TR and More...

I awoke this morning, not particularly bored beyond caring anymore about the
political talk going on at ROFF, on the radio or TV, at parties, or during
chats with family; I needed to get away none the less. So, what's a fat,
illiterate, drunken redneck to do with himself, on a Sunday morning. I had
shaken the week-long hangover that has plagued me for the last four years. I
began to read ROFF, but felt I was missing out some how. I decided to search
the web for things to do, outside the house. Sadly, try as I might, I was
unable to locate a Klan rally, white supremacist meeting, or even a death to
Obama gathering? What's a MoFo to do?

Oh well, I decided to go fishin' like I do on most every Sunday. But first,
I couldn't help but watch a movie on TCM that had caught my eye. It was
"Tight Spot" (I believe). The actors were Ginger Rogers, Brian Keith, Edward
G. Robinson, and Loren Greene. I had never seen it before. Nice flick,
although predictable.

I drove over to mother's to pick-up my fishin' budddy, Bear. I'd get him to
come get me some time but as he has failed his driving test the last five
attempts, I have to use my hard earned money--moonshine is sellin' like
crack cocaine 'round these parts--to haul his sorry ass around. I hadn't
decided which stream that we would fish, when we left the house but figured
that I would be able to find one close by once I cleared the fog from my
head with a few hits of the old bong. Bear sneezed, and for the life of me
it sounded just like he said Andrew's. So it was decided, we were going to
Andrew's Creek in the Wilson's Creek watershed.

We drove down hwy. 321 toward the Globe community. We had turned off 321 on
to Kirby Mountain Rd. and got behind either a church goer or kindred spirit
(read: crackhead), I know this because they couldn't seem to get their
little Toyota to
break 20mph. We found an opening and passed, only to find ourselves behind
two
mule drawn carriages. Good thing I brought along a hand-full of qualuudes or
I might have done something really stupid. As it was, I managed to force the
carriages
off the road and get around them and we were on our way again.

To be continued................................I gotta re-read a couple of
chapters on Public Personnel Management, before I go to class tomorrow.

Oh yeah, pics over at abpf. Warning, they look like what one would expect,
given the breif TR above.

Op

snippage

Hilarious! Translation:

"I am a fat, miserable red neck with no future except 'mother'."

Davey
(Ps. Fishing is just so-so up here in Maine, but the weather is cool
and clear, food excellent, and we have the only double bed in camp at
"Trails End" cabin. Life is good.

On Sun, 7 Sep 2008 18:12:38 -0400, "Opus--Mark H. Bowen"
wrote:

I awoke this morning, not particularly bored beyond caring anymore about the
political talk going on at ROFF, on the radio or TV, at parties, or during
chats with family; I needed to get away none the less. So, what's a fat,
illiterate, drunken redneck to do with himself, on a Sunday morning. I had
shaken the week-long hangover that has plagued me for the last four years. I
began to read ROFF, but felt I was missing out some how. I decided to search
the web for things to do, outside the house. Sadly, try as I might, I was
unable to locate a Klan rally, white supremacist meeting, or even a death to
Obama gathering? What's a MoFo to do?

Oh well, I decided to go fishin' like I do on most every Sunday. But first,
I couldn't help but watch a movie on TCM that had caught my eye. It was
"Tight Spot" (I believe). The actors were Ginger Rogers, Brian Keith, Edward
G. Robinson, and Loren Greene. I had never seen it before. Nice flick,
although predictable.

I drove over to mother's to pick-up my fishin' budddy, Bear. I'd get him to
come get me some time but as he has failed his driving test the last five
attempts, I have to use my hard earned money--moonshine is sellin' like
crack cocaine 'round these parts--to haul his sorry ass around. I hadn't
decided which stream that we would fish, when we left the house but figured
that I would be able to find one close by once I cleared the fog from my
head with a few hits of the old bong. Bear sneezed, and for the life of me
it sounded just like he said Andrew's. So it was decided, we were going to
Andrew's Creek in the Wilson's Creek watershed.

We drove down hwy. 321 toward the Globe community. We had turned off 321 on
to Kirby Mountain Rd. and got behind either a church goer or kindred spirit
(read: crackhead), I know this because they couldn't seem to get their
little Toyota to break 20mph. We found an opening and passed, only to find ourselves behind
two mule drawn carriages. Good thing I brought along a hand-full of qualuudes or
I might have done something really stupid. As it was, I managed to force the
carriages off the road and get around them and we were on our way again.

To be continued................................I gotta re-read a couple of
chapters on Public Personnel Management, before I go to class tomorrow.

Oh yeah, pics over at abpf. Warning, they look like what one would expect,
given the breif TR above.

Op

Hey Mark - thanks for the humorous first chapter. Good read!
I gotta say, I'm surprised to read about a German Shepard (at least I think
that's what Bear is from the pics you put up) that is so happy to be around
water.

Ignore any decrepit decomposing dribble-dicked gas bag who's only reason for
living is a constant search for schadenfreude.

You're a far better person than anyone fitting that description ;-)

/daytripper (tellin' it like it is - since the beginning)

On Mon, 08 Sep 2008 22:50:19 -0400, daytripper
wrote:

Ignore any decrepit decomposing dribble-dicked gas bag who's only reason for
living is a constant search for schadenfreude.

You forgot to add.... "that can out-fish me any day." d;o) If you
were here I'd have to give you the fly so you too could catch fish.
How many times have I done that?

You're a far better person than anyone fitting that description ;-)

I'm sure he is.


/daytripper (tellin' it like it is - since the beginning)

How soon you forget about all the lies you have told. You're a liar
and a thief.

Davey (who will admit to being decrepit - for reasons.)

On Sun, 7 Sep 2008 18:12:38 -0400, "Opus--Mark H. Bowen"
wrote:

I awoke this morning, not particularly bored beyond caring anymore about the
political talk going on at ROFF, on the radio or TV, at parties, or during
chats with family; I needed to get away none the less. So, what's a fat,
illiterate, drunken redneck to do with himself, on a Sunday morning. I had
shaken the week-long hangover that has plagued me for the last four years. I
began to read ROFF, but felt I was missing out some how. I decided to search
the web for things to do, outside the house. Sadly, try as I might, I was
unable to locate a Klan rally, white supremacist meeting, or even a death to
Obama gathering? What's a MoFo to do?

Oh well, I decided to go fishin' like I do on most every Sunday. But first,
I couldn't help but watch a movie on TCM that had caught my eye. It was
"Tight Spot" (I believe). The actors were Ginger Rogers, Brian Keith, Edward
G. Robinson, and Loren Greene. I had never seen it before. Nice flick,
although predictable.

I drove over to mother's to pick-up my fishin' budddy, Bear. I'd get him to
come get me some time but as he has failed his driving test the last five
attempts, I have to use my hard earned money--moonshine is sellin' like
crack cocaine 'round these parts--to haul his sorry ass around. I hadn't
decided which stream that we would fish, when we left the house but figured
that I would be able to find one close by once I cleared the fog from my
head with a few hits of the old bong. Bear sneezed, and for the life of me
it sounded just like he said Andrew's. So it was decided, we were going to
Andrew's Creek in the Wilson's Creek watershed.

We drove down hwy. 321 toward the Globe community. We had turned off 321 on
to Kirby Mountain Rd. and got behind either a church goer or kindred spirit
(read: crackhead), I know this because they couldn't seem to get their
little Toyota to
break 20mph. We found an opening and passed, only to find ourselves behind
two
mule drawn carriages. Good thing I brought along a hand-full of qualuudes or
I might have done something really stupid. As it was, I managed to force the
carriages
off the road and get around them and we were on our way again.

To be continued................................I gotta re-read a couple of
chapters on Public Personnel Management, before I go to class tomorrow.

Oh yeah, pics over at abpf. Warning, they look like what one would expect,
given the breif TR above.

Op

I don't believe a word of it...I mean, what supposed redneck wouldn't
have ridden an ATV through a national park to Fawn Lake, illegally
shooting deer while swilling Budweiser between bong hits, along the
way...? And you forgot to bash fags, queers, homos, lesbos, dykes,
kikes, micks, spicks, and chinks...or at least liberal Democrat commies
and effeminate men hangin' around trainstations, bus stations, and
tackle shops...oh, yeah, and squaws...

HTH,
R

On Tue, 09 Sep 2008 07:24:29 -0400, Dave LaCourse
wrote:

On Mon, 08 Sep 2008 22:50:19 -0400, daytripper
wrote:

Ignore any decrepit decomposing dribble-dicked gas bag who's only reason for
living is a constant search for schadenfreude.

Ain't it ironic that schadenfreude thingy, what with you making fun of
my old age and my cancer? Seems you have been making fun of my cancer
ever since I was diagnosed with it. In fact I believe you told me I
wouldn't last but two years after the nerve saving technique. And
here it is 12 years of peein' straight and a happy wife.

What have you done for your country? Your community? Your town?

You'll be happy to know that fishing sucked this morning. Only two 10
inch brookies and a 12 inch salmon. Got soaked in a down-pour inspite
of a good raincoat.

Dribble Dick Davey (not to be confused with Richard who is sometimes
called Dicklett by his adversaries) d;o)

On Sep 9, 6:07*am, wrote:
On Sun, 7 Sep 2008 18:12:38 -0400, "Opus--Mark H. Bowen"





wrote:
I awoke this morning, not particularly bored beyond caring anymore about the
political talk going on at ROFF, on the radio or TV, at parties, or during
chats with family; I needed to get away none the less. So, what's a fat,
illiterate, drunken redneck to do with himself, on a Sunday morning. I had
shaken the week-long hangover that has plagued me for the last four years. I
began to read ROFF, but felt I was missing out some how. I decided to search
the web for things to do, outside the house. Sadly, try as I might, I was
unable to locate a Klan rally, white supremacist meeting, or even a death to
Obama gathering? What's a MoFo to do?

Oh well, I decided to go fishin' like I do on most every Sunday. But first,
I couldn't help but watch a movie on TCM that had caught my eye. It was
"Tight Spot" (I believe). The actors were Ginger Rogers, Brian Keith, Edward
G. Robinson, and Loren Greene. I had never seen it before. Nice flick,
although predictable.

I drove over to mother's to pick-up my fishin' budddy, Bear. I'd get him to
come get me some time but as he has failed his driving test the last five
attempts, I have to use my hard earned money--moonshine is sellin' like
crack cocaine 'round these parts--to haul his sorry ass around. I hadn't
decided which stream that we would fish, when we left the house but figured
that I would be able to find one close by once I cleared the fog from my
head with a few hits of the old bong. Bear sneezed, and for the life of me
it sounded just like he said Andrew's. So it was decided, we were going to
Andrew's Creek in the Wilson's Creek watershed.

We drove down hwy. 321 toward the Globe community. We had turned off 321 on
to Kirby Mountain Rd. and got behind either a church goer or kindred spirit
(read: crackhead), I know this because they couldn't seem to get their
little Toyota to
break 20mph. We found an opening and passed, only to find ourselves behind
two
mule drawn carriages. Good thing I brought along a hand-full of qualuudes or
I might have done something really stupid. As it was, I managed to force the
carriages
off the road and get around them and we were on our way again.

To be continued................................I gotta re-read a couple of
chapters on Public Personnel Management, before I go to class tomorrow.

Oh yeah, pics over at abpf. Warning, they look like what one would expect,
given the breif TR above.

Op

I don't believe a word of it...I mean, what supposed redneck wouldn't
have ridden an ATV through a national park to Fawn Lake, illegally
shooting deer while swilling Budweiser between bong hits, along the
way...? *And you forgot to bash fags, queers, homos, lesbos, dykes,
kikes, micks, spicks, and chinks...or at least liberal Democrat commies
and effeminate men hangin' around trainstations, bus stations, and
tackle shops...oh, yeah, and squaws...

HTH,
R- Hide quoted text -

- Show quoted text -

Fanna, fanna, fo fanna
Banana, fanna fo fanna
Bee fi fo fanna
Bana

Dave

On Tue, 09 Sep 2008 07:24:29 -0400, Dave LaCourse
wrote:

On Mon, 08 Sep 2008 22:50:19 -0400, daytripper
wrote:

Ignore any decrepit decomposing dribble-dicked gas bag who's only reason for
living is a constant search for schadenfreude.

You forgot to add.... "that can out-fish me any day." d;o) If you
were here I'd have to give you the fly so you too could catch fish.
How many times have I done that?

You're a far better person than anyone fitting that description ;-)

I'm sure he is.


/daytripper (tellin' it like it is - since the beginning)

How soon you forget about all the lies you have told. You're a liar
and a thief.

Davey (who will admit to being decrepit - for reasons.)

Uh, riiiight.

You are the oft-proven liar here, Dave - and not just for all the lies you've
kited about me, others can testify about your penchant for trotting out lies
in your constant, pathetic attempts to somehow aggrandize yourself and
discredit others. You've been caught at this innumerous times, but apparently
you think it's still a functional tactic.

Whatever. Go nuts - get creative. Who knows, you might snag another mal
educated dumbass like yourself with your bull****. And good luck with that.

But it won't affect me anymore. It's all on you...

/daytripper (By the way, nice take ;-)

On Tue, 09 Sep 2008 15:03:01 -0400, daytripper
wrote:

Uh, riiiight.

Glad you approve, liar.

Tell ya what, Tripper (why would a 50+ yo guy have the handle
Tripper?), you don't bother me with your bs and I won't bother you.

Dave

"daytripper" wrote in message
...

Hey Mark - thanks for the humorous first chapter. Good read!
I gotta say, I'm surprised to read about a German Shepard (at least I
think
that's what Bear is from the pics you put up) that is so happy to be
around
water.

It's not as much that he is happy to be around water, as he enjoys watchin'
me flail about in the stream, after he has taken the rock that I was about
to land on. Bear is a great fishin' buddy. He stays either by my side or
directly behind me--and I do mean directly!--when I'm casting or reelin' in
a trout. It's only when we begin to head up stream that he has difficulties
with spatial reference. I tell him "that's my rock, and I'm going to jump to
it." He translates that into, "I better get to that rock before Mark, or he
may get out of my sight."

Really, Bear's whole mission in life is to be beside me, no matter where I
go or how difficult or dangerous it may be to get to where I am--water be
damned. Miller has seen him in action, he'a a nut--Bear not Miller. What's
really funny to me is that Bear has to be next to me on the stream, but as
soon as we get out of the water and hit the trail he races off up the trail
and acts like any normal hound.

Ignore any decrepit decomposing dribble-dicked gas bag who's only reason
for
living is a constant search for schadenfreude.

I got too much studyin' to do to be bothered by sad self-absorbed people who
are so concerned with their own wealth (monetary) that all else is trivial.

You're a far better person than anyone fitting that description ;-)

My mommy tells me that all the time :~^ )

/daytripper (tellin' it like it is - since the beginning)

I never doubted it for a second.

Op --hopin' to become a *semi-edukated*, obese, and drunken redneck in the
near future.--