaching poetry (abbreviated, but nonetheless poetry) right now to my students. Thelma and Louise, who've been awfully busy lately minding the going-ons of Stink Creek, were charmed with the idea of sitting down to write some of their own. They missed out on the Perspectives Anthology that Marc Rosen and Ishwa Wagner recently put out, so out of inspiration were they. It dawned on them that perhaps they hadn't been thinking of appropriate material.

Here's Thelma's contribution:

Even Dumbasses Have Feelings...

Bless them, it's true
Even dumbasses have feelings.
Best ya remember,
Best ya not forget
And in judgment sit
Against them dumbasses.
Better not be thinking it
In contempt or scorn,
But instead saying  it
With compassion and love.
Why not say it about others
As a rich, heaping curse?
 Ahh, because when ya, too,
Are a dumbass,
Wouldn't ya rather
Hear it about yourself
With a tone of humor and acceptance?
Dumbasses abound is for damn true,
And like it or no,
It be an all inclusive group.

Louise's contribution is, as always, slightly more visually oriented. I almost shudder to think what Mamma H and the Raisin's poetry would look like, but fortunately, they were, ummm, indisposed.

                                           They bounce in beauty like the night
                                              Of puffy clouds an golden orbs
                                               All her bosoms is round an tight
                                              But that don't make her all mellow to tha dumbass fight
                                          Which common sense an such can sometimes deny.

                                        One long step more-her tiny bosom no less tight
                                           My Gal Thelma with humor in her pace
                                            rocks tha world citin science with grace
                                       She aint afeared a sayin dumbass to yer face.
                                               That's for damn true!

                                  And on Stinky Creek our right lovely stretch a ground
                           Where we is friendly an loyal an a wholesome sort a town
                            We offer love an acceptance for all a tha human race an such
                                   Hell we even love our chickens..sometimes overly much..like Luther.
                              
                                 Me an my gal Thelma wants to spread us words a great joy
                                       We wants ta educate tha dumbass
                                            Boy Howdy we does
                                        But we'll love em and talk at em
                                            creatin a stir an a buzz.
                                        

Students are rarely fond of analyzing poetry, but I'm of the mind that poetry can be great fun to sink one's teeth into. T and L remind me, though, that upon occasion when it's a difficult sort of poetry, that the right libations can make it all the easier on the palette.

Sunday, September 5, 2010

Show Your Pride! Add this picture to your blogs!


Save to your computer.

On blogger, you can select design, picture, upload and add in the link to the directory so that the image is clickable: autismblogsdirectory.blogspot.com.

Got your own sunflower picture you want to use? That'd be awesome!

Here's Kathleen's sunflower!


Saturday, September 4, 2010

Thelma's New Profile Pix



Thelma

Don't that fit me to a tee? 

                                      

Mamma H and Raisin

Now, Kim, bless her got us good, but she's shy Louise's high heeled boots, leopard print pants, Baretta on DVD, and an impressive Boone's Farm collection, and my best bud Louise is playing coy and won't share; she says she ain't letting go of her Bobby cuz she don't trust me none not to hide her Baretta, she knows I'll drink her Boone's and  ifn she handed me her boots and brtiches, I'd stretch out her boots and britches playing dress up.