Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Friday, September 18, 2009
Pie sale, barbecue, music and dancing highlight gathering to raise money for longtime guitar picker on Saturday night in Elkins
Please click on image to move to Flickr site and Enlarge to read details.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
Don't take the brown acid
Brother Jim sez, America has become so corporative that cooperation is mandatory. You can’t have a radical opinion without risking your life. Don’t say that word (whatever it is)! You may land in jail for speaking the truth.
But it has always been that way, I guess. I was reminded of this as the 40th anniversary of Woodstock is being commemorated on TV and in newspapers, which become less relevant by the minute.
Bob Dylan said that his generation (i.e., the Woodstock generation) didn’t experience a real Depression so it created one of its own. It was carved out of high ideals and political naivete. It wore plain clothes and expressed itself colorfully. And it’s still out there, searching for some kind of accommodation.
Its shadow shows up in the details. Lynette “Squeaky” Fromme is released from prison. Woodstock is celebrated all over again. Elvis’ 1969 albums are reissued. Someone mentions “Purple Haze.” Bob Dylan releases a new collection of songs … and it’s a good one.
But everything is ranked according to its economic value. We’re a money-driven society now. There’s no more peace, love and music being sold wholesale. The Woodstock Generation (if it ever existed) has been replicated by brick streets and luxurious sharecroppers’ cabins for rent … If you can afford it, you can buy the experience, except the real sharecroppers didn’t have air conditioning, gourmet kitchens or even indoor plumbing.
No, the Woodstock generation’s depression that Dylan referred to was an authentic occurrence. A lot of people just decided to slob out. Go with the flow. Flabbergast their enemies. (“Love your enemies and drive ‘em nuts,” said humorist Brother Dave Gardner.)
It was a good time to be alive, be you young or old. But the media laugh at it when they report about it (which they seldom do). Almost everybody’s richer now. Everything has an inflated dollar value, even nostalgia. Woodstock didn’t really change anything. It just opened promoters’ eyes to vast potential profits they hadn’t known were there before.
It led us in the path of Reagan unto Gates and Bernie Madoff. If Woodstock were held today, tickets would cost at least $1,000 per day. Jimi Hendrix would play “There‘s a Star-Spangled Banner Waving Somewhere“ instead of the National Anthem. Farmer Max Yasgur would sue the promoters for trashing his property. That‘d be worth a quick buck.
But Woodstock is an idea that is as valiant today as it was 40 years ago. Who doesn‘t want three days of peace, love and music in a place where money doesn‘t mean anything? I sure do. I want that and heaven, too. Heaven the moreso. However, I’ll believe it when I see it. Until then, there’s life down here on earth with all its smarmy vitality, banality and corruptibility.
When Woodstock was in flower, most of us were stoned. It was great fun (being stoned), even for Charlie Manson. But Woodstock didn’t change the world the way the atomic bomb did.
Woodstock simply changed the way we interpret entertainment. That’s no small thing and, rest assured, it cuts very deeply into a society as self-conscious as ours has become. Someone could write a book about it and call it “Mirror, Mirror.”
You get the picture. Before and after are two radically different things. If you don’t believe that, take a good look at your old high school yearbook. It’ll tell you, at least, where Woodstock came from. It came from too much conformity, too many constraints, too much lockstep and not enough fun.
For every sour businessman who once romped in the mud at Woodstock there’s a corporate stud who helped organize the senior prom. Nothing much has changed.
Good times occur when you least expect them. So don’t plan on this being a banner year for remembering Woodstock or for the spirit of Woodstock to reinstill in you that youthfulness so treasured among us. Woodstock happened 40 grievous years ago.
But it has always been that way, I guess. I was reminded of this as the 40th anniversary of Woodstock is being commemorated on TV and in newspapers, which become less relevant by the minute.
Bob Dylan said that his generation (i.e., the Woodstock generation) didn’t experience a real Depression so it created one of its own. It was carved out of high ideals and political naivete. It wore plain clothes and expressed itself colorfully. And it’s still out there, searching for some kind of accommodation.
Its shadow shows up in the details. Lynette “Squeaky” Fromme is released from prison. Woodstock is celebrated all over again. Elvis’ 1969 albums are reissued. Someone mentions “Purple Haze.” Bob Dylan releases a new collection of songs … and it’s a good one.
But everything is ranked according to its economic value. We’re a money-driven society now. There’s no more peace, love and music being sold wholesale. The Woodstock Generation (if it ever existed) has been replicated by brick streets and luxurious sharecroppers’ cabins for rent … If you can afford it, you can buy the experience, except the real sharecroppers didn’t have air conditioning, gourmet kitchens or even indoor plumbing.
No, the Woodstock generation’s depression that Dylan referred to was an authentic occurrence. A lot of people just decided to slob out. Go with the flow. Flabbergast their enemies. (“Love your enemies and drive ‘em nuts,” said humorist Brother Dave Gardner.)
It was a good time to be alive, be you young or old. But the media laugh at it when they report about it (which they seldom do). Almost everybody’s richer now. Everything has an inflated dollar value, even nostalgia. Woodstock didn’t really change anything. It just opened promoters’ eyes to vast potential profits they hadn’t known were there before.
It led us in the path of Reagan unto Gates and Bernie Madoff. If Woodstock were held today, tickets would cost at least $1,000 per day. Jimi Hendrix would play “There‘s a Star-Spangled Banner Waving Somewhere“ instead of the National Anthem. Farmer Max Yasgur would sue the promoters for trashing his property. That‘d be worth a quick buck.
But Woodstock is an idea that is as valiant today as it was 40 years ago. Who doesn‘t want three days of peace, love and music in a place where money doesn‘t mean anything? I sure do. I want that and heaven, too. Heaven the moreso. However, I’ll believe it when I see it. Until then, there’s life down here on earth with all its smarmy vitality, banality and corruptibility.
When Woodstock was in flower, most of us were stoned. It was great fun (being stoned), even for Charlie Manson. But Woodstock didn’t change the world the way the atomic bomb did.
Woodstock simply changed the way we interpret entertainment. That’s no small thing and, rest assured, it cuts very deeply into a society as self-conscious as ours has become. Someone could write a book about it and call it “Mirror, Mirror.”
You get the picture. Before and after are two radically different things. If you don’t believe that, take a good look at your old high school yearbook. It’ll tell you, at least, where Woodstock came from. It came from too much conformity, too many constraints, too much lockstep and not enough fun.
For every sour businessman who once romped in the mud at Woodstock there’s a corporate stud who helped organize the senior prom. Nothing much has changed.
Good times occur when you least expect them. So don’t plan on this being a banner year for remembering Woodstock or for the spirit of Woodstock to reinstill in you that youthfulness so treasured among us. Woodstock happened 40 grievous years ago.
Sunday, August 23, 2009
Kris Kristofferson sez
"Ronnie always embarrasses me anywhere I go. He's always bringin' up some little 'snuggy' and he'll say '
kris, look at her man. She's as sweet as a mother's love and as clean as an angel's drawers.' He just embarrasses the hell outta me.
"Then the Hawk will say, 'You know its about as hard to get Kris Kristofferson laid as giving away a gram of Cocaine at a Willie Nelson concert.'
kris, look at her man. She's as sweet as a mother's love and as clean as an angel's drawers.' He just embarrasses the hell outta me.
"Then the Hawk will say, 'You know its about as hard to get Kris Kristofferson laid as giving away a gram of Cocaine at a Willie Nelson concert.'
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Ronnie (the Hawk) sez......................
The Hawk sez, I'm so old Moby Dick was just a minnow and the Dead Sea wasn't even sick.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Elvis Has Left the Dispensary
Brother Jim says, when Elvis keeled over off his throne on Aug. 16, 1977, it was like the world stopped … the reason: evil Dr. Nick, who was summarily punished for his offensive behavior.
Merle Haggard said, “we loved Elvis to death.”
As we all know, “love is strange” (courtesy of Mickey and Sylvia, circa 1960). It is in particular a strange reason (albeit a common one) for dying. But who doesn’t understand the process? There’s only so much that the media can wring out of it. Americans are so over-medicated that everybody identifies with Elvis’ story. We’ve all dabbled in what he swam in (drugs by the bushelful for a short while).
Excess. Stimulants and sedatives. It’s easy to overdo it in this society, this global pharmacy. Elvis just couldn’t stand the spotlight, although that’s what he sought all his life. Once he was up there, struggling to be larger than life, the whole world was watching and he knew it. It was too much for him. He was no savior, no cure for the human condition. He collapsed and became a businessman.
Elvis was no businessman. He was the King of Rock ’n’ Roll. “Ask the boy from Tupelo/he’s a king and he oughta know” sings Emmylou Harris on her album “Red Dirt Girl.”
Elvis knew everybody’s secret: Mama’s Little Helper is the best thing going. Used to be that dope was scarce. Now every kid in high school has a bag in his pocket. Every housewife has access to the radiance of Dr. Feelgood. Every salesman is hip to the benefits of encapsulated happiness.
But Elvis is gone and so is Billy Lee Riley, who was never in a commercial league with Elvis but who passed away Aug. 2 or 3 (Why quibble? He made “Red Hot“ and it was a classic). Billy Lee was ahead of Elvis and behind him. The music that brewed in Elvis was clichéd the moment Elvis appeared. He defined it. He refined it. He carried it with him like a flag.
The King? The King of what? Elvis was the last of the genuine American originals generated by poet William Carlos Williams’ World War II generation. “The pure products of America,” Williams wrote, “go crazy.”
Little did he know that the pure products of America are defeated by America. Or maybe he did know. Maybe he just couldn’t bring himself to say it straight out. It’s almost too sad.
Merle Haggard said, “we loved Elvis to death.”
As we all know, “love is strange” (courtesy of Mickey and Sylvia, circa 1960). It is in particular a strange reason (albeit a common one) for dying. But who doesn’t understand the process? There’s only so much that the media can wring out of it. Americans are so over-medicated that everybody identifies with Elvis’ story. We’ve all dabbled in what he swam in (drugs by the bushelful for a short while).
Excess. Stimulants and sedatives. It’s easy to overdo it in this society, this global pharmacy. Elvis just couldn’t stand the spotlight, although that’s what he sought all his life. Once he was up there, struggling to be larger than life, the whole world was watching and he knew it. It was too much for him. He was no savior, no cure for the human condition. He collapsed and became a businessman.
Elvis was no businessman. He was the King of Rock ’n’ Roll. “Ask the boy from Tupelo/he’s a king and he oughta know” sings Emmylou Harris on her album “Red Dirt Girl.”
Elvis knew everybody’s secret: Mama’s Little Helper is the best thing going. Used to be that dope was scarce. Now every kid in high school has a bag in his pocket. Every housewife has access to the radiance of Dr. Feelgood. Every salesman is hip to the benefits of encapsulated happiness.
But Elvis is gone and so is Billy Lee Riley, who was never in a commercial league with Elvis but who passed away Aug. 2 or 3 (Why quibble? He made “Red Hot“ and it was a classic). Billy Lee was ahead of Elvis and behind him. The music that brewed in Elvis was clichéd the moment Elvis appeared. He defined it. He refined it. He carried it with him like a flag.
The King? The King of what? Elvis was the last of the genuine American originals generated by poet William Carlos Williams’ World War II generation. “The pure products of America,” Williams wrote, “go crazy.”
Little did he know that the pure products of America are defeated by America. Or maybe he did know. Maybe he just couldn’t bring himself to say it straight out. It’s almost too sad.
Drive--By Truckers Are Unique
By Orlis
I've never started a piece out like this before and I never thought I would. But, I hate this band, I really hate this band. Because they make me green. Not green like ecology, not green like sick to my stomach, not green like they're making so much money ... But, "Green With Envy."
I have been studyin' southern culture for over 30 years and I was born from good Mt. Ida hillbilly stock. And I can't stand the fact that about half of what these kids have written ... I wish I had written. Talkin' about the duality of the southern thing. It's kinda a love-hate thang.
Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, the Kingston Trio and such did "Folk Music." Second person accounts of real events. Vance Randolph did six books of transcriptions of first person folk songs, about town drunks, whores, evil bankers, carpetbaggers, bank robbers, maybe even murderers. Well, these guys & gal talk first person at least half the time. Patterson Hood in particular writes much about his five generations of dirt farmers. Mike Cooley evokes daddy, uncles and cousins, moonshining gambling and building hot cars. The now departed Jason Isbell gives much funky southern advice like, "We ain't never gonna change -- we ain't doin' nothing wrong." Even bassist Shonna Tucker has now gotten into song writing. So most of their stuff is real oral history in the great tradition of southern storytellers.
What about their music, you say! Well ... Take some Crazy Horse, add some Skynyrd, some Texas outlaw music, add a couple of dashes of country, maybe even a pinch of hillbilly. You get a potent stew of "southern grunge. It even has the smell of dirt and outhouses on it, with a three guitar line-up. In a nutshell, man they Rock!!!
They have put out eight albums in the last eleven years, gaining momentum with each release, until the last album "Brighter than Creation's Dark" smashed its way to #37 on the charts. If Yankees weren't so scared of 'em, it probably would have been #1.
Their 2001 release "Southern Rock Opera" is about Lynyrd Skynyrd's rise and fall as a scream to arms. Could there be a second secession? It makes all other rock operas seem insipid and impotent. It actually rivals Gershwin in the American canon. The song "The Southern Thing" from this LP is a crash course in what they and I are a talkin' 'bout.
If you want a master's degree listen to the whole catalog.
So if you want to get your butt kicked, just dare to show up at George's Majestic Lounge Friday, August 7th. Have your fists ready to pump ... for a taste of Ozark culture keep checking http://www.orlissez.blogspot.com.
I've never started a piece out like this before and I never thought I would. But, I hate this band, I really hate this band. Because they make me green. Not green like ecology, not green like sick to my stomach, not green like they're making so much money ... But, "Green With Envy."
I have been studyin' southern culture for over 30 years and I was born from good Mt. Ida hillbilly stock. And I can't stand the fact that about half of what these kids have written ... I wish I had written. Talkin' about the duality of the southern thing. It's kinda a love-hate thang.
Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, the Kingston Trio and such did "Folk Music." Second person accounts of real events. Vance Randolph did six books of transcriptions of first person folk songs, about town drunks, whores, evil bankers, carpetbaggers, bank robbers, maybe even murderers. Well, these guys & gal talk first person at least half the time. Patterson Hood in particular writes much about his five generations of dirt farmers. Mike Cooley evokes daddy, uncles and cousins, moonshining gambling and building hot cars. The now departed Jason Isbell gives much funky southern advice like, "We ain't never gonna change -- we ain't doin' nothing wrong." Even bassist Shonna Tucker has now gotten into song writing. So most of their stuff is real oral history in the great tradition of southern storytellers.
What about their music, you say! Well ... Take some Crazy Horse, add some Skynyrd, some Texas outlaw music, add a couple of dashes of country, maybe even a pinch of hillbilly. You get a potent stew of "southern grunge. It even has the smell of dirt and outhouses on it, with a three guitar line-up. In a nutshell, man they Rock!!!
They have put out eight albums in the last eleven years, gaining momentum with each release, until the last album "Brighter than Creation's Dark" smashed its way to #37 on the charts. If Yankees weren't so scared of 'em, it probably would have been #1.
Their 2001 release "Southern Rock Opera" is about Lynyrd Skynyrd's rise and fall as a scream to arms. Could there be a second secession? It makes all other rock operas seem insipid and impotent. It actually rivals Gershwin in the American canon. The song "The Southern Thing" from this LP is a crash course in what they and I are a talkin' 'bout.
If you want a master's degree listen to the whole catalog.
So if you want to get your butt kicked, just dare to show up at George's Majestic Lounge Friday, August 7th. Have your fists ready to pump ... for a taste of Ozark culture keep checking http://www.orlissez.blogspot.com.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Orlis reviews Drive-By Truckers to promote last weekend's performance in Fayetteville
By Orlis
I was born from good Mount Ida hillbilly stock and I’ve been studying southern culture for more than 30 years. That said, I can’t stand the fact that about half of what the Drive-By Truckers have written, I wish I had written.
Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, the Kingston Trio did “folk music”-second-person accounts of real events. Folklorist Vance Randolph did six books of transcriptions of first-person folk songs, about town drunks, whores, evil bankers, carpetbaggers and bank robbers. The guys and gal in Drive-By Truckers talk first-person at least half the time.
DBT’s Patterson Hood in particular writes about his five generations of dirt farmers. Mike Cooley evokes daddy, uncles and cousins, moonshining, gambling and building hot cars. The now departed Jason Isbell gives funky southern advice like, “We ain’t never gonna change — we ain’t doin’ nothing wrong.” Even bassist Shonna Tucker has now gotten into songwriting. Most of their stuff is real oral history in the great tradition of southern storytellers.
What about their music, you ask? Well, take some Crazy Horse, add some Skynard, some Texas outlaw music, add a couple of dashes of country, maybe even a pinch of hillbilly. You get a potent stew of “southern grunge.” It even has the smell of dirt and outhouses, with a three guitar line-up. In a nutshell … man, they rock.
They have put out eight albums in the last 11 years, gaining momentum with each release. Their last album “Brighter than Creation’s Dark” smashed its way to 37 on the charts. If Yankees weren’t so scared of ’em, it probably would have been No. 1.
Their 2001 release “Southern Rock Opera” is about Lynard Skynard’s rise and fall as a scream to arms. Could there be a second secession? It makes all other rock operas seem insipid and impotent. It actually rivals Gershwin in the American canon. The song “The Southern Thing” is a crash course in what I’m talkin’ ‘bout.
If you want a master’s degree in southern rock, listen to the DBT’s whole catalog. If you want your butt kicked, just dare to show up at George’s on Friday when they play. Have your fists ready to pump.
I was born from good Mount Ida hillbilly stock and I’ve been studying southern culture for more than 30 years. That said, I can’t stand the fact that about half of what the Drive-By Truckers have written, I wish I had written.
Bob Dylan, Joan Baez, the Kingston Trio did “folk music”-second-person accounts of real events. Folklorist Vance Randolph did six books of transcriptions of first-person folk songs, about town drunks, whores, evil bankers, carpetbaggers and bank robbers. The guys and gal in Drive-By Truckers talk first-person at least half the time.
DBT’s Patterson Hood in particular writes about his five generations of dirt farmers. Mike Cooley evokes daddy, uncles and cousins, moonshining, gambling and building hot cars. The now departed Jason Isbell gives funky southern advice like, “We ain’t never gonna change — we ain’t doin’ nothing wrong.” Even bassist Shonna Tucker has now gotten into songwriting. Most of their stuff is real oral history in the great tradition of southern storytellers.
What about their music, you ask? Well, take some Crazy Horse, add some Skynard, some Texas outlaw music, add a couple of dashes of country, maybe even a pinch of hillbilly. You get a potent stew of “southern grunge.” It even has the smell of dirt and outhouses, with a three guitar line-up. In a nutshell … man, they rock.
They have put out eight albums in the last 11 years, gaining momentum with each release. Their last album “Brighter than Creation’s Dark” smashed its way to 37 on the charts. If Yankees weren’t so scared of ’em, it probably would have been No. 1.
Their 2001 release “Southern Rock Opera” is about Lynard Skynard’s rise and fall as a scream to arms. Could there be a second secession? It makes all other rock operas seem insipid and impotent. It actually rivals Gershwin in the American canon. The song “The Southern Thing” is a crash course in what I’m talkin’ ‘bout.
If you want a master’s degree in southern rock, listen to the DBT’s whole catalog. If you want your butt kicked, just dare to show up at George’s on Friday when they play. Have your fists ready to pump.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Michael, We Hardly Knew Ye
In the ongoing rush to find meaning in Michael Jackson’s death, it’s easy to forget that his life was worth something. He was a pop powerhouse, a moneymaking machine that overshadowed even the nasty rumors that circulated about him. That was probably his triumph. He transcended his own weirdness. It was a stupendous achievement, given his unproductive proclivity for secrecy and indecipherable erotica. He only produced one really great recording in his adult life: “Thriller,” the killer-diller multimillion-selling album that drew the world’s spotlight to him.
But what did all the hoopla “Thriller” generated amount to in the end? A lot of airplay and enough bucks to build his infantile Xanadu, “Never-never-land,” where the happenings conjured up his own private hoodoo, hanky-pankied by the media into strange doings that were based on precious little evidence … except for his choice of verifiable roommates and his curious appearance.
The surgical carving of his skull … the white tint of his skin … the single white glove. The Peter Pan presence.
Now drugs have come into the picture. Doctors were involved in unsavory ways. Or, so it is being suggested. Like Elvis and Hank Williams and John Lennon and an angelic choir of others, Michael Jackson is now just another statistic in the archive of fabulousness, a king without a crown.
So what?
So his passing was, in a way that is only now fully unfolding, a good career move. As one CBS Records executive said: “Frankly speaking, he was worth more dead than alive.”
Let the selling of sensationalism begin a new chapter. Everybody knew it would come to this eventually.
“History is not my story.
“History is not your story.
“History is
“His story.”
-- Sun Ra (a.k.a. Sonny Blount),
Visionary leader of the Intergalactic Omniverse Jet Arkestra
But what did all the hoopla “Thriller” generated amount to in the end? A lot of airplay and enough bucks to build his infantile Xanadu, “Never-never-land,” where the happenings conjured up his own private hoodoo, hanky-pankied by the media into strange doings that were based on precious little evidence … except for his choice of verifiable roommates and his curious appearance.
The surgical carving of his skull … the white tint of his skin … the single white glove. The Peter Pan presence.
Now drugs have come into the picture. Doctors were involved in unsavory ways. Or, so it is being suggested. Like Elvis and Hank Williams and John Lennon and an angelic choir of others, Michael Jackson is now just another statistic in the archive of fabulousness, a king without a crown.
So what?
So his passing was, in a way that is only now fully unfolding, a good career move. As one CBS Records executive said: “Frankly speaking, he was worth more dead than alive.”
Let the selling of sensationalism begin a new chapter. Everybody knew it would come to this eventually.
“History is not my story.
“History is not your story.
“History is
“His story.”
-- Sun Ra (a.k.a. Sonny Blount),
Visionary leader of the Intergalactic Omniverse Jet Arkestra
Thursday, July 30, 2009
"The Ballad of Pretty Boy Floyd"
Woody says, "Some men rob you with a six-gun, some with a fountain pen."
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Grandpa's Happy Marriage Tips
Grandpa sezs it don't matter where you get your appetite, son, just eat at home.
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Orlis sez...I'us a talkin' to Larry Davis (the Arkansas Blues Man that wrote Texas Flood, the song that started Stevie Ray Vaughn's career).
And he said, "that when he was a kid he never missed the Grand Ole Opry and sometimes he'd get whupped for runnin' the car battery down, cuz they didn't have no 'lectricity.
And that when Howlin Wolf and them dudes said oooooooouh! they us a tryin to sound like Jimmy Rogers, the singin' brakeman.
Orlis sez...yankees think black people invented rap music. The first time I heard rap music was when I was at a sqiare damce when I was about 3 years old when I went to an auction and heard a hillbilly auction and heard a great hillbilly auction and heard a great hillbillly rapper, but it goes back a lot further than that. Doc Watspm and his family give a good rendition.
Here tiis...
Doc and family sez...
Doc Watson and Fanily Tradition track three, title Childre Songs
And he said, "that when he was a kid he never missed the Grand Ole Opry and sometimes he'd get whupped for runnin' the car battery down, cuz they didn't have no 'lectricity.
And that when Howlin Wolf and them dudes said oooooooouh! they us a tryin to sound like Jimmy Rogers, the singin' brakeman.
Orlis sez...yankees think black people invented rap music. The first time I heard rap music was when I was at a sqiare damce when I was about 3 years old when I went to an auction and heard a hillbilly auction and heard a great hillbilly auction and heard a great hillbillly rapper, but it goes back a lot further than that. Doc Watspm and his family give a good rendition.
Here tiis...
Doc and family sez...
Doc Watson and Fanily Tradition track three, title Childre Songs
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Woody sez...Christ for president
Let's have Christ our president. Let's have him for king. Cast your vote for the carpenter that they call the Nazarene. The only way we can ever beat these crooked politician men is to run the money-changers out of the temple and let the carpenter in.
Oh, its Jesus Christ for president, God above our king with a job and position for young and old we will make hallelujah ring.
Every year we waste enough to feed the men who starve. We build our civilization up and we shoot it down with wars. But the carpenter on the seat away up in the capital town the USA would be on the way, prosperity bound.
Oh, its Jesus Christ for president, God above our king with a job and position for young and old we will make hallelujah ring.
Every year we waste enough to feed the men who starve. We build our civilization up and we shoot it down with wars. But the carpenter on the seat away up in the capital town the USA would be on the way, prosperity bound.
Friday, July 3, 2009
Old man needs medical help
Orlis sez, I'us talkin to this ol' gal and I'us a tellin her the thing about the old man and foreplay, and she us a talkin about what offended her about them viagra commercials is talkin about them four-hour erections to call the doctor immediately. Hell, if my old man ever got one of them four-hour erections, he would need medical attention because I'd beat him to death with his own blunt instrument. If he didn't need an ambulance, I'd take him out to dinner.
Sunday, June 28, 2009
Life ain't fair
Orlis says, you know, when we'us young I used to mess with them young girls and do like four hours a foreplay ... and I might get sum. Now that I'm an old man ya give me four hours a foreplay ... and ya might get sum. Life ain't fair, is it?
Thursday, June 25, 2009
Ya know how to keep a yankee from buyin the propitty nex ta ya?
..................................................................................................
Don'tcha ...................
You tellum ya f... yr.... sheep....
If that don't work, you tell up ya f..... your cousin
If that don't work, you talk about your daughters
And they'll go away
If we'd a stuck to this philosophy,
We'd still own these beautiful Ozarks.
..................................................................................................
Don'tcha ...................
You tellum ya f... yr.... sheep....
If that don't work, you tell up ya f..... your cousin
If that don't work, you talk about your daughters
And they'll go away
If we'd a stuck to this philosophy,
We'd still own these beautiful Ozarks.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
RELATED ITEM:
From:: Ramon, Queens Black Watch Band.
Ya know how tha Rollin Stones is lika Scotsman? ....
The Rollin Stones say Hey You, Get offa my cloud
A Scotsman willl say, Hey, McCloud, get offa my EWE.
ORLIS Says ...
The Ozarks were settled by mostly Scots,
Ya know, the Roman empire gave up at Scotland ,
They just built a wall, Adrian's wall.
The British tried for a thousand years,
Couldn't kill the culture.
Ya know what a Scotsman ul'll say,
F... the king, brang im on.
He's got big ears and cross eyes.
I'll rolla rock down on him.
Thay's hillbillies
And Ya Know
the bagpipe is the most obnoxious instrument ever invented.
I don't ever agree to taking life,
(especially innocents)
But ... Osama Ben Laden is a hillbilly
You can be the Roman Empire,
You can be the British Empire,
You can be the Roming Empire.
With the biggest high-tech Army on Earth,
But you can't stop a hillbilly, he'll hide in a cave and roll a rock atcha.
If ya wanta catch im, send a hillbilly after him.
From:: Ramon, Queens Black Watch Band.
Ya know how tha Rollin Stones is lika Scotsman? ....
The Rollin Stones say Hey You, Get offa my cloud
A Scotsman willl say, Hey, McCloud, get offa my EWE.
ORLIS Says ...
The Ozarks were settled by mostly Scots,
Ya know, the Roman empire gave up at Scotland ,
They just built a wall, Adrian's wall.
The British tried for a thousand years,
Couldn't kill the culture.
Ya know what a Scotsman ul'll say,
F... the king, brang im on.
He's got big ears and cross eyes.
I'll rolla rock down on him.
Thay's hillbillies
And Ya Know
the bagpipe is the most obnoxious instrument ever invented.
I don't ever agree to taking life,
(especially innocents)
But ... Osama Ben Laden is a hillbilly
You can be the Roman Empire,
You can be the British Empire,
You can be the Roming Empire.
With the biggest high-tech Army on Earth,
But you can't stop a hillbilly, he'll hide in a cave and roll a rock atcha.
If ya wanta catch im, send a hillbilly after him.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Tennesee Williams rocks!
You know what?
Yankees cain't make music
Yankees cain't make love
They cain't make literature
They cain't make time to sit on the porch with their friends
All they can make is money.
And then they really screw things up.
Yankees cain't make music
Yankees cain't make love
They cain't make literature
They cain't make time to sit on the porch with their friends
All they can make is money.
And then they really screw things up.
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