A.G.E's Joint

Hey, Heidy and Howdy! It's your old buddy, Harry Handy floating along the Geritol trail. Over the years, people have asked me: "Harry! Is you life only moldy and oldie?" No, not really. I do wander what they refer to as "Socialist Media" from time to time to get ideas for good ol' WOFT. Let me guide you oldsters in some of things available. Trolling along one day, I found a second generation Hippy couple walking the talk about being off the grid and out of the MAN'S grasp: The wife, Esther is the daughter of Carla Emery who was one of the ultimate Hippy Chicks. She's got some interesting things to say And then there is this youngster living the ultimate "Year Off Dream" And when you select any of those, the YouTube algorithm sends you down the rabbit hole of crazier and crazier stuff. Yep, clear out before the bombs come...Where have I heard that before? A good reminder that no matter how the kaleidoscope changes,...

Hey, Heidy and Howdy. I'm back. Harry Handy, the randy, dandy, didlio DJ of your dreams. And this is WOFT, Old Farts Radio on the air! Moldy golden oldies for the Geritol Generation,spinning the memories of our misspent youth. 2016. Can you believe we've made that long? When we were kids, we said "Don't Trust Anyone Over 30!" Now, we survivors are more than double that. Anyway, it has been a tough year for us old farts, with a lot of our more well known smells having the bells tolled for them. David Bowie...Glenn Frey...Prince...And the rest of our heroes look like this: Yeah, we are all a bunch of old, decrepit hippies at heart, syncing our pacemakers and eating our bran based granola to a little more out of life. (For the record, That is Mr. Wavy Gravy, seated on the left, Dr. John Hook in the middle and Mr. Arlo Guthrie on the right. All right and true messenger of the cause. Picture (c) 2016 Arlo Guthrie ). But somehow, Paul McCartney and Mick Jagger k...

Running through thick woods, he wondered why?  Branches and rocks littered the way, reaching up to grab and scratch his body.  Feet about 25 feet behind him.  Hurry up.  The fetid smell of rotted leaves and bodies ran up his nose as he jumped a large log.  The path cut sharply to the right here and broke into a large pasture.  He heard a thump and the cursing of his stepfather as he hit the log.   Across the field was an old farmhouse.  As he started towards it he wondered if there would be anyone there to help.  Over toward the right was a herd of cattle with a large bull standing guard.  The bull just stared as he came across.  As he approached the house, he could hear the clank of the shotgun.  He hits the steps…. “Randi!  Honey, are you alright? Wake up. “Kari asked as she shook him.  “You were yelling so loud I could hear you over the engine.  Anyway, we are at my house. Come on.  We’ll...

The crescent moon peeked over the trees and reflected in the puddles.  As they climbed in the camper, Kari turned on a battery operated lantern hanging on the door.    Randi stood passively, not sure of his position.  He found a towel on the side bench and began to dry off.   “Why are you being so nice to me?” “Why not?  Just because I had a crap day doesn’t mean I have to take it out on you.  And besides, that would only make me feel bitchier.  God knows I feel like it.”    Kari found her IPod in the center console and plugged in to the radio.  The first song was Fly Me to the Moon .  She took Randi in her arms and began to slow dance, her flowered dress rustling with the rhythm.   He felt uncomfortable and pulled away. “Were you serious about being on your last tampon?” “Nah.  I picked up some before I came into the diner.  So you don’t have to worry about having ...

Damn, the cramps were starting again.  Kari hated driving with them.   As her stomach tightened, it reminded her of her boss. “Charlie Cramps. A fitting nickname”, she thought.  Only he was messy and a pain 24/7, not just once a month.  Always grabbing and wanting to fuck her.  And a tampon in the mouth didn’t shut him up.  She had just told him shove the job up his ass after flipping him over the bar.  She had spent the rest of the night with a bottle of Smirnoff she took on her way out.     Another swallow and Charlie Cramps would no longer be a memory. There was a bang and the VW Bus died as she pulled into the empty lot.    “Oh, God”, she thought.    What was it this time?    Rain soaked her bright red hair as she opened the engine bay and saw the missing belt. “It’s 3:00 fuckin’ AM.  Shit, what I am gonna do?”    She looked up and saw the lights of the a...