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Monday, March 7, 2011

Email Repost

I recieved this in an email and couldnt help but repost it.
SIX BOYS AND 13 HANDS...

Each year I am hired to go to Washington, DC, with the eighth grade class from Clinton, WI where I grew up, to videotape their trip. I greatly enjoy visiting our nation's capitol, and each year I take some special memories back with me. This fall's trip was especially memorable.

On the last night of our trip, we stopped at the Iwo Jima memorial. This memorial is the largest bronze statue in the world and depicts one of the most famous photographs in history -- that of the six brave soldiers raising the American Flag at the top of a rocky hill on the island of Iwo Jima, Japan, during WW II.
 
Over one hundred students and chaperones piled off the buses and headed towards the memorial. I noticed a solitary figure at the base of the statue, and as I got closer he asked, 'Where are you guys from?'  
I told him that we were from Wisconsin. 'Hey, I'm a cheese head, too! Come gather around, Cheese heads, and I will tell you a story.' 
(It was James Bradley who just happened to be in Washington, DC, to speak at the memorial the following day. He was there that night to say good night to his dad, who had passed away. He was just about to leave when he saw the buses pull up. I videotaped him as he spoke to us, and received his permission to share what he said from my videotape. It is one thing to tour the incredible monuments filled with history in Washington, DC, but it is quite another to get the kind of insight we received that night.) 
When all had gathered around, he reverently began to speak. (Here are his words that night.) 
'My name is James Bradley and I'm from Antigo, Wisconsin. My dad is on that statue, and I just wrote a book called 'Flags of Our Fathers' which is #5 on the New York Times Best Seller list right now. It is the story of the six boys you see behind me.  
'Six boys raised the flag. The first guy putting the pole in the ground is Harlon Block. Harlon was an all-state football player. He enlisted in the Marine Corps with all the senior members of his football team.. They were off to play another type of game. A game called 'War.' But it didn't turn out to be a game. Harlon, at the age of 21, died with his intestines in his hands. I don't say that to gross you out, I say that because there are people who stand in front of this statue and talk about the glory of war. You guys need to know that most of the boys in Iwo Jima were 17, 18, and 19 years old - and it was so hard that the ones who did make it home never even would talk to their families about it. 
(He pointed to the statue) 'You see this next guy? That's Rene Gagnon from New Hampshire. If you took Rene's helmet off at the moment this photo was taken and looked in the webbing of that helmet, you would find a photograph...a photograph of his girlfriend Rene put that in there for protection because he was scared. He was 18 years old. It was just boys who won the battle of Iwo Jima. Boys. Not old men.  
'The next guy here, the third guy in this tableau, was Sergeant Mike Strank.. Mike is my hero. He was the hero of all these guys. They called him the 'old man' because he was so old. He was already 24. When Mike would motivate his boys in training camp, he didn't say, 'Let's go kill some Japanese' or 'Let's die for our country' He knew he was talking to little boys.. Instead he would say, 'You do what I say, and I'll get you home to your mothers.' 
'The last guy on this side of the statue is Ira Hayes, a Pima Indian from Arizona . Ira Hayes was one of them who lived to walk off Iwo Jima . He went into the White House with my dad. President Truman told him, 'You're a hero' He told reporters, 'How can I feel like a hero when 250 of my buddies hit the island with me and only 27 of us walked off alive?' 

So you take your class at school, 250 of you spending a year together having fun, doing everything together. Then all 250 of you hit the beach, but only 27 of your classmates walk off alive. That was Ira Hayes. He had images of horror in his mind. Ira Hayes carried the pain home with him and eventually died dead drunk, face down, drowned in a very shallow puddle, at the age of 32 (ten years after this picture was taken).
  
'The next guy, going around the statue, is Franklin Sousley from Hilltop, Kentucky . A fun-lovin' hillbilly boy. His best friend, who is now 70, told me, 'Yeah, you know, we took two cows up on the porch of the Hilltop General Store. Then we strung wire across the stairs so the cows couldn't get down. Then we fed them Epsom salts. Those cows crapped all night.' Yes, he was a fun-lovin' hillbilly boy. Franklin died on Iwo Jima at the age of 19. When the telegram came to tell his mother that he was dead, it went to the Hilltop General Store. A barefoot boy ran that telegram up to his mother's farm. The neighbors could hear her scream all night and into the morning. Those neighbors lived a quarter of a mile away. 
'The next guy, as we continue to go around the statue, is my dad, John Bradley, from Antigo, Wisconsin, where I was raised. My dad lived until 1994, but he would never give interviews. When Walter Cronkite's producers or the New York Times would call, we were trained as little kids to say 'No, I'm sorry, sir, my dad's not here. He is in Canada fishing. No, there is no phone there, sir. No, we don't know when he is coming back.' My dad never fished or even went to Canada. Usually, he was sitting there right at the table eating his Campbell's soup. But we had to tell the press that he was out fishing. He didn't want to talk to the press. 
'You see, like Ira Hayes, my dad didn't see himself as a hero. Everyone thinks these guys are heroes, 'cause they are in a photo and on a monument. My dad knew better. He was a medic. John Bradley from Wisconsin was a combat caregiver. On Iwo Jima he probably held over 200 boys as they died. And when boys died on Iwo Jima, they writhed and screamed, without any medication or help with the pain. 
'When I was a little boy, my third grade teacher told me that my dad was a hero. When I went home and told my dad that, he looked at me and said, 'I want you always to remember that the heroes of Iwo Jima are the guys who did not come back. Did NOT come back.' 
'So that's the story about six nice young boys.. Three died on Iwo Jima , and three came back as national heroes. Overall, 7,000 boys died on Iwo Jima in the worst battle in the history of the Marine Corps. My voice is giving out, so I will end here. Thank you for your time.'  
Suddenly, the monument wasn't just a big old piece of metal with a flag sticking out of the top. It came to life before our eyes with the heartfelt words of a son who did indeed have a father who was a hero. Maybe not a hero for the reasons most people would believe, but a hero nonetheless.  
We need to remember that God created this vast and glorious world for us to live in, freely, but also at great sacrifice 
Let us never forget from the Revolutionary War to the current War on Terrorism and all the wars in-between that sacrifice was made for our freedom...please pray for our troops.

Remember to pray praises for this great country of ours and also ....please pray for our troops still in murderous places around the world.
  
STOP and thank God for being alive and being free due to someone else's sacrifice. 
God Bless You and God Bless America . 
REMINDER: Everyday that you can wake up free, it's going to be a great day. 
One thing I learned while on tour with my 8th grade students in DC that is not mentioned here is .. . that if you look at the statue very closely and count the number of 'hands' raising the flag, there are 13. When the man who made the statue was asked why there were 13, he simply said the 13th hand was the hand of God.  
 
Great story - worth your time - worth every American's time.  Please pass it on.

Monday, February 7, 2011

When Nature Calls

          Ok for some of yall that know me, the title is misleading.  I'm really not writing a blog about someone or something taking a huge dump.  Instead I thought that because of someone I know getting viscously attacked by a mentally challenged skunk, I would write about what not to do in the forest to avoid an untimely encounter with a crazed animal. Most of this stuff is common sense.  The only problem is that most people don’t have that stuff.  Apparently everyone missed the clearance sale on it at Wally World.  So here it goes.
            For starters and since this is February I wanted to let everyone know that Arky the Ground Hog is in no way related to Punxsutawney Phil.  We all know that Ole Philly boy is an antagonist and a liar.  He is always trying to stir up the public in February.  I am saddened to say this is when Hate crimes against Arkansas Ground Hogs go up.  Just last week I found where someone had suffocated one with a snow ball.  I mean what kind of behavior is this.  What does this build?  It builds hatred.  When the ground hog revolution happens don’t blame me.  I tried to warn yall!
            Whats next, Oh yeah.  Yogi the bear does in fact like steak and beer.  Some of our old timers like to bait them with sardines.  I have learned from experience that these overgrown coons like t-bones and Budweiser.  So if you're in the woods…Do not bring those items with you!  I have also had some confusion between people mistaking our brown black bears for Grizzlies.  So here is the most tried and true methods I know.  If you see a bear and it starts to chase you, climb a tree.  If it climbs up the tree and kills you, It’s a Black Bear!  If it knocks the tree down and kills you, well it was prolly a Grizzly after all.  I also read in a magazine once that if you find bear poo and it has berries and veggies in it, it is prolly a Black Bear. If it has fleece in it and it smells of pepper spray, it is prolly a Grizzly!  Has any of you guys ever wondered why Smokey the Bear never had children, cause everytime his wife got hot he would hit her with a shovel!!!
            Ok for those of you that live in the southern part of the state, watch out for the gators.  Yeah just because they look cute and cuddly doesn’t mean you should try and pet one.  These suckers are fast, fast like the wind!  When you see a gator charging at you, you should do a Forest Gump run and get the hell outta there.  I had someone try to tell me one time you should run in zig zags to confuse the gator.  You have got to be kidding me.  What kind of idiot runs in a semi circle when being chased by a 400 lb reptile?  I do believe that rumor was started by an alligator hunter who was trying to fatten up his alligators!
            I believe that during the fall everyone knows what kind of animal we have the most problem out of.  Yep this fellow has only one desire.  He wants to cause as much trouble as he can.  I'm sure yall already guessed it; "The Wood Chuck" That little squirrelly fellow has been chucking my wood forever.  He chucked three ricks of my wood last winter.  And what does he do when he gets caught.  The little sucker just chuckles to himself!
            And last but not least watch out for the wiley skunks.  They have been known to spray women and dogs!  I'm not sure how to prevent this, but I do know what not to do.  I have a friend whose wife loves cats.  The problem was that her husband and children were allergic to them.  She went out one day and found this beautiful black and white cat and was gonna play with it while her husband was asleep.  She thought I will play with it and go to work and the cat smell will were off before I get home this afternoon.  Well the strange cat lifted its fuzzy tail and sprayed her crazy butt.  She then ran in the house and made up a story how the skunk attacked her.  I'm not gonna say her name to protect her from ridicule, but it rhymes with Cila!

Thursday, February 3, 2011

Facebook--The Other White Meat

When I graduated from high school I remember thinking, I will never again use a computer.  For about a year I managed to avoid them.  Then at work I had to start using one and finally Tess and I invested in one that had a 2 gig memory.  We had to pay extra for that!  Lol  Well then we progressed up into better computers and better jobs that insisted we use them.  Before I knew it we were addicted.  It started off like any addiction.  We would get some jokes in an email and we liked it.  Then we started dabbling in eBay, and Tesa secretly started playing games when I was working.  Then out of the blue came MySpace!!!!!!!!!!  I thought that it was stupid.  Who would spend all their time reading other peoples thoughts! Huh.  Well I can say I never had a MySpace page.  Although late at night I may have snuck on Tesa's page and checked it out. 
            Tesa then got a facebook page.  It seemed ok and there were quite a few people on it.  One day I talked Tess into setting me up a page and there was no turning back.  I began with just a few daily doses just to break the boredom!  Then I progressed to posting my own thoughts and then I started posting on other people's pages.  I was like the dope phen that progresses over to the needle.  I was now a mainliner!  I started checking it during the day and when I got home.  If I went on vacation I had to post pictures and updates.  Then one day I started posting the twisted mentally challenged thoughts that roll around in my head.  It wasn’t that long ago that I synched my cell phone with it so I can post stuff while I'm away from the computer. Yep I was part of the weirdoes now!
            I love watching people fight on here too.  It's like it has to be drawn out slowly though.  The chic will post on facebook that she is sad.  Then all her friends will say what's wrong.  She then starts to slowly unfold the drama for all 500 of her closest friends.  Then he changes his relationship status to single, and then she changes hers to single.  And the coolest part is they air all their dirty laundry for everyone to read.  But guess what.  Tomorrow they will be in a relationship together again.  How cool is that.
It's also funny how you forget about all your old classmates and friends over the years.  Well….. That was before facebook.  Now you know that your old chum went to McDonalds this morning and had a sausage biscuit and met a homeless man and got in trouble at work and his wife has PMS.  It is creating a whole new world.  Facebook has united the world one friend request at a time.  Yep I guess we get to have a non rehearsed reality TV show right here. 
            So I imagine that it is a good thing.  Except that there are people that are spying on us.  They are watching and waiting.  One day we will post something that offends them.  They will print it out and share it with anyone that will listen.  Your job will want to know what you are posting.  Hackers are looking for personal information, Pedophiles are chatting with young girls who post all their freaking info on there along with their cell phones numbers!  So are we scared…………nay.  Someone just posted a joke and it was funny so we must comment on it and Joe blow just posted pics of the animal he shot last night!!  Awesome stuff!!!!!!!!!!!

Monday, January 17, 2011

Property

       All right, I was reading walla go where someone was wandering why women change their last name to their husbands when they get married.  Well it kinda surprised me when I googled it and there wasn’t a clear answer.  Yeah they had some cool answers that would have satisfied the normal person, but I'm not buying it.  There was one in particular that you know is close to the truth.  Women used to belong to the man.  It was his family.  He was the head of the household and the wife and the children were his. (For better or worse.)  Everyone that knows the story of, Ruplestinskin knows that there is always a catch.  Yep, it's kinda like buying a rattle snake.  It sure sounds cool till you get it in your hand and the dang thing bites you.
            Ok so we used to own women. No big deal.  I also have owned baseball cards, cars, houses, dogs, cats, and I think I am part owner in a diamond mine in Nigeria.  All I have to do is send them my bank account stuff and they are gonna send me my money that is owed to me!  Cool huh.  So what did we pay for these women?  It costs us ONE RIB!  That’s right; you guys ever wonder where the old saying an arm and a leg come from.  It comes from the fact that since we gave up a rib for a woman that we would also give up other stuff.  I used to joke around about trading off my left testicle for something I wanted, till the vasectomy doctor actually took it!!!  Ok he didn’t actually take it, but I wasn’t watching so there is no telling what he took out of there!
            Anyhow back to the fact that we now own our wives.  Yeah but here are some issues that one must look at when purchasing a new wife.  First off what is the resale?  Will it be worth the same in 20 years?  Time and weather take a toll.  Ok what is next, maintenance!  The maintenance is different on every one.  Some can get by on next to nothing and some take every penny you got.  I'm not saying it is a bad thing, I know some women that if they didn’t get a new paint job every morning, they would look like a rusty old car!  You're laughing but I have seen it.  And she wonders why her husband sleeps in every morning.  He's hoping she will wake up first and put on her make-up.  Lol ok that was funny but I think I took it too far. 
            Just like in the old sitcom Green Acres, you are stuck with what you get and have to make the most of it.  Yep, it is going to be a headache and your prolly gonna want to strangle someone from time to time.  But I think in the end you know that is where you want to be.  A woman really doesn't mind being an extension of a man and he really doesn't mind letting her use his rib. The name change is just a tradition we follow so we do not lose track of where we are supposed to be.  As long as a family has the same name they are one.  I remember Tesa was bound and determined to keep her last name.  I agreed to take it, if she would give me back my rib plus one more.  I guess since she took my last name we know what happened huh!

Friday, January 14, 2011

Anger Management

Not original, but I really like this guys technique!!

When you occasionally have a really bad day,
And you just need to take it out on someone,
Don't take it out on someone you know,
Take it out on someone you don't know,
But you know deserves it.

I was sitting at my desk when I remembered
A phone call I'd forgotten to make.

I found the number and dialed it.

A man answered, saying
'Hello..'

I politely said,
'This is Rick
Could I please speak with Robyn Carter?'

Suddenly a manic voice yelled out in my ear
'Get the right f***ing number!'
And the phone was slammed down on me.

I couldn't believe that anyone could be so rude.

When I tracked down Robyn's correct number
To call her,
I found that I had accidentally transposed
The last two digits.

After hanging up with her,
I decided to call the 'wrong' number again.

When the same guy answered the phone, I yelled
'You're an asshole!'
And hung up.

I wrote his number down
With the word 'asshole' next to it,
And put it in my desk drawer.

Every couple of weeks,
When I was paying bills or had a really bad day,
I'd call him up and yell,
'You're an asshole!'

It always cheered me up.

When Caller ID was introduced,
I thought my therapeutic 'asshole'
Calling would have to stop.

So, I called his number and said,
'Hi, this is John Smith from the telephone company.
I'm calling to see if you're familiar with our
Caller ID Program?'

He yelled
'NO!'
And slammed down the phone.

I quickly called him back and said,
'That's because you're an asshole!'
And hung up.

One day I was at the store,
Getting ready to pull into a parking spot.

Some guy in a black BMW
Cut me off and pulled into the spot
I had patiently waited for.

I hit the horn and yelled
That I'd been waiting for that spot,
But the idiot ignored me.

I noticed a 'For Sale ' sign in his back window,
So I wrote down his number.

A couple of days later,
Right after calling the first asshole
(I had his number on speed dial)
I thought that I'd better call the BMW asshole, too.

I said,
'Is this the man with the black BMW for sale?'

He said,
'Yes, it is.'

I then asked,
'Can you tell me where I can see it?'

He said,
'Yes, I live at 34 Oaktree Blvd. , in Fairfax
It's a yellow ranch style house
And the car's parked right out in front.'

I asked,
'What's your name?'

He said,
'My name is Don Hansen.'

I asked,
'When's a good time to catch you, Don?'

He said,
'I'm home every evening after five.'

I said,
'Listen, Don, can I tell you something?'

He said,
'Yes?'

I said,
'Don, you're an asshole!'

Then I hung up,
And added his number to my speed dial, too.

Now, when I had a problem,
I had two assholes to call.

Then I came up with an idea...

I called asshole #1.

He said,
'Hello'

I said,
'You're an asshole!'
(But I didn't hang up.)

He asked,
'Are you still there?'

I said,
'Yeah!'

He screamed,
'Stop calling me'

I said,
'Make me.'

He asked,
'Who are you?'

I said,
'My name is Don Hansen.'

He said,
'Yeah? Where do you live?'

I said,
'Asshole, I live at 34 oak tree Blvd., in Fairfax ,
A yellow ranch style home and
I have a black Beamer parked in front.'

He said,
'I'm coming over right now, Don.
And you had better start saying your prayers.'

I said,
'Yeah, like I'm really scared, asshole,'
And hung up.

Then I called Asshole #2.

He said,
'Hello?'

I said,
'Hello, asshole,'

He yelled,
'If I ever find out who you are...'

I said,
'You'll what?'

He exclaimed,
'I'll kick your ass'

I answered,
'Well, asshole, here's your chance.
I'm coming over right now.'

Then I hung up and immediately called the police,
Saying that I was on my way over to 34 oak tree Blvd, in Fairfax , to kill my gay lover.

Then I called Channel 7 News
about the gang war going down in oak tree Blvd in Fairfax .

I quickly got into my car and headed over to Fairfax .

I got there just in time to watch two assholes
beating the crap out of each other
in front of six cop cars, an overhead news helicopter
and surrounded by a news crew.

NOW I feel much better.

Anger management really does work.

Thursday, January 13, 2011

The Nazi Mouse

It all started a couple of weeks ago. I don’t know how it lasted this long.  I thought we were prepared and that this kind of thing would not happen to us.  I mean this happens to other people right.  Wrong!  I can still hear Tesa's screams echoing through the house.  I raced back to the kitchen and there she was.  Her face was as white as snow and she had this terrifying look in her eyes.  I calmly placed her in a chair and after a few minutes she began to tell her story.
            She had been washing dishes and out of the corner of eye she saw something move to her right.  She spun around ready to fight whatever intruder had snuck up on her.  Only she knew she was no match for this fellow.  He was too quick.  Like a flash he leapt off the counter and fled to safety somewhere near the microwave.  Yep he stood about two inches high including his ears!  He had a long narrow tail and scraggly fur that would have made a beaver shiver.  Best we can tell he was a highly trained German spy mouse.
            I thought about explosives because I know they can do some damage to an unsuspecting intruder.  I had some left over stuff from the 4th of July.  I felt sure a 10 shot Roman candle would do the job.  Tesa disagreed with me and felt they might ignite the varnish on the cabinets.  My next thought was poison.  I have used poison before in the past and I knew it would do the job. I did have small children now and I was worried they would eat up all the poison and there wouldn’t be enough for the Nazi Mouse.
            There were just two options left.  I would have to hunt it or trap it.  Well I had my pistol with the Daisy red dot scope.  I waited for several days and nothing.  He had dropped off the face of the earth. I figured he knew I was on to him and he had rejoined his terrorist's cell.  They were prolly half way across the Atlantic by now.  It wasn't until yesterday that he entered my mind again.  I had found an old mouse trap and decided to set it out after dark.  I knew that since he was highly intelligent that I would need something unique to get him onto that trap.  I put back a French fry that was left over from dinner and set my trap ready for the kill.
            Early this morning the girls got up and went into the play room like usual.  Since Tesa was still in bed I cuddled up next to her.  It was then that I heard my baby girl yelling Dadeeeeeeee, daeeeeeee, she was also running into the bedroom.  I could hear her jabbering Daeeee over and over again. I could also hear something jingling.  She climbed in bed with us and started to climb over daddy to get to momma.  It was then that I felt something smooth and cold drag across my cheek. I opened my eyes and seen that Laykin was holding the mouse trap and the dead mouse was dangling over my face.  The freakin tail was lying on my cheek.  I might have screamed and knocked the mouse into the air.  Tesa woke up and started into a hysterical fit.  I think she might have even got nauseous.  I grabbed the dead Nazi spy and threw him into the trash. 
            All day I have been laughing about it and Tesa refuses to speak of the matter.  The only thing I can figure is that the trap sprung killing the mouse and flew off of the counter.  Laykin stumbled into the kitchen and found a strange creature.  She tried to tell daddy, but since he didn’t come in there she brought it to him.  After she and I disinfected ourselves, I gave her the talk about the 11th Commandment: Thou shall not bring a mouse unto Momma and Daddy's bed!

Friday, January 7, 2011

Old Willie

Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be hookers
Don't let 'em pickup strangers and truck drivers in lots
Make 'in with doctors and lawyers and such

Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be hookers
They'll never stay dressed and they're always on a pole
Even with someone they don't know

Hookers ain't easy to love and they're harder to hold
And they'd rather give you an STD than diamonds or gold
Lonestar nipple clips and old faded thongs

And each night begins a new day
And if you don't pay her and she don't shoot you
Her pimp will prolly jack you anyway

Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be hookers
Don't let 'em pickup strangers and truck drivers in lots
Make 'in with doctors and lawyers and such

Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be hookers
They'll never stay dressed and they're always on a pole
Even with someone they don't know

Hookers like smoky old hotel rooms, trucker shower
stalls
Little warm whoopee's and sometimes girls at night
And them that don't know her, won't like her and them that
 do

Sometimes won't know how to take her
She ain't pretty, she's just different but her pimp won't let
her
Do things to you that are free

Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be hookers
Don't let 'em pickup strangers and truck drivers in lots
Make 'in with doctors and lawyers and such

Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be hookers
They'll never stay dressed and they're always on a pole
Even with someone they don't know

Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be Hookers