Sunday, February 27, 2005

Let's try this again, shall we?

Ok, I'm gonna try to do this "getting to know me" thing without the "got lost in thought, made a wrong turn and couldn't get back" stuff happening again.

Ok, let's see.....only child blah blah blah,
didn't see snow yadda yadda yadda,
alrighty......we now resume our regularly scheduled programming.
I'm normally a very happy and easy goin, laid-back kind of guy,
which is a very good thing, because I'm the size of most NFL defensive linemen....6'6'' and 315 or so. I never tore up my knees too bad, so don't let the size fool you, I'm still quicker than the average 10 yr. least MY 10yr. old. (Reminds me of the joke about the two guys walking through the woods who come across a grizzly bear, the one guys asks "can we outrun a grizzly bear"? The other replies "I don't have to outrun him, I just have to outrun YOU!")
The things that can turn me into a Very Large Angry White Male or *VLAWM* as is commonly referred to here in these parts are.....

Inconsiderate people. (one of my favorites....if you are the kind of prick who blindly goes through life fucking up everyone elses program because you are too self-involved to give a shit about anyone else, I will go OUT OF MY WAY to call you on it, IN PUBLIC, so that everybody who has had to endure your shit, will get a chance to hear you get your come-uppance. I LIVE to do that kind of shit, so keep it up mr. and mrs. dickhead, your day is coming fast.)

Rudeness....(see above)

Anyone who is mean or cruel to children, animals or the elderly. If you want to spank your child, Hell, even beat that ass right slap clean off the frame (which I had to do once to the 10yr. old when he was 9....but I haven't had to hardly raise my voice since then...hmmmm......lasting peace through superior firepower??? Could be) or get a little cranky with Mr. Crabtree down the street cuz he doesn't keep his big fucking droolin' ass marmaduke dog, who shits the size of a volkswagen outta yer yard, then by all means, go ahead.

But if you are the kind of guy who is in such a hurry, that he lays on his horn and scares the terrified shit outta somebodys little bitty hunched-over grandma as she tries to creep from the parking lot to the store in front of him. Then I will calmly block your car with my big ass American-made Chevy truck. Walk over to your imported POS fart-can trunk thumper and snatch your cocky little whigger punk ass up by the scruff of your neck, as the stark realization begins to dawn in your eyes, that you are about to get your ass fucking KICKED after I drag you into the store, IN FRONT of a shitload of people, and go find the little old lady (who didn't get far....she had the "little old lady 2inch step" thing just a scuttlin and "coerce" an apology outta you before returning you to your car with the understanding you will never EVER do that shit again.
(I got a standing O for that me feel kinda silly, to tell you the truth. But I guess there are alot more people fed up with the day to day uncivility we live in nowadays than I realized)
I'm telling you, shit like that turns me into the poster boy for the fucking politeness

I'm also the guy you're gonna see on an overpass someday with a .50 cal full-auto browning mowing down idiots doing the speed limit in the fast lane on (man, just the THOUGHT of that makes me all happy in my pants!!!) YOU!! YOU IN THE FAST LANE!!!!.....MOVE THE FUCK OVER OR DIE!!!! AHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA (as I unload belt after belt of .50 cal ammo.....*sigh* good times...good times)

wow, I need to switch to was too much fun on a Sunday morning.

Thursday, February 24, 2005

Boy, did this get outta hand.

Sorry it's been so long for an update, a procrastinators work is never done.

I really don't have anything bothering me at the moment so I thought I'd do one of those cool "getting to know me" thingys.

I was born in Ft.Worth Texas and grew up in Orlando, Fl.
Because of that, I didn't see snow until I was 36 and had moved to Amarillo, Tx.
I'm an only child, but I have 5 step-brothers and sisters.
I've buried alot of people in my lifetime. Both parents, my best friend way too young, two brothers who were like brothers to me (in the same accident) a very good friend from a brain embolism, and "Wild Bill" who was like a father to the whole crew of us and one of the sweetest, kindest men that ever took a breath. The worst one of all was my step-fathers mother, Marguerite. It makes this writing get all blurry just thinking about her now. Everybody should have that Grandmother who always has something cooking on the stove, won't let you say ''no thanks gramma, I already ate" no matter what, and giggles like a little kid when you love on her and tickle her. I swear, that woman never let ANYbody come into her home without feeding them something off the stove and a little sumpthin' sumpthin' she'd baked.

When I was younger and was a hotshot rock guitar player, she'd always ask me to play her a song. "Aw gramma, I don't know any country stuff" is what I always said. (back then, I HATED country, what did I know...Alison Krause was probably only 12 then) Of course, everytime granddaddy would hear me playing at mach5 through my amp, he'd always chide me with "got your radio stuck between stations again, didn'tcha''? (God, I miss him too)

But I never did play a song for her. Then.

I had moved around the country quite a bit in the past few years, so it took my step-sister a while to find me. When she was finally able to track me down, I was staying at a musician buddies house in Florida. The only words I remember from that conversation were, "Grandma is dying of cancer and she's asking for you". I got a little more of the particulars but I must have absorbed it through osmosis, because my mind was already racing through memories of Grandma. The one thing that stuck out in my mind was that the ONLY thing she'd ever asked of me, was to play her a song.

Do you know what shame feels like?

Tears were stinging my eyes as I wrote this down.

For Grandma,
I guess this is my only way, to tell you how much i'll miss you.
For all that you've been, and all that you've done, for me.
The wisdom that saved me, the love that you gave me.
Will comfort my soul, knowing that you have only begun.
And another angel joins those, who watch over me.
And I smile, just knowing that you, will always be near.
It won't be so hard to become the man i'm supposed to.
For the angels are guiding the path of my heart with their love.
And all of my words from now on, will carry your spirit.
I'll remember your laugh and your smile, as long as I breathe.
You showed me that the treasures of life, are only worth sharing.
And my greatest gift from now on, will be all of your love.

To this day, I can't write those words, much less sing them without choking up.

But I sang it for her as she lay there, hoping that she knew I was there through the painkillers the hospice nurse had given her. All I can hope is that somewhere, through the haze of pain and drugs, she'd heard HER song. I was sorry beyond words that it had taken so long to give her, what she'd so simply asked for. She deserved better from the likes of me.

(this wasn't what I started out to write, but i'm gonna post it before I lose my nerve and close the window)

Friday, February 18, 2005

Where have you gone, Joe Dimaggio?


The modern professional athlete. What a joke. When I was a kid, athletes were the good guys. They were the guys that encouraged you to eat healthy, drink your milk, get plenty of rest and exercise, and to listen to your mom. Nowadays, Carmelo Anthony encourages you to beat the shit outta anybody who snitches out the local drug dealer. Nice, innit? Oh, and Ron Artest? Now that's what I want to teach my kids, If somebody "disrepects" you ("Punkass bitch threw ICE on me? I gots to kill a muthafucka now, boiiiiiiiii") attack EVERYBODY. Kobe Bryant? Where do I start? Latrell "the choker" Sprewell? If the coach is hard on you son, you don't have to listen to him, just strangle him. Then, wait a few years, and pitch a bitch about how hard it is to "feed your family" on $14,625,000. A year. Fucking spoiled, pampered, bitchy little pussies. When the NBA finally goes the way of hockey due to lack of fan interest(read: all the white people finally get fed-up and quit watching), you'll know exactly where the blame lies.

THEN, there's Major League Baseball. These jerkoffs have fucked up my beloved American pastime to be damned. "Now looka here son, if that there pitcher thows a pitch you don't like, you just charge right on out there and commence to whuppin' on his ass." Every father in America might as well be telling that to their kids, cuz that's what our kids are learning from watching a modern day professional baseball game. (Just FYI, if I would have ever been able to realize my childhood dream of becoming a major league pitcher, not only would I have been the first pitcher in baseball history to charge the batters box, I would have thrown at Barry Bonds' head in the on-deck circle (not to mention the batters box and probably the goddamn dugout), I fucking HATE that smug, 'roid-ridden' piece of shit.)

See, I have this theory about sports nowadays. Major athetics no longer encourage "team principles." Look at the NBA. It used to be that in the team sports, the best TEAM won. You know, encourage values like teamwork, sacrificing for the greater good, working harder than your competition. Beating them any way you could. As a TEAM. Hmmmm, I wonder how many corporate success stories are based on those very same ethics and values. Now in the NBA, it's clear out and let *insert superstar prima-donna of choice* make a beautiful acrobatic, athletic move and either dunk the ball, hit a beautiful jumper, or miss the shot and turn and glare at the officials like they just heard the "N" word in an Alabama Evangelical Church. Very entertaining at times, but it encourages nothing but selfishness.

And that's why I'm so fucking pissed off about all this shit. There is rarely anything about the modern day athlete that INSPIRES. I want my sons to be able to have sports heroes, just as I did as a kid. But, unfortunately there just aren't too many.

Thank God for Tom Brady and LeBron James.

(until the day when we find out Brady is gay and LeBron is hooked on crack)

I'm whiskytangofoxtrot, and I just want to be able to watch a game with my boys without having to explain why somebody is being led away in fricken' handcuffs. Is that so much to ask?

Tuesday, February 15, 2005

Mental floss

This originally started as a rant for here, but then morphed into a Pushforcoin rant....sorry.
(for some reason, the fact that I could actually get paid caish wampum for this kind of stuff keeps creeping into my thought Anyways, here it is, I apologize for not being smart 'nuff to make the linky things or put pictures here on the blog.

Now, I'm no writer. (no duh genius, thanks for the extry- special GLIMPSE into your life) I never kept a journal, never "wrote things down", hell I can't begin to remember the last letter I wrote, it's been so

But, for some reason, somebody liked what I had to say (just by reading some things I posted on a in internet forum. What can I say...Long Live the Internet!! Hooray!) enough to ask me to write some stuff for their website. "MMmmmmokay", I thought, what the hell have I got to lose? After all, they're not gonna pay me right off the bat sooooooooo.........fuck it, i'll have a go. If I suck, I can always plead stupidity and that will be that.

But then something happened. I began to realize the theraputic benefits of "downloading" all the junk that collects in my mental "temporary interworld cache" onto the "junk folder of life" known as

Now I don't want any of you reading this to think that I'm ripping on you at all. This site (meaning the P4C) has it's advantages and dis-advantages just like anything else in life. If you like to "rough up your suspect" or "teach yourself the secret handshake" to pictues of hot, nekkid, disposable blonde-bots with little or no body hair, then scooter, you've come to the right place. Or, lets say you prefer to "assault your friendly weapon" or engage in a little "man to gland combat" to vids of sperm burpin' gutter-sluts. Then, right this way sir, we can certainly accomodate you. Click on any of the links (the links over there on the left, you glaze-covered drooling idiot) and you're sure to find enough eye-candy to spank yourself silly with. Like I said, not ripping on you at all.

And just so the ladies out there don't think we here at the P4C are total pigs (Yes, I get emails all the time cuz we don't have any links for the girls. First of all, I'm OFFA's not my site, I just provide reading material for those of you NOT engaged in "gnarfling your garthog" at the moment.) You ladies can jump onto the forums here at the P4C and make yourselves heard, trust me, DicB checks those pretty regularly and if enough of you got in his "cyberface" about it, he'd be daffy not to hook you up, right? Ain't living in a democracy great? Innit? I think so. But let's move on, shall we?

In "wrapping this up", remember kiddies, that the 'net is big and bad and fun and dangerous and scary and everything else too, all rolled up into a big ol' fat brain joint just waiting to be smoked. And there is a place for all of us, even me, "Mr. nice guy" AND my alter ego, "Mr. Angry White Male who has NO patience for idiocy and wants to bash your fucking head in for being so stupid and probably reproducing other little moronic stupids just like you (v2.0) who are only gonna clutter things up and make it EVEN tougher on the rest of us". Ummm...sorry....that's what happens when he pops out, he goes on a total rampage and then just like that, he's outta here. Me too.

That's my story,
and i'm stuck to it.


whiskytangofoxtrot wants you to know that even though most of you really piss him
off, he loves you anyway.

Now go and click on some links so I can afford to buy my kid the G.I.Joe w/ the
kung-fu grip.

Saturday, February 12, 2005

If her name is Tennile, then what do I call you, scooter?

I just downloaded the full version of Trillian (thanks D) and man is it super nifty keen-0 bitchen'thrashin'shreddin.

So while I was setting up all the cool bells and whistles and schtuffies, my buddy Cody from Amarillo IM's me. It seems that Trillian mooshes (technical term) all your contacts together (if you use several addresses, which i do...i'm dark and mysterious) and so he was indignantly IM'ing me wanting to know just who in the heck I was. They say words like "heck" in Amarillo, it's one of the reasons I love it there, loved living there, and one day will move back. So anyways, ol' Scrody Cody-Odie proceeds to catch me up on what's been happening since we hadn't talked in a while.

It seems my buddy has a girlfriend.

It also seems that her name is "Tennile". As SOON as I saw it, I couldn't help myself....

"Dude, you are SO gonna be forever called The Captain".

Of course, his retort was immediately directed at questioning my sexuality, inasmuch as a one word comment could do. (I quickly pointed out to him that it was not I that would be, "doin the jitterbug down in muskrat land") It was at this point that my so-called friend, cordially invited me to violently introduce the aforementioned muskrat into a stinky no-no place.

Even though it WAS a Friday night, I politely declined.

Needless to say, after that it was open season on muskrat jokes, fake captain hat jokes, and a whoooooooooooole slew of "Do that to me one more time" zingers, then his patience ran out.

Pussy. lol

Anyways, I'm just starting to tap the random stream of conscienceness blithering here, so any feedback is appreciated. And to my buddy Cody with MUCH LOVE BROTHAH.....

you da caaaaaaaaaaaaptain....

Goodnight Ms.Ockmoneck, wherever you are!!

Friday, February 11, 2005

The evil midnight ranter what rants at midnight!

The evil midnight ranter what rants at midnight!

Hey all, until I get a little more of this figured out, There are two "observations" posted on

Now understand, I was asked to provide material and have NO control over any pics or other material on the site. I only mention this because there are a few pics on the site I would rather they not have "associated" with my stuff, but hey, you get paid ya money ya takes ya chances.

"ya done it, ya blogged the tater"

If you don't know who Ron White is, ooze out from under your rock and laugh along with the rest of us, if all of us are laughing together they don't know who to take the medication away from.

whiskytangofoxtrot is "blogged in".....(finally)

Well, here I are kiddies, (finally!) dragged kicking and screaming into the 21st century.

Thanks for keeping it tidy till I got here, now I can proceed to fuck everything up to be damned.

No thanks will be necessary at all, it's what I do best.