Wednesday, June 25, 2014

Podunk's Last Will And Testicles....

They say that we should put our final intentions in writing.  And what is more legal and binding than a fukkin' Blogspot entry??   Huh??   Nuthing, that's what!  All that being said, and understanding that I am in better than perfect health and the only place I plan on going anytime soon is the far side of the bar at the Tilted Kilt for a frosty glass, here goes.......

I hereby revoke all wills and testamentary dispositions of every nature and kind whatsoever by me hereto before made.  Let it be known for hereto whatever and such bequesting bullshit that the following is pretty much how shit is gonna go down when the time comes.

Do NOT dress me up in a suit or lay my bald head on a fancy fukkin' pillow!  Do not surround me with flowers that smell like ass and do not roll me down the aisle of some brick building singing hymns that make people think of their grandparents.  As I like to say, "Fahk all that shit!"

Don't get me wrong... I wanna be laid out for all to see so that you bullshitters can stand around talking about how gawdam awesome I look dead.  Just don't be praying over me... I'm already friggin' gone fahchrisake, toes to the sky and stiffer than a morning boner.  By that time, I'll already be boot scuffin' in some purgatory honky tonk with Hank, Waylon and Johnny (and Kenny Rogers' original face), sippin' shine and tossing back shots of Jim.  Listen, when I'm dead, I'm doing some fukkin' shots!!

Walt Disney is frozen and Jesus says he's coming back.  Joe Diffie wants to be propped up by the jukebox.  Tanya Tucker wants to go to Texas and Bocephus wants to go to Dixie.  Tim Finnegan gets a barrel of whiskey at his feet and Willie Nelson wants to be rolled up and smoked.  Blood, Sweat and Tears said to bundle up the coffin cuz it's cold way down there.  Yeah, it's crazy cold way down there.  And Norman Greenbaum - that freak wants to go see some spirit in the sky.  Me?  Stretch my dead ass out on a picnic table in my backyard with my "Life Is Too Short To Ride With Ugly Chicks" t-shirt and a pair of Levis 560s slung just below the beer belly to show off the pleasure trail - that's right!  Don't you dare think about wrapping some prayin' beads around my hands either!!  Tuck my left hand in my jeans and extend my right index finger toward the crowd with a Pull This sign.  Hey, might as well see if it works when we're dead.  No kneeler by my body either.  I don't need people making any sign of the cross or touching my cold hands.  That's fukkin gross!  Nope, all I ask for ladies is a quick show of yer boobies as you pass by.  No worries if age has gotten the best of you and gravity forces them to drop and hit me in the nose.  I'll ride that motorboat right into wherever I am going.  And dudes... a Harley wave will do just fine, thank you.

Embalm me in sunscreen 50 cuz I hear it's hot down there.  Fill the washer machine with PBRs, fire up the deep fryer and have a gawdam cookout please!  Do NOT have a funeral in a church!  If you dare bring me into one of those empty stone buildings with rules on the wall, a bird bath at the entrance and a guy in a robe pretending to be closer to God than everyone else, I will haunt your asses until the end of time.  If ya feel better having some kinda funeral, then find an outdoor bar with cans of beer on ice and a band playing Copperhead Road.  Party your asses off, sing loud and dance like a white guy - ya know, no rhythm and biting your bottom lip while doing the Cupid Shuffle.  It's how I would want it.

And when the party is ovah... cremate the bejeezus out of me.  No need to spend any money on a 6 foot hole or a piece of marble that some dickhead teenagah drunk on Twisted Teas is just gonna kick ovah anyway.  Nope, cook me up on high and fill up three brown paper lunch bags with my ashes.  I want someone to take the first bag and bring it down to Garden City in South Carolina during spring bike week.  I want those ashes spread out along Atlantic Ave directly in front of the 10 state troopahs who are diddling their balls watching bikers party at the Causeway.  Bag #2 shall be taken up in a small prop plane over H-town and scattered all over the fukkin' place.  Cuz dead is the ONLY way I will ever go sky diving.  And lastly, Bag #3 shall be set aside for one year.  When the time is right, there will be a Friday night church service at the First Church of the Blessed Excrement, aka Holy Shit, I'm At Church, where I Ash Friday to be an annual ritual held in my honor.  That's where Sister Emma will use my ashes to draw a dick on your forehead.  Cuz a dickhead is always funny.

As far as what I'm leaving behind... don't touch my shit.  Redistribution of wealth, as little as it may be, is a Democrat trick.  And I ain't no jackass!

Y'all and yunz and yous guys got it?  Good!

Friday, June 20, 2014

Laconia 2014 - Is That A Blue Sky?

I love bike rallies.  It's enjoying good weather, pissa music, cold beer and meeting all kinds of people who have one thing in common... and that's a hahd on for two wheels.  The world's oldest motorcycle rally takes place pretty much in my backyard.  An hour up 93, along the scenic roads in and around Lake Winnapa I ain't spellin it, Laconia has been going on for 91 years.  But it has transformed from the Laconia Motorcycle Rally into the Laconia Better Find An ATM Rally, aka Money Week.

The Great Gypsy Tour has become nothing but price gouging bullshit with a hefty helping of po-po at every turn.  We popped into Laconia Harley Davidson on Saturday to check out Project Mess, a local band who had won a Facebook fan vote in New Hampshire's Battle of the Bands.  They were awesome as always.. but when the dopey chick with a muffin top spilling over her boy shorts told us $6 for a can of fukkin' beer, we knew we were at Laconia.  It's $5 to park your bike anywhere.  In years past, we could park our scoots at the Naswa free of chahge!  Not this year... fukkin' money grabbers took $5 a bike.  Add in afternoon cover charges at the Roadhouse, and $5 ATM fees at the machines set up throughout and you have just been nickeled and dimed up the poop hoop!!

If ya wanna stay in a 2 room condo 5 miles from the rally, that will run ya about $2200.  By contrast, we stay in a house in Garden City for the Myrtle Beach Bike Week, 50 yards from the beach and 1 mile either direction from the busiest rally spots.  The house sleeps 12 and provides for under cover parking of your bike.  And it costs $1200 for the week!!   Along with the $2 beers and forever free parking, Myrtle has it all over Laconia.

All that being said, yesterday was a perfect day at the Weirs!  And I mean perfect.  No rain this year.  And more bikers than I have seen in years.  Old friends and new friends and ice cold beers made for a fanfukkintastic day.  Spent an hour or two at the Roadhouse watching Hazzard County...  a country music party band that played all the dirt road tailgate cold beer painted on jeans songs that are huge on fake country radio.  And while I shit on that style of "country" - I cannot deny that it is fun fukkin' music when the sun is shining and the foots are stompin!!  HC just does it right!  Now if they can just play some Johnny Cash in their high energy, rockin' style, they'd be perfect!


Wednesday, June 18, 2014

Happy Birthday Gecca!

20 YEARS!   Good Christ!  Her brother was 18 months old.  Her daddy had hair.  Satellite TV was one day old.  The engine in OJ's Bronco was still warm and nobody had ever heard of Kato Kaelin.  But here she came... with friggin' bells on and a pair of eyes that said, "Daddy, you gonna go grey way sooner than you thought."

Her brother tried to call her by name, but it only came out as "Gecca."  Her grandfather called her "Princess" and her aunt still calls her "the girl."  At different times in her life, she has been Matilda, Blondie and Jundies.  Oh, and many times she has been "JESSICA DIANE!"  To me, she is still "Baby Girl"...  9 parts awesomeness and 1 part pain in my gawdam ass!

In just 20 years, she's been a gymnast, a cheerleader, a skier, a runner, a basketball player and mostly a softball player.  She has never played soccer, thank God, and has never sold a single Girl Scout cookie.  From pig tails to Jamaican braids to pony tails, from earrings to navel rings, from face paint to side tattoos, Baby Girl is kinda all growed up now.

Her teenage years are in the books!  Her twenties are coming up.  Holy shit!!  Happy Birthday Baby Girl!!

Sunday, June 15, 2014

Happy Faahthahz Day, Ya Assholes!

The cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon, little boy blue and the man on the moon.  

What the fuk was Harry Chapin talking about?  What is the fukkin' cat doing in the cradle with a silver spoon???  And what on earth does it have to do with fathers?  How about something that makes sense when not trippin' on happy shrooms... like, the kid's in the cradle and Dad's in a trance, awake all night with shit in his pants.     See how I leave you guessing... is it the kid or Dad who has shit in his pants?  Holy Jeezus...I'm like Burt fahkin' Bacharach.  

Just a big HEY NOW to the dads out there waking up to breakfast in bed or a 9 am tee time or a finger painted card that looks like a crayon box puked on some construction paper!  It's our day, boys!  So set yer hard workin' ass down, sip that coffee and give the nads a healthy scratch!  Today, you own the remote and the fridge.  Today, you are a Profile Pic and a George Strait song.  You are a hero and an inspiration.  Today, your kids thank you for the leather belt to the ass because it made them a better person.  Today, you are the shit!  Enjoy it... because tomorrow, you gotta go back to work and get pissed on by your boss.

Friday, June 6, 2014

June 6th, 1944: Nothing Less Than Full Victory

"Soldiers, Sailors and Airmen of the Allied Expeditionary Force! You are about to embark upon a great crusade, toward which we have striven these many months. The eyes of the world are upon you. The hopes and prayers of liberty loving people everywhere march with you. In company with our brave Allies and brothers in arms on other fronts, you will bring about the destruction of the German war machine, the elimination of Nazi tyranny over the oppressed peoples of Europe, and security for ourselves in a free world. Your task will not be an easy one. Your enemy is well trained, well equipped and battle hardened, he will fight savagely. 

But this is the year 1944! Much has happened since the Nazi triumphs of 1940-41. The United Nations have inflicted upon the Germans great defeats, in open battle, man to man. Our air offensive has seriously reduced their strength in the air and their capacity to wage war on the ground. Our home fronts have given us an overwhelming superiority in weapons and munitions of war, and placed at our disposal great reserves of trained fighting men. The tide has turned! The free men of the world are marching together to victory! I have full confidence in your courage, devotion to duty and skill in battle. We will accept nothing less than full victory! 

Good Luck! And let us all beseech the blessings of Almighty God upon this great and noble undertaking." 
-- Gen. Dwight D. Eisenhower

Many of us have never served, have never given up our time and families and our way of life to defend our country and ensure our freedoms.  But we say we understand.  We know that the reason we lay our heads down at night under the blanket of freedom is because, from Lexington Green to the sands of Iraq, brave men and women have paid the ultimate price out of love for their country.  Many of us take the time to thank a soldier, a Marine, a sailor, an airman when we have the opportunity.  We put yellow ribbons on our cars.  We change our cover photos and profile pictures.  We give $5 to Wounded Warriors Project.  We cry during the National Anthem and we bang on the bar top during Toby Keith songs.

But do we understand??  Do you really understand??  Do you know that on this day, 70 years ago, 73,000 American men from Infantry and Airborne divisions landed along the coastline of France to fight the entrenched German Nazis.  13,000 men from the 82nd and 101st Airborne dropped in from airplanes inland from the beaches among machine gun fire from the ground.  23,250 Infantry landed on Utah Beach while 34,250 Infantry came ashore on Omaha Beach under heavy German fire from the cliffs above.  They did not turn and run.  They pushed!  They had an objective and they would achieve it, at all costs.  Most recent data shows that 2,499 Americans died that day.  Many of them would not have even been there had they not lied about their age just so that they could serve their country.

Today is not just about remembering one invasion.  It's about one invasion representing the level of bravery, courage and sacrifice our military men and women own each and every day.