Monthly Archives: October 2012

Dad: I Sure Miss That Ole Fart

It was bitter cold windy winter evening when Dad made me stay on the front porch while I wore nothing but pajamas and a deep sence of satisfaction.

This story about my Dad and I is too funny, rich, and good to pass up. It is about passing gas, flatulence, farts. If you find that offensive and vulgar – loosen up.

Dad was never known for his social graces. Sure, at times he’d leave the room to pass gas, but if it was family – look out!

It was a bitter cold windy winter evening in January of ’60. Mom was at work and Dad and I had the house to ourselves. We were watching TV. I don’t know what Dad ate for supper, but it certainly registered on the Richter Scale and it was sewer gas quality on the Hedonic Tone Assessment.

To escape I went to the kitchen and got a bowl of ice cream. Under the optimum conditions ice cream has an adverse effect on my digestive system. In short time it produces gas that I sometimes have to run from. Well this bitter cold windy winter evening was such a night.

After finishing the ice cream I slipped into my pajamas.

Dad started reading the paper and I continued with watching TV.

My intestines were working at a feverish pace. I could feel it. It was like little bombs detonating. It was now only a matter of physics, displacement, and time. My body would no longer be able to hold back the inevitable.

As my intestines gurgled and raged my thoughts turned to the hour or so of unpleasant odors gifted by my dear ole Dad. I surmised he had it coming to him.

I relaxed and slowly released, a controlled burn. I don’t mean to be indelicate, but it burned. Past experience led me to believe this was bad. I had an imaginary vision of it floating. With that vision I calculated the time it would reach Dad. In order for him to receive the full benefit he had to sniff and sniff deeply.

I used the yawning psychological phenomena; If someone yawns another person can’t resist yawning. As much as it pained me I sniffed deep and long. Dad was too absorbed in the paper to notice. I continued. Finally he heard me and sniffed deeply. There was a pause. The paper fell like the walls of Jericho. “My god!” Dad said as if he read the Soviets had landed on Manhattan. “What the hell crawled up in you and died? Get the hell out of the house.”

I laughed so hard another burning stream of gas issued forth.

Dad was outwardly upset and indignant. He grabbed hold of me. He gave me a kick in the seat and pushed me out the front door and locked it. “Don’t come in until you’re done.”

All I had on was pajamas. It was snowing and blowing. I shivered and watched the bitter wind whip snow down the street.

Dad opened a window and waved the paper as if he was clearing the place of smoke.

Every time I pass gas it reminds me of dear old Dad – really. I miss that ole fart.

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Boise State Continues To Improve And Inch Closer To A BCS Bowl Game

Boise State’s defensive end Demarcus Lawrence moved in from the junior college ranks and is a force to be reckoned with. Against Wyoming he spent as much time in the Cowboys’ back field as their quarterback and had a blocked field goal.

Saturday I watched Boise State play a pretty good game against Wyoming.

DJ Harper (“The Hopper!”)  had another terrific game even with a long run being called back. He continues to be the heart and soul of the offensive game.

One thing that caught my eye was that in the third quarter Wyoming ran the option. That is what nearly lost the game at New Mexico. It was played perfectly for a four yard loss. That shows how far the defense has come in recognizing on the fly what other teams toss Boise’s way. That’s good coaching and execution.

In the second half the Boise defensive backs were starting to dial in and read where Wyoming was throwing. They came near to picking-off three or four passes.

Enough cannot be said about the offensive line. Southwick has plenty of time and is seldom sacked (three times the entire year).

Joe Southwick has continued to improve. One noticeable difference between he and Kellen Moore is that Southwick throws more to the receiver rather than the area of the field where the receiver should be. In that respect Southwick has to display more confidence in the offensive system and the ability of receivers to be there.

I’m still of the opinion Boise has one of the best receiving corps in college football.

Boise has jumped to 19th in the BCS standings. It would be great to see them higher, but admittedly the strength of schedule this year is a problem and maybe even a blessing. The teams they have played this year so far have won a total of 26 games. Number 18 Texas Tech’s opponents have won 37 games, although Tech has lost two games.

Boise’s early loss really set them back. It’s hard for a small school to dig themselves out of a hole. I won’t say this often, but the polls are reflective of where the teams should be at this point. That said, if Boise continues to win there is little justification in keeping them from moving up a position or two each week.

The so called style points or margin of victory says nothing. Strength of schedule like mentioned before is a factor, but good teams raise to the occasion. They can win by three against an 0 – 8 team and turn around and win by twenty against an 8 – 0 team.

We could talk about margin of loss. In the last 4 ½ years the total margin of loss by Boise to opponents has been a total of 10 points.

Moore And Young In Detroit

Sunday I watched Titus Young catch the game winning touchdown for the Detroit Lions against the Seattle Seahawks. Young had an all-pro day. He caught nine passes for 100 yards and two touchdowns.

After the game Kellen Moore with his toothy smile congratulated Young. Moore wasn’t even dressed for the game. Maybe he’s not quite ready, but it sure was sad not seeing the quarterback with the most wins in college football history not get a chance.

It is my feeling that Moore is like a sponge absorbing everything that takes place on the field.


Filed under Sports

A Chick-Fil-A Gay Moment

I went to a new Chick-Fil-A the other day. The place was crowded and it wasn’t even an anti gay marriage protest. It was a grand opening. Oh yeah, I did see some Holsteins holding signs in support of eating more chicken. Other than that there was no trouble at all.

Years ago I went to a Chick-Fil-A. It was pretty good. I prefer beef over chicken (don’t tell the cows that), but when it comes to fast-food chicken Chick-Fil-A ranks the best.

Well, then their CEO had the unmitigated gall to espouse 6,000 years of recorded human history that he was not for gay marriage. The gay community and other socially conscience limelighters could not wait to wade in.

Some cities have wanted to ban their right to do business in their municipalities. Just think about it; those cities will grant the right of the KKK and NAZI party permission to assemble with police protection and because the CEO of the company expresses an opinion that is held by the majority they excoriate him and his company.

I don’t know of any socially conscience do-gooder who has asked Hooters to leave town. That place is blatantly misogynistic and sexist. It exploits and demeans women.

It has always bothered me that clowns like Ronald McDonald have been used to promote to kids fast and unhealthy meals. Where do the clowns stand on this issue. They should be outraged. Could it just be since there are not as many circuses they are more concerned with keeping a job than with children’s health. I’d like to hear from the clowns on this one.

Anyway, a new Chick-Fil-A opened just outside Boise. People camped-out in order to be among the first to enjoy one of their food items.

I went there a couple of days after they opened. There were so many people they had to direct parking. A manager stood at the door to direct traffic into the restaurant. I was in and out in about ten minutes which is about how long it takes at McDonalds for a coffee when the place is empty.

I couldn’t help but wonder, ‘do all these people hate homosexuals?’

While I was waiting in line I saw these two guys standing in line hand to hand. I thought I’d (start some trouble) engage in a little spontaneous public debate. Advocating a controversial point of view if even not your own is a good way to get the ball rolling.

I approached them. “Don’t you know this place hates gay people?”

They ignored me.

“Ya know you’re not wanted here,” I continued.

They looked at each other and looked away.

“What do you think this looks like for your cause? What if somebody were to snap a picture of you two? You would be the poster couple for gay hypocrisy. I can see your pictures on cups of Starbuck’s lattés already. You won’t be able to shop at a Gap without being instantly recognized. You would set the whole movement back twenty years. Look at all the gains that have been made. It‘s all down the drain.”

Finally one guy says, “Will you get lost. I skipped bail. The guy I’m cuffed to is a bounty hunter. If I promised not to try anything he promised me a Chick-Fil-A and you’re about to ruin it.” He held up his hands and showed the handcuffs.

“Sorry,” I said. “But you’d still make a cute couple.”

(Please be assured Dear Reader that none of this really took place. I did go to Chick-Fil-A. Other than good service, friendly emplyoyees, and a very good sandwich my visit was uneventful.)


Filed under Essays

My Most Embarrassing Moment; A Musical Memory

He’s probably thinking ‘I still have my pajama bottoms on.’

One of the most embarrassing moments of my life, that I’m willing to write about, came in the second grade. All the students were required to sing a song solo in front of the class. I was so terrible all the kids laughed. I vowed to never allow that to happen again.

Fast-forward; new school, seventh grade, and me with a dark secret, I can’t carry a tune.

It was my first year at Bath School just east of Lima, Ohio. A sweet lady, Mrs. Welty was our music teacher. Towards the end of the year we had to sing a song solo in front of the class. Not for a moment am I exaggerating, I can not go on to explain me fear. It was paralyzing. I felt as if so mush blood had rushed to my head that it would explode.

The class period was too short for all the students to perform their solo in one session. The teacher did not make it to my name after the first period.

The class was walking out of the room and I lingered. I walked by the teacher’s desk and marked my solo as complete in her grade book.

The next music class period a couple of days later she passed right by my name because it appeared as if complete. My relief was wonderful.

Then she asked if anyone had been missed? I will never forget Dave Williamson raising his hand and telling the teacher that I had not sung my solo. I was outed. Everyone in the class turned to me and confirmed I had been passed over. She responded by saying the grade book was marked ‘completed.’ “Have you sung yet?” she asked. With so many witnesses I could hardly lie, even though I would have liked to.

So to the head of the class I went. She accompanied me for my second solo performance. It was even worse than the first one.

Although I pretended to have fun laughing at myself along with the class it was crushing to me.

Just before the class period ended Mrs. Welty ask me in front of the class, “You have a wonderful sounding tone and quality to your voice. If you like, I could help you shape it.” What a wonderful thing she did. She was not going to allow me to leave the room completely broken, embarrassed, and ashamed.

I thought the song we sung was absolutely the worst song I have ever heard, but the video at the end has revised my thinking considerably. (Teenagers should never be used to judge good music.) Here are the lyrics. If memory serves me we had to sing only one verse. After the lyrics is the tradition recording found on YouTube.

I remember days when we were younger

We used to catch ‘o’opu in the mountain stream

‘Round the Ko’olau hills we’d ride on horseback

So long ago it seems it was a dream

Last night I dreamt I was returning

and my heart called out to you

But I fear you won’t be like I left you

Me kealoha ku’u home o Kahaluu

I remember days when we were wiser

When our world was small enough for dreams

And you have lingered there my sister

And I no longer can it seems

Last night I dreamt I was returning

and my heart called out to you

But I fear you won’t be like I left you

Me kealoha ku’u home o Kahaluu

Change is a strange thing

it cannot be denied

It can help you find yourself

or make you lose your pride

Move with it slowly

as on the road we go

Please do not hold on to me

we all must go alone

I remember days when we were smiling

When we laughed and sang the whole night long

And I will greet you as I find you

With the sharing of a brand new song

Last night I dreamt I was returning

and my heart called out to you

To please accept me as you’ll find me

Me kealoha ku’u home o Kahaluu


Filed under My Music

The Night Dad Almost Shot A Black Man

In the North there were no signs like this. It was just understood blacks did not go into white bars. That was the worst kind of racism.

The year was 1953. It was near closing time at my Dad‘s bar. There were only a few people remaining.

A black man walked in. For that era, that was never done. Dad’s bar was a white bar. The normal response would have been for the black man to realize it was a white bar, apologize, and leave. He didn’t. He sat at the bar. The normal thing would have been for the bartender to have ordered him to leave. If he refused the customers would have assisted the bartender in tossing him out or the police would have been called. No law existed for the black man not to stay, but it was justified in keeping peace. Even if the officers who arrived were black they would have removed the black man. That’s the way it was.

Dad saw immediately the man was drunk; not staggering drunk, but just enough liquor to make him belligerent and give him courage.

“I want a shot of whisky,” the man said.

“I think you’ve had enough already,” Dad said.

“Than I’ll take a beer,” the man said.

“Like I said, you’ve had enough,” Dad said.

“I’ll take something to eat,” the man said.

“The kitchen is closed,” Dad said.

In a blink of an eye the man pulled a knife and held the point to Dad’s throat.

Beneath the bar Dad kept ball ping hammers. He used them to tap kegs. As the two men stared at one another Dad was feeling along the top of the keg for a hammer.

Dad was extremely quick with his hands. His plan was to find the hammer and drive it through the man’s skull.

Dad could not find the hammer.

Earlier that day, in the morning, I was playing behind the bar. I was wearing my double holstered cap pistols. They were a Christmas gift and Dad bought them for the authentic look. For some reason, known only to the mind of a seven year old boy, the ball ping hammer held more fascination than one of my cap pistols. I took the hammer and left a pistol.

Dad was beginning to panic.

“If ya don’t get me a beer I’m gonna slit your throat,” the man said.

Dad’s fingers continued to work their way along the top of the keg like a spider. At last he came across the cap pistol. Dad figured the cap pistol would not have the weight to inflict any crippling damage to the man’s skull.

Dad grasp the cap pistol and held it to the man’s head with just enough speed for him to recognize it was a pistol.

“You start cuttin’ and I’ll start shootin’.” Dad said calmly.

Fear immediately flashed on the man’s face. His eyes widened. He dropped his knife on the bar, and nearly ripped the door off it’s hinges while leaving.

Dad liked to tell that story.

My grandfather on my Mom’s side hated blacks. I will never knew why. Some men, I suppose, have to hate something or somebody. My father hated my grandfather, but he loved telling that story to my grandfather. I think it was something my grandfather would have liked to have done, but had neither opportunity nor courage. It was something my Dad held over my grandfather. It was the ultimate story. My grandfather could never match that story.

I never liked the way Dad told the story. He used as many racial epithets that were available for the time.

I knew Dad was not that kind of man on the inside.

On one occasion after he told the story I told him how badly I felt for taking the hammer. Dad told me if not my actions a man may have lost his life for nothing more than wanting to be treated like a man.


Filed under Dad

Boise State; “Paint It Black”

Boise State’s DJ Harper, Micheal Atkinson, and Jay Ajayi in their black uniforms.

Boise State sported for the first time black uniforms in its homecoming game against UNLV last Saturday. Coach Petersen said it had been in the works for several years. The fans responded with a black-out. Everybody wore black.

Many years ago Ohio State adopted a fans’ song, I guess you could say. It was the old 60s song by the McCoys, Hang On Sloopy. Paint It Black by the Rolling Stones would make a great fan song. It would be great to see Boise State run on to the field in all black to the steady beat of Paint It Black. In fact a change in the lyrics might even inspire another change; “I see a blue field and I want to paint it black.” Nah, maybe not, but then again who ever thought of blue.

Is This The BCS Year?

Boise State has moved closer to being in position to qualify for a BCS bowl game. They are now ranked 21st in the BCS poll.

This year is probably, at least on paper, the weakest and least experienced squad head coach Chris Petersen has fielded. With that in mind it would be a cruel irony to go to a BCS game with a team that may be its weakest in five or six years.

Boise should run the table with what remains on their schedule. They face only two teams with winning records, San Diego and Nevada. Teams ahead of them in the polls face more formidable opponents.

Ten of the twenty teams ahead of them have equal or worse records. Some of the those schools have opponents that will surly beat them.

A Word On The UNLV Game

The UNLV game showed how far Boise has come as a complete team. This is not the same team that lost the opener to Michigan State 17 – 13. With the current defense I don’t see Le’Veon Bell hurdling over the top of Boise State defenders for 210 yards.

Looking back at that game one can only imagine the pressure on Joe Southwick. He had replace what some thought was the irreplaceable, Kellen Moore. It was as if he was coming off the bench.

The defensive team is as complete of a squad as you will see. Many of us wondered how they would replace last years defensive line. Wonder no more. The test will be if we will see anybody else who will run an option offense.

It was good to see Grant Hedrick take a few snaps and run complete series. Likewise there were many other new faces that saw action in the second half.

Let’s not forget what happened at New Mexico. They scored 29 points in the second half. That is the highest number of points scored by New Mexico in an entire game for the season. If it was a mental lapse; think better!

What Lies Ahead

Look for the next four games to be a mix offensively of aerial attacks the likes of which have never been seen at Boise. It will be a preview of what will come next year. Boise State stands on the verge of displaying the best corps of receivers in the country for the 2013 season; Matt Miller, Kirby Moore, Aaron Burks, Dallas Burroughs, Geraldo Boldewijn, Shane Williams-Rhodes, and a corps of tight ends; Holden Huff, Gabe Linehan, and Hayden Plinke. This will be a good time to be offensive coordinator and quarterback at Boise State.

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What Is Accomplished By A Debate?

Sometimes debates and cage fighting expose not only the dignity and intellect of the participants, but the audience as well.

Debates, Presidential and otherwise are useless devices. They are fraught with problems, dangers, and contradictory interpretations.

Seldom does a viewer or listener change their mind after a debate. Each side leaves the debate more convinced than ever that their side won and their position is correct. Nothing substantially changes.

Even a person who is completely neutral to the competing participants can not judge adequately who won or lost. That person brings his own values, prejudices, intellect, and ignorance to the forum of opinion.

Truth is not the strategy of winning a debate. Participants use the tactics of confusing, confounding, embarrassing, demeaning, or belittling the opponents point of view, credentials, or attack them personally.

Both sides use predetermined words and phrases designed to cajole the favor of the majority rather than establish ‘truth.’ Political debates are never about ‘truth.’ They are only about power and persuasion; any means justify the ends. It is very likely the honorable and moral of the two debating is considered by the majority as the loser.

The truly wise person knows that anything that comes from a debate cannot be trusted.

There is a lesson to be learned. If you observe a debate and listen to news reporters talk about it afterward you wonder; did we listen to the same debate? It may seem so different from what you observed. Armed with that bit of information and the logic of your own personal experience it can be used to view how the news in general is reported.

Bear in mind that seldom what is reported in the news is truly factual nor can we conceivably do anything to alter it.

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