ReAd ChicKens' Butts aND cOcONUtS bEFOrE IT'S TOO LATE!!!!!

I’m just breezin’ along with the breeze, breezin’ along

with the breeze. Hey, Hi, everyone. It’s me again! Hasn’t the

book been egg-citing so far? Did you think I’d be too chicken

to write a second chapter? I guess I’m coming out of my

shell. That’s no yoke! Some people say I’m cracked and

others think I’m just a dumb cluck. But someday, I’ll be at

the beak of my career. So, please, don’t cry fowl and start

and international hen-cident.

Have you noticed a chicken theme in Chapter 2? Have

you also noticed the author of this book being an eensy bit

paranoid? (Just a side note: Is it the teeny weenie, itsy

bitsy, inky dinky or eensy weensie spider that went up the

water spout?) My red-haired sinister is not the main reason

I’m paranoid. Actually, the root cause is------(dum dum dum

dum – dramatic music) chickens’ butts and coconuts.

Let me take you back to my childhood. (harp music and

fog from a machine) back, baaack, baaaack, (echo)

baaaaaaaaaack, baaaaaaaaaack. (We spare no expense on the

special effects.)

There I was in my Buster Browns and my corduroy. Cute

as a bug. Innocent. Unsuspecting. Minding my own business.

(Let’s face it, I was precious.) My world was peaceful, secure

and satisfying. Until the “day!” I remember it ever so clearly.

It was a Sunday morning and the golden sunbeams were

streaming through the lace curtains like gentle laser beams

from an alien warship. Everything seemed so normal. Dad was

reading the Post Dispatch, Mom was in the kitchen, my

brothers and sisters were watching Kukla, Fran and Ollie.

How was I to know that this would be the most—no wait,

let’s try again. How was I to know that this would be the

darkest, most terrifying day of my life! (Psycho music)

(Yeah, that’s good.)

I’ll never forget my Mom’s words. They seemed so sweet

and loving. Daaaany, come to the kitchen. I have a surprise

for you.

A surprise? Oh, joy! Cake? Candy? A pony? Not exactly.

She had something a bit more unusual, shall we say, in mind.

(More psycho music).

Mama was standing in front of the kitchen sink with her

favorite, razor-sharp butcher’s knife in her hand. The

mirror-like blade of the knife reflected her face as a

distorted, scrunched up image of a surreal, uh, let’s see,

Lucille Ball. Yeah! That’s it! Kind of like a psychotic,

demented, Lucille Ball.

At the time, I thought nothing of it. Why would I be

suspicious of Mom? Wasn’t she the one who woke up at all

hours to feed me and change my dirty diapers? Didn’t she

clean up my baby puke and bathe me when I rolled in tar?

Sure, sure she did, uh huh, yep, she did all right. So why,

then, did it happen? Why, why didn’t I recognize the signs.

The hoot owl hooting outside my window and the dead

albatross in my sandbox.

Me, Nancy, and Dee-Dee, my MLRHS.

Chickens' Butts And Coconuts...Excerpts from my first book!

Since I was the youngest and most persecuted child in the

family, I always slept on the floor. 

One morning my vicious,

red-haired sister came and rolled me out of the floor. She had the best of news! She was soooo excited! 

Looking out the window, she said, “come, see, Mom and Dad bought you a pony!”

She continued, “it’s brown with a white mane, a black leather saddle with silver decorations, and it’s just your size!”.

Having no reason to doubt my own flesh and blood; I rushed to the window. (I almost broke my neck from slipping on roller skates that had inexplicably been left in my path).

“Where’s the pony? Did it run away? Am I looking in the right place?” 

Then a chill went up my spine, when I heard my

fiendish, red-haired sister’s devilish laugh.

“You Dufus! Did you really believe that pony story? A pony in the projects?

Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha, Ha, Hee, Hee, Hee. Whoa! You’re not gullible!

CHICKENS' BUTTS AND COCONUTS

By Danny Maness

Wow! I almost forgot about the food vendors! The

pretzel guy, watermelon guy, tamale guy! It wasn’t the food that was special. It was the songs! Every food vendor had a song. For instance:

Waaaa-teeee-mmmel-oooooo! (Translation – watermelon) Or:

Toooooo-mollllll-eeeeee! (Translation – tamale)

I think my favorite was the pretzel guy who always sang

(to the tune of “Puff the Magic Dragon”)

Eat the stinking pretzels,

Eat all you want

‘cause death and destruction,

Will come anyway,

Zits on you face will swell

And ooze and pop,

And how you gonna ever

Get a date with that mug,

Love is a sickness, and laughter is phony,

But life as we know it will only get worse,

Here’s you lousy pretzel

I hope you choke on it.

(No need of translation)

Now that guy was creative, but his pretzels were

 disgusting.

 

CHICKENS' BUTTS AND COCONUTS by Danny Maness

Me, Dee-Dee (mean little red haired sister), and sister Nancy.

Me in front, and my mean little red haired sister right behind me in bibs.

My earliest recollection is of my wicked, red-haired sister
trying to kill me. In her twisted little mind she came up with a
devious plan to starve me to death. She would grab my baby
bottle, run and smash it! I guess I should really thank her,
because I always suspected Mom of poisoning my milk.
This playground incident will be etched in my brain
forever. Remember the movie Rebecca? Remember Miss
Danvers and that strange look in her eyes. (If you haven’t
seen the movie, go and rent it now, We will wait). O.K. Now
we all know about that strange look in Miss Danver's eyes.
My evil red-haired sister had that look when she said, “the
swings, the swings, you must walk in front of the swings”.
Well, back then, swings were lethal weapons. The seats
were made of two-inch thick,, oak boards with sharp pointed
corners. I, in my innocent youth, trusted the red-haired
demon and walked in front of that instrument of death. Last
thing I remember, they were putting fourteen stitches in my
head. But, ha! I survived! The ruthless, red-head’s plan didn’t
work. More important, my brain still functions nominally.
The “projects”. Yeah, that’s what we called ‘em. Sometimes
just the “jects” when were short on time. The “projects” were
early communes. We usually had, at any given time, 2000 people
in our apartment alone. On holidays it was worse. On one New
Year’s Eve we had to order 27,000 White Castle hamburgers.
Then we couldn’t get to the bathroom because of the boxes. Of
course, that meant we – well, let’s not go there.
When we moved to the suburbs I was surprised our
family only had eight people.

From My Book, Chickens' Butts And Coconuts.

CHAPTER 1

THE ‘JECTS’

Why are you reading this book? Check box.

a) It was a gift.

b) The title was intriguing.

c) God told you to read it.

What do you expect to get from this book?

a) The meaning of life.

b) Wisdom beyond your years.

c) Paper cuts.

Who was the greatest actor?

a) James Dean

b) Dean Jones

c) Shirley Jones

d) Dean Stockwell

e) Jimmy Dean

f) Farkle the Wonder Rat

Whoops! Sorry. I got away from the point of the

book. What do you mean, what is the point of the book?

How dare you ask that question after all we’ve been

through!

Now, where was I?

How many books do you think you will order?

a) 100

b) 150

c) Keep sending me books till I’m dead.

d) Send books even after I’m dead.

e) Send books to future generations of my family.

Amazing Excerpts From My Book...Chickens' Butts And Coconuts
Chickens’ Butts and Coconuts may sound like a bizarre title,
but try singing it to the tune of the “William Tell Overture”.
Doesn’t it grow on you? If your answer is no, try “Ebony and
Ivory”. Does that work for you? No matter. Because, when
you find out the deep, dark story behind chickens’ butts and
coconuts and the sad, frightening tale that only I can tell,
you will say, hmmmm.
In this book you will occasionally find primitive-style
cartoons. Leave them alone! Do not try to touch them, pick
them up or play with them. If you leave them alone, they
will leave you alone.
By now you must be wondering why would an
intelligent, sensitive young man write a book like this?
That’s where I’ve got you! An intelligent, sensitive young
man didn’t write this book. I did!
Man, when you’re raised in the filth and squalor of the
Clinton-Peabody Housing Projects; in the suffocating heat
of South St. Louis, you end up in the State Penn, dead, or
a writer, or maybe a carpenter, truck driver or a
proctologist.
Hunger? Ha, I know hunger like I know the bottom of
a pool table.
Roaches? Roaches were my playmates. (Although, I
have to admit it took them a while to learn Yahtzee).
Crime and Violence? Crime and violence were my
school teachers. (Mr. Crime and Miss Violence).
So why am I writing this book after all these years?
It is not for the money. It is not for the fame. No.

My only wish is that one day after I’m long dead, someone picks up this book and says, “This is the weirdest stuff I have ever read! That! Yes, that is my goal!

FAMILY, FRIENDS, PRECIOUS TIME.

I woke up this morning and remembered I'm 62! 62?

Why, yesterday I was only 13!

How did that happen?

Life passes in the blink of an eye, but you don't realize it until you're old, like me.

Here is what I have learned from my fast moving, TOO fast moving, life.

Money, possessions, awards...these are not what satisfies our deepest needs.

Real peace, happiness, and satisfaction comes from spending our precious time with family and friends.

We never had much in the way of material things when I was a kid, but, boy did we have family and friends!

That is what I remember, that is what's in my heart. The laughter, jokes, long conversations, the warm feeling when a friend put his arm around me and picked me up from being down and depressed.

Precious time should not be wasted on things that we won't even remember in our later years.

Precious time should be reserved for our family, and close friends.

Toasted Cheerios (a cheap snack), talking, teasing each other, making up our own silly songs, and feeling part of something real and cozy is what I hold in my memory, and in my heart.

Willard and Barry Wrestling Match

I Wish Willard And Barry Could Just Wrestle For The Presidency!

We could stop all the bitter, stupid campaign crap, and all the billions of dollars spent on attack ads if Willard and Barry just wrestled for the Presidency!

That would be way cool with me, and most MEN in the U. S. of A.

Can you imagine how entertaining that would be? 

Better than the Super Bowl!

Sitting in our recliner with a beer or 3, and watching Willard and Barry body slamming each other, and doing the "pile driver" and such!

Barry is younger and probably more athletic than Willard, but I think Willard has the weight advantage, and more experience.

This would eliminate voter fraud, illegal contributions, boring debates, and all that stuff we despise.

So, who wants to join with me in support of Presi-mania...no, wait...CAGE PRESI-MANIA!!

That's the ticket!!

For my friend Tulleuchen.

My world famous friend, the "Mighty Tulleuchen", asked me about Glirkazoids. So here is a brief excerpt from my book, "Hitchin; God's Way Of Letting You Know You Don't Have A Car."...When a few Glirkazoids got wind of his diabolical plan, they spread the word and about 600 billion inhabitants of Glirka decided to head for other worlds!
( You know. Like when Krypton exploded, but with more survivors than just “baby Superman.”)
Now, here is what the awesome, magnificent, spectacular, frightening scene will look like in the upcoming movie:
The misty, blue planet of Glirka FLashes on to the entire movie screen in the “blink of an eye!”
Next, we begin to see tiny, shiny specks, racing away from the doomed planet in every direction!
We soon discern that the specks are little spaceships of all different shapes, colors and diminutive sizes.
First there is one, then two, ten, twenty, one hundred, ten thousand; now, millions of “itty bitty” spaceships, “hightalin’” it away from Glirka! ( Man! We are gonna need a lot of “extras!”)

The Scary Crystal Grill & Cafe Song!

Built in 1859, the Crystal Grill and Cafe began as a saloon with boarding rooms upstairs and is now considered one of the most haunted places in St. Louis. I did this little video because April Clepper, a family friend and owner of the Crystal Grill is a cool and caring person who understands the extreme importance of this historic old building and is working hard to restore this landmark. If you are a skeptic, she invites you to come for a tour and see for yourself. The St. Louis Ghost Hunters Society became believers after their investigation!
With Halloween coming up, what a perfect place to go to get the "you know what" scared out of you!

THE CRYSTAL GRILL AND CAFETERIA
2401 NORTH BROADWAY
ST. LOUIS MISSOURI 63102

Built in 1859, the Crystal Grill and Cafe began as a saloon with boarding rooms upstairs and is now considered one of the most haunted places in St. Louis. I did this little video because April Clepper, a family friend and owner of the Crystal Grill is a cool and caring person who understands the extreme importance of this historic old building and is working hard to restore this landmark. If you are a skeptic, she invites you to come for a tour and see for yourself. The St. Louis Ghost Hunters Society became believers after their investigation!
With Halloween coming up, what a perfect place to go to get the "you know what" scared out of you!

THE CRYSTAL GRILL AND CAFETERIA
2401 NORTH BROADWAY
ST. LOUIS MISSOURI 63102

Why aren't the Aposematics world famous yet? No, I am NOT obsessed with the Aposematics!

Find more The Aposematics songs at Myspace Music

I write this blog for me. Writing weird, silly, abstract, nonsensical things takes me away from my real problems and worries that have a tendancy to depress me. If it serves as an escape from reality for you guys, well, that's good too! However, even if I was on another planet (Some say I already am), zillions of miles away from contact with ANY life forms, I would still write, so I could forget about being on a deserted planet zillions of light years away from my loved ones. ( I think light years is better than miles, don't you?)
Now, here are some silly things that I don't understand, but writing about them helps me to relieve my stress from worrying about these things.
1. Why aren't the Aposematics famous yet? Yes, they have local fame and were mentioned in "Rolling Stone" magazine but they should be WORLD FAMOUS by now! Come on! They're that good! If they never become world famous what hope is there for the rest of us? Anyway, it helps me to write this down so it doesn't keep messin' with my dysfunctional brain 24/7!
2. Why doesn't everybody recognize that John Farmer ( Aposematics) is a genius songwriter, awesome singer and MASTER recording technician. Listen to these words he wrote: " Oh, sight for soreeyes, won't you come in, I've been combing the street for hours, just about to come in"... ( Who said I'm obsessed with the Aposematics? Heavens no!)
3. Lori Koch's voice is better than Taylor Swift's or Carrie Underwood's because Lori's voice puts me "THERE!" Lori's voice transports me to another time, dimension, and cozy warm place that Taylor and Carrie don't take me. ( I already told you, NO! I am not obsessed with the Aposematics! Chee-wawa!)
Wait a minute! We can help the Aposematics by supporting them at their concerts, clicking on their music, sharing their songs with others, and...whoops! I'm supposed to be writing this for myself as a kind of therapy and now I'm starting to include you guys in my Aposematic obsession...uh, I mean, NOT obsession, uh, support, yeah, that's it, SUPPORT!
See ya later!