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PG, is there a particular reason that you are not accepting PM's. I wanted to propose a joint venture of sorts ( get you minds out of the d*mn gutter guy's) Call it an experiment based off of some of your comments and investing tactics that I have read about in this thread.
-------------------- If ignorance is bliss, why aren't more people happy? Posts: 2647 | From: MN | Registered: Feb 2006
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Pg. 5 and 6 of this thread cracked me up, also reminded me of a good joke.
Father goes duck hunting one day and gets his limit, that night he and his whole family enjoyed duck for supper. Later that evening after everyone had gone to bed the youngest daughter came running into mom and dads room crying. What's wrong asked mother? I peed a BB mom, I peed a BB. Don't worry dear your father must have missed one while he was cleaning the ducks we had for supper, go back to bed. A few minutes later the middle boy came running into the bed room crying, what is wrong mother asked? I peed a BB, I peed a BB. Slightly irratated mother told him not to worry and to go back to bed, father just missed a few BB's while cleaning the ducks they had for supper. Not long after, the oldest boy comes running into the bedromm, Mom, Dad, wake up I.... We know, you peed a BB.
No, I was J*cking off and I shot the dog.
-------------------- If ignorance is bliss, why aren't more people happy? Posts: 2647 | From: MN | Registered: Feb 2006
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"When people are joking with the Munchkin Man, the Munchkin Man thinks they're being serious."
So you thought Purl was going to eat you? See now that is called "wishful" thinking, and you were hoping she was serious.
That was a joke...you can laugh.
MM please see my reply to your post in the thread titled "Earth to Mushkin Man" this way I don't have to muddle up Purl's thread with a bunch of medical jargon.
Posts: 174 | From: Precipice | Registered: Jun 2006
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Annoying. His articles use up two-thirds of my monitor for no reason. He is welcomed to join in here at Allstocks, but dang, trim down the physical size of those articles.
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Alright, alright, I know my articles usually take up your entire screen. However, every line of my articles are pure entertainment!
...and you boys better agree with me.
Know what I did this afternoon, huh, huh?
I spent the afternoon working post hole diggers digging hole after hole after hole after....
"Be sure those holes are on eight feet centers, twenty-four inches deep and wider at the bottom, and don't forget to...."
SHUT UP ALREADY! I KNOW HOW TO DIG POST HOLES.
Wednesday afternoon, Home Depot is delivering one-hundred-twelve sixty pound sacks of pre-mix concrete, along with a lot of four-by-four posts, rails and fence boards. We have to lug those up our hill, by hand.
You think I am cranky tonight, wait until the night of Wednesday, maybe even Thursday as well.
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digging post holes is certainly not fun. i dug them three at a time and used water to make the digging easier. awful blisters even with gloves. texas clay is tough especially with rocks. then i spotted an old ford tractor with an auger and a for sale sign on it - got that job finished real quick !
fences like yours will look great when finished though. rule one - never pay someone else to do what you can do yourself ! GL on your fence and drink plenty of liquids while you are working !
-------------------- I'm from Missouri - Show Me! Posts: 950 | From: Middle of Nowhere, Missouri | Registered: May 2006
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Wealthy people do not become wealthy by paying others to do their work for them. Yes, we can afford to hire contractors but this is not in keeping with our upbringing. We never pay others to perform a job we can do on our own.
Despite being wealthy we cannot forget our once living in poverty nor shake off this habit of saving money and earning money, every chance possible presented.
We still shop at Goodwill, thrift stores and yard sales, although we could afford to buy an upscale clothing store if so desired.
When we pay at Goodwill, we say, "Keep the change."
When we tip a waitress, our tip is never less than one-hundred percent of the food tab. Sometimes we tip two-hundred percent.
Girl Scouts selling cookies front of a store. I always buy two boxes, turn around and tell those girls, "Look how big my butt is. I do not need to eat cookies." I hand the cookies back to the Girl Scouts, "Here, sell these cookies again and double your money," then walk away.
Salvation Army at Christmas, we always stuff their little red pots with twenty dollar bills.
We have not forgotten how hard is life, have not forgotten to help the Salt of the Earth, the hard working people. We have not forgotten the joy of helping others in need.
A bit of bragging. This rental we are working on, we could rent the house for $1500 per month in a flash. I am talking to a young pair with a four year old child referred to us. I am hot, sweaty, cranky. Boy explains they both work full time, out of town, have to pay for a daycare center, having a hard time. He explains they live in an apartment, a one bedroom apartment with no parking facilities, no garage, just a plain upstairs apartment in a rat cage setting. They are paying $1350 per month. She adds, "We just cannot afford to live there, too far from work and I do not like it there."
I say, "Ok, we will rent this house to you for $1200 per month." They look at each other, then, "Are you joking?" I am not.
When you do the Good, this Good comes back to you.
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i agree with that 100% pg. you can't beat good karma. people who didn't work their way us don't understand why i picked up a dime i found while getting gas, or why we don't waste money, or why we give others less fortunate a break. i would have given the couple with a four year old a break too, but would also hold them to the contract! i am guilty of doing too much pro bono work an giving too many people breaks. however, that tractor with an auger for around $500 if i remember right was a good investment ! have a great day working on your new fence.
-------------------- I'm from Missouri - Show Me! Posts: 950 | From: Middle of Nowhere, Missouri | Registered: May 2006
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How about old cars? I am all of one, two, maybe three years old when this picture is taken. I see what looks like a 1961, maybe a 1963 Chevrolet in there. Do you see this car?
This is about the time my mother died. I know this is my first trip to California. This is probably Santa Monica beach, around '62 to '63 year. I am told we had relatives up in Laurel Canyon or some canyon where rich people live today, straight up from this beach.
Most likely, this is right after the Winter my mom died of Cholera. I was brought out here to be raised by relatives. However, my aunt and uncle, who brought me here, did not have the heart to leave me. They took me back to our farm in Oklahoma, at much expense to them, an expense they really could not afford.
Thank God. I am indebted to them. Not for their kind hearts, I would not have enjoyed a farm life nor would have been raised a Choctaw.
Today's prices, those cars represent about two-million, three-million dollars in value if sold today to car collectors.
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61 vert in bg, 61 bubbletop in bg, 60 black hdtp in fg all worth big bucks today. blue 63 chev 4 door on right 60 white flattop in bg. those were the days !
your aunt and uncle already received a rich reward for their kindness !
-------------------- I'm from Missouri - Show Me! Posts: 950 | From: Middle of Nowhere, Missouri | Registered: May 2006
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"your aunt and uncle already received a rich reward for their kindness...."
Oh sure, as if having me around is a rich reward!
More like having a badger constantly chewing on your foot, day and night.
I have not told you boys about all the bad things in life I have done, like running away from home around nine or ten years old, ending up in New Boston, Texas. Took my family weeks to find me down there.
Shoot, I took up secretly drinking White Lightning when I was about seven or eight years old. This is why I am brain damaged today.
Heck, I even shot a cousin in his ass with shotgun loaded with birdshot. No serious injury other than having to lie naked on our front porch while Grandpa picked buckshot out of his butt, and afterwards having his butt cleaned with coal oil, today's kerosine.
He whined and cried! The butt switching Grandpa gave me hurt a lot worse! I did not cry a tear.
My cousin had it coming though, he squashed my favorite sh!t bug for sh!t bug races.
No, no! You must believe me! One of Grandpa's butt switchings is a lot worse then having your butt blasted with bird shot.
The worse part is Grandpa would silently hand you his pocket knife. We knew what to do. We had to go out back, find a switch just the right size, thickness, flexible, about two feet long, then cut it from a tree. That is what makes a butt switching worse than a buckshot loaded butt; this switching you know is coming!
Only regret I have is the shotgun was not loaded with rock salt.
Odd, yes, Glassman? Today, if a child shot another child with a shotgun, this would be juvenile jail until eighteen. However, kids today do not have an intent of loading a butt with birdshot, kids today intend to kill.
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Besides, my cousin took off running like crazy when he saw me coming with a shotgun. He was a good thirty yards away before I could lug that heavy shotgun up and pull its trigger. That shotgun was almost as tall as me.
Damn near dropped the shotgun when it fired. I think I was more surprised than my cousin.
Grandma was a little mad, too. She had to hand sew up the holes in his overalls.
Say, did I tell you boys about the time I took a frog gig to another cousin because he pushed me down into wet pig sh!t?
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"like maybe it was munching on some cheeta sh!t before the races"
Well, gosh, you are right on the verge of suggesting I was cheating. Might as well get this over with.
Trick is to take a sip of White Lightning, which is, of course, hidden in a tiny pint Mason jar in the milking shed, behind which we held our sh!tbug races so our elders would not catch us.
You have to use a pint jar because those are small and easy to hide under cow crap, hay, up in the rafters, whatever. Would not want your elders to know you are stealing thier White Lightning from their quart Mason jars.
So, you have a tiny sip of White Lightning. You park that little sip of White Lightning over in a cheek pocket. Just about time for the race start, moments before, you spit a little on your bug for "good luck." That alcohol sets the bug on fire and he runs like all get out!
Suppose my cousin figured out there was more to my spit than just spit. He stepped on my bug squashing the poor thing. Least the bug was drunk when it met its demise.
Alright, alright, my cousin caught me cheating.
He squashes my bug, I spit fire, run to the farmhouse, fetch a shotgun, run back, he runs for the forest, I blast away, we end up in lots of trouble.
This might have to do with my other cousin shoving me down into wet pig sh!t in our pig pen; revenge for shooting our cousin.
However, I paid him back for shoving me down by catching him unawares then jabbing him in the leg with a three prong frog gig, nothing serious, just three tiny holes and some blood.
He got the kerosine treatment, I got a butt switching.
Not that I am ornery or anything, a girl just has to stick up for herself.
Sure got a lot of butt switchings, a way lot.
Say, did I tell you about the time Crutcher Hendon tossed me off our school bus for bashing a boy over his head with my geography book?
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Yeah, his real name. Crutcher is what all of us, young and old, called him. Everyone called him Crutcher, for decades.
His real name is Kutcher Hendon. Okies do not pronounce Kutcher as Cut Cher but rather as Crut Cher just a we pronounce Homma as Homer. Home Mah versus Home Er.
You will find Crutcher and his entire family there; Hendon.
Moss Jointer, many others of my childhood are buried there. Moss is a great story in himself.
Crutcher is amongst the most honest and most famous of all characters of Eagletown history. Many Eagletown famous are there, including some of my relatives. During my childhood, I knew almost all those people you find.
posted
I contribute my ornery nature to this, a story told once before.
Grandpa is working at training a young green mule by teaming him up with an old trained mule. Grandpa is trying harness, attach the chains, all that stuff.
The young green mule starts acting up, making both mules nervous. They begin starting, kicking, biting, all those nice things mules do. Grandpa yells, "Hep me, Momma, hep me Momma!" Momma is Grandma.
She runs out to the barnyard, we all do.
Grandma is helping. Grandpa hollers, "Get in front of those mules!" She does and those huge mules promptly trample her. She survives ok, not so bad, lots of bruises, soreness.
Years later, out in our milking shed, a young cow is being trained to be milked by Grandpa. Details are in my original story. The cow has Grandpa pinned between her short horns and is tossing him up against the roof, thrashing him pretty bad. "Hep me, Momma, hep me, Momma!"
Grandma and all of us run to the milking shed. She peeks inside, grins, slams the door then leans against the door, "Now tell me to get in front of those mules, again!"
This happens years after the mule incident.
Much more to these stories but this does explain my ornery nature and why I am so quick to extract my pound of flesh from others who offend me.
That story well exemplifies our fierce honesty. An-eye-for-an-eye and always honest about this.
Those are the type of lessons I learned during life. No sissy stuff, no laziness, just hard honest work, with a bullet.
posted
Folks here abouts often don't tend to go with names outlandes approave of a-tall.
Had a friend from down on the coast whose initials were J.B.M. The lastname was Scot and as I heard him explain when ask "What sort of paarents would name a child Joe Billy McMinn?", "Well, McMinn is pure Scot and came with them and Jo Billy is because they didn't want anyone calling me by some nick name."
It is real common here to mame a boy Bob rather than Robert and to name a girl Kate rather than Katherine.
Posts: 11304 | From: Fort Worth, Texas | Registered: Mar 2005
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His dad (years deceased) ran the school where the current top glass bender studied; in turn, that guy (the top bender) is who is trained my pal. Winky and I are both installation guys...not benders. Some guys only bend, some only install...increasingly few do both, in my experience...although my pal does both...
Winky's a funny guy. Was a streetfighter in the 50s (7 "bouts" in one night, lol) who went on to be an Army boxing champ (he won a special Zippo lighter, which he still thinks is funny), then trained/managed succesfully for many years...A few years ago, when he had just turned 65? A hot-rod kid (early to mid-20s) picked a fight over some freeway hooha...Winky pulled over--not wanting the kid to follow to his house--got out and acted spastic/retarded...till the kid got close enough--you know the rest...
I asked him, "So did you leave him just laying there?"
"Why, hell, yeahyuh...he was too big for my skinny, old azz to pick up--and I didn't wanna be there when he woke up, neither..."