Three Stories My Parole Officer Would Not Find Amusing

So if you take a look at the comment that was left in the last post, you may not understand, but I’ll translate as much as I can. Basically it says:

Hi, you may not remember me but my name may or may not be Missy. Last night you jumped into my car and forced me to give you a ride to Mae’s where, judging by your condition, you had absolutely no business going. You did however feel bad for hijacking me, so you gave me twenty dollars which I spent on beignets and coffee and It was delicious.

p.s. At some point in the drive you told me about your blog and even convinced me that I should look at it and leave you a note.

To further clarify, I was at a Robert Earl Keen show, after going to an event sponsored by the local microbrewery that involved $1, 16oz, I.P.A.s that I drank about ten of, then went to the show and started drinking redbull-vodka, then, after the show, hitch/jacked a ride to a bar that serves well cocktails for $1, and somewhere in between I stopped remembering stuff.

Thank GOD I didn’t drive to the pub crawl initially.


Saturday was a tough one, even my patented hangover cure, which involves two ten minute walks, bacon, and as much Ice Tea as a man can possibly drink, did not make me feel any better. So, rather ingeniously I think, I came up with a plan to cure what ale-ed me (get it?). I would go to a place that's so loud, you're required to wear hearing protection. I called my buddy who has a gorgeous .357 magnum revolver and took my Browning Hi-Power to the local indoor pistol range. I can put 10 out of thirteen shots through the same hole with that Hi-Power, I love that gun. Afterwards we went to a nearby BBBQ (the extra B is for bbombdiggity) joint (you have to say BBQ JOINT I'm told, restaurant is unacceptable.)


Sunday I drank from noon until about 9pm. The Patriots are sooooo good, but you know who's better? Me, at fantasy football.

Because I Feel Like Writing

So I was watching cartoons yesterday morning in about a three-quarter-stupor trying to figure out why I fell asleep on my living room floor armed to the teeth, when a commercial came on for a Christmas album for kids called “Yo, It’s Christmas.” The answer is yes, I bought it: “Jingle bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way, oh what fun it is to ride in a blinged out Christmas sleigh. Dashing through the snow in a drop top Chevrolet, over the hills we go, bumpin’ all the way, bump bump bump…” It turns out it’s a Disney project, so like all Disney products it’s PG, grammatically correct, and its racism is moderate in both intensity and disguise. My favorite line (I haven’t listened closely all the way through yet, so I’m reserving my right to change) is “Don we now our fly apparel, fa la la la la la la la la, and we roll wit that ancient yuletide carol.” Also, this from Silent Night: “Let’s break it down allright, all was calm and all was bright.” Basically if I had kids, they would not be allowed to listen to this album, but if they asked why, I wouldn’t be able to come up with a very good answer. I don’t have kids though, so I get to listen to it for its cheesy beats and other humorous qualities.

I went and saw American Gangster last night, and I have still yet to see a bad Denzel movie (except maybe The Bone Collector, which only makes the maybe list because Angelina Jolie is in it. Angelina’s been in some moderately bad movies, but she has a free pass in my book because of Hackers.) Everyone loved Training Day, but He Got Game was a far superior movie, although it should be mentioned that I carry a pretty low opinion of Ethan Hawke. One of my favorite movies is Hoodlum, to which American Gangster is something like a sequel. Larry Fishburne’s character in Hoodlum is Ellsworth “Bumpy” Johnson, who gets out of jail and frees Harlem from the grips of Jewish gangster Arthur “Dutch Schultz” Flegenheimer, and after earning the blessings of the Italian Charles “Lucky” Luciano establishes himself as the most powerful man in Harlem. American Gangster picks up many years later in 1968, with the death of Bumpy Johnson. Denzel (who it turns out is about to turn 53) plays Frank Lucas, Bumpy’s driver and bodyguard. Lucas sets up a heroin importation operation and when he’s finally arrested, the Fed’s seize $250M, which adjusted for inflation is over a billion, and doesn’t include all the real estate etc he and his family bought.

In the only scene where Denzel has an identifiable gun, it's a Browning Hi-Power. According to five minutes of e-research, it appears Lucas was fond of the Hi-Power.