Ron G.

Belle asks... "Didn't craiggers dress up as Paul for a "gift" to the WC one year?" To which Ron replies... If I'd ever seen such a thing, I'd remember it. It would have made me wretch. I hunt, fish and clean and butcher my kills and used to work on an ambulance crew and even did some accident insurance photography, but my stomach couldn't handle a picture like that. But then I was never corps. I guess they all had extra strong digestive tracts.

I knew that.

I knew that.

In answer to Catcups original question... A 5x7 photo of LCM dressed in a cowboy outfit with one foot up on a hay bale in what appeared to be a barn. What a f***ing treasure. I don't seem to have it anymore.

1. You Know You're in an Arkansas Church if... the finance committee refuses to provide funds for the purchase of a chandelier because none of the members knows how to play one. 2. You Know You're in an Arkansas Church if... people ask when they learn that Jesus fed the 5000, whether the two fish were bass or catfish, and what bait was used to catch 'em. 3. You Know You're in an Arkansas Church if... when the pastor says, "I'd like to ask Bubba to help take up the offering," five guys and two women stand up. 4. You Know You're in an Arkansas Church if...opening day of deer season is recognized as an official church holiday. 5. You Know You're in an Arkansas Church if... a member of the church requests to be buried in his 4-wheel-drive truck because "It ain't never been in a hole it couldn't get out of." 6. You Know You're in an Arkansas Church if... the choir is known as the "OK Chorale". 7. You Know You're in an Arkansas Church if... in a congregation of 500 members, there are only seven last names in the church directory. 8. You Know You're in an Arkansas Church if... people think "rapture" is what you get when you lift something too heavy. 9. You Know You're in an Arkansas Church if... the baptismal pool is a #2 galvanized washtub. 10. You Know You're in an Arkansas Church if... the choir robes were donated by (and embroidered with the logo from) Billy Bob's Barbecue. 11. You Know You're in an Arkansas Church if... the collection plates are really hubcaps from a '56 Chevy. 12. You Know You're in an Arkansas Church if... instead of a bell, you are called to service by a duck call. 13. You Know You're in an Arkansas Church if... the minister and his wife drive matching pickup trucks. 14. You Know You're in an Arkansas Church if... the communion wine is Boone's Farm "Tickled Pink". 15. You Know You're in an Arkansas Church if... "Thou shall not covet" applies to huntin' dogs, too. 16. You know You're in an Arkansas Church if... the final words of the benediction are, "Y'all come back now, Ya heah". God Bless and don't fergit ta say yer prayers!!!

All in all, it hadn't been a good day. Bad traffic, a malfunctioning computer, incompetent coworkers and a sore back all made me a seething cauldron of rage. But more importantly for this story, it had been over forty-eight hours since I'd last taken a dump. I'd tried to jumpstart the process, beginning my day with a bowl of bowel-cleansing fiber cereal, following it with six cups of coffee at work, and adding a bean-laden lunch at Taco Bell. As I was returning home from work, my insides let me know with subtle rumbles and the emission of the occasional tiny fart that Big Things would be happening soon. Alas, I had to stop at the mall to pick up an order for my wife. I completed this task, and as I was walking past the stores on my way back to the car, I noticed a large sale sign proclaiming, "Everything Must Go!" This was prophetic, for my colon informed me with a sudden violent cramp and a wet, squeaky fart that everything was indeed about to go. I hurried to the mall bathrooms. I surveyed the five stalls, which I have numbered 0 through 4 (I write a lot of software) for your convenience: 0.Occupied. 1.Clean, but Bathroom Protocol forbids its use, as it's next to the occupied one. 2.Poo on seat. 3.Poo and toilet paper in bowl, unidentifiable liquid splattered on seat. 4.No toilet paper, no stall door, unidentifiable sticky object near base of toilet. Clearly, it had to be Stall #1. I trudged back, entered, dropped trou and sat down. I'm normally a fairly Shameful ****ter. I wasn't happy about being next to the occupied stall, but Big Things were afoot. I was just getting ready to bear down when all of a sudden the sweet sounds of Beethoven came from next door, followed by a fumbling, and then the sound of a voice answering the ringing phone. As usual for a cell phone conversation, the voice was exactly 8 dB louder than it needed to be. Out of Shameful habit, my sphincter slammed shut. The inane conversation went on and on. Mr. ****ter was blathering to Mrs. ****ter about the ****ty day he had. I sat there, cramping and miserable, waiting for him to finish. As the loud conversation dragged on, I became angrier and angrier, thinking that I, too, had a crappy day, but I was too polite to yak about in public. My bowels let me know in no uncertain terms that if I didn't get crapping soon, my day would be getting even crappier. Finally my anger reached a point that overcame Shamefulness. I no longer cared. I gripped the toilet paper holder with one hand, braced my other hand against the side of the stall, and pushed with all my might. I was rewarded with a fart of colossal magnitude -- a cross between the sound of someone ripping a very wet bed sheet in half and of plywood being torn off a wall. The sound gradually transitioned into a heavily modulated low-RPM tone, not unlike someone firing up a Harley. I managed to hit the resonance frequency of the stall, and it shook gently. Once my foot cheeks stopped flapping in the breeze, three things became apparent: (1) The next-door conversation had ceased; (2) my colon's continued seizing indicated that there was more to come; and (3) the bathroom was now beset by a horrible, eldritch stench. It was as if a gateway to Hell had been opened. The foul miasma quickly made its way under the stall and began choking my poop-mate. This initial "herald" fart had ended his conversation in mid-sentence. "Oh my God," I heard him utter, following it with suppressed sounds of choking, and then, "No, baby, that wasn't me (cough, gag), you could hear that (gag)??" Now there was no stopping me. I pushed for all I was worth. I could swear that in the resulting cacophony of rips, squirts, splashes, poots, and blasts, I was actually lifted slightly off the pot. The amount of stuff in me was incredible. It sprayed against the bowl with tremendous force. Later, in surveying the damage, I'd see that liquid poop had actually managed to ricochet out of the bowl and run down the side on to the floor. But for now, all I could do was hang on for the ride. Next door I could hear him fumbling with the paper dispenser as he desperately tried to finish his task. Little snatches of conversation made themselves heard over my anal symphony: "Gotta go... horrible... throw up... in my mouth... not... make it... tell the kids... love them... oh God..." followed by more sounds of suppressed gagging and retching. Alas, it is evidently difficult to hold one's phone and wipe one's bum at the same time. Just as my high-pressure abuse of the toilet was winding down, I heard a plop and splash from next door, followed by string of swear words and gags. My poop-mate had dropped his phone into the toilet. There was a lull in my production, and the restroom became deathly quiet. I could envision him standing there, wondering what to do. A final anal announcement came trumpeting from my behind, small chunks plopping noisily into the water. That must have been the last straw. I heard a flush, a fumbling with the lock, and then the stall door was thrown open. I heard him running out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. After a considerable amount of paperwork, I got up and surveyed the damage. I felt bad for the janitor who'd be forced to deal with this, but I knew that flushing was not an option. No toilet in the world could handle that unholy mess. Flushing would only lead to a floor flooded with filth. As I left, I glanced into the next-door stall. Nothing remained in the bowl. Had he flushed his phone, or had he plucked it out and left the bathroom with nasty unwashed hands? The world will never know. I exited the bathroom, momentarily proud and Shameless, looking around for a face glaring at me. But I saw no one. I suspect that somehow my supernatural elimination has managed to transfer my Shamefulness to my anonymous poop-mate. I think it'll be a long time before he can bring himself to poop in public -- and I doubt he'll ever again answer his cell phone in the loo. And this, my friends, is why you should never talk on your phone in the bathroom. Do your business and get out.

Thanks for the help everyone!! Sudo, Your post got Andrew singing it ALL DAY LONG. Bluzeman, The Bird is a song I remember very, very well. It's the song that was interrupted on the radio when Walter Cronkite announced the death of JFK. Some friends and I ditched school after 2nd period that day to go to Dallas and see the president. We never really saw anything, but heard the 4 shots loud and clear and then a lot of hollering and commotion from Dealy Plaza about a block away. We left as quickly as possible and heard that on the radio as we were leaving. Wacky, EXCELLENT, Thank you! Shell, It'll soon appear in the silly forum. Andrew spent Sunday afternoon going through his Veggie Tales collection, so now that's firmly planted in my head... Some veggies went to sea, sea, sea to see what they could see, see, see but all that they could see, see, see was the bottom of the deep blue sea, sea, sea see?

Hens lay eggs whether there's a rooster or not. If there's no rooster, the eggs won't be fertile. Just thought I'd clarify that.

As much as I hate to allow the state to have authority over children in ANY situation, I guess I have to grudgingly agree that it should be the states call. Better yet, the medical professionals call. Let the doctors decide. The parents/step parents have no moral authority in this. All my opinions about that sort of thing were dashed last year when a local Mountain View boy, Terry Wallis, came to after being in a "vegetative state" coma for twenty years. He has speech problems and some other problems, but I hear he no longer thinks Reagan is president and is coming to terms with the idea that his infant daughter is really a grown woman. Poor guy was knocked cold in a bad car wreck at age 19 and woke up in time for his 40th birthday.

MARINE = My foot Rides In Navy Equipment Excuse me while I duck.

Belle, You missed Navy Rule #5: Remind the Marines they're in the Navy just because it irritates them so much.

If you ask Chuck Norris what time it is, he always says, "Two seconds till." After you ask, "Two seconds to what?" he roundhouse kicks you in the face. Filming on location for Walker: Texas Ranger, Chuck Norris brought a stillborn baby lamb back to life by giving it a prolonged beard rub. Shortly after the farm animal sprang back to life and a crowd had gathered, Chuck Norris roundhouse kicked the animal, breaking its neck, to remind the crew once more that the good Chuck giveth, and the good Chuck, he taketh away. Since 1940, the year Chuck Norris was born, roundhouse kick related deaths have increased 13,000 percent. Chuck Norris has recently changed his middle name to "F*cking." There is no chin behind Chuck Norris' beard. There is only another fist. There are two kinds of people in this world: people who suck, and Chuck Norris. In the movie "Back to the Future" they used Chuck Norris' Delorean to go back into time and into the future. When they gave it back to him with a scratch on it he was angry and roundhouse kicked Michael J. Fox, which years later they discovered is the cause of Parkinson's disease. Chuck Norris spends his Saturdays climbing mountains and meditating in peaceful solitude. Sundays are for oral sex, KFC and Tequila. Chuck Norris always has sex on the first date. Always. The only time he didn't was in 1941, otherwise known as the beginning of the WWll. Crop circles are Chuck Norris's way of telling the world that sometimes corn needs to lie the @(%* down! There is no theory of evolution, just a list of creatures Chuck Norris allows to live. Chuck Norris once walked down the street with a massive erection. There were no survivors. In an average living room there are 1,242 objects Chuck Norris could use to kill you, including the room itself. Chuck Norris has two speeds: walk and kill. Chuck Norris is the only man to ever defeat a brick wall in a game of tennis. When Chuck Norris was born, the nurse said, "Holy crap! That's Chuck Norris!" Then she had had sex with him. At that point, she was the third girl he had slept with. It takes Chuck Norris 20 minutes to watch 60 Minutes. Chuck Norris is not lactose intolerant, he just refuses to put up with lactose's $*@!. Chuck Norris can divide by zero. When Chuck Norris does a pushup, he isn't lifting himself up, he's pushing the Earth down.

His newest copy of 'HardTusk' in hand, Dumbo runs to the bathroom for a little relief.

When Lennon was shot, I hadn't yet been introduced to TWI. I was working in a commercial photo studio and was absorbed to taking photos of offshore oil drilling components for technical purposes. I just remember passively thinking "another rock star done gone". I was kinda sad, tho. I think maybe we all are affected when an icon of our youth, who is similar in age, passes because it puts us more in touch with our own mortality.

About three days ago, I turned mt radio to a local station that gives the best local weather reports as we were expecting a bad winter storm. between reports, they played that dreadful old Dean Martin song "When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that's amore etc etc." That melody has been stuck in my head ever since. How do I eradicate it? So far, I've played CDs as loud as I can play them to no avail. I tried laxatives and got busy with distractions such as shooting at cans, running power tools, stepping on the cats tail, driving up and down the mountain, reading Grease Spot posts, wearing an aluminum pyramid on my head, eating jalapeno jelly beans, watching Andrew's cartoons, farting in the bathtub, drinking beer, a cold shower, eating sardines, rereading the 'Heidi's ranch' thread, watching CNN, listening to an old LCM tape I found, cleaning the bathroom, grinding my teeth, shoveling out the chicken house, chasing the neighbors dog, singing "Beautiful Ohio", building a building with Andrews LEGO's etc. etc....none of which helped. What do YOU do to get rid of awful old tunes stck in your head? I need help!!

Whats next, a movie about the illicit love between an NFL quarterback and his nose tackle that develops when his hands are between his legs when he hikes the ball? Why not a gay Navy Seals team in Afghanistan? How about a gay Nazi Panzer crew, the movie could be called "The Pink Panzer"?

I read all six pages and as some folks here know from hard experience, there is little in this world that shocks me, leaves me speechless or where I can't find humor. Now, you've done it. Andrew only has one site he likes to visit regularly...it involves a video game called "Legend of Zelda". I'll keep my 12 ga. handy, anyway.

That SORTA answers that age old question about the defacation habits of bears.

Alleged Rapist Programmed Cell Number In Victims' Phones POSTED: 10:53 am EST December 6, 2005 UPDATED: 11:46 pm EST December 6, 2005 ORLANDO, Fla. -- A 24-year-old man was arrested Tuesday on suspicion he raped two University of Central Florida students and then programmed his phone number into their cell phones so the victims could call him later, according to Local 6 News. Investigators said Evislandys Brito slipped into an apartment located near the University of Central Florida campus Saturday and held a gun to a sleeping woman's head. He then raped her, police said. Sunday, Brito allegedly entered another apartment and raped a different UCF student at gunpoint. Detectives said after the two rapes, Brito sat and talked with the women for about 30 minutes. He then programmed his cell phone number into their cell phones and vice versa, Local 6 News reported. "Once he left the second victim on Sunday morning, 30 minutes after that, he called her and just started talking like they were best friends," Orange County Sheriff's Sgt. Richard Makewich said. "She hung up the phone and he said call me later on." An undercover police officer called Brito back posing as the victim. Brito went to the apartment complex where he allegedly raped the woman and he was arrested without incident. Investigators said they found a gun, a cell phone and the clothes he was described to be wearing. Brito was charged with sexual battery with a deadly weapon, aggravated assault with a firearm and burglary. Watch Local 6 News for more on this developing story. Copyright 2005 by Internet Broadcasting Systems and Local6.com. All rights reserved. This material may not be published, broadcast, rewritten or redistributed.

I have around 1000 books dating back 200 years as all my forebears were avid readers, collectors and packrats. I have all of my mothers (she's 84) textbooks through school including McGuffy readers, primers etc. (ca. 1920's) and all sorts of misc stuff. I had 3 copies of the very first original Boy Scout Leaders Handbook published in 1911. I gave one to an elderly gentleman for Christmas last year who was a life time Scouter. Those books would only fetch maybe $30 to $50 on the open market, but it was priceless to him. I also have the "Harvard Classics 5 foot shelf of books" set. It's priceless to me, but as was mentioned earlier, only worth maybe $200 cash...although I'm skeptical it would be worth that much. I do have some first editions of H.G. Wells and a set of the complete works of Jules Verne, but they're worth much more to me than just cash value, so I've never bothered to look into their value. These books are all wonderful resources for Andrew's homeschooling and besides, if I were to peddle any of those volumes, the ghost of great grampaw G. would no doubt come and backhand me. Magazines and newspapers seem be more valuable than books, especially if they have something of wide interest such as the original issue of Life with the photo of the Marines raising the flag at Iwo Jima. I used to have an old plastic pillowcase full of old newspapers with headlines beginning the sinking of the Maine and the subsequent Spanish American War to the JFK election....and everything of note in between. It weighed about 75 lbs and was lost in my TWI shuffles. I still have a second bag with more recent events beginning with the Dallas Morning News Kennedy assassination, the Moon trip in 1969 and about 35 others until Sept 11, 2001. Again, I'm not interested in cash value, but I enjoy having the historical record, and Andrew can read it like todays news. What Andrew does with all this stuff after I'm gone is his business, but I'm teaching him to revere the printed word and hope he'll carry on with it and pass it all down with his lifetime of additions and keep it going.

1. What time is it: 5:15 PM CST 2. Name: Ron 3. Nickname: Ron 4. Piercings: A couple of teeth 5. Recent Movie you've seen: Pt. ll "THe Triangle" on the Sci Fi channel. 6. Eye color: blue 7. Place of birth: Ft. Worth, Texas 8. Favorite food: chili 9. Ever been toilet papering? yes 10. Love someone so much it made you cry? yes ever hate sumone so much it made you cry? yes 11. Been in a car accident: yes 12. Favorite day of the week: Most all of them 13. Favorite restaurants: Miguel's Mexican Diner in Harrison, AR 14. Favorite Flower: purple phlox 15. Favorite sport to watch: Rodeo, tractor pulls 16. Favorite Drink: non liquour : Root Beer, unhomogenized milk from the cow; liquour: Lone Star Beer (very occasionally) 17. Favorite ice cream: Bluebell Pecan Praline. when I can get it or Yarnell's Mississippi Mud Pie 18. Disney or Warner Brothers: Warner Brothers 19. Favorite fast food restaurant: Popeye's Fried Chicken 20. What color is your bedroom carpet: Dark (hunter) green 21. How many times you failed your driver's test? 0 22. Winter, summer, spring or fall: Spring 23. Which store would you choose to Max out your credit card: J.C. Whitney (I don't know of any stores they have...just catalogs.) 24. What do you like to do when you are most bored: Make somebody laugh. 25. Bedtime: No particular time 26. Favorite TV shows: none...just movies, but I watch a lot of Natl Geographic stuff and I like those medical forensics shows on the health channel. 27. Last person you went to dinner with: Westark Scout Leaders 28. Ford or Chevy: Dodge truck 29. What are you listening to right now? Andrew's cartoons in the background 30. How many tattoos do you have: none 31. How many pets do you own: 2 dogs and a one eyed cat 32. Which came first the chicken or the chicken egg? Eggs, of course...with sausage and coffee...chicken is for lunch.

I'm here cuz everyone has to be somewhere. If you're on another forum and I remain here, you think of me as being there, though you're really there cuz I stayed here and think of you as being there. It's all a matter of perspective, I suppose.

Audio file captured from a hikers camcorder during a recent hiking trip in the cascades. The local university wildlife biologists have been unable to identify the sound. Unknown Hominid Sound

Some stuff in this world leaves this ol' hillbilly witn a triple dog .... dipped "HUH???". Here is one of them: http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/10357882/ Mother accused of death of infant in dryer Infant suffers third-degree burns, head trauma BOGALUSA, La. - A mother was booked on a charge of first-degree murder for allegedly placing her 3-month-old son in a clothes dryer and turning it on. The infant had third-degree burns over 50 percent of his body and suffered blunt force trauma to the head, the St. Tammany Parish coroner said. Police Sgt. Darryl Darden said Lakeisha Adams, 18, called police to her home on Monday to report that someone had killed her child. When officers arrived, they found Jailand Adams on a sofa. He was pronounced dead at the scene. Darden said Adams admitted during questioning to putting the infant in the dryer and turning it on, but did not say why. Adams also has a 1-year-old child who was placed in state custody, police said. If convicted, Adams faces death by injection or a life sentence. The first-degree murder charge is mandatory under Louisiana law because the victim was under age 12.