The Tangled Webs We Weave: Part V

The bits and pieces I recall went a little something like this:

1. Chris's girlfriend was the first person who saw me when I came in. She told Chris and he came upstairs and I got the hug I've now come to expect.

2. Darius was there...thank God. Chris and his girlfriend would have been the only people I knew then if it weren't for Darius.

3. The Flats looks like a war zone.

4. I interviewed the bartender and the owner for my article on the smoking ban. The input they offered wasn't very good.

5. I started drinking.

6. I kept drinking.

7. Darius told me I am in charge of the food for Organ Grinder's next year and that he will get me a bigger budget to work with. He also said he will be passing the torch to Shana and within the next two years and he will need me to help her.

8. Chris wanted to go out to my car and smoke pot. He asked me several times if I was sure it was okay that Rachel came along.

9. I found out they have been together two years and Chris has a 14 year old son who he doesn't see, I don't know why yet.

10. The club-kids showed up. They know Chris and Rachel somehow; they're cute little raver-kids, about 20-24 years old, ten of them, still trying to figure out who they really are, but not way far off-base.

11. Chris kissed me.

12. Darius called me brilliant.

13. Gina showed up and her idiot boyfriend seemed to be acting allright for a change.

14. I've taken a strong liking to one of the club-kids. Her name is Missy and she's a cute little blonde thing, maybe 20-years-old. I said a few things that made her laugh, she was dancing like a goofball and made me laugh, and now we're friends and we keep pulling each other onto the dance floor.

15. I catch Chris staring at me and ask him what. He says, "Oh, nothing, I was just flirting with you." He told me to pay attention to what's going on around me.

16. I overheard Gina telling Chris how wonderful I am and how my one-liners just kill her.

17. Chris brought his raver-flags. They are white with a large neon pink cross. They look just like the flag of the England National Soccer Team, except the cross on England's flag is red. When I see Chris's flags, I think of David Beckham and Wayne Rooney and Steven Gerrard and Owen Hargreaves and down the list until I realize I've completely forgotten about Chris.

18. The bartender let us smoke pot on the docks.

19. The music kind of sucked; too light for me.

20. I was wearing a Green Bay Packers T-shirt.

The Tangled Webs We Weave-Part IV

Since apparently everyone's okay with me talking about myself too much...

I got to Jim's a bit late, which set me back timewise and I ended up not getting to the club until past midnight. That's okay, I figured, maybe Chris will have his beer goggles on and see an angel walking in the door as I enter.

I looked as good as I can look these days, of course my perfect hair and my perfect legs being my saving grace for all the other stuff that sucks, so I made sure I was outfitted to show them both off. Fabulous job, I looked way cute.

I walked down a very busy W. 9th St. toward the club and see the whole lot of the friends sitting outside smoking. I got the "Norm!" welcome as I got closer to the bar. I love it; it makes me feel like I have groupies...

Chris ended the conversation he was having to come over and say hello to me and gave me a fabulous hug. Not long after, I heard someone refer to Rachel as his girlfriend, so what I thought was correct. I don't know how long, I have no details of any kind.

Rachel happens to be very cool, I got to talk to her a bit last night and she's a fun girl. That being said, I stayed away from any kind of real advance on Chris. I just don't have it in me to be that disrespectful, regardless of how badly I want him.

There was about six of us left outside the club about half-an-hour after closing. People were arranging rides, etc. and Chris and Rachel were both there, too. I had had plenty to drink....plenty. I was standing around bullshitting with Rachel and Terry, the only black man in Cleveland with a mohawk. Rachel finally got tired of standing around and took the keys from Chris and said she was going out to the car to wait for him. This would be my only shot at getting anything on the table tonight, so I stuck around with Chris and the others still left.

And of course I hold little back because
a) I've been drinking
b) I have no problem approaching this guy...and I'm accustommed to being afraid. I freak myself out when I become flirtatious because I never believe I have it in me.

And away I went with all kinds of rotten thoughts.

Chris: "I'm definitely not Republican, but I''m not Democrat, either. I go with independent, I don't want to be classified as one or the other, I want to make my decisions of my own opinions."
Gennifer: "Wow...I'm so sorry you have a girlfriend."

Chris: "I'm going around the corner of teh building, I'll be right back. If I don't pee like, right now..."
Gennifer: "Can I watch?"
(that must have been the alcohol talking, I don't know what the fuck I was thinking there!!)


Chris: "I'm 34 years old-"
Gennifer: "Are you sure? Your MySpace page says 33."
Chris: "It does? You've seen it?"
Gennifer: "Yes, it says 33. You're lying on your profile, dude..."

The first hug goodbye, he damn near tackled me, so I wrapped one of my legs around him and hung on and he LET ME.

The second hug goodbye he grabbed me and picked me up in the air and then set me back down. I couldn't believe he actually got my ass off the ground. If you saw how skinny he is and how beefcake I am...laws of gravity say that shouldn't have happened. I hope I didn't break his back or anything....shit.

And then I left, mostly satisfied with what little I got from him, hoping that he's at least starting to "get the message" from me. Now that I have officially determined Rachel is his girlfriend, the game plan has officially changed, I can't just "go after" him. I have to "steal" him fair and square, meaning I can't "pursue" him, I just have to be Gennifer and hope that a friendship will someday become more, and be prepared that it doesn't....

I will eventually gain the courage to flat-out tell him that I like him. I have to tell him. I like him too much not to. I need to speak my mind too much not to...if I don't eventually tell him. I might explode and that will DEFINITELY come out badly. I just cannot keep my mouth shut on something I am this affected by....

So it ends up I go back to Jim's party after the club...and Richard is there. Fantastic. Richard is the guy everybody says is crazy about me but I couldn't give him the time of day. And because everybody's rolling and unusually affectionate, I spend some of the rest of the night with Richard crawling all over me and trying to get cute with me in the way a child would.

I start the night with my leg wrapped around Chris and I end the night with Richard in my face. It's like God thinks he's being funny....

So I went to sleep around 8:00 a.m. and woke up this afternoon around 4 and went to Mandy's for her cookout at her new house. Mandy is the one who, along with our friend Anna, has had some kind of "thing" going with Kellen, the guy who was supposed to cause me problems at the Organ Grinder's show by hitting on me in front of Mandy, who secretly wants him, but because I was too busy working he never had the chance. Well, he's there at the party, and he pulls me aside and says "Come get me when you go to the car, I'll go smoke with you. Don't say anything to Mandy, though, she don't want me doing it."

I said "okay" and just laugh. She's not his girlfriend or his Momma, but it's her call whether or not he smokes pot? Please....

So I bring Kellen out to the car with me and five minutes pass before Mandy figures it out and starts walking out to my car. Kellen had hit the bowl three times. I saw her coming in my rearview, so I told Kellen to keep cool and I'd tell her he was just getting a contact buzz. She asked him and me both if he smoked any and we both said no, and Kellen got out of the car. I sat there by myself just laughing. People are idiots.

The thing Mandy doesn't know is what Kellen and I talked about it the car. He told me he tried to call me twice and got what he thought was the wrong number, but was actually my work number. I swear he had my home number, but I guess not. He told me he had wanted to call and invite me out for a few beers while Mandy was on vacation but didn't know how to reach me and I never called him. All this time, I've had his number but figured he just wasn't calling me because he didn't want to. When he said he was waiting for me to call him, I told him I thought he would call me. Apparently he did, so he grabbed his cell phone and I gave him my number at home and all communication problems have now been resolved. As soon as he entered my number into his phone, I looked up and saw Mandy heading toward us in the rearview....

So what the fuck am I supposed to make of all that?

The only thing I can say about this whole mess is that I was surrounded by wonderful friends the whole night and through today and despite the good feelings I got from Chris, the best parts of it all came from my friends....

People I Would Like To Buy A Beer, part 19

The Man With No Name.

I know that Clint Eastwood played the role of the “Man With No Name”, but just to be able to sit down with the fictional character and have a few (make that several) beers, would be the first wish I would call out, should I ever stumble across the proverbial genie in a bottle. I have seen “The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly” more times than I have hairs on my head, (I have a full head of hair, by the way) and I notice something that I didn’t see before every time I watch it, and every time it gets just a little bit better. I have never deconstructed a movie as much as I have this one, and I can recite long passages of the film, as well as explain character motivations for even the most minor of characters. (E.G. the lady climbing into the stagecoach as Tuco is hung, the “half” soldier, the cigar-smoking guard at the P.O.W. camp, the alcoholic Union Captain, etc.) Even to this day, the music sets my nerves twitching, bracing themselves for the excitement to come.

Of all the grand and glorious movies that have ever been committed to celluloid, this is my favorite. I would like to have it played in the background of my wake. I think the gunfire will add a nice touch. (I plan on going out in a hail of bullets. I mean, if you are going to go, go.)

This is in no way to demean “Fist full of Dollars” or “For A Few Dollars More”. They are both excellent films, but to see “Blondie” and Tuco walk through the smoke to finish off the bad guys, as the town is being shelled, priceless. “Fist full of Dollars” is the better of the other two spaghetti westerns, and is almost up to the quality of “The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly” as a stand-alone story, but lacks the pathos and grandeur. “For A Few Dollars More” is a great western, but lacks much of the heart of the other two.

Most people dismiss westerns. They have become worse than passé. I can understand this completely. Most of the “horse operas” that are out there are very bad morality plays and are not worth your valuable time. But a truly great movie cannot be dismissed, regardless of genre. There are truly great westerns, trust me. Don’t get me wrong. Most aren’t worth the nickel they used to charge at the door, but the diamonds do tend to sift themselves from the rust. Only 25% of the movies John Wayne ever made would I recommend, unless you were doing a paper for film class. Most of them, on their best day, made it all the way to crap. Westerns were the dumping grounds of a lot of bad actors, and rotten screenwriters, for a lot of years.

You want to see a good western? See “Pale Rider” or “Unforgiven”. These carry on in the voice of the great westerns of long ago. They don’t pander to the idea that the hero wears a white hat, the villain wears a black hat, and the hero always gets the girl. In the wooly west of old, there were no heroes, only varying shades of gray that separated them from the villains, just like today.

Please, please, spend two hours this year and reacquaint yourself with good cinema, if for no other reason than to recognize bad when it comes along. Your woman will never sit through a Clint Eastwood movie willingly, so send her to bed. She won’t get it anyway. She is still too enamored with Clark Gable after watching “It Happened One Night”. Pop some Paul Newman’s popcorn and settle in for a cinematic feast. Treat yourself to a MAN’S NIGHT AT THE MOVIES and get “The Good, The Bad and The Ugly” from netflix and have a couple of Steel Reserves.

Trust me Scotland, you’ll thank me.

Doc

People I Would Like To Buy A Beer, part 18

Ronnie James Dio.

I would love to buy a beer for Dio and thank him for all the wonderful music he has made over the years. To sit and listen as he told me of his time in Ritchie Blackmoor’s “Rainbow”, to hear of the tough times on the road with “Black Sabbath”, and what a complete jerk Tony Iommi was. Ahh, bliss.

With his soaring vocals (he could have sung opera) and his mystical lyrics, Ronnie James Dio did it for me. He gave heavy metal a credibility, at least to me, that most other artists never could.

So here’s to Ronnie James. Sir, you ROCK!

We Rock (1984)
You watch their faces you'll see the traces of the things they want to be but only we can seeThey come for killing they leave and still it seems the cloud that's left behind oh can penetrate your mindBut sail on sing a song carry on 'cause we rock we rock we rock we rockWe pray to someone but when it's said and done it's really all the same with just a different nameSo many voices all giving choices if we listen they will say oh we can find the wayBut we'll sail on sing a song carry on 'cause we rock we rock we rock we rockWe rock we rock we rock we rock we rock we rockYou watch their faces you'll see the traces of the things they want to be but only we can seeThey come for killing they leave and still it seems the cloud that's left behind can penetrate your mindBut sail on sing a song carry on 'cause we rock we rock we rock we rockWe rock we rock we rock we rock ride out stand and shout carry on sail on sing your song carry on'cause we rock we rock see how we rock we rock that's rock we rock we rock we rock

Doc

Dio with Ozzy Osbourne. (This post is dedicated to Madame E.)

People I Would Like To Buy A Beer, part 17

Clark Gable.

Do you want to score some points with your lady-friend? Or at least just score? Call on the master, Clark Gable. His handsome scallywag ways and his unmistakable voice will put her in the mood more than any amount of incense and candles ever could. Don’t start with “Gone with the Wind”, sure, it is his most recognizable role, but no woman is willing to sit through Atlanta burning and four hours of Scarlet’s waffling and still find you sexy. No, start with “It Happened One Night”. This smooth talking star is going to put a good word in for you that all of your beer-drinking buddies put together never could. Follow it up with “San Francisco”, but steer clear of “The Misfits” with Marilyn Monroe. Sure it has ponies, but it is a depressing movie and won’t score you the points your after. If seeing San Francisco go up in flames doesn’t light your fire, try “It Started In Naples” with Sophia Loren (MEOW!). Someone sexy for the both of you.

With his trademark mustache, slicked back hair, and the delivery of a Vickers Machine gun, good ol’ Clark will set you on the path to points with the little woman, and he deserves a beer for it. His classic Hollywood machismo will set her motor in the neighborhood of “purr” and “here kitty kitty!”.

Trust me. Ol’ Doc won’t steer you wrong.

And when all is said and done, and the cigarettes are stubbed out, have a beer and remember the men who brought you there, Ol’ Doc and the “King of Hollywood”, William Clark Gable.

Doc

People I Would Like To Buy A Beer, part 16

Mae West.

This Lady was a class act. She was a Grand Dame and a "Good Ol' Broad". Broad has come to mean something negitive, but not in my book. A Broad is a straight shooter, she is wise to the ways of the world, she can drink with the "Boys" and hold her own, she is a no-bullshit woman, she has a code that she lives by, she is charitable and kind, and can laugh long and loud, she is comfortable with her own sexuality, and tells a mean dirty joke.

I have had the privilege of knowing a few "Good Ol' Broads", hell, I married one. If you really want to know what a "Good Ol' Broad" is like, the four best examples I can think of are: Flannery Alden, Madame E (we don't call her Madame for no good reason!), Genn6, and Mae West.

Mae West was smokin' sexy. She could hold her own against any man, even when it was still a "Man's World". She was funny, and she could slip a biting aside into any given flirt. She made Marilyn Monroe look like some buck-toothed, pimpled, flat-chested school girl who was trying to struggle out of her training bra to impress the football team. She was the "tramp with a heart of gold". If you have never seen "My Little Chickadee" with West and W.C. Fields, you cinematic education has been sorely neglected and you should get Netflix on the horn right now.

So here's to Mae West, the woman who taught me what a "Good Ol' Broad" is. Maybe you know a "Good Ol' Broad", tell me about her in the comments section. I would like to think that there are still some around.

Doc

People I Would Like To Buy A Beer, part 15

Doc Holiday.

I would love to buy this man a beer, if for no other reason than, he was one flinty sonofabitch and he knew what good friends were all about. Any man that runs with a whore named Big Nose Kate deserves a beer and our respect.

It would be great to sit down with him and Kate, have a few cold drafts, and have him give me some poker tips. Dear and Gentle Reader, if you have never seen "Tombstone", or just haven't seen it recently, watch it again and tell me that Val Kilmer shouldn't have gotten a Oscar nod. He steals the WHOLE movie as Doc Holiday.

There is one scene where Doc, Wyatt, and company have been chasing down the villians and they stop to rest. Doc breaks out in a coughing fit. "Turkey Creek" Jack Johnson asks him what the hell he is doing out here. Doc responds with quiet aplomb, "Wyatt is my friend". "Hell Doc," sez Jack, "I got lottsa friends". And with a small sniff, Doc sez, "Well I don't".

Well, I don't either. And if any of you folks (you know who you are) find yourself in trouble, with your back to the wall, and you really need a friend, just call on me. I've had a few, but I know how to use a gun.

God Bless.

Doc

People I Would Like To Buy A Beer, part 13

Genn6.

This woman deserves a beer. She is a hard rockin' Tool fan and lives through Cleveland winters that would make most Floridians just fall over in an instant coma. She is headed out for New Years Eve and needed some advice on what to wear. The above pictures are my suggestions for clothing, hair, and make-up. These kind of choices should garner you that Hispanic Goth, Julio, that you are after.

And if after midnight, you and Julio sneak off, for some after dark Goth fun in the park, I promise, no one will say anything...

But you will have to give up some sweaty details!!!

Doc

People I Would Like To Buy A Beer, part 12

Buster Keaton.

I have known people who wouldn't watch a movie if it was in black and white, and heaven forbid if it was silent. This kind of movie bigotry just makes me very, very angry. Almost half of the greatist films ever made are in black and white, and these people turn them away like some panhandler at their back door. F**K YOU BUDDY! You don't seem to realise that these artists and writers weren't hampered by these limitations, they were aided by the fact that their stories could be told to anyone in the world, regardless of language barriers, by simply changing the subtitles. The live music that was played to accompany the film said most everything that needed to be said, and what language is more universal than music?

Let us turn our attention to the greatist artist of the silent era, Buster Keaton.

Some would heap great praise on Charlie Chaplin, and don't get me wrong, Chaplin was a very funny man, a visionary film maker, and a great artist, but for my money, it was Buster Keaton that truly took the newly blossoming art of film making to its highest level.

If you have ever seen a Warner Bros. cartoon (Bugs Bunny, Road Runner, etc.) almost every gag you have ever seen is stolen from the mind of this comedic genius. He wrote the book on humor in the movies, and no one before or since, has done anything but add footnotes. Mind you, there are some fantastic footnotes, but footnotes nonetheless.

Most of his body of work is comprised of "two reelers". These were 10-15 minute shorts that the theater played while setting up the "feature" film. In those days, for a nickel, you got two shorts, a news reel, and two feature films, as well as the chance to sit in the dark with your lady friend and it was socially acceptable. (Theaters were at one time segregated, men on one side, women on the other. What fun is that?)

Buster Keaton's character was an everyday guy, for the most part, and what does an everyday guy look for? Love. Always chasing a girl and the complications ensue. A rival, the cops, lack of money, etc.

Take for example, one of his best loved shorts of all time, "Cops". Buster is going to get married and needs some furnishings for his house, now that he is going to be bringing home his new bride. There is an Italian family moving out of their house and are loading all their belongings on a horse drawn wagon. They go inside to get the last of their stuff and leave the wagon unattended. A passer-by stops to stike a match for his cigar on the wagon wheel as Buster walks up. Buster thinks that the wagon and furnishings belong to the passer-by, so he makes him an offer for the whole thing, stuff, wagon, horse and all. The passer-by can't believe his luck, pockets the money, and runs. Buster climbs aboard the wagon and drives off. The Italian family comes out with the last chair, only to find everything they own has been stolen. They yell for a cop.

Buster is happy with the deal that he has made, and he stops at an intersection, as there is a parade going by. He pats his pockets until he finds his cigarettes and pulls one out. In the crowd is an anarchist (that is what we called them before we called them terrorists) with a classic cartoon cannonball type bomb. The Anarchist lights the bomb and throws it into the parade, but his aim isn't very good. It lands on the seat next to Buster as he is looking for a match. Buster sees it burning and causally lights his cigarette, and then tosses it over his shoulder. The bomb explodes in a group of cops marching in the parade. As they get to their feet, the crowd screams and points at Buster.

What ensues is THE GREATIST CHASE ever captured on film.

Buster abandons the wagon, and makes a run for it, as the dozen or so cops give chase. As they advance through the town, they keep blowing their whistles, and keep calling more and more fellow officers to their aid. A dozen turns into thirty, thirty to fifty, fifty to a hundred, on and on, until there must be five hundred cops chasing poor Buster. At the end of the film, desperate to make his getaway, he ducks into the first door he can find. As the camera pulls back, you see that it is the city jail. Hot on his heels come five hundred cops and they all squeeze in the door behind him. A few seconds pass after the last of the cops have gone in, and who emerges? Buster, dressed in a policeman's uniform. He turns and locks the door behind him, sealing the cops inside. There on the sidewalk, Buster sees his bride-to-be and he calls to her. She puts her nose in the air, sniffs, and turns on her heel and walks away quickly.

Buster shrugs his shoulders, and unlocks the door, and unseen hands yank him inside. The final shot of the film is a tombstone with the words "The End", with Buster's trademark flat hat on the top.

To this comedic genius, raise your glass, and take a long pull, because you may have never seen a Buster Keaton comedy, but I promise, if you think of an entertainer that you think is funny, they probably have.

Doc

People I Would Like To Buy A Beer, part 11

James Dean.

This guy is cool, and I defy anyone to deny it. I didn't know what angst was, or that as a young man, I suffered from this affliction. James Dean, in "Rebel Without A Cause", showed me that I was not alone, and the only two options existed. Buck up and plow through, or punch your own ticket. He found his life confusing at every turn, his peers a frustrating mystery, his parents a useless enigma, and no help at all, but love and friendship were within his grasp, and these were to be the things that saved him.

We were the last people I knew that owned a VCR, and for several years we owned two tapes. A colorized version of "It's A Wonderful Life", (Thanks Ted Turner, You Boob!), and a tape with "Blade Runner" with Harrison Ford, (A personel favorite, still is), "Casablanca" with my man Bogart, (THE GREATIST MOVIE EVER MADE!), and "Rebel Without A Cause", James Dean's best of the three movies he lived to appear in.

Dean did his screen test (they would film you just hanging around, talking, for fifteen minutes or so, just to determine your potential "star power".) for Warner Bros. with a very young Paul Newman. They laughed and kidded around, and smoked cigarettes. (Who didn't in Hollywood then?) I've seen clips from this famous film test, and it is interesting just to see these two powerhouses of American film just clowning around together.

Because of Dean, I have enjoyed a lifelong facination with the swithblade knife. I have a couple and have given them as gifts to most of my friends.

Dean's aggresive life style robbed American cinema of a grand star, and Dean of his life, when he wrecked his car at a hundred plus miles per hour.

So lets hoist a cold one to the man who brought us "Giant", "East of Eden", and my favorite, "Rebel Without A Cause", 'cause even though my days of angst have passed me by, I can still recall the inner churning that only James Dean could bring home.

Rest in Peace, Sir. The beer tastes good, but it would be nice to have enjoyed it with your smokin' cool.

Doc

People I Would Like To Buy A Beer, part 10

Douglas Adams.

This man not only deserves a beer, but a whole pub to drink it in. This man taught me what funny is, and when it comes to my writing, I borrow from Doug more than anyone else. He showed me how to tell my story and still set it up for my next joke. If you have ever read one thing that I have written and chuckled, even just a little bit, thank him. Shakespeare was a wuss compaired to this man. He is the funniest writer ever, bar none, and that is no small feat. There have been a great many funny writers since we started writing things down, but they can't hold his towel, let alone explain how to make it around the universe for less than thirty dollars a day.

He means so much, to so many, that there is nothing I can add that won't sound trite, so let me just say he was one hoopy frood!

Doc

People I Would Like To Buy A Beer, part 9

Humphrey DeForrest Bogart.


Now here is a man that deserves a beer, although I think he was more of a bourbon or scotch kind of guy. Born to a wealthy east coast family and raised with a silver spoon, unlike most of the gangsters and the "close to the bone" characters that he played. He was fond of playing chess, and was said to be a very tough opponent. He liked his camel cigarettes too much, and in the end, that was what did him in. But I would love to sit down to a cold beer with him and Mrs. Bogart, Lauren Becall, and while away an evening playing chess and hearing insider tales of Hollywood in it's heyday.

When Sen. McCarthy convened his commitee on Unamerican activities and began blacklisting honest people in the entertainment industry, Bogey led a group of A-list actors to Washington to try and convince them to stop ruining the lives of some of America's best talent. Sadly, it didn't stop "Red Huntin' Joe", but it did shine a light on one of America's blackest moments, when your only choice before the commitee was to admit to some trumped up charge of being a communist and lose whatever life you may have had, or turn in your every friend, and hope against hope that you could come through this with some small shred of dignity.

So, thank you Sir for some of the greatist movies of all time, and thank you for being a true American, even when it was unpopular to do so, but it was the right thing to do.

Here's to you, Humphrey DeForrest Bogart! I hope God remembers you're a bourbon man.

Doc

People I Would Like To Buy A Beer, part 8

Roy G. Bentley and Gloria Regalbutto.

This is the couple that believed in a backward, young country hick and convinced him he could be a writer. They showed him the ways of the world. They took him under their wing and welcomed him into their family. They coached him in his writing and helped him hone his craft, as well as improve his spelling. They fed him when he was hungry, and got him drunk when he was down on his luck. He enjoyed their love, comfort, and advice.

No amount of sweet words can convey what terrific friends they have always been.

When I bow my head and pray, I always thank God above for such wonderful friends as these.

If ever I publish a book, turn to the thank you page, and you will see their names, in BIG BOLD PRINT.

Thank you, and God Bless,

Doc

People I Would Like To Buy A Beer, part 7

Frank K. Levar.

This, Dear and Gentle Reader, is the man who was smart enough to listen to a child and create one of the greatist monuments to the human spirit that this writer has ever had the privilege to be a part of. He had the vision, the forward thinking, and the out and out guts to build the Tiki bar. He transformed a small portion of his backyard into a place of joy, hope, and fellowship with the guiding principle of love, peace, and friendship.

For this, Frank K. Levar, We salute You!

Cheers!

Doc

People I Would Like To Buy A Beer, part 6

Big Orange.

Yes, Dear and Gentle Reader, This man deserves a tanker-truck of Steel Reserve. Not because he is the one who gave me the job of writing this blog, (a debt I will never be able to repay. Thank You Sir. I won't let you down) but because he is one of the hardest working men in America. He will deny this, but don't let him fool you. He sez he's lazy, but it just ain't so. He sez he's an ass, but that ain't so either.

This man has THE HARDEST JOB of all time. Even harder than the guy who has to clean the "private booths" at the adult bookstore. This man is a teacher. It is his job to plough through endless paperwork, by both chilldren and adults, and the paperwork from both could not be more immature. He guides young minds to the pathes of wisdom, virtue, and trains them, not just in the three R's, but how to use what they have learned to become better citizens, better leaders, and better people. He challenges them not to gobble up all the crap that the world is spilling into their laps, but to decide for themselves what is right, what is true, and what is good.

He does this while trying to juggle being a good father to his own children, a good husband to his lovely wife, a good person in his faith and community, and not to be swallowed up by the infinite pitfalls of the profession he is in. (Money, or lack thereof, the system that seems to turn on him regularly, the people who denigrate the good work he is trying to do, the rules, guidelines and bylaws that try to hamper him, written by people who have never even tried to housetrain a puppy, let alone a child...)

This man deserves to have monuments built in his honor for the zeal and determination that he throws into a dirty, thankless job, every day. I cannot sing his praises enough.

Do you have a job? Do you know right from wrong? Do you know the capital of Ohio? Thank a teacher, you jackass! I hold this man in the highest regard and you should too.

So raise your glass, and with a loud voice, cry out, "THANK YOU TEACHERS!" and tip back a cold one for this noble soldier on the frontlines of todays education, one Scotland Gallo.

God Bless You, Sir.

Doc

People I Would Like To Buy A Beer, part 5

Flannery Alden.

This lovely lady deserves a draft Guiness more than any other woman I could name, for the simple fact that she puts up with my dumb ass. She has seen the worst of what I could muster, and still staid put. There are alot of noble qualities that I admire, but none like the quality of loyalty. Any other woman on God's green Earth would have dumped me on the curb a long time ago and gone looking for "this years new model". Not her. She loves me, and I love her more than my next breath.

So, here's to you, Darlin'! I just can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you.

Doc

People I Would Like To Buy A Beer, part 4

This Guy.

I don't know you or where you are from, but I would love to buy you a beer. A really good and expensive beer. I would love to hear your story and join you in your tireless research, 'cause you gotta admire your guts to sit on the street corner for the sake of science!

To You Sir, may the cold ones always flow!

Salute!

Doc

People I Would Like To Buy A Beer, part 3

Walt Whitman.

Thank you Sir for your wonderful songs! I too, sing the body electric! You have introduced me to me, by way of yourself. As you were, I am Mother Nature's son. And I know in my heart of hearts that you are, and will always be, immortal.

From you, I find poised, always on my lips, "Resist much, obey little!"

I wish you were a drinking man, so that as I sit here, you could share a beer and a tale with me.

Goodnight and goodbye my brother. I hope to meet you in the everafter.

Doc

People I Would Like To Buy A Beer, part 2

Abraham Lincoln.

If anyone, in all of American history, ever deserved to have one on the house, it was this man right here. He held us together when we were determined to destroy ourselves. He was noble, wise, and honest. Three qualities that seem to be absent from most of the politicians I could name.

The only trouble is, he was a tea-totaler. Never touched the stuff. Once someone complained to him about the drinking of Gen. U. S. Grant. Lincoln replied, "Find out what he drinks, and I'll send a barrel of it to all of my Generals!" What a card!

Here's to you Sir! May you rest in peace.

Doc