Skip to main content

SERMON FROM THE DECK (The Green Grass And High Tides Version)


 For your homework please listen to the closing guitar solo(s) of the title of this post and rate and compare to "Free Bird."


You youngsters need to understand that one other thing you can hate us old fuckers for is the fact that we had the best music and yours totally sucks.

We didn't do that.

You did.


I posted the picture of the "Okee Dokey Corral" (above) because when perusing photo's this morning the green grass surrounding caught my eye, and tugged at my heart. We haven't seen too much winter yet, and the next week looks balmy for Saskatchewan January, but man, oh man, do I ever need spring.

Two hours driving the snowblower yesterday exploded that feeling. (Jeezus, my back is tender today.)

 

I wrote a piece for a Facebook group on Sunday.

My piece tried to inject a slight amount of humor into a group that is dry as Saskatchewan dust.

"How much is this?"

"Have you seen that?"

"Is it open Christmas Day?"

My post received a good reaction. 350 or so likes and some nice replies.

A handful of keyboard warriors let me know that humor wasn't appreciated.

I ignored the idiot few, but it's still eating at me.

For a big man I am sure sensitive.

Breath old dude, breath.

 

I am going to hang inside today, and nurse my snow-blowing  aches and hurts.

Perhaps another coffee is in order.

I'll crank up The Outlaws.

Enjoy your "thumpity thump bumpity bump."

Don't forget to let all of us old timers know that you have a subwoofer in your Kia.





Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Heartbreak Comes At Us From All Sizes

 I'm going to blame it on the smoke, but in reality the smoke lifted early last evening, around the same time the rain that was supposed to fall didn't. I was choked up as I removed the nest this morning. I won't admit to having tears in my eyes, and if you had caught me I would have admitted to no more than smoke and allergies. Men don't cry over the most crushing of events. We certainly don't cry over the death of a baby bird.  Allergies, you know. This spring a pair of barn swallows began spending time around the house, perching on the rope light above the deck, outside the kitchen window.  My wife first, and then me, would chatter at them, try to imitate their language, through the window. When we sat on the deck we would talk our version of swallow as they flew by, and pretty soon they became comfortable, and would join us while we were sipping wine or having morning coffee. Them, perched on the rope lights, just out of the reach of the weird apes, and us down ...
Post a Comment
Read more

SERMON FROM THE DECK (The Christmas Story Version)

 Santa answered my call last night. It took a while to get past his tough receptionist, but eventually the big guy came on the line, I believe to placate and get rid of me.  We talked about memories of Christmas past. He reminded me that I asked for the Coleco Electric Football and that it wasn't his fault that it sucked. "You were supposed to be able to program the players by adjusting the fins on the bottom, but they just ran around in circles. And the kickers, the kickers, they both were broken by the second day."  He told me that he hoped my greed begat a lesson that was taught with crappy, broken things.   I reminded him that there has been no action on my later requests. World peace. Eliminated famine. Brotherhood and sisterhood. The age of Aquarius fulfilled.  He drew a deep breath, sighed a huge sigh, and then admitted that the power to have these oh so precious gifts does not come from a magical, imaginary elf in red, but is inside every one of us, jus...
Post a Comment
Read more