Tuesday, October 17, 2017
Eddie’s is gone. The place where wayward bound gearheads turned wrenches on hoopties. Gone to the whims of commercial development. Oh, it had to happen. After all, Eddie himself passed on to the great car show in the sky a few years ago. And the wives of would be mechanics and racers were relieved. You see, there’s no such thing as fun for the whole family, you know.
We spent our weekends in friends’ carports, 12 packs and parts scattered next to our rusted out hulks. We pounded and cussed at cranky bolts. Screamed when flames erupted out of throttles. Car virgins getting their first hot oil baths were always good for laughs. It was a simpler time. There were no OBD codes to figure out. Engine bays had room to work. A universal joint elbow was rarely required to get to a key bolt. Stuff was done out of pure obsessiveness, some cosmetic, most mechanical. It was how you got to the top of the street pecking order cruisin’ down Roswell Road.
A lot of us got our start in one of Eddie’s six bays. He wasn’t much older than us, but he had track experience and enough smarts to know just how far to go. Some of us just wanted our beasts to run. Others wanted to run from the cops. The cops took notice, too. Soon Eddie had the contract for the North County precinct. And he kept it after the city incorporated, too. Multiple generations of Ford Interceptors and Dodge Monacos littered the parking lot, most too broken to resurrect.
Would have been right at home.
If this sounds like a requiem mass...well it is. A eulogy to a youth well spent sucking up gasoline and exhaust. A remembrance of the small block Malibu with the two speed Powerglide, The rusted Olds 98 with the propeller in the trailer hitch, the Volvo 144 that would puke its innards every six months like clockwork and all the other four wheel conveyances that got me from point A to Point B. They never were sports cars. I was too practical minded for those. But I enjoyed working on them.
Today’s kids are missing out.
Pic guesses- Hoopties (in blog), Gearhead (in blog), beasts (in blog), cruisin’ (in blog), sports cars (in blog), Little Red Corvette, Shiny, Metal Girlfriend, Shake Stand, Detroit Iron, Bat Out of Hell, Checkered Flag. Concours.
Saturday, October 14, 2017
I had a dream last night
A dream of you
Perfect in imperfection
Shelled with your scars
Bonded, we snaked alongside
And giving again.
I wondered if it were mutual
Through the ether
I find you were sleepless
Monday, October 9, 2017
This is a post about fads and to what extent a fad market can explode.
There is a show on Cartoon Network called “Rick and Morty, that involves a scientist and his grandson time traveling through history.” I’ve only seen a couple of episodes, but my sons think it is the most brilliant thing ever. Especially my younger one. He is also the entrepreneurial one, always on the latest trend.
In a recent episode of the show, Rick and Morty transported back to 1998 to attend to a family matter. When he landed, he immediately went to McDonald’s. You see, this is when the movie Mulan was first released and Disney had a merchandising license with the company that included a Szechuan chicken dipping sauce (that also is tasty with duck). Rick called it the best sauce ever made.
He took a huge number of packets back to his time machine to enjoy in the present time.
The fans of the show took notice. There was already a small collector market for the sauce and prices on Ebay went wild. So wild that McDonald’s re-released a very small batch to take advantage of the interest. My son tried get some to resell for a profit (he needs new tires on his truck), but it had all been spoken for. The company then released this status update:
It is for the the best. Like all fad markets, the price of Szechuan sauce will continue to rise until the new batch gets released, or the fools find some other shiny bling to spend money on. The ones left holding the hot potato then get burned. It is a disaster that repeats itself over and over again.
It is our choices that show us who we are. When a food condiment is more important than the victims of [insert your choice of disasters from the last three weeks], we need to take a long look in the mirror.
The image doesn’t look good.
Pic guesses: Duck, An obscene term not involving a duck, Dinner Guest, Gilbert Gottfried, Plucked, Roasted, Daffy in retirement, Marvin’s revenge, Duck Dodgers in the 24 1/2 Century, She doesn’t look Chinese, Pre Paté, Mallard’s rest. Gander,
Monday, October 2, 2017
A single beam of light found it’s away through the blinds and into her eye. Slowly, she stirred. Where was she? Legs cramping, the bed creaked as she shifted into a more comfortable position...
I wrote this log line yesterday as a story builder. I didn’t know the character’s name, how she got into this bed, or whether she was alone. I’ve handled characters like her before. Naive and vulnerable, it may have been her first time waking up in a strange place. The start of an adventure, either good or bad.
Opening the news feed this morning gave me a similar feeling. Where am I? Have I really fallen through the looking glass into a warped vision of humanity? Did one of my very darkest scenarios of all time actually come to pass?
It’s 9:17 AM EST and the powder fog is lifting a bit. A man decided to declare war against his fellow man. The motives for his actions are unknown and honestly, do not matter. Early reports show he was a local of some means, well known in the casino community. No police contacts as far as anyone can tell. He used his Significant Other’s information to check into the Mandalay Bay Thursday afternoon without her knowledge (she was out of the country). Hotel management wasn’t concerned, since he was a regular customer that spent money. They gave him a room on the 32nd floor facing the open lot across Las Vegas Boulevard he requested. It gave him strategic advantage.
He spent the next several days gathering the material for death, putting in time in the casino from time to time to keep the management happy and unaware. The motives for his actions are unknown. And now we wake to the aftermath of his party. There are at least 150 casualties, with 50 or so dead.
This isn’t the first time we’ve woken up in this bed. I doubt it will be the last.
Forward, backward, inward, outward
Come and join the chase!
Nothing could be drier
Than a jolly caucus-race
Pic Guesses: Bon Bon, Lips, Oral fixation, Vulnerable, Ghost face. Three strands, Bejeweled,
Tuesday, September 26, 2017
Everyone is in an uproar over sports "stars" kneeling during the National Anthem opening. It's the same as a Hooker saluting your flag before she sucks your wallet dry.
Only the NFL does it without lube or protection.
Only the NFL does it without lube or protection.
Monday, September 25, 2017
Given the topics is Vintage Lies, Dahlia’s five truths game will work. The “vintage” part is most of these events take place before I got married (and boring).
- I was in a bar on a random Wednesday night. It was kind of slow, so I was able to get a seat next to this bald fellow chatting up a lady. Just after I gave my order, the lady excused herself and the man turned to me and asked for a light. It was Telly Savalas.
- After attending a club show, I was accosted by two blind men begging for money, one of them playing a banjo. It was Steve Martin and Martin Mull. The lambs looked out of place, but the street scene finds focus in their face.
- I took a college class with Jeff Foxworthy. He’s a lot smarter than he makes out.
- If you are familiar with the book “Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil”, I was acquainted with both Danny Hansford and his killer, Jim Williams at different times in my life.
- I played chess with Mark David Chapman. He was high every time we met and he smelled like clove cigarettes.
- I literally ran into Elton John and David Koresh in the frozen food aisle at Publix.
And that is it. The vile lie will be revealed on Saturday.
Pic guesses: Sailing, Breath of Beauty, Columbus Day, Ketch, Mist, Ariel’s Revenge, Seascape, Above the Surf.
Monday, September 18, 2017
This ain't no disco
It ain't no country club, either
This is the ATL
“All I want to do is watch a show before I die”
Says the man next to me out of nowhere
It's apropos of nothing
He says is name is Tyler, but I'm sure
He's not even real to me
And I wonder if he's ever watched TV in his entire life.
We're drinking beer at four on a Sunday
In a dive in the Bible Belt South across from the fishin' pond
The good people heading to evening prayer
After Sunday dinner naps
Ready to sleep some more as the preacher drones
On whether marriage is the grave and tomb of wit
While they squirm in the hard pews,
Wishin' they were in the eternal flame.
After they go back to the blank screens
Where Xfinity and Uverse cut the cable
After the storm.
All I wanna do is watch TV
And all I see is a blank screen
Things I have seen
I can't see no more.
All I wanna do is watch TV
Until the sun comes up
Over Peachtree Industrial Boulevard
Topic-Colleen Keller Breuning
Pic Guesses: Crystal Flame, Eternal Flame, Fire and Ice, Frozen fire, Candle in the Wind, No light, Waxed,