Category Archives: Uncategorized

Thursday, August 17, 2017 – Happy Birthday, Honeyboy

Thursday, August 17, 2017 – Happy Birthday, Honeyboy

On this day in history, in 1907, Randall Edwin Duffey was born to Charles Edwin and Mary Rose Duckworth Duffey  in Colfax, Louisiana. He would grow into a fine man,

and marry a fine young lady named Exa Doy Faust.

Trust me. They grew up to be beautiful.

Together they would have two daughters. One would raise four beautiful children and the other one would go to school forever to learn how to do stuff like writing blogs and adding pictures and YouTube videos.

The older daughter gave him the name Honeyboy when she stood up in the Catholic School at age five and announced she did not have a father, but only a Honeyboy. After the home visit from both Mother Superior and the Monsignor that evening, it was learned that indeed she had a father and she called him Honeyboy because her Mother called him Honey.

Thus he became Honeyboy to every person who met him and loved him for his 93 earthly years. Today he is 110 and having a Nanny Cake and gone hunting or fishing with Uncle Dale. Or he might just be waiting and watching his Houston Astros. This could be the year, HB!

Happy Birthday, Honeyboy. We love you and miss you.

Your Family Tree

Tuesday, August 8, 2017 – Presenting The Divine Miss Peach

Tuesday, August 8, 2017 – Presenting The Divine Miss Peach

Thank you Aggieland Humane Society for all you do for all the critters.

 

 

Wednesday, July 19, 2017 – Pack Up the Babies and Grab the Old Ladies; That’s Right, You’re Not from Texas

Wednesday, July 19, 2017 – Pack Up the Babies and Grab the Old Ladies; That’s Right, You’re Not from Texas

That’s right, you’re not from Texas, but Texas wants you anyway. Even though Lyle Lovett’s song suggests Texas wants you, we really do not. We have plenty of crazy people that already live here. Like most Southerners, we like crazy people and even enjoy sitting on the front porch and sharing a cocktail with them. In Texas we like crazy people so much we elect them to high level government positions.

This week in our great state capital, Austin, many of the crazy people once again congregate under the Dome of Decisions in a Special Session called by the Governor of Texas. One of the most pressing issues and urgent issues is to help us sort out where to void our bladders in public places associated with educational institutions. This is known as The Bathroom Bill or Senate Bill 6. So, paraphrasing the great Neil Diamond “Pack up the babies and grab the old ladies, cause everyone knows it’s Brother Dan’s Show.”

The entire Texas legislature seems to be obsessed with human body functions, like abortion, sex of any kind (yes, last session they passed a no sex with animals bill), homosexuality, transgendered people and where people poop and pee and shower and change clothes (locker rooms). And for some reason they think they can control these bodily functions legislatively.

The lieutenant Governor of Texas, Dan Patrick, aka Saint Evangelical, seems to be overly obsessed with where individuals go to the bathroom. So much he is apparently ready to fall on the proverbial sword to push this through the Texas Legislature.

Here’s what I’m thinking. What if educational institutions selected a strategically located facility in the building, and put a new sign on the door designating it

The I. P. Freely Bathroom sponsored by Saint Evangelical.

A cost savings suggestion is, just write it on the wall next to the facility. I think that is where the handwriting is. Besides, think how much money public schools could have to focus on teaching and learning rather than peeing and pooping.

“I see a bad moon rising…” Creedence Clearwater Revival. Photo by me. Looking out my backyard – also by CCR.

Keep your voter registration card current and your Texas photo voter ID too.

http://thehill.com/homenews/state-watch/342556-bathroom-bill-opens-deep-rift-in-texas-gop

Friday, July 7, 2017 – Snarky Friday – 7.7.17 – Seven More Saturdays Until Kick Off

Seven. Seven. Seventeen. Seven more Saturdays until we scream! WHOOP!

Why is it so hot in Texas in July? It is because it was July when God kicked the Devil out of Heaven. God gave him the choice between Texas in July or Hell. The Devil chose Hell because it is cooler than Texas in July.

But the July temperatures are not the only thing in Texas burning hotter than the hinges on the Gates of Hell. There is an office near Wellborn and George Bush Drive in College Station that also has some very hot hinges. The name on the door – Kevin Sumlin.

Yes, Indeedee do, the hottest coach’s seat in the NCAA D-1 football is right here in College Station. Three years of 5-0 starts squandered. The motivational poster in his office reads WIN NOW! I think it was placed there by the AD and the HR people from Texas A&M. Might have been John Sharp. I believe this is called “The handwriting on the wall.”

It must really be hot because the SEC Media Days paired the Texas A&M with the Alabama to take some of the heat away from Sumlin. Sabin and Sumlin – hot, but for different reasons.

Speaking of hot seats – or at least warm – we have THE University of Texas coach Tom Herman featured on the football bible of Texas – Dave Campbell’s Texas Football.

I cannot say for certain, but here’s what I’m thinking. My friends who attended and support THE University are going to want more than Coach Herman’s picture on the cover of a magazine. All of that football gibberish better transfer to the scoreboard with W’s on it every Saturday.

Don’t forget – UT You Pee! ( I have so been saving to saythat.)

Hook ‘Em Hippies!

 

Seven more Saturdays until college football kickoff. Counting the days.

BTHO UCLA

Thursday, July 6, 2017 – Lazy, Hazy, Crazy Days of Summer and G-20

Thursday, July 6, 2017 – Lazy, Hazy, Crazy Days of Summer and G-20

Here’s What I’m Thinking. Get your history hat on.

The POTUS is out of the country. Our political prayer for the day is “please do not let him tweet and start a war.”

He is headed to the G-20 Summit that kicks off tomorrow in Hamburg, Germany. The Chair of the Conference is Head of State of Germany, Angela Merkel. It is a meeting to discuss world financial issues and has been going on since 1999 (Google it).

I am feeling like The Hippie Dippy Weatherman (George Carlin) “A line of thunderstorms is headed toward Japan, but so is a line of North Korean missiles, so I would not sweat the thunderstorms.” Is the emoji for this a mushroom shaped cloud over Alaska or the Secretary of Education telling children to “just get under their desks and put your hands over your heads?”

The POTUS visited Poland on his way to Germany. When That Man tweets at 3:00 AM that “His Presidency received the largest crowds ever” please remember your history.

  1. Most of those crowds were bused in. They are somewhat like Extras in a crowd scene in a movie. If one knew their history, he or she would know this.
  2. Had he or his staff bothered to check a history book he would see that since September 1, 1939, Poland has taken a rough ride in history. Actually, it goes way back further, but we’ll start with the September first date. First it was those Nazis tanks overpowering a military that was riding horses waving sabers.Then it was the Soviets and that Iron Curtain. So when he tweets “I am the BEST,” remember previous Presidents were not allowed to visit. Something about that Soviet Union travel ban during a period known as The Cold War. Ask your buddy VP. Not the Vice President.
  3. The POTUS is also meeting with the leader of Russia Vladimir Putin. I wonder if Vlad will serve Moscow Mules in a symbolic gesture of what the POTUS means to him.

As the 20 Heads of State gather in Germany, let us end with a history joke.

The Heads of State of Germany, The United States and Russia meet in a bar. The three are to discuss world issues and strategies to achieve them. As the evening progresses and drinking continues, the German head of state remains silent. The heads of state from the United States and Russia outline elaborate strategies. Finally, German leader is asked for input. She looks at the Russian and says, “Next time we will come in the summer.”

Monday, July 3, 2017 – My Fourth of July Movie

Monday, July 3, 2017 – My Fourth of July Movie

 

Friday, June 16, 2017 – Snarky Friday and A Stream of Consciousness

Friday, June 16, 2017 – Snarky Friday and A Stream of Consciousness

What a world! As my dear, departed and very wise Mother used to say about politics and other sordid activities: “Play in shit, you gonna get shitty.”

Today I shall just have a stream of consciousness regarding this week’s activities as they relate to the increase in fecal material hitting the rotating blades of the oscillating fan surrounding The Potomac and outlying areas. For a little extra, you might try listening to some appropriate music while trying to read. I am listening to Joan Baez – “Ain’t Gonna Let Nobody Turn Me Around. Keep on a walking; Keep on a talking, gonna built a brand new world…”

Ready? Read.

What happened? Be careful what you wish for or in this case who you vote for. Only 145days? Crooked Hillary did it. Tweet. Tweet. Tweet. I am not under investigation. I am not a crook. I did not have sex with that woman. Resignation. Impeachment. And now POTUS you are under investigation. You’re lying. He’s lying. She’s lying. Lock her up. GOP. Resist. James Comey. “You’re Fired” only works in business on TV. Putin. Putin. Root and Tootin! FBI. Department of Justice. Tweet some more. GOLF. Lawyers, lawyers, filling Washington, D. C. I should have gone to law school. Russians. Russians. Let’s Make a Deal. Michael Flynn. More lawyers. Democrats. Jared. Ivanka. Donald Jr. A New Jersey Lawyer? Money laundering? I miss The Sopranos. Bada Bing. Constitutional Crisis. Really good chocolate cake and we the US just bombed the crap out of Syria. Are there any US Allies in the World left? This is gonna take a long time to clean up all this shit and those playing in it get shittier. Meanwhile, CAN WE PLEASE STOP SHOOTING EACH OTHER AND SIT DOWN AND TALK FOR THE GOOD OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA?

Happy Friday.

Wednesday, June 7, 2017 – The Eve of Comey, Spinners and Twitter

Wednesday, June 7, 2017 – The Eve of Comey, Spinners and Twitter

I purchased one of these spinner things for $3.00 the other day.

It is called Stress Gear for use at office, home and school. I am having a gross of them shipped to Washington D.C. Half (do the John Wax math) are labeled as such:

For the Congressional Hearings: For those attending former FBI Director, James Comey’s hearing(s) with this note:

Thank you, Mr. Comey. Stay calm and carry on regardless. He gets a red, white and blue one.

The remainder is to be sent to The White House. Jared is to receive the red one (not pictured).

The Glow in the Dark one, as I have, is to be delivered to President Twitter with the following note:

Dear Twitter-in-Chief,

This new secret communication device is better for firing off senseless statements of 140 characters in the middle of the night – or early morning depending on your perspective or what time it is in Russia.

This orange (like your hair) glow in the dark one sends a signal to the Universe as it spins in your little hands giving all of the other aliens and non people like Democrats access to The WH Spin. Be sure Sean Spicer and Kellyanne Conman get a spinner. This special model is able to distinguish between fake and real news and sends only the real news and not altered facts. The others can be distributed at random.

The reverse of the package reads:

“Helps focus; Relieves boredom, anxiety and stress and Great for ADHD, ADD, and Autism.” All of this is untrue and unsubstantiated as most of your thoughts and Tweets are. And since you exhibit tendencies of all these serious conditions, I thought this specially designed communication device would be something you would enjoy and could use.

Please use this during former FBI Comey’s testimony tomorrow instead of Twitter. Just keep spinning.

Oh yes. Your entire WH staff can take their spinner with them when they leave – one way or another on their way to egret.

 

Monday, May 22, 2017 – Global Update and Texas Public School News

Source: Monday, May 22, 2017 – Global Update and Texas Public School News

Here’s to you, Mrs. Traugh. Renascence.

Here’s to you, Mrs. Traugh. Renascence.

 

“I know the path that tells Thy way

Through the cool eve of every day;

God, I can push the grass apart

And lay my finger on Thy heart!”

The day when Mrs. Traugh read the Renascence aloud to a bunch of unrulry juniors in English III, American Lit in 1966 at Magnolia High School was one of her favorite memories. To capture the emotions of a high school class as she did that afternoon extends beyond remarkable teaching.

Edna St. Vincent Millay is a great poet to study for both poetry and performance. It is said the best way to combine her poetry with performance is to listen to it as a class paying attention to the theatricality and the musical qualities of language.

Or just recall Wanda Traugh reading Renascence in English III, 1966. Magnolia High School. Magnolia, Texas.

Renascence

By Edna St. Vincent Millay

All I could see from where I stood

Was three long mountains and a wood;

I turned and looked another way,

And saw three islands in a bay.

So with my eyes I traced the line

Of the horizon, thin and fine,

Straight around till I was come

Back to where I’d started from;

And all I saw from where I stood

Was three long mountains and a wood.

Over these things I could not see;

These were the things that bounded me;

And I could touch them with my hand,

Almost, I thought, from where I stand.

And all at once things seemed so small

My breath came short, and scarce at all.

But, sure, the sky is big, I said;

Miles and miles above my head;

So here upon my back I’ll lie

And look my fill into the sky.

And so I looked, and, after all,

The sky was not so very tall.

The sky, I said, must somewhere stop,

And—sure enough!—I see the top!

The sky, I thought, is not so grand;

I ‘most could touch it with my hand!

And reaching up my hand to try,

I screamed to feel it touch the sky.

I screamed, and—lo!—Infinity

Came down and settled over me;

Forced back my scream into my chest,

Bent back my arm upon my breast,

And, pressing of the Undefined

The definition on my mind,

Held up before my eyes a glass

Through which my shrinking sight did pass

Until it seemed I must behold

Immensity made manifold;

Whispered to me a word whose sound

Deafened the air for worlds around,

And brought unmuffled to my ears

The gossiping of friendly spheres,

The creaking of the tented sky,

The ticking of Eternity.

I saw and heard, and knew at last

The How and Why of all things, past,

And present, and forevermore.

The Universe, cleft to the core,

Lay open to my probing sense

That, sick’ning, I would fain pluck thence

But could not,—nay! But needs must suck

At the great wound, and could not pluck

My lips away till I had drawn

All venom out.—Ah, fearful pawn!

For my omniscience paid I toll

In infinite remorse of soul.

All sin was of my sinning, all

Atoning mine, and mine the gall

Of all regret. Mine was the weight

Of every brooded wrong, the hate

That stood behind each envious thrust,

Mine every greed, mine every lust.

And all the while for every grief,

Each suffering, I craved relief

With individual desire,—

Craved all in vain! And felt fierce fire

About a thousand people crawl;

Perished with each,—then mourned for all!

A man was starving in Capri;

He moved his eyes and looked at me;

I felt his gaze, I heard his moan,

And knew his hunger as my own.

I saw at sea a great fog bank

Between two ships that struck and sank;

A thousand screams the heavens smote;

And every scream tore through my throat.

No hurt I did not feel, no death

That was not mine; mine each last breath

That, crying, met an answering cry

From the compassion that was I.

All suffering mine, and mine its rod;

Mine, pity like the pity of God.

Ah, awful weight! Infinity

Pressed down upon the finite Me!

My anguished spirit, like a bird,

Beating against my lips I heard;

Yet lay the weight so close about

There was no room for it without.

And so beneath the weight lay I

And suffered death, but could not die.

Long had I lain thus, craving death,

When quietly the earth beneath

Gave way, and inch by inch, so great

At last had grown the crushing weight,

Into the earth I sank till I

Full six feet under ground did lie,

And sank no more,—there is no weight

Can follow here, however great.

From off my breast I felt it roll,

And as it went my tortured soul

Burst forth and fled in such a gust

That all about me swirled the dust.

Deep in the earth I rested now;

Cool is its hand upon the brow

And soft its breast beneath the head

Of one who is so gladly dead.

And all at once, and over all

The pitying rain began to fall;

I lay and heard each pattering hoof

Upon my lowly, thatched roof,

And seemed to love the sound far more

Than ever I had done before.

For rain it hath a friendly sound

To one who’s six feet underground;

And scarce the friendly voice or face:

A grave is such a quiet place.

The rain, I said, is kind to come

And speak to me in my new home.

I would I were alive again

To kiss the fingers of the rain,

To drink into my eyes the shine

Of every slanting silver line,

To catch the freshened, fragrant breeze

From drenched and dripping apple-trees.

For soon the shower will be done,

And then the broad face of the sun

Will laugh above the rain-soaked earth

Until the world with answering mirth

Shakes joyously, and each round drop

Rolls, twinkling, from its grass-blade top.

How can I bear it; buried here,

While overhead the sky grows clear

And blue again after the storm?

O, multi-colored, multiform,

Beloved beauty over me,

That I shall never, never see

Again! Spring-silver, autumn-gold,

That I shall never more behold!

Sleeping your myriad magics through,

Close-sepulchred away from you!

O God, I cried, give me new birth,

And put me back upon the earth!

Upset each cloud’s gigantic gourd

And let the heavy rain, down-poured

In one big torrent, set me free,

Washing my grave away from me!

I ceased; and through the breathless hush

That answered me, the far-off rush

Of herald wings came whispering

Like music down the vibrant string

Of my ascending prayer, and—crash!

Before the wild wind’s whistling lash

The startled storm-clouds reared on high

And plunged in terror down the sky,

And the big rain in one black wave

Fell from the sky and struck my grave.

I know not how such things can be;

I only know there came to me

A fragrance such as never clings

To aught save happy living things;

A sound as of some joyous elf

Singing sweet songs to please himself,

And, through and over everything,

A sense of glad awakening.

The grass, a-tiptoe at my ear,

Whispering to me I could hear;

I felt the rain’s cool finger-tips

Brushed tenderly across my lips,

Laid gently on my sealed sight,

And all at once the heavy night

Fell from my eyes and I could see,—

A drenched and dripping apple-tree,

A last long line of silver rain,

A sky grown clear and blue again.

And as I looked a quickening gust

Of wind blew up to me and thrust

Into my face a miracle

Of orchard-breath, and with the smell,—

I know not how such things can be!—

I breathed my soul back into me.

Ah! Up then from the ground sprang I

And hailed the earth with such a cry

As is not heard save from a man

Who has been dead, and lives again.

About the trees my arms I wound;

Like one gone mad I hugged the ground;

I raised my quivering arms on high;

I laughed and laughed into the sky,

Till at my throat a strangling sob

Caught fiercely, and a great heart-throb

Sent instant tears into my eyes;

O God, I cried, no dark disguise

Can e’er hereafter hide from me

Thy radiant identity!

Thou canst not move across the grass

But my quick eyes will see Thee pass,

Nor speak, however silently,

But my hushed voice will answer Thee.

I know the path that tells Thy way

Through the cool eve of every day;

God, I can push the grass apart

And lay my finger on Thy heart!

The world stands out on either side

No wider than the heart is wide;

Above the world is stretched the sky,—

No higher than the soul is high.

The heart can push the sea and land

Farther away on either hand;

The soul can split the sky in two,

And let the face of God shine through.

But East and West will pinch the heart

That can not keep them pushed apart;

And he whose soul is flat—the sky

Will cave in on him by and by.

Portland Head Lighthouse. Photo by me. 1975. My first visit to Maine.