Saturday, April 29, 2006

Living In Tunes


I had the pleasure of posting with Siren this week on Beauty vs. The Beast. I have always enjoyed doing The Beast gig. This post finds both of us putting together a soundtrack to our lives. From childhood to right now, I decided to let my goof side show through. Heck, I do it on these pages every day. I might as well do a post over there in the same way.

Unlike most posts at BvB, this is not a confrontational post at all. It is more of a get to know me in song. Do me a favor if you would be so kind. Go over there and tell us your life in song. Hey, it has to be better than the tunes that I picked out.

Once again, I must thank Siren for having me over at her place. I have a tendency to leave a mess if I hang out too long and she has never complained. (Give it some time.)

Have a great weekend everyone. As the wise Bill S. Preston, Esq. and Ted 'Theodore' Logan said, "Party On Dudes, and be Excellent to one another."

Friday, April 28, 2006

Blogger Ate It

I generally write my posts late in the evening, save it as a draft, and publish my post the next morning. Last night I wrote a post, stuck in four links, and pasted a pic that took an hour and a half to find. This morning it is gone I really don't have time this morning to rewrite it but I like to have a fresh post up daily. Therefore I decided to dig up an old post from the archives. It is from a while back so hopefully it will be new to most everyone.

***********

The Fine Art Of Manscaping:
A Head to Toe Primer

As men grow older, we all find that hair can pop up in the most unappealing and unhoped for places. To the best of my knowledge no one has attempted a total body grooming guide for the real man so I have took it upon myself to tackle the subject.

1) The noggin - Remember that there is no such thing as a good combover and a good rug is hard to find and damned expensive. Most rugs look as if you have a dead animal camped out on your head. If you are balding you might as well shave the whole damn thing provided you have a good smooth noggin free of any scars, blemishes, or bumps. If you do wear a cap or let your bald spot shine on.

2) The eyebrows - Unless you are attempting a world record or have entered a drag queen Brooke Sheilds look alike contest trim your eyebrows before they start rubbing your sunglasses.

3) The nose - For god's sake trim your nosehairs before they merge with your moustache. That is nasty and no one needs to see that. Get one of those rotary cutters that you just stick in your nose and voila no hair. It works for your ears too.

4) Facial Hair - This is a personal preference issue. Clean shaven, bearded, or goateed is all good provided it is kept trim and neat. Long beards might work for ZZ Top and Santa Claus but not so much for the rest of us and Elvis sideburns are out of the question. As an old sage told me long ago, "Never cultivate anything on your face that grows wild on your ass".

5) Chest Hair - Don't worry about it. A lot of women dig it unless it grows so thick that it doubles for a turtleneck sweater. The only others shaving it are body builders, gays, or extremly pussy-whipped sissy boys. If you don't fit in these four catagories, forget about it.

6) Back hair - If you have a significant other have them shave it. It shows love on their part and an obscene amount of backhair is sick. If you have the bucks opt for laser hair removal.

7) Pubes - Trim if you want more trim. From your significant other to some skank on the streetcorner, they all will go down quicker if they don't have to choke on two foot pubic hair.

8) Ass - Let it go wild. Kiss my hairy ass sounds so much better than just Kiss my ass.

9) Legs - Unless you are an athlete needing taped or living on the pink side of life don't worry about it. The exception that proves the rule are those with mermaids tattooed on their calves. No one wants to see a bearded fish woman.

Hopefully this guide will be helpful. Remember it is not a comprehensive map but only a starter guide. Try to remember that you want to be presentable enough to score with the ladies but not so prissy that you score with the men. So get a beard trimmer and a nose hair clipper and embark on your way to avoid being mistaken for a Sasquatch.

Thursday, April 27, 2006

BBW


While surfing the net checking out pin up sites, I came across the website of Les Toil. He specializes in pin up art featuring BBW (big beautiful women.) He is an exceptional artist and his illustrations certainly show his love of large and in charge women. I have heard of men with this fetish referred to as chubby chasers.

All through the ages, there are men who have marveled at large women. In the early evolution of man some of the first pieces of art were icons of The Earth Mother, with large voluptuous breasts and wide hips. In the 1600's, the Flemish artist Peter Paul Rubens gloried in the beauty of large women. In the 1980's, Sir Mix-A-Lot helped usher in the age of rap with his ode to plentiful posteriors, ' Baby Got Back.'

I am not excusing today's super size mentality. I am only saying that the human body is not always meant to be a toothpick with big fake breasts. We should delight in our differences and concentrate more on health than on the perfect body type. The warped mentality fed to us by the media in the overexposure of models and celebrities sporting the anorexic look does a great disservice to us all.

Maybe Freddy Mercury said it best, ' Fat Bottomed Girls, You make the rocking world go round.'

Wednesday, April 26, 2006

On Motivation

Big D made a set of motivational images for Crazy Dan to use and it impressed me greatly. It made me think of those people who throughout my life inspired and motivated me to try and be a better person. Here is a very short list. I know that I will omit many but space and time does not permit me to list every individual that have taught me lifes lessons.

My grandmother: Who taught me that the love of your family should be unconditional.

My father: Who, at an early age on a farm and ranch, taught me that pride of a job well done at an honest days work can be it's own reward.

Mrs. Moore, my second grade teacher: Who instilled in me a love of the written word.

Mr. Johnson, my high school science teacher: Who taught me to question the world and to seek out the answers for myself and not just trust blindly in the dogma set by others.

Dr. Jackson, my Freshman political science professor: Who challenged me to always question those whom we set in political power over our lives.

My wife: Who let me know that it is okay to open my heart and let others in. That expressing the things that I feel does not make me weaker but strengthens me.

My children: Who give me a desire to be the kind of a man that they can look up to.

All the people that read my humble words here: Who teach me that sometimes I do have something worth saying. ( One of these days, I might actually do it. )

To these people and all the countless others that have taught me to laugh, to love, to think, to never stop learning, and to never stop attempting to grow into the kind of a man that I can take pride in becoming, I thank you all.

Tuesday, April 25, 2006

Making It Official


I was doing a little research on Technorati, when I discovered that there was not a blog designated as being dedicated to the subject of chupacabra hunting. Therefore I submitted Blugstuff as The official blog source for chupacabra hunting information. The process was simple really. I cut and pasted the technorati tag for chupacabra hunting and presto, Blugstuff is now the blogospheres home for those brave individuals in dire need of advice on chupacabra hunting.

For all the loyal readers of Blugstuff, please allow me to give a few links out to these bold and dedicated hunters in need of possibly life saving information.

Goin' Huntin'

Update On Chupacabra Story

Putting Together An A-Team

The Hunt: Episode One - The Hunt Is On

The Hunt: Episode Two - From The Jaws of Victory

The Hunt: Episode Three - Truths Revealed


Sorry loyal readers and thank you for your patience but if I can save one poor chupacabra hunter then it is worth it. And to all you Chupacabra Hunters arriving for information on your quest, I wish you good luck and happy hunting. Remember to the victor goes the spoils, Carpe Diem.

Please feel free to e-mail me at fuzzbox_rox2000@yahoo.com to send in tales of one of your hunts, pics of sightings, eyewitness accounts and renderings, or for additional tips on proper ways to hunt or cook chupacabras. I will be more than happy to share your information to the blogosphere or at least Blugstuff's twisted little corner of it.

Technorati Tag: Chupacabra Hunting.
More blogs about Chupacabra Hunting.


Monday, April 24, 2006

Out And About: Day One


I planted all three this weekend.

1) Because as the song goes, " There's only two things that money can't buy. That's true love and home grown tomatoes."

2) You can't make salsa without good peppers.

3) The sign told me to.

To paraphrase David Allen Coe, ' And if that sign ain't country, I'll kiss your ass. '

Friday, April 21, 2006

Burning Questions


I am no geneticist, but if an ugly but extremely intelligent woman marries an attractive but ignorant man don't they have a 50/50 shot at having a kid that is uglier than a mud fence and dumber than a bag of hammers?

Why is it that I think that old guys with bushy assed eyebrows are funnier than hell but I find Andy Rooney about as funny as a rectal exam?

Why is it that people think that the glass in their car windows allows them enough privacy to pick their nose at stoplights?

Is the hokey pokey what it's all about?

If looks could kill would you be held accountable for giving someone the evil eye?

Why do only fools fall in love?

Why is it that when people orgasm they say that they have came when they haven't really gone anywhere?

When you read the title did you think that I was going to ask about anal itching or STD's?

Thursday, April 20, 2006

Okay I Give In


I have never before posted one of the results to any on-line quiz that I might have taken. I take them quite frequently for laughs but I rarely ever agree with the b.s. that comes up as an answer. I may tell another blogger my result if I see that they have posted one of these on-line quizzes on their blog. I decided to go ahead and post one (What type of a movie hero are you?) for four reasons.

1) When I decided to start posting daily, I never imagined how hard it would be to grind one out daily. So basically I need some filler when my muse is taking a break for the day.

2) I didn't actually believe this one either but I loved the movie and generally admire the anti-hero type of character more than just a stiff hero type.

3) I always wanted to be a pirate when I grew up.

4) Johnny Depp is cool.

*** If you are go to the site and take the quiz at work, you might want to turn down the volume. It is a little loud. ***



What Type of Movie Hero Are You?

Wednesday, April 19, 2006

Ode To A Vienna



Late last night, my heart quickened
For the taste of mechanically seperated chicken.
To the Cupboard, My quest began
Searching for that meaty goodness in a can.

I do not spot it but I know it's there.
I continue my search. I do not despair.
Eureka, I spy, Behind the boil-in-bag rice
Beside the salt, pepper, and spice.

I pull back the lid and peer inside.
Joy of Joy my eyes open wide.
The juice is warm and fluid
Not like goo on the corpse of a Druid.

I tip the jar and drink the brine.
Oh the taste, so mighty fine.
Carefully so carefully, I pull out the wiener
Success, one whole piece, it could come out no cleaner.

My snack complete. I'm off to rest.
Perchance to dream, perhaps of breasts.
But just as I start to nod,
Acid Reflux, Oh My God!

Tuesday, April 18, 2006

One More Reason She Is Angry

Most of the time Angry Joyce at least grudgingly puts up with my warped sense of humor but sometimes I suppose I push her to the brink. I was doing a little image search on a post that I was planning to do regarding Angry Joyce becoming a grandmother.

I went over to Google and in the image search typed in ' Hot Granny '. The image to the left is one of the images that popped up. When she heard my uproar of laughter, she came back to the bedroom to see just what I was doing. I told her the story and showed her the pic. Believe it or not but she was not amused.

I guess that I will have to keep searching for another image. But I still think it's funny that this is Google's idea of a hot granny. If I don't post for a couple of days, you will know that I pushed Angry Joyce just a little too far.

Monday, April 17, 2006

Redneck Supermen


In the village where I work there is a set of twins. These twins, Bob and Bill, are legendary in this small community. The attribute behind their incredible legendary status is the type of attribute that every man would be envious towards. They are known to be hung like horses.

How did they come by this generous endowment of manly virtue? If you guessed heredity, then you would be wrong. Their mother is not generally known as soft spoken and when asked where the boys came by their massive members her only reply is, 'They damn sure didn't get it from their Daddy."

No they worked at it. As young children they would take a string and tie one end of the string to their penises and the other end to a brick and walk around the yard with the brick dangling down between their legs. Their mother has stated that at first she would go out and cut the string but as soon as her back was turned, the boys would tie it back and keep on roaming around with the brick tied to their peckers.

After they had grown up some they graduated to sitting on top of a dilapidated bus that was sitting on a frame in a vacant lot. They would tie the string to their pecker and the other end of the string to a brick and toss the brick over the side. It was kind of like bungeeing for the brick with their peckers as the anchor.

Later in life, Bob worked in a gravel pit driving a maintainer. One day a thunderstorm popped up and his maintainer was struck by lightning. From that day forward, Bob was certain that electricity held no power over him or his unit. He proved this by testing his new found power on an electric fence. He knew of a fence that was not phased down or powered by a solar charger but wired directly in to a 110 volt current. He gradually lowered his member to the electric fence and when he was an inch to an inch and a half away from the wire, an arc of electricity shot out and zapped him right in the head of his pecker. He turned with a smile to a friend and stated, " See, It don't even hurt."

Many men would like to have an electrifyingly long penis. The net is filled with pop-up ads and e-mails are filled with spam concerning penis enlargement. Everything from ginseng root, to penis pumps, to pills like Viagra are right at your fingertips just a click or two away. But these guys found the secret to success. Personally, I would say don't try this at home. Not every man is a Redneck Superman. As for me, I am thankful for the one that I have and don't want to jack around with Mother Nature's gift. (Unless it's all in fun.) Tying a brick to my root just seems a mite bit painful and I am not even going to comment on the effect of an electric fence zapping me on the head of my pecker. That is just shocking.

Sunday, April 16, 2006

Friday, April 14, 2006

Dream Weaver


Last night I had a strange and wondrous dream. The dream was filled with visions glorious to behold; rich and vibrant in color and beauty. I was visited by an auburn haired vision of unsurpassing beauty and grace. Just when I reached out to touch the lovely vision of my dream, a pop-up for Domino's Pizza interrupted my dream.

I don't know whether I have been spending too much time on-line or if I am that hungry for a pizza. But damn that was a pisser.

Thursday, April 13, 2006

Yee Haw


You will more likely hear 'Bodies' by Drowning Pool or 'One' by Metallica coming from my speakers than you will hear 'Up Against the Wall, Redneck Mothers' by Jerry Jeff Walker or ' You Never Even Called Me By My Name ' by David Allen Coe. My musical tastes run more to Metal and Alt Rock than Country and Western. I must admit however that growing up and living in West Texas, I am quite learned in the genre. A person would have to live under a mighty big rock not to have. For one thing it is blaring out of the speakers of three out of five pick up trucks that you pass on the road. And for another thing every decent singles bar in West Texas is a Honky Tonk. So as you may imagine before Angry Joyce led me from my wild and rambling ways, I heard a lot of country music.

I have always preferred my country music with a little kick to it. I prefer the outlaws like Jerry Jeff Walker, David Allen Coe, Gary Stewart, Charlie Daniels and their like. However some Country Music baffles the shit out of me. Country Music is the only type of music that could come up with such outlandish song titles. Here is a short list of some actual titles that really make you wonder about the composers.

Get Your Tongue Out Of My Mouth Cause I'm Kissing You Goodbye
How Can I Miss You If You Won't Go Away
I'm So Miserable Without You It's Like Having You Here
You're The Reason Our Kids Are So Ugly
Can't Get Over You So Why Don't You Get Under Me
Hate Every Bone In Your Body Except For Mine
I Changed Her Oil, She Changed My Life
I Don't Know What Came Over Me When I Came All Over You
I Don't Care If It Rains Or Freezes As Long As I Have My Plastic Jesus Sitting On The Dashboard Of My Car
I Knew I'd Hit Rock Bottom When I Woke Up On Top Of You
I Wish I Were A Woman (So I Could Go Out With A Guy Like Me)
I'd Rather Hear A Fat Girl Fart Than A Pretty Boy Sing
If She Puts Lipstick On My Dipstick, I'll Fall In Love
Redneck Martians Stole My Baby
When You Wrapped My Lunch In A Road Map, I Knew You Meant Goodbye
Warm Beer and Cold Women

Some of these I have heard and some I have not but one that sounds like a good theme song if I can just find the damn thing is titled 'I Wish I Were A Lesbian.' Kinda brings a tear to my eye. I think I'll go out and pick up a six-pack of Lone Star Beer and chunk the empty long neck bottles at roadsigns while riding around backroads and singing my favorite George Jones tune.

"Last Night I broke the seal off a Jim Beam Decanter,
That Looked like Elvis
Then I tore the label off of a
Flintstone Jelly Jar.
I pulled the head off Elvis
I filled Fred up to the pelvis.
Yabba-Dabba-Doo,
The King is gone and So are you!"

Of Course, I will have to get a Designated Driver because eventhough there is a song, ' Four On The Floor And A Fifth Under The Seat ', John Anderson said it best. " When You Get On The Whiskey (Let Somebody Else Drive.) "

Wednesday, April 12, 2006

Getting Back To The Funk

A while back I was undergoing a bit of a rough time. The details are not important to anyone but myself. I sat down and wrote a post of what I was feeling at the time but I thought better of it at the time and deleted it. Although the feeling passed and I am my old self once more, I remembered this post with an uncanny clarity like some of my favorite posts written by both myself and others. At the time that I wrote it, I suppose I was worried about what people would think. My post of a couple of days ago made me really think. I have cheated myself. I want this post in my archives. I don't think that anyone else will care to read it but this post is for me. Perhaps I am being selfish but hey it's my blog.

Funk

I've been in a funk lately. I guess that funk is far to mild of a term for my feelings of the past month or so. Sure, I put on my happy face, I smile, I laugh, and I do all that is expected of me. Just like one of those stupid fucking clowns with the painted on smile and the god-awful big-ass shoes, I smile for the world to see but inside I rage like a two dollar crackwhore with a cock in her mouth and a knife in her front pocket waiting to cut the damn thing off before it spews in her mouth.

There is no one moment in time when I can place my finger and say it started here or this is what set it off. No blinding flash of rage and hatred but a slow simmering pissed offness that has finally built to a boiling point. I want so desperately to unleash this fury upon the next asshole douchebag cocksucker that crosses my goddamned path but no I keep on grinning like a fucking monkey and show the world a happy face, a great big smiling shitfaced grin that means absolutely shit.

Fuck It.

Back to the now, My step-daughter gave birth to a healthy baby girl. So now Fuzz has a grand-daughter, Faith.

Monday, April 10, 2006

Looking Back At Political Correctness - **Updated**


What is politically correct anyway? I do not consider myself racist, sexist, homophobic, or intolerant. However, I learned long ago that some peoples skin is so thin on certain subjects that problems can arise from the most innocuous things that a person might say.

When I was 10 years old and in the fifth grade, a person on the playground asked me who had been on my kickball team. I went through the list of players and when the name J.R. came up, the person asked which one, and I replied the black one. You see, in my class there were to J.R.'s and they both had the same first and last name. One was white and the other was black since that was the easiest difference to visually spot, it was the difference that I noted; Being 10, I did not grasp all the different words for race and the divisiveness that they can create.

The spoken word can travel on an elementary school's playground at an astounding speed and quickly J.R. made his way across the playground to confront me on what I had said. I was a pipsqueak in elementary school, not reaching any height at all until the year I turned 16 when I shot up 7 inches in one summer. J.R. was close to two years older than I and was one of those kids that mature early so he stood nearly a foot taller than me. When he asked me if I had called him black, I simply replied that I had. He then swung and clocked me one in the face. I crumpled to the ground, but shot back up and waded in with all the rage and fury that a 10 year old frame can hold. But my rage and fury were no match for J.R.'s physical advantage and my ass was whipped rather soundly although I never backed down or gave up until separated by the teachers overseeing the playground. I never had another problem with J.R., sometimes a person just has to stand up for themselves and let others know that although they may have the Power; Others may have the Will to not back down.

This lesson in political correctness at a young age taught me three very valuable lessons.
1) No matter what you say, if you speak your mind, someone will be upset by it.
2) Never back down from the truth.
3) Always be ready to pay the price for what you believe.

I am sorry that some are offended by things that I have said or will say in the future. I am sorry that they took it the wrong way. What I am not sorry for is the meaning behind the words and that is something I will not back down from.

*******
The most politically incorrect man on the 'sphere, my bro, Crazy Dan and the lovely, talented, and free-spirited Laurie are today's guest's over at BvB. Do yourself a favor and check it out. It is politically incorrect but no one is backing down.

***Update***

Click Here for some PC terms.

Saturday, April 08, 2006

Celebrity Endorsement


this is an audio post - click to play

A friend of the site who does not type very well contacted me and wished to post an audio comment for me. Thanks, Carl.

Have a Great Weekend, Everyone!!!!

Friday, April 07, 2006

The Numbers Game

I have never put too much stock in Numerology, but sometimes I am intrigued by how certain sequences of numbers pop up. Recently a friend and co-worker informed me that in the wee hours of Wednesday morning, the time was 01:02:03 of 04/05/06 and this sequence of military time would not be repeated for a thousand years.

Another curious set of numbers have some contemplating the end of the world. There are those individuals who believe the end of days will start on June 6, 2006 when the calendar will read 06/06/06. On that date they believe that the Anti-Christ will announce his coming.

Stay tuned here for further announcements down the road and have a nice day.

Thursday, April 06, 2006

BvB: Reflections Hard and Soft


This week over at Beauty vs The Beast, Mimi and Metal Mark tackle the subject of the ongoing court case which has become known as Roe v Wade for Men. They both did a great job and while my opinion is slightly different, I certainly respect their opinions and their arguments were good.

I rarely tackle political or legal subjects here but the pregnancy angle of the story reminded me of a subject that I wrote of in the early days of this blog. (It seems strange to speak of the early days of my blog, when I haven't even reached my blogaversary. But blog time is strange.) So, here is my old post but a word of caution; I am at my crudest and least politically correct on this archived post.


Gut Check

I blame it on Demi Moore who posed for Vanity Fair with her nude pregnant gut. Now we have Britney Spears-Federline splashed all over the net, bikini clad and ready to pop. And it is not only celebrities recently my wife and I were getting a bite to eat at a bar and grill and one waitress was wearing a midriff top, hiphugger jeans, and a pregnant gut with a belly button ring that resembled an all done button on a Butterball Turkey. A friend at the office explained that she had a similar waitress this weekend on a trip to Santa Fe. It's not that pregnancy makes me nervous. It is only a consequence of a natural act but if this result is showcased what is next people flashing genital warts and herpes. Call me old fashioned but the only time a woman should be showing off her pregnant gut is when she is dancing at a nudie girl biker bar plopped down somewhere in the rotation between the toothless chick and the elderly lesbian who's stripping for the annual Tits for Tots charity drive.


Since this story came out I have softened a bit on the subject. My middle step-daughter is due to give birth soon and the thought of being a grandfather has perhaps softened me a bit. I was to late though to get her this gift when she first announced her pregnancy.

Wednesday, April 05, 2006

The Hunt: Episode Three - Truths Revealed



As the sound of clanging metal, the blast of gunfire, and the roar of an unnatural beast shattered the stillness of the night, Phred, Cleveland and I rushed to the sound of the Bigfoot attack. When we arrived, Big D and Crazy Dan were being tossed around like rag dolls by three of the largest mangiest beasts that I have ever seen. Not waiting for the others behind me, I launched myself for the attack. Just as I reached the foul smelling beasts, the entire area was bathed in an eery green light and a strange throbbing hum vibrated me to my very bone.

The Bigfoots covered their ears and howled in pain then ran through the brush. I turned around and Phred and Cleveland were staring up into the night sky with a wondrous look of awe on their face. As I turned to look at the direction of their gaze, I saw a strange craft in the night sky. It looked almost like an old camper trailer but it seemed to me that the thing was held together by duct tape and a prayer. Just as I mused on the bravery that it must take to ride in such a rust bucket, a shaft of light shot out of the craft. I felt as if a cat had walked across my grave and every hair on my back stood upon end and then all was dark.

When I regained my senses, I realized that I had been transported to the alien craft. I looked around and it appeared that I was the only member of the hunting party to be transported to the alien craft. I was alone in the midst of various extraterriestrial creatures. Some appeared alien much like the classic vision of aliens in popular culture but there was one creature that appeared human and seemed to be the leader of the group. He walked up to me and said, " Fuzz, I'm yo Daddy." I could not run and was too shocked to fight, so I sat and waited for an explanation.

The alien explained to me that in 1965, while on a routine scouting mission from the planet Yonder with his mate and infant son, his ship experienced craft trouble. ( I could not doubt the idea of craft trouble. If this was the same craft. I don't know how he got it out of the garage, much less travel through space.) He repaired the craft to the best of his ability but was afraid of being able to complete the return journey. Both him and his mate were concerned for the safety of their infant son. Since their appearance was a duplicate of human they waited by the side of the road waiting for a car to come along and offer assistance. A young couple came along down Highway 82. The aliens took the young couple into their confidence and they agreed to care for the child as their own until the aliens could return if they were able.

The alien then explained that due to various complacations he had not been able to return for quite some time. He had been on various search missions to find me but his ship had never before regestered my genetic markers. He then seemed animated as he hugged me and told me that I could now go home. He then paused awaiting my response.

While letting the whole story soak into my brain, I asked the alien where my friends were. He replied that they were being prepped for anal probing. I told him to stop. These were my friends and should not be subjected to any sort of probing, particularly of the anal variety. The creature, who claimed to be my father, then instructed one of the strange looking extraterrestrials to go and halt all examinations of the humans.

After only a few more seconds, the impact of his speech hit me in full force and I formulated my response. "I have always known that I was a bit out there so I guess it isn't a complete shocker to be from out there. But this is my home and here I must stay." , I replied.

The alien, who told me his name was Slix Bob 69, appeared saddened but then told me that I must learn of my heritage. He took me to what appeared to be a computer monitor and affixed various wires to my head. It was just like in 'The Matrix', images pored into my brain and soon I knew the entire history of the planet of my birth ( actually I was born on a moon of the planet Yonder, known as OverYonder.). I learned of my father and mother and the sacrifice that they had made to ensure my safety.

The aliens then transported us back to our campsite. I told the others of what had happened to me. They did not appear to doubt me. I suppose that they had seen enough strange things this night, that this seemed believable. We then turned our attentions back to the chupacabras but they were gone. In their place were only the tracks of theiving Bigfoots.

The hunting trip was over. We went our seperate ways for we had a lot to think about. The world is indeed a strange place. I noticed that Phred walked with a slight gimp while heading to his truck. I asked him what happened. When he turned around, I could see the answer in his eyes. Sorry I didn't speak up sooner, my friend.

The End. For now.......

The Authorized Version.

Tuesday, April 04, 2006

The Hunt: Episode Two - From The Jaws of Victory


When we arrived back at camp, the gang were tired and hungry. The only other member of the hunt to bring any sort of foodstuff was Phred, who had brought a case of vending machine goodies topheavy on the granola bar side of the food pyramid. Crazy Dan immediately harassed Phred over his choice of victuals. He launched his assault, "Damn Phred Phucker granola bars aren't food. That shit is what you put out to bait squirrels." Sensing an escalation in hostilities, I retrieved the sandwiches that Angry Joyce had packed for us. I was scared to eat them myself for Angry Joyce's last words to me were, ' Here's your damned sandwiches. I have been up since the crack of noon making them. Hope you and those morons enjoy.'

I offered the guys the sandwiches and grabbed a granola bar saying that I wasn't really all that hungry and a granola bar was all that I needed. When the guys opened the bag, I was happy that Phred had brought the vending machine grub. I do not know where Angry Joyce was able to find the culinary delights served up by 'Fear Factor' but she really had outdone herself ( I am going to have to ask her where she found a banana slug on such short notice.) As Cleveland, Phred, and Crazy Dan were staring at their sandwiches with a look of horror and shock, Big D was putting those sandwiches away like a starving man at an all you can eat T-Bone Steak Buffet. After Big D had finished his fill of 'Fear Factor' sandwiches, and the rest of us had consumed a portion of the vending machine goodies, we all tucked in for a days rest.

When we awoke and drank a bit of cowboy coffee and snacked on a few granola bars, I told them of my plan. " The problem last night was that we were just situated in the wrong spots, " I said. We then reformulated our set up. Crazy Dan and Phred would guard the entrance to the canyon. This would alleviate Crazy Dan of the temptation of the goats and he could also keep a close eye on Phred in case any deer in the area mistook him for a doe in heat. Cleveland would keep an eye out on top of the canyon. This would save him from being shot in the ass if he had another attack of loose bowels. Big D and I would sneak in amongst the goats and bag the chupacabras when they attacked.

The plan was working perfectly. Eventhough we had been waiting patiently for hours, there was none of the hi-jinks of the night before. As the moon broke between the clouds, Big D and I spotted two chupacabras hopping through the brush. We waited until we saw the whites of their eyes through the moonlight and attacked. I was able to get off a clean shot from the PS-52 laser slingshot. One of the chupacabras was knocked flat out. Big D rushed the other one in a surprise attack and completely beheaded the beast with the replica sword of Anduril.

Victory was ours as we had managed to kill one chupacabra to roast over the campfire and had one live chupa to give over to scientists for a nominal fee. The rest of the A-Team rushed over and we rejoiced greatly in our victory making our way back to the camp.

We tied the live chupacabra to a mesquite tree and when he came to you have never seen such a damned racket in your life. They are vicious little beasties, have no doubt. Phred and I proceeded to gut and clean the other chupacabra as Crazy Dan and Big D went to stoke up the campfire. Cleveland ran to his tent and produced a bottle of hot sauce that he had brought especially for the wings.

Just as we finished cleaning the Chupa, I heard those vocalizations again. I stared a hole through Cleveland but he immediately stated that he had set his cell phone to vibrate. No sooner had the words escaped his mouth, when a mighty roar erupted and the sounds of clanging metal and the blast of gunfire shattered the silence of the night. The smell of the blood of the chupacabra must have aroused the BigFoots and we were under attack.

To be continued.....

The Authorized Version.

Monday, April 03, 2006

The Hunt: Episode One - The Hunt Is On

Friday after all of the A-Team were off work. We gathered up and went to 'Tips Liquor Store, Grocery, and Adult Supercenter' for last minute supplies. Big D had already stocked up on his supply of Jim Beam, but Phred needed Gin, Cleveland needed various and sundry exotic ales and brews, I needed Cuervo along with a cooler full of Bud, Crazy Dan isn't finicky about liquor but we had to drag him out of the adult supercenter aisle. (He was a bit pissed as we told him we didn't have time for him to pick out the perfect inflatable party sheep.)

We arrived at the Goat Ranch well before dark and set up our campsite far from the goat herd. After quickly pitching our tents, we sat around and proceeded to discuss our plans while drinking from our stores of liquid courage. The goat herd was situated in a box canyon with only one entry. I thought that this would fall into our hands perfectly. With only one way in and one way out the chupacabras would have to use this corridor. Although the sighting of the chupacabra was reported to have wings, he was not seen to be flying. I hypothesized that maybe it was like a turkey or a quail and could not fly long distances or was loathe to fly and would only do so as a last resort.

We decided that Phred should take up point at the top of the box canyon as he had brought his deer rifle with a high powered scope. If the chupacabras attempted to escape by flying out of the canyon then he would be ready to bring them down when they reached the top. Big D with his collection of Lord of the Ring replica weapons and Cleveland with a sawed off shotgun would position themselves on either side of the entrance to the canyon. This was for two reasons if they had a chance at a good shot or stab at a chupacabra, they would be in a good position and if any Bigfoots (or as they are known here, Dickens County Treehuggers) tried to get in on the action then they could pounce on them. Crazy Dan, armed with a .357 and I , with my PS-52 laser slingshot, would sneak in amongst the goats and be right there should a chupacabra attack.

Come nightfall, we positioned ourselves for the hunt. We were well fortified with liquid courage and eager for action. Crazy Dan and I blended in with the goats and waited. Even with all the cautions for complete silence, Dan was driving me crazy rating the individual goats as if they were potential hookups at a singles bar. Just as boredom started setting in, a strange noise came from a pocket of cedar trees, the noise sounded strangely familiar and I knew that it must be the vocalizations of a Bigfoot, I wheeled around and through my night vision goggles I saw a large ugly hairy face staring towards me with a hideous brown eye. I took quick aim with my PS-52 laser powered slingshot and let fly. I knew that I hit my mark when I heard a blood curdling scream but was surprised when the screaming turned to cursing. I walked over to the creature and discovered that the vocalizations were the ring tones from Cleveland's cell phone and at the time he received his call, he was doing what came naturally to bears in the woods. As he rubbed his ass in pain from the slingshot ball, I apologized and cautioned him to set his phone to vibrate.

Just as Cleveland and I repositioned ourselves a terrible racket issued from the top of the canyon. I feared for Phred's safety so Big D and I rushed up the canyon to see what was going on. When we reached Phred he was on all fours being attacked by a Whitetail Buck. Big D chased it off with a sword and I went to see if Phred was hurt. I asked him why a damn deer had attacked him. He replied, " I was worried about the scent of human chasing away the chupacabras and so I rubbed deer lure comprised of doe in heat urine on myself." It was just his bad fortune to be attacked by a horny buck. The buck had come out of nowhere and knocked him down and separated him from his weapon. He was extremely fortunate. If Big D and I had not gotten there in time and if not for the tough denim of his Wrangler jeans, Phred would have been anally probed and we hadn't even seen any aliens.

After we had calmed Phred down, Big D and I climbed back down the canyon and repositioned ourselves once more. Nothing more happened that night. I suppose all of the commotion from the incidents of the night scared away all beasts whether natural or unnatural. We headed back to camp. The A-Team was dejected but I had no fears for success Saturday night for I had the will, the firepower, and a new plan. Success would be guarenteed.

To be continued......

The Authorized Version.