Clusterflockstock 1.9
If you’d asked me a week ago what color Andrew’s eyes are, I couldn’t have told you. Now I’ll never forget.
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I’m going back
to Texas tomorrow, y’all. For a week, anyways.
Big party on Dutton Drive. The last waltz. The final hurrah.
“Hey, my mom’s not at home. You wanna come over?”
For the Newbies
As I approach my third anniversary with y’all (still a little more than a month away), I thought I might offer the newer members a trip down my memory lane. Deron has many times queried Sheila for helps and hints on fashion. I’m not sure, but my comment, buried here, may have been my first appearance.
I Should Kick Myself
The entry into the garage. We had new siding put on the house three…four? years ago. At the time, they also put in new garage doors with openers, new windows in the media room (a 10′x25′ room on the south side of the house). Why I didn’t include this door in the deal is a mystery to me. I remember thinking, “Ooo, this is too much money.” But, honestly, what would another three or four hundred dollars have done to the loan, lien on the house over the course of fifteen years?
Nevermind the decaying concrete ruined by ten years of throwing “snow-melt” on top of it, that now needs to be ripped out and replaced. “All in good time,” I keep thinking. “All in good time.” And then there’s the landscaping. Oh, fuck it. The shoemaker’s kids go without shoes.
Roly Poly
You can always count on me.
dear clusterflock
Is it only the internal compass that points true north?
Fred Phelps visits the Supreme Court
“How these soldiers are living and dying is a topic of substantial public interest and dialogue, at least nationwide, probably worldwide. The prevailing view is that the soldiers are heroes, and that God is obligated to bless America,” Phelps’ lawyers wrote. “Those views clash with the Bible, in respondents’ sincerely held religious opinion, and when these funerals are used to express those viewpoints, respondents feel duty-bound to provide a countervailing message, to wit, if you want God’s blessings, you have to obey him, and if you want the soldiers to stop dying, you have to stop sinning in this nation.”
When stupidity, freedom of speech, and freedom of religion collide.
America’s Beer Belt
The red dots are the areas with a higher ratio of bars to grocery stores.
(via)
For Andrew
in response to Photography and Parenthood.
The first few years, I was really just a social drinker.
Redemption
Sorry I’ve been quiet of late. I have much to share that may or may not be of interest to ‘flockers, but this glimpse into the mind of my late Uncle Ray (through a letter to his friend Jim) may provoke:
The once “Bro. Jim”,
After prayer and meditation the Lord, in His wisdom and compassion, has led me to extend the hand of civility and forgiveness to you who have fallen so far from the fold. But I do not want to place undue emphasis on how far you have fallen or the depths of your depravity but rather on the Hope that shines eternal through His grace and redemptive power. It is truly grace because you, of all people, have through your sins, blasphemies and contemptuous behavior, earned an eternity in hell. If you escape your destiny only grace can account for it. It warms my heart to extend a gracious welcome back to the fraternity of the true believers, the promise keepers if you will. All you need to do is open your heart. It matters not that you reek of fish, gin, campsmoke and possibly loose women (could not tell from the fish odor) so long as you are sincere in your confession of sin.
Come as you are as we softly sing “Just As I Am”.
You cannot imagine how my heart swells to see a sinner return to the Truth as I see it. You should be aware that the Lord’s forgiveness is complete and total but mine is more exacting. Lacking the supernatural powers to see into your heart, I must judge by outward behavior. You would serve your rehabilitation well by inviting Joyce and me up to a Cardinal game before the season is over. That would be a splendid sign of an intent to climb out of the cesspool of degradation and self-elevation that you have inhabited.
You were once a good boy. I’ve been told that. By you, but it was convincing at the time. Open your heart. Accept this lifeline. Put on the raiments of salvation and join me when we celebrate for an eternity. Just put your hand on the computer and say “Bro. Ray intercede for me because I am lost and unworthy but I want to be found and redeemed.”
Jesus and I patiently wait,
Bro. Ray
Spiritual Warrior
These letters keep my dear Uncle alive for me. I hope you enjoy them too.
Largely why I was hated in high school
Phil once asked somthing like “is there a photo of yourself you wouldn’t show someone?” This would be it, if I were showing it. The dude on the left was my neighbor to the north of our house in the background. We shared a driveway.
The death of Jermyn Street
I had just settled in my easy chair when a key turned in the lock and a nattily-dressed man in his 60s let himself in. He held a bottle of Teachers’ scotch under his arm. He walked to the sideboard, took a glass, poured a shot, and while filling it with soda from the siphon, asked me, “Fancy a spot?”
“I’m afraid I don’t drink,” I said.
“Oh, my.”
This man sat on my sofa, lit a cigarette, and said, “I’m Henry.”
“Am I…in your room?”
“Oh, no, no, old boy! I’m only the owner. I dropped in to say hello.”
This was Henry Togna Sr. He appears in a Dickens novel I haven’t yet read. I’m sure of it. He appeared in my room almost every afternoon when I stayed at the Eyrie Mansion.
—Roger Ebert, “I met a character from Dickens,” Chicago Sun-Times, February 5, 2010
(Via @davidmoldawer)
Yours for a freer New Albany
New Albany, Mississippi, birthplace of William Faulkner, will allow beer sales for the first time in over half a century. Faulkner himself pled for tolerance in 1950:
“Yours for a freer Oxford,” wrote Faulkner, who had a long history of drinking binges, “where publicans can be law-abiding publicans six days a week and ministers of God can be ministers of God all seven days in the week.”
Indeed.
Shackleton’s Whisky
Five crates of whisky and brandy belonging to polar explorer Ernest Shackleton have been recovered after being buried for more than 100 years under the Antarctic ice, explorers said Friday.
The smell of whisky in the surrounding ice also indicated full bottles of spirits were inside, albeit that one or more might have broken.
from the comments
Phil Bebbington: Well, I am in Texas and spent my first night in Johnson City. I had Catfish served on a plastic plate whilst watching two drunks play pool – one swore he knew me and kissed me on the hand – this is only half the story, perhaps the material of a post, not sure.
They were barely able to walk when we were kicked out at 9 and yet almost managed to drive a straight line!
torn from today’s headlines
Actor Elmore “Rip” Torn has been charged with breaking into a Connecticut bank and carrying a loaded handgun while intoxicated.
Golden CO, 30Jan2010
Happy Birthday
Happy Birthday, Simone.
Faulkner Fashion
From the Life collection of Famous Literary Drunks and Addicts.
First impression…
Are George and Diane just a little tipsy?
Taxes
I made about twenty-one thousand dollars last year?
and somehow owe a thousand dollars to the government.
How is anyone ever supposed to lift themselves out of poverty?
from the comments
I own stuff I wish I didn’t and resist owning stuff that I love.
Oh, Phil! Yes. I intend to change that equation, soon.
from the department of typos
Have succeeded in building strong partnerships with beers…
Submitted to my manager as part of my annual performance review.
nevermore
A mysterious visitor who left roses and cognac at the grave of Edgar Allan Poe each year on the writer’s birthday failed to show early Tuesday, breaking with a ritual that began more than 60 years ago.
“I’m confused, befuddled,” said Jeff Jerome, curator of the Poe House and Museum. “I don’t know what’s going on.”
Frank’s story about Pierce
Them’s the breaks, as my half-brother Pierce used to say a lot. He’d spit it out like you had earned that bad thing comin’ and why didn’t you just get outta the way but nobody said it out loud when he got so drunk and walked in front of an F-350 dually. Twenty four breaks as I recall although that’s skipping the bones that got all crushed up like oyster crackers.