Wednesday, August 31, 2022
Tuesday, August 30, 2022
Far Eastern Indians and Coupons
I frown upon profiling. I think it does more harm than good. However, having said that, sometimes I just cannot help myself. Over the years I have felt that Indians (Eastern) independent business owners hate coupons. I got the idea that they are so honest they believe in a honest days work should be paid equally. You get what you work for, no freebies. It goes along with their frugal life style. I remember once I was in a yogurt store and the owner just accepted a coupon from a couple of teenagers . After they left to me he started fussing about coupons and everybody had coupons, trying to get more than they paid for, bla bla bla bla. Then I ordered and poured out the yogurt he smiling told me the price and I presented him with a coupon. His smile froze. Recently, we accidentally picked up a free magazine named PARDES. We didn't accidentally pick up the magazine, we intentlually picked it because it was free. The accidentally part was that it was an INDIAN magazine - Far Eastern Indians. The magazine is full of stories and recopies that would appeal to the Indians. There are also ads that would appeal to them. One is a full page ad on PUNJAB Restaurant. It has a 15% coupon. When I saw it had a coupon I let out a big HEE - HAW!
Anti Herschel Walker Ads are making him a house word
Monday, August 29, 2022
8 Years Ago Post: Missing Phil Maloney
Sunday, August 28, 2022
Saturday, August 27, 2022
Posted 9 Years Ago on Voiding.
New Old Word for the Day: VOID. This morning I went to a Urology group to have my urine flow measured. The rate of flow and then was checked on how much urine was left after I quit urinating. I was to drink 40 + ounces of water before I reported, which I did. The instructions me not to void until the procedure started. VOID? That is a new meaning to an old word. To VOID means to piss. So when you turn in some kind of request and some administrator stamps VOID on your application, he or she is saying "Piss on it!" The nurse put me in a bathroom and told me instead of emptying my bladder into the toilet, I should aim for the big funnel she pointed out. At the small end of the funnel was a little gadget that measured the pressure of the liquid (voidance?). When I started a graft begin to print at the same time. If I peed hard the graft line would go up a little hump then back down. I made a few little humps. When I quit peeing the printer quit printing the line. I wonder if I gave it the "ending shake" would it record that too? Like putting a period mark at end of a report. Later the nurse told me ideally my line I printed would look like the semi-circle like a rainbow.....up, up, and then down, down, then stop where the pot of gold would be. Afterwards they checked the contents of my kidneys and I left probably over 10 or 12 ounces. There will be more tests to find out what the problem is and how to solve it. As soon as we left the doctor's I had a strong urge to VOID. The rest of the day I wanted to VOID. While standing in the men's room while VOIDING I think I could have VOIDED up the side of the wall to the ceiling if I aimed right.
Friday, August 26, 2022
Brer Rabbit and the Terracorta Soldier
Thursday, August 25, 2022
Harold or No Harold, That Is The Question
Mighty Mouse Flew Into a Door
Wednesday, August 24, 2022
Patricia Whiten, Horrified
Tuesday, August 23, 2022
Sandra Deal Died Today
Brad & Me, or is it Me & Brad?
Monday, August 22, 2022
7 Years Ago, a self applied plug
Sunday, August 21, 2022
SUNDAY FUNNIES!! From HELP Magazine
Movies: You Know Who Will Die, Art by Jack Davis (click on each page to make it bigger and readable and maybe make sense)
Saturday, August 20, 2022
National Honey Bee Day
The late Wildman Dent Myers Squawking
Friday, August 19, 2022
Everybody Has a Name (also a number)
Today, I walked into the waiting room. Anna already had a seat, I had to park the car. So, with socially distantly rule I decided to sit on the other side of the room. Before I could sat down Anna said, “Eddie, sit here!” She pointed to an empty seat beside a man. He said, something like, “Sure, sit here, another “Eddie” won’t matter.” As I sat down I said, “So, you are Eddie too?” He smiled. I said, “My real name is “Edwin.” He glanced with a polite smile, like saying, “So?” It look like he silently thought “Enough is enough.” I decided not to give him a brief summary was why I was Eddie. But if you got the time I’ll tell you. My grandmother Minnie Tyson Hunter was named Ed Tyson. He fought in WWI. My daddy was named after him and then I was named after Daddy. Daddy was Edwin Sr. And I am Edwin Jr. Daddy went by “Ed” and I go by “Eddie” . But getting back to Ed Tyson, the WWI great uncle, his real name was Edward Tyson. So, when naming Ed after Ed, somebody made a mistake when putting it down on paper. Another nickname I have is “Rock” but that is another story.
Sign of the Times
SIGN OF THE TIMES In the check-out line at Kroger’s this morning a mistake was made. I don’t know what the error was made. The lady whose groceries was being tallied apologized to the lady behind her, who said more or less, for her not to worry, she will pay the difference. I think probably the lady did not have enough money to cover the entire amount. The generous lady behind her, “No problem, I’ll pay the difference.” The first lay thanked her and thanked her. I got a better look at the person. She was old with plenty of unnatural bumps on her face and about two of her front teeth was missing. Financially she was having a hard time. After thanking and thanking suddenly she said, “Or did you do that just because you are in a hurry?” She realized the moment she said that she realized she was biting the hand that fed her. Then she changed the subject, sort of, she said she had to borrow some money to pay for the groceries and thought she had enough. Then she said, “I could just hug you, but that isn’t allowed anymore.” The generous lady laughed and said, “Please don’t"
Thursday, August 18, 2022
Al Hurt Club (on the outside), New Orleans
Wednesday, August 17, 2022
Late Racisr J.B. Stoner
Tuesday, August 16, 2022
Live and Learn
In high school, in the 11th grade, I think, I had a math or algebra class taught by an nervous high strung lady, Mrs. Vickery. Somehow, at that period of my life, I was good with numbers. I figured out my own secret formular to quickly come to the answer of a multi number math problems. It was all based on the multiplication table and the difference between the certain given number and 100, or a thousand. I slipped, I forgot. But then I was good at it and it certainly impressed Mrs. Vickery. One time she had me stand up and she quickly fed me arithmetic problems verbally and I quickly spat out the answer. She was proud of me. During this period, at times, we had one on one conversations. She told me some secrets or personal things about herself when growing up. One of the things she secretly told me that her first name is Nell and her maiden name is Hall. She said in high school, I think in the north Georgia Mountains, all the boys tormented and made fun of her and said, “Nell Hall! Nell Hall!! She said it is wonder it did not drive her crazy. I showed my concern. Then I shared confidentially to a friend. I told him not to tell anybody. A day or two later in her glass we were doing whatever is done in classes and from the bushes on a hill outside her windows the words “NELL HALL!” was hollered out. We were on the 2nd level of the Winn Street Building , west side. There was a steep bank, with bushes and trees on top, about even with our class windows. NELL HALL was shouted over and over. The only thing she could do was look at me with hatred and tremble and shake. I had betrayed her confidential information. I realized I made a terrible mistake that I couldn’t backtrack myself out of. Some things you just have to live with. I don’t remember how I got out of that class alive. I am currently reading the book KURT VONNEGUT PITY THE POOR READER by Susanne McConnell. Ms McConnell was Vonnegut’s assistant for many years and seems to know him inside and out. One of the things she said that Vonnegut was very disappointed when his mentor teacher, who he got a lot inspiration from, did not remember him. Sometime in th 1990s I think we went to pay our respects to the family of a relative who had died. While there I saw Mrs. Vickery. It was well over 30 years since she was my teacher. She had not changed hardly at all. She was there to pay her respects to another family. When I got closer I saw she was catching up with another ex-student of hers. She was all smiles and gushing sweet. I waited my turn, and when she focused on me I started off by saying, “Mrs. Vickery, you probably don’t remem….” She interrupted my sentence with a scowl on her face saying, “I know exactly who you are!” and turned around to talk to someone else. She died about a year or two after the funeral home encounter. Live and learn.
Monday, August 15, 2022
Who will record the End of the World and Who Will Read It?
On this date, August 15, 1969, was the Woodstock, New York, music blast. On this date, August 15, 1973, the Viet Nam War ended.
Boys Will Be Boys
Sunday, August 14, 2022
SUNDAY FUNNIES!! House for Sale by Bud Grace
Saturday, August 13, 2022
Brothers Ed & Jack Hunter c1918
Pay Phones patented, which means Telephone Booths, eh SUPERMAN?
Friday, August 12, 2022
Thursday, August 11, 2022
Teacher Mrs. Nesmith.
Today we were going to my sister’s house, driving on Burnt Hickory Road, she lives off the road about a block. On Burnt Hickory, off hiding partially behind a pine thicket, is a pretty two-story stark white house, which looks like it is making a statement, sort of. I heard the house belonged to Mr. & Mrs. Nesmith. Mrs. Nesmith was a science teacher I had in high school. I remember her class was on the ground floor of the Winn Street Building. Mr. Nesmith was a teacher at Marietta High School too. He was tall and lanky and always the first out of a school assembly meeting so he could grab a quick smoke. Sometimes we were walking down the wide driveway-walk behind the buildings at the same time puffing away. That was our little secret. Mrs. Nesmith was very nice and always seem to have a smile on her face…. Except one time, which I will get to in a moment. Mr. & Mrs. Nesmith lived in Pine Forest Apartments when they were teachers. They lived on Dodd Street across from the Board of Education office. How do I know this? I honestly do not remember. Lately I have been seeing a lot of people, young and old, male and female with so many tattoos on their forearms their forearms looked they had blue or purple-like skin color. Which reminded me of me in Mrs. Nesmith’s class: One time while Mrs. Nesmith was lecturing on scientific stuff, I got bored and started doodling on my note pad. The more I doodled the more involved and elaborate I got. Before long I had doodling all over my left forearm. I illustrated Mickey Mouse, Popye, numbers, rocket ships, dogs, eyes, and so on. I mean all over, with very little bare skin bare skin space left. I think somebody looked over and saw my arm and broke out giggling. Then somebody else did, then somebody else. The class was an uproar. Mrs. Nesmith stomped down the aisle to see for herself. Her face became very red and she sent me out of class to clean my arm. “Get off that stuff off!” It was the only time I remember she wasn’t smiling. I doubt if she is still alive, if so, I think she would be well in her hundred plus.
my great-great grandmother Nancy Manerva Jane Dupree Going by Fredrick Tucker
Wednesday, August 10, 2022
Grocery Store after Self-Quarantine
Being self-quarantine is tortuous. As far as I know I do not have COVED-19. We quarantined ourselves so we would not get it. Only seeing each other gets one wanting just to see another real human in person and have some kind of interaction, even a smile, or I would settle from a frown. We went to Krogers the other day. I was thrilled to be right in the middle of humans moving around, studying labels, looking a coupons, and so on. I did not dare speak to anybody for they make speak back then I not know if their germs could reach me or not so I might soak myself in alcohol. I did not dare take off my mask. Then on one row, I think it was the one with potato chips mostly on one side and on the side were cookies and crackers, I struck up a relationship. I saw a lady with her mask on trying to use a straw to suck up whatever she was drinking, probably a cola. She saw me looking and smiled… like “Caught!” She was going the opposite way down the aisles, so on every aisle we would say something, being creative saying something different again, like me: “Why don’t you cut a flap in your mask to stick your straw through?” Or she might say, “See you again, real soon!” Me: “Strange seeing you here!” And on and on. Until we went our separate ways.
Tuesday, August 09, 2022
Humping With Dino
Cowboy Kobus and his Lifetime Friend
William A. Hunter, William A. Trammell, Same Person
Monday, August 08, 2022
Numbers Don't Lie
While on-line there is a little button I can press to tell me what the attendance was on my blog Chicken-fat yesterday, last week, last month, for the year, and a grand total of visitors, which as of yesterday was 1,893,729. And lately I have averaging about 150 visitors a day, with some days shooting up to more than 300. But averaging also included all numbers, even low ones. Yesterday attendance was only 76. I think they finally got my number.
Frank Paris Hunter (1889-1950)
Frank Paris Hunter continued. This is directed at Frank Paris Hunter's grandchildren that were born after he died, before you got to met him. He died 20 March 1950. He died in the Old Hospital on Cherokee Street, in a top floor corner room on the south side over looking Victory Cab. He was 70 years old, 16 days away from being 71 He was a machinist. He worked for Glover Machinery where he got Daddy a job there, which was a mistake, Daddy was not very mechanical inclined which he handed down to me. He also went to work for other big companies that operated in Atlanta and Alabama. After he retired he apparently worked part time at a mattress company on Butler Street. Butler Street no longer exists. It is now a continuation of Atlanta Street. At the mattress company Frank became friends with a handful of drunks that also worked part time, off and on. This bunch of men was about Grandpa's age but they looked raggedy. I think they may have been homeless sleeping in boarding houses when they had some money. The may have been Marietta's first homeless. They might have inspired the building of homeless shelters in the Marietta area. The old men had no vehicle. Sometimes in the day time they would stand out in front of our house until I went and got Grandpa. "Grandpa! Your friends are here!" He would come out and they, as a bunch wondered down to the creek in Larry Bell Park. I think later, after Grandpa died his son W.C. began hanging out with the bunch of men. I saw W.C. with them at times walking towards the creek. W.C. was a WWII casualty. Since his he was wounded in the head and had to have a metal plate installed in his head. He spent the rest of his his life being a mental challenge.
Sunday, August 07, 2022
Me and My Motorcycle
SUNDAY FUNNIES!! MAD #15's WILD ONES, so to speak.
Art by Wallace Wood. Story by MAD'S editor Harvey Kurtzman. Click on each page to make them bigger, readable, and maybe understandable.
Saturday, August 06, 2022
Anna Nicole Smith Crime Scene on our Cruise years Ago
Friday, August 05, 2022
Petty Family Group Picture in Varnell, Ga about 1949
6288 and 2000 Other Memories Taking Up Valuable Space
6288! One morning in our hotel room with the local news on TV I heard of a murder on Barn Swallow Drive or Court. My brain instantly thought 6288! 6288 is the Postal carrier number for Barn Swallow Court in Marietta. It is in-grind knowledge that is no longer useful, plus over 2000 other streets taking up my brain space. AARRFGFGGG!
Thursday, August 04, 2022
Fight on Glover Street
Wednesday, August 03, 2022
Meet Ruby Laura Tyson
Tuesday, August 02, 2022
Opal Petty (Mama's sister) Interview
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