Will YOU be Ready?

 

Identity confirmed.

A.E. will become an official retired person 30 November, 2012.

Blast off imminent.

They fought, they struggled, they ENDURED.

One year from today they break free.

Will YOU be ready?

 

Bon Anniversaire Mes Amis

 

Celebratory kudos to the E’s for attaining marital longevity, a wondrous accomplishment that definitely did NOT fall flat!

 

Although this song is a bit dark, it remains my favorite for it’s loveliness, truth and poignancy.

We wish for the E’s at least another 30 years of health and happiness as they embark upon their exciting new journey, and to quote the Bard of Avon…

"May a flock of blessings light upon thy back."

See you soon, up the road a piece.

Three Years of Living Dangerously

At or around it’s 21rst year the Great Texas Grey Crested Biddie starts to develop it’s distinctive grey crest. For some evolutionary reason only Charles Darwin could explain, this odd bird begins to perform a strange and unpleasant ritual.

Every two weeks, the bird searches the forest floor until it finds the decayed droppings of the exotic L’Oreal Brun Numero Cinq. It then spits into the scat and dances until a brown goo is formed, which it proceeds to spread upon it’s grey crest. This camouflage attempt is explained by behavioral scientists as a pathetic attempt to look “younger” a desirable attribute in the society of the Biddie.

The gob of goo stinks, stains, and applied so close to the brain, might even cause delusions, hallucinations, chocolate cravings or worse. Yet the bird continues this behavior until it’s 57th year, when suddenly, it catches it’s reflection in a pond, squawks loudly and appears to croak “enough already!”

The next three years prove a dangerous time for the Biddie. Other members of Biddie society look askance at the fading crest. Some may appear concerned, others may peck anxiously, while strangers will give the fading Biddie a wide berth, assuming it’s crazy or a threat. The fact that during this period the Biddie tends to adorn it’s head with leaves, acorns, tree branches, discarded paper cups and whatever else it finds on the forest floor doesn’t help the situation one bit.

Fortunately for the Biddie, as it nears it’s 60th year the plumage moults, leaving the bird with a fine new silver-grey crest!  The Biddie is now considered a wise elder of the flock and the danger period is over. As with the silverback gorilla, the grey crest indicates maturity and garners respect.

Although the Biddie is a fairly reclusive and solitary bird, when it reaches this point in it’s life cycle it has a radical change in behavior. The bird and it’s family suddenly begins to migrate long distances, returning to their home roost only occasionally to rest and recuperate. They joyously fly over mountaintops, explore the seashore, soar from the deserts to the glaciers, stopping now and then to comingle with other Biddies. Life is good.

Birthday Jubilation

We interrupt regularly scheduled bitchin’ and moaning to wish AL a very HAPPY BIRTHDAY!

She sent me this humorous cartoon a while back and included the note below:

“The person who sent this to me said his would be Turbo-Charged and have two drink holders. I suspect BL's will have to be the same, plus a Blue Oval* mounted on the frame. I'll have mine customized to hold a wine bottle and a cork screw. On second thought....I'll just go with screw-cap bottles, probably won't have the strength to pull out a cork.  Won't need a cupholder....I'll take a long straw. “

My friends are nothing if not innovative. We may be aged, but we have our priorities straight!

Wouldn’t a jaunty sunbrella to keep the noggin cool be a nice addition!

Have a great day my friend, enjoy the wing ding.

ps. Elvis is still dead, and tomorrow is Beauregard’s birthday!

*{ BL & AL, M’Lord and Lady from the kingdom of Ford, wear the blue sigil proudly}

The Decay of the Boomers

If you're a Boomer many of your conversations with like-aged friends goes something like this:

You [Hey Bubba! How are the goats?]

Bubba [Oh the goats are good, but Doc gave me a new Rx, makes me pee all the time.]

You [I'm on that stuff too, just drink more fluids]

Bubba [Yep, guess I ought to... Reckon I'd get all dry and crispy like that pasture otherwise. Gave that hill over 'thar a stern look and it burst into flames!]

You [Well... y'all be careful.]

We of a certain age are starting to decay. Do you know anybody taking no meds at all, with all their internal organs and joints intact? I thought not, so if you're old enough to be receiving the 11 pounds of literature shipped monthly by AARP, you can join one of our Clubs!

The newest member of the Hi!BP Club is Jpo, who comes to us late in the game. Grj and Mbz, President & VP, have been on BP meds for ages. BP is SO last decade. Ao and Jg Co-Chair the Whoa-C! Club with style and humor. Gk heads up "The-Good-Lord-Gave-Me-Two-Means-One-Is-Disposable" branch of the Removal & Replacement Committee. Tz founded the "We <3 Statins" division of the Elevated-LDL Party.

I shan't go on and on.

And just think what we could do with the combined total for all our respective dental work...

What's a decrepit old geezer to do but hobble on over to the blender, squeeze a few limes, pull out the Sauza reposado and mix up a batch of Margs. The roar of the old Waring doesn't bother us much nowadays. Guess getting deaf as a stump ain't so awful after all. Salud!

UNCLE

 

We are declaring surrender, crying uncle.

Do you hear us Al Gore? U.N.C.L.E. We believe you! We are living your nightmare come true. Only thing left to do is fill the little blue kiddie pool with ice cubes and make like clams on the half shell. Heat temp records are being smashed willy-nilly. It hasn't rained since 1973. Our pond is a mud puddle. The birds sit around in the shade panting. The Duke won't go outside to pee until his bladder is ready to burst. The very worse part of all this purgatorial torture, it doesn't cool off at night. Yesterday evening I opened the door to step outside and admire the waxing crescent that mortals call the moon, only to be met with a crematorial blast of 92 degree air... at 11pm!

Texans are tough. REAL tough. We spring from our soggy, crumpled sheets in the pre-dawn atomic glow, gulp down a cup of coffee with two ice cubes, pop the straw cowboy hat upon the noggin and get on with the chores. We suck it up. There is no whining, unlike our East Coast friends who get all verklempt and woozy when the mercury rises into the 90's. "Oh my goodness, we are so hot. Look! Perspiration!? Alert the media. We may PERISH!

WaaWaaWaa. What a bunch of whining titty babies. Here behind the Pine Curtain it's been over 100 degrees every day for weeks and weeks. We suck it up and carry on. But better you should get your arse back in the shade by 10am, or you risk that pounding headache that comes up with the sun. Food loses all appeal. Nothing looks good except cold fruit. The only tolerable protein is a half-frozen hard-boiled egg.

Remember that poor Rocker Emm BZ who melted down to goo like the wicked witch of the west?   Well, I scraped the colorful slime into a mason jar for future use as an emergency fuel source for Beauregard.  We surrender.

Another one bites the dust.

 

World mourns loss of legendary rocker Emm BeeZee, frontman for acid band The Emm BrigetZ Group, whose recent masterwork, “Atomic Pits” charted at number one upon release.

Troubled performer was found melted in a colorful pile of goo at her remote hideaway. Band mates Reek Slobber, Horror Abattoir and Pit Viper were unavailable for comment.

Album Cover