April 1, 2002 - Monday

Andy and I searched for the Virile Bull yesterday. Legend has it that somewhere in Newton County is a statue of a bull and a memorial dedicated to an ancient bovine with extraordinary powers of procreation.

This bull must have had sperm so thick and frothy, that any cow that even came in contact with him was rendered helplessly pregnant by his powers of seduction. He definately knew how to handle his women. Or at least, thats what the legend says...

If you ask me though, why is this bull so great? I mean, its all really just a load of bullshit, because all the chicks he got were just a bunch of cows. He didn't actually land himself any hot pioneer women. Can you really see yourself, sitting at the bar bragging to all your buddies "Yeah, I scored last night."

"Oh yeah," they'd ask, "with who?"

"Some cow," you'd reply.

Just think about it, you'd be the laughing stock of all creation. Maybe if you told everyone that she had four tits and "really big udders," it wouldn't be so bad.

We plan to resume our hunt for this Don Juan of the animal kingdom next weekend. Although our quest was unsuccessful today, we did find an historical marker near Andy's old farm for the first courthouse in Newton County. Boy Oh Boy! And remember that one memorial Nathan and I found in Eastburn Hollow? There is also one caddy-corner to that, commemorating an old church.

Andy and I listed to the soundtrack for "O Brother, Where Art Thou?" while we were out, and I have made the realization that Blue Grass music is actually pretty good. While it is closely related to country, its less wussified and better to listen to. It doesn't just drone on and on about how "My gurl left me an' then I drank sum beer."

I read once that a study done on different music styles found that country music actually retards brain functioning. Classical music enhanced it, and there were varying degrees of enhancement with other genres. I can't back that up with any evidence, and it was a long time ago that I read it, so don't quote me.

Riding around in the country with Andy and listening to Blue Grass got me thinking. One of these nights I definately need to get drunk, and go driving around in a truck with my .22 blowing the hell out of roadsigns. Something to get back to my redneck heritage.

I've decided to extend the deadline on the contest. Seeing as how everyone is a lazy bastard, I will keep it going. If anyone wins, I might just have another one sometime soon.

I went and visited Zach's dad yesterday to show him my new gun. I asked him if the owner of the gun shop in Rensselaer was in fact a Nazi, and after giving me a strange look, brought up the perfectly reasonable observation that he collects WWII memorabilia. That could explain it, or perhaps the entire Meadows family is a secret sect of Neo-Nazi alien Democrats bent on conquering the world!

I have to be careful, my house might be bugged...

grokkings

The word "grok" comes from Robert Heinlein's book Stranger In A Strange Land.

different crap

Ghost hunting    7/23/02

other people

Select One Amber Art Colleen Kristy Suzanne Zach