WHO IS ETTA?

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The decision to move South, nineteen years ago, was due too an epiphany. Delaying this leap of understanding for most of my life is brain damage from fifty birthdays of Great Lakes weather.

Choosing North Carolina’s coast as the landing site, for those suffering from HCD Syndrome (habitually cold & depressed), is a nirvana like selection. Besides, unlike moving to Peru, English is the language.
Packing the contents of a three-story home into a rental U-Haul is like stacking BB’s. My wife, who knows how to put toothpaste back in the tube, is immediately in charge.

We are on the road at five AM with my son at the wheel of Mr. U-Haul as I follow in my car. The trip should take thirteen hours. On Interstate ninety-five, the truck begins to develop symptoms of engine trouble. Our top speed is forty-five and supporting waves from all the other traffic really enhances our ability to accept one ugly drive. My son, a bit of a rigid man, occasionally waves back.

Pulling up in front of our new home, twenty-six hours since leaving Erie, my son says “Do not ever ask me to do this again. I am so hungry, please go get something to eat and wake me when your back”.

I drive down Market St. caring little about what to eat; “First place I see” I mumble incoherently. A Kentucky fried Chicken pops into view; I immediately pull in, park, enter and get in line.

The place is rather busy but with only four customers in front of me, it should be quick. As I look around, I become aware of a huge man behind me, tapping a nervous size forty cowboy boot on the tile floor. I am five foot eight and his belt buckle is level with my nose.

I am next and step up to the counter. The woman asks; “Wha yo wan”? I’ll take a bucket of chicken, cold slaw and two Pepsi’s”. She goes to place the order. The cowboy boot is tapping at a quicker pace. She returns and says “Etta criby”? I think she must be talking to someone named Etta so I do not react. Narrowing her eyebrows she leans forward directly in my face and says; “Etta criby”? Embarrassment and confusion is taking over because I have no clue what she is saying. I still do not reply.

Goliath in cowboy boots thumps me in my back. Leaning over he yells in my ear; “WHA SHE IS ASKIN’ YA’ALL IS EXTRA CRISPY“! I tell her “sure, absolutely…of course”. Picking up the order, I‘m gone in seconds. Driving back to the house I recall the moving to Peru thought; “I have a language to learn,” I mutter.

Waking my son he questions, “What took so long”? “I was talking to Etta”. “Who is Etta“? “Never mind, eat your chicken”.

KOREAN FAT BOY 3

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KOREAN FAT BOY 3

Rita, Rita, Rita

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Have you ever just looked at something and knew the wheel was turning but the hamster was dead?

North Korea Fat Boy – Two

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North Korea Fat Boy - Two

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“Yes that girl, right there…Have her bring five pizzas”.

I MUST BE A REDNECK….…… AT LEAST I AM ACCORDING TO THIS.

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“Picked up along the way for your enjoyment”…..David

 

We have enjoyed the redneck jokes for years. It’s time to
Take a reflective look at the core beliefs of a culture that
Values home, family, country and God. If I had to stand
Before a dozen terrorists who threaten my life, I’d
Choose a half dozen or so rednecks to back me up.
Tire irons, squirrel guns and grit — that’s what rednecks are
Made of.  

You might be a redneck if: It never occurred to you to
Be offended by the phrase, ‘one nation, under God….’
    
You might be a redneck if: You’ve never protested about seeing
The 10 Commandments posted in public places.

You might be a redneck if: You still say ‘ Christmas’
Instead of ‘Winter Festival.’

You might be a redneck if: You bow your head when
Someone prays.

You might be a redneck if: You stand and place your
Hand over your heart when they play the National Anthem

You might be a redneck if: You treat our armed forces
Veterans with great respect, and always have.

You might be a redneck if: You’ve never burned an
American flag, nor intend to.

You might be a redneck if: You know what you believe
And you aren’t afraid to say so, no matter who is listening.

You might be a redneck if: You respect your elders and
Raised your kids to do the same.
Some of you are so old you don’t have elders to respect.

You might be a redneck if: You’d give your last dollar to
A friend.

You might be a redneck if: You believe in God & Jesus

And believe that others have the right to believe in which

Ever God they believe in as long as their God does not

Tell them to kill anyone who does not believe the same

As they do!

God Bless the USA!

Keep the fire burning, redneck friend. You can pass it on to your redneck friends

And Associates———It is totally acceptable and might save our Country.

IN GOD WE TRUST!
 

 

 
 

 

 

Men Remember…Anonymous

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     A woman awakes during the night to find that her husband is not in bed. She puts on her robe and goes downstairs to look for him. She finds him sitting at the kitchen table with a hot cup of coffee in front of him. He appears to be in deep thought, just staring at the wall. She watches as he wipes a tear from his eye and takes a sip of his coffee. ‘What’s the matter, dear?’ she whispers as she steps into the room. ‘Why are you down here at this time of night? The husband looks up from his coffee and says, ‘It’s the 20th Anniversary of the day we met.’ She can’t believe he has remembered and starts to tear up.
    The husband continues, ‘Do you remember 20 years ago when we started dating? I was 18 and you were only 16,’ he says solemnly. Once again, the wife is touched to tears. ‘Yes, I do,’ she replies. The husband pauses. The words were not coming easily.
    ‘Do you remember when your father caught us in the back seat of my car?’ ‘Yes, I remember,’ says the wife, lowering herself into the chair beside him. The husband continues, ‘Do you remember when he shoved the shotgun in my face and said, “Either you marry my daughter or I will send you to prison for 20 years?’ ‘I remember that, too,’ she replies softly. He wiped another tear from his cheek and says, “I would have gotten out today.”

 

 
 

 

Smoked Turkey

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Smoked a turkey for today. Most of the cost was for the ashtray.

Waste Management

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Living in the county outside city limits requires residents to purchase privately owned trash pick-up; the cost of which keeps rising. A new company offering a much lower price began operating in our neighborhood. I purchased their service.
The following Monday I called the existing company to cancel the service. “Good Morning, this is Waste Management, how may I help you”? “This is Elmer Shoe, I’m calling to cancel my service”, I replied. “Are you moving Mr. Shoe”? “No, madam, I’m just cancelling”. She went on, “can you give a reason why”? “No, I’d rather not open that door if you don’t mind”. She presses on. “I need to know why you’re cancelling your service Mr. Shoe”. “Alright, if it’s that important, you charge too much”.
“Mr. Shoe, are you going with the new company”? “Yes I am”. At this point I feel forbearance walking away. “Our service is better”, she adds. “Miss Management how on earth could it be better, a guy picks up a trash can and dumps it in the truck, what is he wearing a tux”?
“You’re missing my point”, she blurts. Patience leaves the building…“Point, what point”? “Mr. Shoe, my can is bigger than their can”! “Oh, in that case you should consider Jenny Craig”? She hung up.

 

Letter to the Editor

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Letter to the Editor