THOUGHTFUL THURSDAYS

I was trying to think of something I'd written in my prolific past that was thoughtful enough for "Thoughtful Thursdays," and I think I came up with a perfect example from my celebrated, and seldom purchased book..."Hitchin', God's Way Of Letting You Know You Don't Have A Car."

Just a few poetical pondering's on my visit to San Francisco as a hippy wannabe in (circa) 1970:

Ode To The City So Gay 

San Francisco, happy, gay,

Grown men hand in hand,

Like kindergartners crossing the street,

Shall we say.

I ponder...do their wives and girlfriends get jealous?

It seems they have a burning need to display affection, 

With no fear of detection,

Like innocent children at play,

The men in St. Louis are too "macho",

Manly men that don't cry,

They would die before they would cry.

Why can't they display, everyday, 

Their emotions, sad and gay,

Like the people by the Bay.

I was treated like a king,

With flowers in my hair,

They would offer their chair,

One guy gave me his last pear.

I would get such loving stares,

From gentle, friendly men,

Never afraid to bear all of their feelings to me.

Why can't the whole wide worm be happy and gay,

In the way San Francisco was, in the "day".

Hooray! Hooray, for the gay!

Don't be sad. 

Be gay! Be gay! Be gay!

( But, watch out for the homos!!!)

Disclaimer: Any misinterpretation, miscontruing, or jumping to conclusions in regards to the authors view on homosexuality is all in your judgemental minds. The author of this blog is not really serious about anything, so you should never make the mistake of taking anything he says in a serious manner. Unless he's writing about Joni Mitchell, Richie Havens, his kids and grandkids, Sara-Marie Ulsund Stiksrud, his doggy, Benji, Marty Wombacher, his beautiful wife. God, and his Yellow Rose! Thanks for reading this small print!

WHO? WHAT? WHERE? WHEN?

HOW? WHY? WEDNESDAYS!!!!!

We are going to go back to our formative years and have fun with something that always made us feel smart!

What?! You ask so curiously!

We will be doing the "What Is Different" thingy!!

READY?!

HERE WE GO!!

WHAT IS DIFFERENT?

 


What is different?

 

What is different?

What is different?

WHAT IS DIFFERENT?

What is different?

Please submit your answers in comment box below, with a detailed explanation as to WHY you answered in such a ridiculous way!

Remember, your answers will be placed in your PERMANENT record!!

Choose wisely, grasshopper!!!

TRAVELIN' TUESDAYS

Travelin' Tuesdays go back to all the times I spent travelin' in my dysfunctional youth, and here is what it was like drivin' around St. Louis with my family in the "olden days."

Dashboards used to be made of hard metal. I’m not
saying some metal is soft. Although, gold is softer than iron.
Also, when metal is melted it’s soft, but who wants to touch
it? Anyway, we can talk about dashboards later.

I vividly recall riding down Market Street as a baby (I
vividly recall being 14 months old), and it brought ancient
Egypt to mind. 

The huge stone buildings with giant statues in
front. Kiel Auditorium, the Library, Union Station, even the
Post Office was impressive. (I’m not saying the Post Office
shouldn’t be impressive, no, no, you Postal workers only
deserve the best! Yep, only the best, uh huh, the best all
right!) 

Some of the gigantic statues were bears, some lions,
and some were naked people. My little mind had a very hard
time trying to figure why they would have statues like that
in the middle of St. Louis. I mean, bears and lions belong in
the woods.

So here I am, standing on the front seat of the Ford.
(Dad always loved Fords). No car seat laws. (It was a lawless
time back then.) Dad, like most dads, always tried to beat
the traffic lights. (This excludes Amish dads). 

Lest we forget, I’m STANDING in the front seat. Usually dad made it before the light turned red. But about ten percent of the time he had to stop. A very quick stop. The sudden stop would invariably propel me, like a shuttle-craft, off the front seat and head first into the steel dashboard. 

This occurred no less than 900 times
during my formative years.
Needless to say, my brain has not been affected
adversely. No, no it hasn’t. Nope, not my brain, nope, nope,
nope.

As much as I hate to admit it, my evil little red-haired
sister was a genius. So, since we had no radio in the car, she
would come up with songs to sing. She always knew all the
words, and the tune, and the rest of us followed along. For
example:

♫ I’ve got a corker gal, she’s my New Yorker gal,
I buy her everything to keep her in style,♪
♪She’s got a pair of hips, just like two battleships,
Yeah boys, that’s where my money goes.♫

(And do you remember?)
♪♪Gobs and gobs of greasy, grimy, gopher guts.♫

(How’s about)
♫I’ve got an F-O-R-D Ford, made of T-I-N tin board,
And I’ll T-A-K-E take you for an R-I-D-E ride.♪♪

(And)
♪♪My boomerang won’t come back,
My boomerang won’t come back.♪♪

(Also)
♫Norman, ooouuu, ooouuu, ooouuu.♫

(Let’s not forget)
♫♪While cruising in my Cadillac.
What to my surprise,
A little Nash Rambler, was following me----♪♫

(In addition)
♫He was a one-eyed, one-horned, flying purple people
eater---♪

(And our favorite)
Beethoven’s 9th Symphony (Just the choral part – in
English)

If you don't do anything else, click this on! You can thank me later!!

And here we all were. All eight of us in that little old
Ford. Singing songs and driving up and down Market street.
We were good too. Really!! Ask anybody!!

Right now, go and gather eight people! Got ‘em? O.K., load them in your car and drive around singing songs. Don’t turn on the radio, or air conditioner, or nuthin’. Go on, go on! (We can wait). 

Did you do it? I can’t believe a complete stranger told you to do
something stupid, and you did it! 

Whoa, you’re not gullible! HA Ha HAAAAAAA!!!!!