Coon Skins and Alligator Hide, make a pair of Jump Boots just the Right Size:
Thought for the Day:
I do nothing but go about persuading you all, old and young alike, not to take thought for your persons or your properties, but and chiefly to care about the greatest improvement of the soul. I tell you that virtue is not given by money, but that from virtue comes money and every other good of man, public as well as private. This is my teaching, and if this is the doctrine which corrupts the youth, I am a mischievous person.
JQP’s Roof Vol. II
Friday last I cut out of work early around 10:00 to start my project. Fortified in the knowledge that if I can go to war and get advanced degrees, I sure has hell can figure out how to roof a garage. How wrong I was, dear reader, how very wrong.
Knowing 4 of my good friends were going to come help me Saturday, I started to tear off the old roof. It seems I was the first person to ever attempt this, as there are four lairs of shingles setting atop the original cedar shingles. So, picture a nail about every two inches.
I started and soon realized I was over dressed. So, I entered my palatial manor home and changed into something more suitable for the sub-tropic environment that I found myself laboring in. Chiefly, I wore a pair of shorts and sandals. Remembering my military training, I shunned under garments, to prevent chafing, a decision that would soon come back to haunt me.
I started making wonderful progress, due mainly to the advanced state of decay of the roof. Tearing away, I was, shingles and nails and rotten lumber were flying. I looking at it as my own little Gestalt therapy, freeing the thimble full of repressed anger I tend to carry around with me.
About half way though the first side, I received my first phone call from one of my dear volunteer roofing friends, within the hour all 4 had called, saying that they would not be able to be of assistance, perhaps next week or the week after (Get the feeling a few people are going to be dropped from my Christmas Card list?). They all had the same excuse, “I am going to the lakes, to get drunk, ski, tube, pick-up 18 year old girls.” Not even the decency to lie and say something like “I have to leave town there is a warrant out for me”, or “Uncle Roy broke his arm leaving New Red Dragon China Buffet and now I have to help him change his colostomy bag”.
Happy, I was not.
You see by that point I had taken a man sized hole and made it as big has a VW micro-bus, dear friends there was no stopping now, the die and been cast and my fate sealed. I had gone too far in the tear off and even if I wanted to stop, my foul mood prevented me. Dear reader, I started in tearing the roof off with a passion, a blind rage, cussing everyone who had ever done me wrong, using word combinations that have not been invented yet.
This friends continued until the neighbor kids came out into their back yard to jump on their trampoline, something about 11 kids 20 yards away from me that makes me clean up my language (you see, I am at times a moral up-standing citizen of this our great land). Allow me to digress, their were 11 children jumping up and down on that damn thing, ages 3 to 12, I always cringe when I see them go out there, its just a bad accident waiting to happen, you see they have no adult supervision. When I spoke to the mother about this, she laughed and said “its God’s way of thinning the herd and anyway I have them all insured.” …back to my story.
I was at the far corner, tearing away and shingles flying when I heard an odd noise. Now you the reader should note that I suffer from hearing loss due to both my military service and my years as a roadie for Molly Hatchet, I can hear sounds but I have a difficultly in telling from whence they came. This sound was somewhat like an angry cat mating in a large garbage can, odd I thought, now what could that be? It sounded like something from my past, after a minute or so I was able to place it, it sounded much like a pissed off raccoon.
You see, my loving step-father raised coon hounds and from and early age I was forced at gun point to go coon hunting most school nights during the week. My job being to hold the dogs and carry the dead raccoons, I ask you, is that or is that not some bonifided redneck pedigree? Thus, I was familiar with the sound. Once again, I thought to myself “self, that’s odd, that I am hearing what sounds to be a very pissed off coon” it was at that moment I happened to look down.
Remember, dear reader how I said I was wearing only a pair of shorts, sandals and a smile. Well, about 6 inches from my rather pretty and well cared for toes, was a 20 pound, highly fucking pissed off mother raccoon. Thinking, that getting a toe bit off is not what I had in mind for a days work, I wisely decided to un-ass the area. However, it was my method of un-assing that could have used some further exploration.
Tune in for Vol. III, when you hear our hero say “oh…shit…”.
Your Moment of Summertime Zen:
Your Bill for the Day:
SONNET 125
Were 't aught to me I bore the canopy,
With my extern the outward honouring,
Or laid great bases for eternity,
Which prove more short than waste or ruining?
Have I not seen dwellers on form and favour
Lose all, and more, by paying too much rent,
For compound sweet forgoing simple savour,
Pitiful thrivers, in their gazing spent?
No, let me be obsequious in thy heart,
And take thou my oblation, poor but free,
Which is not mix'd with seconds, knows no art,
But mutual render, only me for thee.
Hence, thou suborn'd informer! a true soul
When most impeach'd stands least in thy control.
Quote of the Day:
Never despair; but if you do, work on in despair.
Edmund Burke
I remain, wearing a coon skin cap and silk loin cloth in your reoccurring dreams:
JQP DVM
I do nothing but go about persuading you all, old and young alike, not to take thought for your persons or your properties, but and chiefly to care about the greatest improvement of the soul. I tell you that virtue is not given by money, but that from virtue comes money and every other good of man, public as well as private. This is my teaching, and if this is the doctrine which corrupts the youth, I am a mischievous person.
JQP’s Roof Vol. II
Friday last I cut out of work early around 10:00 to start my project. Fortified in the knowledge that if I can go to war and get advanced degrees, I sure has hell can figure out how to roof a garage. How wrong I was, dear reader, how very wrong.
Knowing 4 of my good friends were going to come help me Saturday, I started to tear off the old roof. It seems I was the first person to ever attempt this, as there are four lairs of shingles setting atop the original cedar shingles. So, picture a nail about every two inches.
I started and soon realized I was over dressed. So, I entered my palatial manor home and changed into something more suitable for the sub-tropic environment that I found myself laboring in. Chiefly, I wore a pair of shorts and sandals. Remembering my military training, I shunned under garments, to prevent chafing, a decision that would soon come back to haunt me.
I started making wonderful progress, due mainly to the advanced state of decay of the roof. Tearing away, I was, shingles and nails and rotten lumber were flying. I looking at it as my own little Gestalt therapy, freeing the thimble full of repressed anger I tend to carry around with me.
About half way though the first side, I received my first phone call from one of my dear volunteer roofing friends, within the hour all 4 had called, saying that they would not be able to be of assistance, perhaps next week or the week after (Get the feeling a few people are going to be dropped from my Christmas Card list?). They all had the same excuse, “I am going to the lakes, to get drunk, ski, tube, pick-up 18 year old girls.” Not even the decency to lie and say something like “I have to leave town there is a warrant out for me”, or “Uncle Roy broke his arm leaving New Red Dragon China Buffet and now I have to help him change his colostomy bag”.
Happy, I was not.
You see by that point I had taken a man sized hole and made it as big has a VW micro-bus, dear friends there was no stopping now, the die and been cast and my fate sealed. I had gone too far in the tear off and even if I wanted to stop, my foul mood prevented me. Dear reader, I started in tearing the roof off with a passion, a blind rage, cussing everyone who had ever done me wrong, using word combinations that have not been invented yet.
This friends continued until the neighbor kids came out into their back yard to jump on their trampoline, something about 11 kids 20 yards away from me that makes me clean up my language (you see, I am at times a moral up-standing citizen of this our great land). Allow me to digress, their were 11 children jumping up and down on that damn thing, ages 3 to 12, I always cringe when I see them go out there, its just a bad accident waiting to happen, you see they have no adult supervision. When I spoke to the mother about this, she laughed and said “its God’s way of thinning the herd and anyway I have them all insured.” …back to my story.
I was at the far corner, tearing away and shingles flying when I heard an odd noise. Now you the reader should note that I suffer from hearing loss due to both my military service and my years as a roadie for Molly Hatchet, I can hear sounds but I have a difficultly in telling from whence they came. This sound was somewhat like an angry cat mating in a large garbage can, odd I thought, now what could that be? It sounded like something from my past, after a minute or so I was able to place it, it sounded much like a pissed off raccoon.
You see, my loving step-father raised coon hounds and from and early age I was forced at gun point to go coon hunting most school nights during the week. My job being to hold the dogs and carry the dead raccoons, I ask you, is that or is that not some bonifided redneck pedigree? Thus, I was familiar with the sound. Once again, I thought to myself “self, that’s odd, that I am hearing what sounds to be a very pissed off coon” it was at that moment I happened to look down.
Remember, dear reader how I said I was wearing only a pair of shorts, sandals and a smile. Well, about 6 inches from my rather pretty and well cared for toes, was a 20 pound, highly fucking pissed off mother raccoon. Thinking, that getting a toe bit off is not what I had in mind for a days work, I wisely decided to un-ass the area. However, it was my method of un-assing that could have used some further exploration.
Tune in for Vol. III, when you hear our hero say “oh…shit…”.
Your Moment of Summertime Zen:
Your Bill for the Day:
SONNET 125
Were 't aught to me I bore the canopy,
With my extern the outward honouring,
Or laid great bases for eternity,
Which prove more short than waste or ruining?
Have I not seen dwellers on form and favour
Lose all, and more, by paying too much rent,
For compound sweet forgoing simple savour,
Pitiful thrivers, in their gazing spent?
No, let me be obsequious in thy heart,
And take thou my oblation, poor but free,
Which is not mix'd with seconds, knows no art,
But mutual render, only me for thee.
Hence, thou suborn'd informer! a true soul
When most impeach'd stands least in thy control.
Quote of the Day:
Never despair; but if you do, work on in despair.
Edmund Burke
I remain, wearing a coon skin cap and silk loin cloth in your reoccurring dreams:
JQP DVM
posted by John Q. Public esq. at 2:20 AM
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