Who's Next?

You know there is something extremely refreshing about knocking off ones enemies and dragging their cheating skin and bones to Miller's Cave. (God help the person who gets lost in there) I'm certainly am not the first person to get my kicks in this manner either, so there is quite a crowd of well preserved dead folk occupying the "Grotto of Ghouls" as it is known to the spelunking set. Well, I can promise that crowd will be getting some 5 star entertainment pretty damn soon, providing I can get my hands on the funny man pictured at left.
That's correct, the halls of horror will ring with ghostly mirth when none other than Jerry Lewis stumbles in for an extended stay. Now don't go saying Aw Texino, why you got to murder Jerry, he is so funny? I know what I'm doing, OK, and it is all for the best. The man is a junkie and I know about that from the inside out and can tell you that junkies are the worst of the earth should all be taken care of with extreme prejudice. You can ask, so how come you are still around Texino? Well, when you look at me, you can see that I am pretty much dead due to the fact that my addiction cost me my self respect and popularity. In other words things that meant the most. So there. Well Jerry Lewis, he still has popularity and quite a bit of respect of all types in Class A spots like France and Vegas. Same goes for another junkie, Mr Rush Limbaugh. So maybe you see why I feel the need to wipe these and a few other of their kind off the earth and into that cave. See, Miller's cave is one of those allegories, in this case, Hell. Something in the chemical makeup causes dead people to stay in very good biological shape given their clinically dead condition. i.e. they are aware, so I find it pleasant to think of these people having to endure the feeling of loss that I deal with every day. It's not like they had no chance to fess up to the public; they just wouldn't, so I get my kicks sending them to my version of hell. An allegory is just an idea you cook up to represent another idea, so what does it matter if I want to pretend I'm spreading the guilt around. It makes me feel better, OK? What's more, this blog is about true stuff and if I don't have any news or clever ideas to go with, I'll just write about how I feel. It may suck but it's not your fault, so you can just go away and then come back in a week and maybe I will have calmed down enough to write some worthy stuff. OK? Fine.

A small space

I live in small spaces now. I figure I need 1/3 of this bed, all of a bathroom and maybe the kitchen, since it is already small. That means I could really live in a space the size of this room. I wonder If I might sell off the rest of the house? I mean, I just stay in this room and write until a computer call comes in. Then I hit the road like an old fire horse, fix the problem, and come back here. I need to make some sort of adjustment because all my money goes into keeping the house, and, like I said, I don't need it.

Moving on the politics, I think that Obama might lose this election. He should not, but he still might. I would not care so much were it not for S. Palin the Republican VP nominee.

I heard an interesting observation on the radio and it was that the US might gain popularity amongst the Europeans should Sen. Obama get the vote. That made sense seeing that he is more open and urbane than his opponents, Joe six-pack and Betty Beauty parlor. When you think about it, this may not be the best time in history to hire a pair "Real" Americans to navigate the ship of state through the sea of global financial an political unrest. We need someone with a bit of style and not the typical "in your face, we're number 1-USA USA " type of chap.

I would like to point out that although Sen. McCain is trumpeted as a "War Hero" he actually spent the majority of the war in prison. That was probably not particularly nice duty, but compared to what we have learned about our own countries treatment of prisoners with extremely tenuous connections to a terror attack, McCain, who was without a doubt guilty of bombing civilians in their beds got off fairly lightly, in my opinion. Of course what is my opinion worth? Not much I guess, other than to say that secondary to suffering some sort of mental let down in the spring of '68, I was tossed into a prison for 6 months and left at the hands of truly sadistic keepers, who, believing I was crazy, set out to make me more so by "sentencing me to death" and showing up at my cell at midnight with pillowcase hoods and a hangman's noose. They had other games as well, but I won't waste your time other than to say that I may be a little more in tune with forced confinement and torture from a mental and physical standpoint than your average failed mandolinist. It could have something to do with my not needing a lot of space as well.

Well, I guess that's that for now. If you need me, I'll be here-unless they finger me for those canvasser killings. If they do, I'll just use the old Perry Mason "blurt it out in court" excuse: "I had to do it, they were ruining my life!" or the much cooler "I did it for kicks man, you know to get my name in the paper."

OK, perhaps I over reacted.

So, I went down to the voting house the other day and cast some votes. I was happy to do it because I knew what lay behind the various issues as well as which candidates would likely perform to suit the interests I support. Then I went home.
Everything was fine for 24 hours. Then bright and early Saturday morning,
a herd of Democrats disguised as joggers came trooping down my street.
They knocked on the door! My door! It must have been 3 AM (some place) and woke me from a dream where I had finally found a cure for cancer and was in the process of writing it down, but lost it in the transition to wakefulness, so I was not too happy when I stumbled to the door only to be addressed as someone else. I denied being that person, but that did not stop them. No they stood jogging in place and asked me if I planed to vote? I told them I had already done so and therefore we had nothing to talk about, goodbye. Well, it should have happened that way, but no. They wanted to know whom I voted for. I said, "my business" They got snotty like it was no big deal. It is a big deal. When I was married, my wife worried about my overreactions, so she had removed all the weapons from the house. Now that she is gone, I have gotten hold of some more, as is my right and since I felt that the Democratic jogging canvassers were violating my right to a secret ballot by inferring that being a registered member of that party I had voted the party line and going so far as to write it down in a book, I had no problem what so ever in gunning them down, one and all. Oh yeah, then I dragged their cheating skin and bones to Miller's Cave. You may note I've made some life style changes. Things are going pretty well for the time being. I mean I'm back at the house and not lost in millers cave . I'll try and keep writing but right now isn't a good time being alone and laying low. After the election things might ease up. If the republicans win, I hardly think they will notice a few missing democrat workers. I figure either way Ill be good to go.

Voting, do or die

I stopped at a friend's house a few days ago to check on a computer issue. Instead of finding her in her office in the back, she was on the door step being harangued by a canvasser for the Democrats who was loudly checking the family facts in aid of getting all the enfranchised members to the polls ASAP. The woman asked me if I was the Mr. but I muttered that I was not a citizen and she immediately disappeared me from her line of site and kicked me out of mind. I instantly regretted my lie and wished I had offered to sell her my vote instead. You know, just to see.

Now what I am about here is where I come from (a world of grace and good manners) One just doesn't go around asking you for whom did you vote? It's a secret you know. Like how much you earn. At least it is supposed to be. Now I'm getting pummeled to get out and vote right now and it's still October. Also the feeling is that if you do vote early you are voting for Obama. Now I don't mind Senator Obama winning, but I like a fair election and I am starting to think that if the News people start up with their exit poles on the early voting and it seems like Obama is winning is that going to keep some Democrats home on election day? It's simply a matter of class and race and racism. If the middle class white Democrats see what looks like mobs of Blacks and Hispanics being herded to the poles to give Obama the early push is there a danger that the Republican code word that he (Obama) is not like "Us" may start to ring true over a quiet glass of bourbon? I would worry a lot more if McCain had a stronger running mate. Still, I don't like people in my face and as a registered Democrat, I can vote for whomever I please and I'll get myself to the poles thank you. Lastly as a Southerner, I know there are a lot of people who do not believe that, Negros, Blacks or African Americans are capable. It is a sad situation, but it is true. I only hope the creepy monster, Racism, that killed the Kennedy's and King and scared LBJ out of the White house, has died enough generational deaths to become diluted to the point of impotency, so the measure of a man may be taken without his being burdened by the chains of irrational hatred. I wish for the very best, but still I fear the worst has equal footing. To that end, I think I'll vote early and then shun any media input until the election has passed. Perhaps this time we may employ a visionary who can lead us into the glow of respect which our country definitely needs in these dark times. I truly hope so because I do believe that "More of the same", and just a little bit
of it will put us in such a dreadful spin that I'll not live to see recovery. And there is the rub. We, the children of the high hopes brought by the Kennedy years were robbed blind and wouldn't it be swell if we could ride out of here
with a last breath of hope, that the future might hold some bright moments?

From the files of Doctor Texino!

Howdy folks, this is Doctor Texino and I'd like to tell you a true story about some decidedly non-Christian hi-jinks that caused a particular pastor a great deal of embarrassment. A situation made sweeter due to the pompous position he insisted on taking before he had the facts of the matter in hand.

This incident occurred at the JFK Memorial Hospital in Lake Worth, FL on a Friday afternoon in the spring of 1977. JFK was not particularly busy, being a small hospital. It did have a minor claim to fame though for being the very first memorial building named for the late president. Having been in the process of dedication at the moment in time he was gunned down, the City Fathers of the Palm Beach County town had jumped right on it, and that was that.

I was on duty in the ER when we received a ring down that an ambulance was in route and to contact them on the medical channel. A nurse did and the rescue said they were bringing 27 year old female complaining of abdominal discomfort and that she was stable. That was all they would say and when asked for a more detailed history they said they needed to relate it to the ER staff when they arrived. It seemed a little odd, but the medics were good and we didn't give it much thought. The unit arrived in a few minutes
and brought a woman in on their stretcher who was lying left lateral recumbent (on her left side) and had the sheet pulled over her head like a dead person. I snagged the lead medic and asked he what the hell this was all about. She answered that I should probably send one of the female nurses in because the woman was very embarrassed and upset secondary to having a foreign body in her rectum. Oh, I see. Well, I ordered a portable x-ray and sent the head nurse in the get the story. OK? Fine. Well, the film came back before the nurse and damn if this woman did not have one of those hollow plastic candy canes that come full of hard candies at Christmas-time and it was lodged to they "crook" up her butt. By this time, the nurse had returned with the history which was the lady had been masturbating and had inserted the object to simulate anal intercourse. She said that her husband was away but was returning that afternoon and she was extremely nervous that he would find out. Well, you learn not to be judgemental in a clinical situation, but this was certainly one for the books and I knew that X-Ray film would make it into the radiologists hall of fame. Another thing was this sort of foreign body situation was a surgical problem. In other words, you could not just pull it out because it had created a suction and even though that area of the body is fairly elastic, it is also extremely vascular and you don't want to be tearing anything. Chances were that a surgeon could get it without going to the OR, and protocol demanded one be consulted, so the call was put in.

After the patient had been reassured, all was quiet. Back in our office everyone had a little smile about it and brought up other cases for comparison. Suddenly however, a commotion was heard from the area of the admitting desk and a call for security followed. Well, of course, the whole ER staff ran out to see the matter and were confronted by a very self possessed fat man who was hurling demands at full speed. "Where was his wife?" "Why was she here and not at the fancy rich folks hospital?" "Produce her right away" "He was the Rev. X from (large conservative Baptist church) and he wanted to see the administrator etc. What a rude man! Well, I introduced my self and asked him to please calm down and we would discuss his wife. I really wanted to protect this poor lady but nothing would do, he was going to get to the bottom of this mess. At which time he pushed past me and burst into the exam room where we had put his wife for privacy. Silence.

Well when next we saw the raging preacher he had gone white as a sheet and seemed to have shrunk several sizes. He went to a waiting area and sat hiding his face until some fussy men and women came and hustled him away. I left JFK shortly afterwards to take a job in the Northwest, so I never found out if there were repercussions, though I do know the surgeon on call had been able to retrieve the objet d' butt with no trouble. I need not elaborate on that, but I guess I might mention one reason that the Preacher had been so troubled on finding out his young wife's difficulty. You see he was a local and noisy conservative with a TV show that mixed God with politics and, at the time, The JFK Memorial Hospital was owned by one of Lake Worth's largest employers. The National Enquirer.

Well folks, that's another case from the files of Dr. Texino. All these stories are true, however; for the sake of propriety, we don't mention any names.
(Unless, of course, there is the chance of making a buck) So until the next time. Adios.

He's Back.

He, in this instance, is somebody who has a connection to the home across the yard and behind the fence from me. Now ,the thing is, the house is quiet as a tomb all year long. They have a pool, but I hear no splashing. I have neither smelled smoke from their chimney nor seen the fire of a Bar B Que winking through the fence. But come football season, this maniac is turned loose and whenever a game is on television this guy bellows like a buffalo during every single play. In fact, it is almost as if he is rooting for both teams. Now this guy, we call him "Mr. Touchdown" is so loud that we have to close the windows when he's in action, and that's a shame, as this is the time of year when the wind blows a little coolness in and the AC shuts off and the power bill goes down. It can be very pleasant, however; when Mr. T. is on the scene everything goes to hell. Now, I'm not a cranky old man and I think a little team spirit is a good thing but when I think about Mr. Touchdown (I have never see his face) I imagine a person who may well be painted teal and gold or is wearing a large foam hand with the index pointing out that "We're No. 1" or both. The kind of person who would get with some other like minded creatures and paint some sort of word on their collective belly's and show it to the world by removing their shirts at some freezing stadium. I'm not certain there are any freezing stadia anymore because owing to some odd turn of my brain, I have lost my football interest. In fact I don't think I've seen a game in almost 10 years. It's funny because while I never had the enthusiasm of Mr. Touchdown, I used to get pretty worked up over my team The Washington Redskins. Actually, I'm more than a bit surprised that our football monster is back because during last years play offs, it certainly seemed as if he would die of apoplexy. I guess he didn't because he is breaking the night right now screaming Go! Go ! Go! Go! Go!/ the wind blew the french window closed and cut him off. If you will excuse me, I'm going to go and see what I can find about the old Redskin marching band. They still have a band I think, but I don't believe they march around in white fringed Indian costumes like they did when I was a kid. I'd like to find a picture of that.

Evidently, size can be an issue.

Hi Texino here, and I would like to comment about what seems, to me, to be a disturbing trend
on the internet. Every time I open a web site I am assailed by the off handed question "Do you want a bigger penis?" I will say that this query is totally out of context, since I am not visiting Porn sites or anything to do with anatomy for that matter. What's more, if I don't get this flashing inquiry, I tend to be shown a picture of a
wide-eyed young woman who, btw, looks a lot like my daughter, accompanied by the caption;
"Surprise her with a bigger penis!" Actually, to my mind, the girl's expression conveys the sort of surprise that would register if she were the one who suddenly was blessed with the appendage size not withstanding. All this nonsense has led me to investigate and come to the conclusion that there is an over the counter pill which is supposed to make your dick bigger and, in turn, put you in better stead in the love bed. Funny, I can't say that I have ever thought about size when it comes to sex. I mean what I have has proven sufficient at producing children who are handsome, do not use drugs, put themselves through college and then leave me alone. Other than procreational sex, I have put a good amount of work into the recreational variety and shared the sweet favors of more than a few women, each of whom I loved totally. Unfortunately many of these true love affairs ran concurrently and that led me into major difficulties trying to sustain long term relationships. But we talk of times long past, and that brings me back to the main point. Why in Hell are they trying to sell me dick pills now? I'm 61 years old for Gods sake and I'm not about to pop some OTC pill and hit the street hoping to surprise some poor woman with my new found secret. How's that supposed to work anyway? Do you go to some place where lonely hearts meet and tell some friendly lady about this amazing pill? Or maybe you sit around and shift positions saying "Excuse me, but my penis is growing as we speak; surprising isn't it?" Well, I just don't know. You can call me a dirty old geezer if you like, but I would direct you to the attached photo which shows bizarre geezer Pres. H. S. Truman showing a keen interest in a decidedly phallic display as former Nazi, DR. Werner Von Braun looks on. It is obvious that these two guys do not hold to the Texino Theory of crafty love making which employs all manner of tenderness and quasi legal technique and instead are going with the monster or "More is More" philosophy. The choice, of course, would lie with the individual. So maybe we should just view this as a public service message; you know like, Objects may be bigger than they first appear or something along that line. Mr. Texino says, Take care.

The Great Bus Metaphor

The Canadians would not play my podcast last week because I mentioned cannibalism. I think the context had to do with Zombies and how you really couldn't get a decent Zombie from someone if a cannibal had cracked their bones and this may have had something to do with a desire that someone might eat Sarah Palin to that extent. Anyway, it got me thinking about living an active life as opposed to waiting for a bus. I have waited for a few buses in my time but mostly I have spent my time in some sort of action. If you just met me, you might find this hard to believe, as I am sort of a slug today, but I'm sort of at the end of my active life now. Before I got here, however, I was definitely not a bus rider. I think that, compared to most people, I have had a rather exciting life. I worked hard at many different jobs and really enjoyed meeting the people I came in contact with. Everyone has a good story and I became good at getting them to tell it. It has been said that everyone has a book in them. In my opinion, being a good author is getting those stories from as many folks as you can and then finding out that everyone is a usable character somewhere down the line. I would have liked to make a good book for people to read, but by the time I understood how to go about it, I got too tired.

When I was a little boy, one of the old people who lived in my house used to sing an Irving Berlin song about a soldier who did not like to get up in the morning. At the end of the tune, the GI said that "someone was going to murder the bugler" and after that happened, he would spend the rest of his life in bed. Having been in the Army, I could understand that desire and after 25 some years of getting called out at all hours during my time in EMS, when it came time to retire, I found myself in bed. Now this had something to do with a glitch during heart surgery and also some bad luck which caused further brain troubles and to tell the truth, what with my laptop and library, bed's a nice place. Thing is, no matter what I read about, I've seen something worse in real life, so if I just lodge down in the covers and close my eyes I can usually make up a happy story and slip right off. I guess if I keep it in mind not to board any buses while in dreamland I may have a few more years of active rest right here. Only thing about that bus. They never shut if off and some nights you will hear it idling and wonder just how long you might have before they put it in gear. On the other hand, some of those buses are real palaces on the inside while others, you are lucky to find a seat. There is always got to be a fucking mystery behind this manner of thought. Hell, if you miss-time your boarding you might get run down in the road and eaten by scavengers who will most likely crack your bones. Then where are you?

Taking dope is risky business as evidenced by GWB

Hello, it is Tommy Texino and I want to talk to you about drugs. Specifically Cocaine. Have you ever taken cocaine? Hmm...Well I have taken it it more times than I can remember but I don't take it anymore because it is very expensive and the stuff around here really isn't that good. Besides all that, I've just grown out of wanting to drink and take dope, so I just don't, however; I think that G.W. Bush does. That's right. The voice that keeps whining from the radio saying we need to give 700 billion dollars to ourselves. That G.W. Bush, The President.

Why? Well, he has a history of alcohol and drug use and he never denies it or brags about being sober like a reformed drunk or 12 step person would. Now if you have ever taken really good cocaine you know that it makes you feel very positive about things, even things that are not such a good idea. I mean for every stupid move that The President has made, I can see why it might have made sense if you happened to be coked to the gills on some good flake and maybe some decent champagne or a good whiskey buzz. Really. Pushing that 700 Billion dollar mess? No big thing when you feel invincible. And that's the thing; blow makes you go! I'm talking the good stuff of course. That crap you get at the bar is totally half-assed. I imagine Sarah Palin gets her shit at some fisherman's joint. I doubt if Bush is sharing. In fact, I don't think I've seen W around the campaign all that much. Still, while we may ready for the last of Bush, we got to keep an eye out for Palin. I figure McCain is a dead man walking and it looks as though he can't reign Palin in and if that gal gets up with W. Bush and they "Party" Well figure it out. McCain kicks and Palin gets to be the president and W. is holding the dope. Who will really be the president? The answer is, whomever is really the president now and God only knows who that might be. Kind of makes me want to head down town, you now what I'm saying? The way this deal is playing out, I may just need a gram and a dram. Of course if Obama wins, I'll stay sober and hope we get the changes he's talked about.

This Lady is a piece of ...

That's right. Sarah Palin Gov. of Alaska and VP candidate for the Republican Presidential Campaign is basically ,well really, you know, OK, she's a piece of shit. You think that's not an apt description? Well, while she obviously is not a giant bowel movement, she, IMO, fits the definition of the colloquial P.O.S. Here is why.

You see that picture? What the P.O.S. is doing right there is explaining that Democratic Candidate, Barack Obama "doesn't see America like "We" do. By "we" the P.O.S. means White People. Then she says that Sen. Obama pals around with "Terrorists". OK. What the P.O.S. is talking about is that Obama once worked on the same housing board as a guy who was at one time a member of the Weather Underground who, if they did any terrorism at all did it when Barack was a little baby. So that makes Palin a lying Piece of Shit in any one's book. I'm really sorry for the language, but I am mad. Fucking pissed off to the Max Mad. Mad that this P.O.S. is going around telling lies and making racist points and it is possible that stupid white people are going to start thinking "Do we really want a negro president?" After all, goofy old white guys have been president for ever, right? Maybe so, and they have had some bimbo VPs as well, think Dan Quayle. So right when we really need a change that a sharp thinker like Obama could bring, they haul out this loud mouth P.O.S. to spread lies and racist undertones while McCain just sits around looking like someone who we are used to having in the white house. FOR GOD'S SAKE PEOPLE WE HAVE GOT TO RUN THIS REPUBLICAN TICKET SO FAR INTO THE GROUND THAT IT WILL TAKE 12 YEARS TO RECOVER! It's really our only hope. Someone must reach out and slap that smug look of Palin's face and back flush her to where she came from. VOTE!

It's "Hoss" not "Horse"

I guess that you people wouldn't think that I, Texino, would be buddies with Eric "Hoss" Cartwright, but think again. Really, how many chicken dinners do you think it would take to get a guy like Hoss on your side? Well the answer is two.

I was riding the range out Nevada way, when I came upon the friendly giant. He had been wounded while fighting bushwhackers and was out of his head with fever. Well fortunately, I had a couple of hens on me and my saddle bags were full of ingredients so after giving the big man water and listening to him rave about his dead mother, I fed him two full chicken dinners. (portioned) After that, he was OK and we had coffee.

The next day, he took me home to his ranch to meet his family, but I did not take to their fascist ways and spent most of my visit hanging out with a Chinaman in the cook house making up recipes for chicken cooked Chinaman style. They had no chickens in China back then, so this Hop Sing guy (The Chinaman) must have sent some back home because there are quite a few chicken dishes in Chinese cooking now. I guess you might say that I was sort of the Johnny Appleseed of Chickens. Funny how you could take a bird that was previously only used for helping women deal with life in the pre-suffrage era (they just chopped the head off to let off steam, although it occasionally went a bit farther-see the case of Massachusetts vs. L. Borden) and for it's feathers, and turn it into one of the most popular and imitated tastes in the world.
Please remember that anytime someone says "It taste like Chicken" that were it not for me, it would have been someone else whom you don't know.

As for the Cartwrights, other than Hoss and Hop Sing, I didn't like the others and they didn't like me. I believe that the Ponderosa may have been the birthing chair of the Right Wing
Republican Party. They loved their (Portioned) chicken dinners though.

The Man who invented the chicken dinner.

Looks good doesn't it? Damn right it does! Ever wonder where the chicken dinner came from? Your mom? Grand Mother? Oh they cooked them I'm sure and, no doubt, they did a fine job. But, did you ever stop to think whose idea it was to take a chicken to pieces, cook it and then serve it up with a double starch and some greens? Well, I'm here to say that I'm the guy. That's right. Me, Tomas Benito Texino, El Niño the inventor of the modern chicken dinner. Huzzah times three and a big trombone riff! For truth! Now, I know you ladies. (boy do I) and right now you are saying something to your selves along these lines. "That Goddamn Texino is so full of beans!" "Why my female forebears were chopping the heads off chickens when he was a scumdrop* at the bottom of the Panama Canal." (*note; "Scumdrop" is a Texino word.) Well OK fine, so yer grannies were killing chickens. Of course they were. How in hell do you suppose those poor women kept from murdering whole sections of town what with all the crap they had to put up with as second class citizens who just happened to be more intelligent than the guys running the show. Hey sisters, I'm with you all the way! I just happen to have created the portioned chicken dinner as we know it today and there is not a thing I can do about changing that. I mean it is not like I am asking for a monument of me examining the future with my gaze while holding a plump hen. I just want a little respect. I mean, I may have been born yesterday, but it was 61 years ago and I can tell when I'm being left out. No it would have been pretty easy for certain people whom I love to just drop me a simple line of congratulation of completing one more year, but no couldn't do that. We OK, fine. Keep your greetings to your self because as the inventor of the portioned chicken dinner, I have too many responsibilities to worry about without letting a couple of snubs by the most important people in my entire world get to me. I mean we have all manner of media functions to attend, for when you have done something of such magnitude ( as invent the portioned chicken dinner) your influence reaches far beyond the coop. We have potatoes and squash, Lima's, applesauce and countless other avenues to put in our shadow. Not to mention a nice pie for desert.

OK, got to go now. We are working on something new in the area between cheese and milk and I for one, am too fucking excited to care about anything else right now.