I’ve been busy.  And I’ve been in somewhat of a bad mood.  Busy and bad mood combination means that I don’t need to go near a keyboard.  

       “Let’s keep the dumbf#*kery to a minimum today.”   I found a frozen glass in my freezer that reads with this statement.  I don’t even know where I got this glass.  Somebody gave it to me.  Well, that has become the slogan around these parts lately.  I’ve been surrounded by stupidity, laziness and a general lack of common sense.  And the guilty parties have mostly been adults.  The past week and a half has seen our county show, district entries, OYE entries, a CDE contest with over 400 students and completion & continuation of ag mech projects.  Keep on keepin on.  I’m just real glad that I don’t have any does to kid out during these times.  

        I got done with chores, turned the tv on and well, there was a super bowl.  It was the start of the half time show.  I sat there, eating a plate of tacos and watched it.  It was good.  Bookface went to blowing up that it was the best ever.  Hold on there!  That would be like being the valedictorian of a special ed class.  There hasn’t been very many good ones.  Seriously!  For the amount of hype and expense, most of these half-time shows are disappointing.  I can only remember two other super bowl half time shows–the wardrobe malfunction (don’t remember the music, just the malfunction).  The other is probably the best half-time show–Prince playing “Purple Rain” in the actual rain.  

      As for the game, I could have cared less who won.  I didn’t cheer for either team.  I couldn’t even pick a side because of their uniforms.  Blue & Gold and Orange & Black are my two favorite color combinations.  I saw the end of the game.  Well scripted.  I didn’t see any cool commercials.  

      Kela texted that fireworks were going off all across LA.  

       It’s a new week and I’m going make every effort to keep the dumbf#*kery to a minimum today, tomorrow and the rest of the week.  Have a good one and a better tomorrow.  

      I sit here pondering some important thoughts.  No!  I’m not sitting on the porcelain throne.  Yet, I do agree that some of the best thinking happens while on the throne.  

        It is the time of year when OK & TX are having their local and county shows.  My first thought–“Why in the hell is there even a thing such as a local stock show?”   Seriously–There is no merit to having a local stock show.  Does the football team have a local football game?  Yes.  They call it practice.  But if you have a local stock show, somebody gets pissed.  

BIG disclaimer.  Shattuck does NOT have a local stock show.  And when they want to start having one, they can get a new ag teacher.  And they need to remember the fact that nobody wanted this job back in 2014.  So, back to the thought…..local stock shows should be illegal.  This is not a matter of Kelln opinion.  This is FACT!

        There are other important items on my mind. 

I like chili.  Personally, I think that chili has to have beans in it.  Some don’t agree.  They would be wrong.  I also think that chili needs to have some kick to it.  I like eating chili straight out of the pan, while still on the stove, using nothing but a cracker as a dipping utensil.  I want to sweat a little bit while eating chili.  

      I also like using chili as a condiment.  It works so well to top other food items with chili.  Baked tater?  Sure, put a dollop of chili on that spud.  Burger with chili?  Not always but it works.  

My question–What is the best concoction of which chili is a must have?

      To me, this class quickly sorts to a top pair.  Although this pair is close, I do feel that there are some differences.  Lets take a look at this pair.  

The chili dog–for starters, chili is in the name.  It’s just another hot dog until you put a ladle of chili down the spine of that dog while resting on that bun.  I like hot dogs.  I LOVE chili dogs.  Take a bun, lay some Best Maid hamburger slices down the inner cavity of the bun and then rest the dog carcass in the bun.  Now, spread some chili from nose to tail of that dog, lather it with mustard, sprinkle some cheese and then make a mess eating that thing.  Between the mustard and the chili, you better have a towel handy.  

Next is the the Frito pie.  I like Fritos.  Take a bowl, drop a handful of ribbon shaped corn chips in the bottom.  Then a scoop of chili, then more Fritos, then some more chili.  Basically, make a lasagna with Fritos and chili as the layers.  Then hit it with some Tabasco and then some cheese.  I normally eat too much when it comes to a frito chili pie.  

       Here’s the kicker.  If you order a dog, or a hot dog.  You may get asked if you want chili.  But if you order a chili dog, you dang sure get chili on it.  If you order a Frito pie, it automatically comes with chili just the same as if you ordered a Frito chili pie.  

      We will cut this pair 1 point.  It’s close.  The best thing about chili is that it takes several weeks to go bad.  In that amount of time, one can make bowls of chili, Frito chili pies and chili dogs.  

Maybe I’ve written about it on here before…if so…so what?   Go look up the audio of Ron White talking about chili in Cincinnati.  In short… a Mexican with a goat and an onion.   And not having a goat on his way home.  

       On a side note, I recently had some young kids with me at the ag building.  This pair of twins are REALLY picky eaters.  They don’t like hot dogs.  Like if they eat a corn dog, they eat the breading and leave the wiener on the stick.  Anyways, their mom brought them lunch to the ag building.  Cool!  Footlong chili cheese coneys from Sonic.  I looked at these coneys and thought, “Something don’t look right.”  And that is when I realized that there was no footlong in the bun.  It was just a long bun with chili and mustard.  WTH?  

      So, I asked, “You meatheads are eating female chili dogs?”   

They asked, “Why do you call them that?”  

“Cuz they ain’t got a weiner!”

Peace out!!  Have fun at your local stock show.  We will hold the most laid back county stock show in the nation on Monday.  We don’t care who wins as long is it is good stock, shown properly and we get done in a timely fashion.  

      What a joke!  The baseball hall of fame announced their latest voting results.  Big Papi gets in on 1st ballot.  Bonds & Clemens are left off.  Let’s be real.  There were very few clean players for several decades in the majors.  Yet Bonds & Clemens are named in reports.  Big Papi, named but well, maybe he shouldn’t have been named so……  Okay fine.  

      Curt Schilling didn’t make it in either.  What?  The Not-in-the-hall-of fame team is beginning to look like the all-time team of all-time.  Yet, there are those voted in during the past several years that had a similar cloud around them, yet they were polite with the media and they are in.  Makes sense?!?!  Put an asterisk next to all of their name’s, make a special cheater’s wing but you can’t keep them out.  Why?  Because they are more famous than the actual hall of famers.  Then again, they have shown that they can keep them out with the likes of Shoeless Joe Jackson and Pete Rose.  

        Now compare the baseball hall of fame to the goat industry.  If the goaters were to have a hall of fame, without a doubt, the first person to be inducted would be one that is Barry Bonds, Pete Rose and Roger Clemens all wrapped up into one individual.  This one has manipulated the game from behind the scenes, has had his own family members test positive at numerous shows, been involved in some goat swapping scandals yet was really good without all of the other crap but… is still guilty.  The next one in has a record of shady dealings as a judge and had legal troubles regarding goats.  Yet, he has continually advanced show goats for a couple of decades.  Regardless, they are famous in this industry.  Much like the aforementioned baseball players.  Cheaters?  Sure.  There are cheaters in every activity that offers a prize or reward.  And the goat industry will line up to be associated with winners–regardless of their transgressions. 

      This post is not actually a bash on anybody.  It is just a Hunh, makes you think kind of post.  I’m not wrong and more importantly, I know that I am right.  Some of you are saying, “Bonds & Clemens were cheaters!  They should never be in.”   Yet, you do goat business with those that have been proven guilty.   I’m all but out of the business of raising goats.  I have NO stake in the game.  Not that I ever cared about my place in the game.  I’m just one that has seen the good and the bad in the industry.  And I call it as I see it.  

         And you may ask, “Kelln, you mouthy sack of monkey crap, do you belong in a goat hall of fame?”   I can honestly answer that question.  I would be the Curt Schilling of the group.  That dude was the best pitcher on the ’93 Phillies  that went to and lost one of the best world series of all time.  He was a series MVP in Arizona and he had the bloody sock drama in another world series win in Boston.  He is no doubt, dang sure good enough.  My record is good enough.  We’ve been to the top of the mountain, there is no air of any wrongdoing or judge manipulation yet there are plenty of those that would say, “Why can’t you just keep your damn opinions to yourself?”  Genetics, the lack of desire to play by the cool kid code or just the fact that I can’t stand the fake BS that prevails in this industry.  We did it right!  We raised kids that won.  Kids were/are always first in our krew.  Prove me wrong.  You can’t.  

       While we are on the hall of fame discussions–Bo Jackson needs to be in A pro hall of fame–baseball & football. Kids still know who he was.  THAT is fame!  Doug Flutie should be in the pro football hall of fame.  

Have a good one and a better tomorrow.  

      I’m not a fan of meat loaf for dinner.  However, I do like the scene in the movie Old School of Will Ferrell yelling “Ma!  The meat loaf!”

       But I actually like Meat Loaf.  The singer that is.  He’s made this blog at least a couple of times.  I remember listing Meat Loaf and Lita Ford as one of the top rock duets of all time.  And I know that I listed his album cover for “Bat Out of Hell” as the best album cover of all time.  I hated to hear of his passing yet I have enjoyed reading the posts from other huge acts that are singing his praises.  He was unique!  He was really, really good yet there wasn’t and still isn’t any other act that compares.  One of a kind.  The dude could sing.  You can play his music on rock channels, classic, pop, easy listening….didn’t matter….his stuff was/is just really good.  

      On Friday, we were out of school.  Yet, I had a shop full of kids working.  It’s all good.  Well, except for when I was holding a pipe in place over my head.  A kid made a tack weld.  It sparked and a lil piece of molten hot magma hit me in the neck then managed to roll through chest hair and underneath my undershirt collar.  It rolled southward, burning hair as it went.  Right south until it stopped at my underwear waist band.  Ohh…the smell of burnt hair!  Now mind you, that spot where it stopped rolling is now irritated by the button on my jeans combined with the waistband of the Duluth Trading wear.  I might have launched upwards like “A bat out of hell”.  

     I had a couple of eff ups this weekend.  First, there are a couple of hydrants around here that tend to freeze up.  One of which I was so determined to change last February that I stuck a shovel into the ground right next to it.  And I didn’t move the spade until Saturday.  Dang neart made it a year.  This pair of hydrants froze up again this week.  Tammy used one of them when it thawed out & now it leaked\ran constantly.  So….late Saturday afternoon, I decided to dig it up.  And then I broke the water line.  Which meant that I made a quick trip to town to buy a cap.  That line is now capped off. 

      Today, I decided to dig up the other one.  Oh f….f…..f….f…FFFFFF!   Things like plumbing, carpentry and working on engines/hydraulics….it’s not that I can’t do it…..I don’t like doing it.  Especially dealing with hydraulics.  I don’t like the feel, smell or taste of hydraulic fluid.  It just seems like things always go wrong.  Today, I ended up having to roll the torch out and heat the living meat loaf out of it.  Then dig the hole bigger in order to get a pipe wrench on the collar that should NOT have come loose from the bottom of the hydrant.  ANYWAYS!!!  We now have one less hydrant but one that shouldn’t freeze up.  I think that equals out.  On a side note, when buying hydrants, much like buying soda pop, chips and shoes….ALWAYS, yes always….buy the best brand possible.  I like Woodford.  Hunh….hydrants as well as other items that go by that name.  

       And on this fine Sunday evening, I decided that I wanted a shrimp boil.  Tammy agreed as long as I cooked.  Damn!   A shrimp boil is a little bit hard to cook for just 2 people.  And now I know that one should NOT boil the taters, corn & shrimp in the house.  Mistake.  

        I can cook but I am good at cooking for large groups.  15 racks of ribs…sure.  60 pounds of pulled pork…otay.  125 burgers….no probs.  Cajun bawl….you bet.  We are still getting used to this cooking for 2.  I cooked and I cleaned up.  Sure, the house still smells like cajun spices.  “Two out of three ain’t bad”.  

      Tammy puts up with quite a bit of my crap.  I can get away with a LOT.  Yet, if I decide to get a bunch of doe goats again….I think that she will say “I’d Do Anything for Love…but I won’t do that”……no I won’t do that………AGAIN!

      Seriously, spark up your musik machine and play some Meat Loaf.  

      As I make my daily 18 mile drive to Shattuck at 6:07ish am, I listen to a mind numbing channel called “The Sports Animal”.  I almost never learn anything yet, I still tune in.  The morning animals rattle on mostly about the u of o football team and whine about how bad the Thunder suck.  But they do list celebrity birthdays.  And they will discuss the accomplishments of these celebrities–best movie, song, athletic achievement, etc.  They argue about these items.  I listen.  I’m not any smarter when I get to the Ag Building.  Yet, still, I listen.  

       Today, they listed a celebrity birthday and they deemed this person a “National Treasure.  And since the passing of Betty White, she is most treasured national treasure.”    As I already have placed her on the Mount Rushmore of female entertainers and it is a well documented fact that I am a fan, I agree with those clowns on the sports animal, without a doubt,  Dolly Parton is a national treasure.  

Dolly trivia–

–She wrote 2 hit songs on the same day.  Those songs?   “Jolene” & “I will always love you”.  That’s a good day of writing.  

–EGOT club–people that have been nominated for an Emmy, Grammy, Oscar & Tony awards.  Seriously, google that list of people.  It’s packed full of wicked good.   Some names like James Earl Jones, Henry Fonda, Meryl Streep, Morgan Freeman, Barbara Streisand, etc.  

–The first ever cloned animal was named after her.  Remember Dolly the sheep.  Yep, they used cells from the mammary glands of that donor.

Which is the better Dolly movie?  Steel Magnolias or 9 to 5?  I’ll take Magnolias.

Best Dolly song?  The song that she & Whitney took to #1 or Jolene.   I’ll take Jolene.  Now if you want to argue that her duet with the Gambler is her best–okay.  Won’t argue.  Not something worth fighting over.  

1960’s smokin hot Dolly or the 80’s pumped up, stretched, tucked & whatever else—60’s! 

        Here’s to another post involving music and not much livestock.  Yet, she does fall into that G.O.A.T. category.  

     I apologize for writing that title in hairlip.  I’m drawing a blank as to what to write and that is what came out.  If I offended anybody, please go elsewhere to read worthless info.  

       I didn’t have time, so I made time, to haul a crew to the Seiling FFA welders rodeo.  I wasn’t thrilled about the timing of it but I will support other ag teachers that are trying to do an activity that expands opportunities for kids.  I’m glad that we went.  Not because Shattuck kids did well, but because all of the kids said that it was worthwhile.  And in case you forgot, that is what actually matters.  

         AND while on the ag teaching note, ag teachers that don’t do much except show stock had better change.  As stock shows have drastically changed, ag teachers have been left behind.  You may not like me (and I don’t care if you do or not) but my stock show resume is possibly better than yours and I can tell you, without a doubt, that most students, parents, administrators and the general public does not give much credence to JUST showing livestock.  

         At this point, as I feel emotions rise up inside me, I realize that THIS is a topic that needs a post unto itself.  How about this wandom fact?  I checked myself before I let the keyboard fly.  I’m getting old, or smarter.  I know.  You are correct.  Just old.  That or I’m setting you up for something to come at a later time.  

       The crew of kids that I hauled were playing music over the suburban speakers from THEIR phones.  AC/DC, Credence, Foreigner, Waylon……who am I to tell them to not play that kind of music?   I asked why they didn’t play any new stuff.   Uhh, the replies included…..new country sucks, new rock sucks and rap sucks.  Wait?  What?   Not all rap sucks!  I kind of like some rap or hip/hop music.

       Now, I can argue that when some of the greatest hip/hop songs are a knock off song, that the genre has an issue.  It’s kind of like showing a Dorset sheep.  It can be good but you know it isn’t going to be grand.  My point–“Ice Ice Baby” is a knock off from Queen/David Bowie.  “Can’t Touch This” is a knock off from “Superfreak” which was kind of hip/hop.  Now that I type this, I think a hair sheep is more appropriate analogy.  You know it ain’t a purebred but you really don’t care what it’s crossed with as long as it doesn’t look like a deep chested, brisket protruding, fine boned, thik hided, off hipped Dorper.  

       Anywayssssssss……..back to the rap music.  I like Young MC as well as the aforementioned one-hit wonders Vanilla Ice and MC Hammer.  How about some NaughtyByNature “O.P.P.”?  The “Humpty Dance” by Digital Underground (horrible name).  

Rap artists that end up on cop shows–Tone Loc, LL Cool J, Ludacris, Ice T.   Wandom kwap.  

I like Tone Loc, LL Cool J, Eminem, Rob Van Winkle (his one song), some of Public Enemy, some of Snoop and Dre as well as the catchy tunes of Notorious B.I.G.  I’ve not been a fan of Tupac.  I do like a song or two of Jay Z.  

Best rap of all time.  I am white, so yes, I do like the Beastie Boys.  Especially their early stuff.  However, the grandmasters of rap is Run DMC.  Their stuff holds up almost 40 years later.  Sure, they used Aerosmith to launch into the mainstream but they also helped Aerosmith restart as well.  

       Two weeks ago, I told a class to follow me into the shop.  I used the lame joke, “Let’s do like Aerosmith and “Walk this Way”.  They didn’t get it.  I asked if any of them had heard of Aerosmith?  Run DMC?   NO!!   I’m not sure if they are really young, their parents have done a poor job or if I’m just old……the answer is…All of the above.  Those 8th graders have now heard Aerosmith AND Run DMC.  One of them even told me that XM radio needs to play this kind of music.  UUUhhhhh……channel 39 & 38……for starters.  

        I may need to teach a music history class.  Food history would also be fun.  And after reading a bunch of crap on a bookface group posts about show goats, I think I need to teach a show goat history course.  Like a true historian, I don’t care who I piss off.  I know facts!  And since I’m old and have done this game longer than most, I was there.  And I have notes and maybe, possibly, probably more importantly….witnesses.  Kind of like the true story of the creation of some buck known as “900”.    I would go into more depth but “It’s Tricky”.   Not really.  I just wanted to type that.  

People, have a good one and a better one tomorrow.  

“Makes me realize…..what I didn’t realize.     Probably.”

Maybe the newest, possibly my favorite quote.  Go watch “All Madden” on espn+.  

Very well made.  They had made this show and then let him watch it….while they were filming him watch it.  How cool would it have been, to be there, watching him watch a show about him?

     I had a full slate of activities planned for Sunday.  Go to mass and get some religion.  I need all of the help that I can get.  Leave there and cruise over by Woodward and handle a set of lambs.  The family had sheared sheep on Saturday and I needed to get my hands on them to see if we needed to make changes.  Nothing like a set of sheep that has 2 hair sheep, a Downer, a Shrop, possible Hamp, a blue and maybe a Suffolk.  I have to ask myself, “How did I not come up with a Dorset to complete the set?”  

      Made it back to the house and cooked a pizza for lunch.  I had planned on going south of Shattuck about 1:30 to handle a set of goats.  Then I was to meet a crew at the shop to work on projects.

       At noon, a sophomore boy called and asked if I was still coming to his place.  I said, “Yes, unless there is a reason not to.”  He replied, “Well, we just got out of church and my grandparents want to take me out to eat.  I told them I needed to check with you first.”

      Now mind you, this kid wasn’t trying to get out of work.  He was just checking in to see for sure what the plans were for the day.  I made a quick decision and said, “Dude, you go eat lunch with the grandparents.  That is always more important.  I’ll see you at the shop at 2 pm.  Does that work?”

He said, “Are you sure?”

“I’m real sure.  Never miss a chance to go eat with the grandparents.”

You could hear the bounce in his voice, “Thanks boss.  See you at 2.”

Tammy and I did a great job of making sure that our kids spend lots of time with both sets of grandparents.  Our parents did the same with us.  And I’m not going to get in the way of a student’s time with their grandparents.  Especially on a Sunday.  Sure, we need to make up the time working on showing goats but we will find time for that. 

Now, as I sit here on a Sunday night, I wish that I could have a sit down with any and all of my grandparents.   Bet some of you all have the same thoughts.  If you still have yours, don’t miss a chance.  The advice is free; yet… it is priceless. 

People, I hope you had a good one today and a better one tomorrow.  

STOP!!!

     If you are sensitive, have an aversion to un-nerving stories (true or un-true), cheer for a liberal university (sooners, longhorns or most Cali schools), vote democrat or have socialist thoughts, or you have morals and just don’t need to be dumber after reading some stuff–then please, do NOT read any further.  Stop!!  Please.  

This story may be true, partially true and/or completely made up.  One or more of the people involved in this story are no longer with us.

In the words of Gandalf the Grey, “You shall not pass!”

Yet,

          here you are,

                                   still reading.    You were warned.

    In a time, that is beginning to feel like a long time ago, yet in a lot of ways, still seems like yesterday (the late 90s.)  It was late spring.  There was a native that was/is a local legend.  We’ll call him LJ.  Master of the Smoker, partaker of a cold beer and always a good time.  He hollered at me one day and said, “Whatcha got going on Saturday morning?”

I replied, “I actually don’t have to be anywhere.”

“No judging contests or animals to buy?” he asked.

“No.  Why?  What do you have going on?”  My interest was now piqued.  

He said that he had to dispose of some animals for a guy in Kansas.  With head cocked, I asked, “You mean butcher some animals?”   

“No.  No.  Just dispose of some.  Can’t butcher ’em.  He just wants them gone.  Be here bout 7 am.”

What in the hell kind of deal is this?

     Before 7 am on Saturday morning, I rolled up to his place with my Mountain Dew in hand.  LJ was sitting on the steps, drinking coffee and smoking a cigarette.  We exchanged pleasantries for a few moments at which point a pickup towing an old BullMobile gooseneck trailer pulled up and began unhooking.  LJ walked up to greet him.  I walked to the back of the trailer to look at the contents.  HOLY CRAP!!!

      Once unhooked, the customer got back in his pickup and yelled out of the window, “I’ll be back in an hour or so with another load.  What in the sam hill is getting ready to happen here?”

      I looked back in the trailer then looked at LJ.  “Ostriches!?  You’re getting paid to dispose of ostriches?!?  How are you going to manage to do this job?”

       He looked at me square in the eye and said, “I’m not!”

“WHOAAA there cowboy!!!!  I ain’t getting in a trailer with those birds.  No way!  I’ve heard Doc Pollard talk about dealing with brain injuries from ostriches.”   

He laughed and said, “You ain’t getting in either.  I just thought that you would enjoy the show cuz this don’t happen everyday.  And by the time this is done, I figure Johnson will need somebody to save him.” 

This was during a time that the ostrich market had crashed.  It had been hot for several years in the early 90s but now they were worthless.  There was NO market left.  Nothing.  This customer had too many birds to just “off” them himself, so he was paying for the work to be done.  He couldn’t afford to feed them and there were no buyers for them.  

Wait.  What?  RUSM?  Johnson is coming to do this.  You’ve got THE Johnson coming this morning.  Sure enough, about 7:10 am, I heard a vehicle crossing the nearby train tracks.  Johnson’s black, topless Jeep wrangler rolled up.  Johnson was early 50ies but he looked 80ish.  He stood about 5’9″ and was down to about 130 lbs.  Hair slicked back and wearing a white (somewhat stained) t-shirt tucked into his jeans.  He was smoking a cigarette and had an open Budweiser–the King of Beers.  He walked up to the trailer and looked in.  He took a drag off the cig, then a couple of swallows of Budweiser then said, “Good morning men” as he headed up the steps into the building.  He came back with the cigarette hanging out of his mouth, beer in his left hand and a 8″ roast slicing knife in his right hand. 

        I was like, “Dude, you are NOT getting in that trailer with those birds!  They will kick the crap out of you.  This will not work.”

         Johnson nodded his head and said, “I’ve got this.”  He then set his beer on the bumper of the trailer, took a puff from the Marlboro, slid the back sliding gate open, grabbed his beer and climbed in.  “Shut the gate”, he growled.  I slid it mostly shut while barking warnings.  LJ leaned on the other side of the trailer, looking, watching and grinning.  He too knew that this was NOT the way but Johnson had to learn.

        As Johnson slowly advanced from the back of the trailer towards the front, he held the knife out towards the birds while he tightly clutched the can of beer.  His lips firmly held the cigarette.  The large birds were all facing him but backing up…backing up until they were tightly packed.  Crowded.  One bird was left out of the pack, almost like a point man.  This bird found itself in a stand-off with a beer drinking, cigarette smoking, knife wielding purveyor of death.  It was 1on1.  The bird was backed up and Johnson was trying to gauge when to strike.   Wait? 

Strike with what?  The birds reach with his beak or it’s feet is longer than Johnsons’ reach with a 8″ knife.  This is stupid.  “Johnson, that bird is getting ready to kick the shit out of you.  Get out of there!”  LJ agreed, “Johnson, I don’t think that this will work.”  

Johnson feigned a knife strike towards the birds neck.  The bird dodged.  His head was weaving back and forth.  Up and down.  This wasn’t a fair fight.  At this point, it was evident that even if Johnson had a Bowie knife, he was going to get his ass kicked by a 6′ tall piece of poultry.  

Once again, Johnson feigned another couple of knife strikes, just to get a measurement.  Left then right.  The bird dodged, dipped, ducked and dived.  Now, Johnson stepped into the next lunge.  He meant to do harm with this strike.  But NO!!   That bird pecked him right in the forehead.  Oh Son-of-a-gun!  Johnson lunged again and this time the bird pecked his shoulder and kicked him in the thigh.  He dropped his beer.  The kick ripped Johnson’s jeans.  He was staggered, vision blurred.  At this moment, Johnson stumbled backwards as I slid the gate open.  I grabbed him and drug him backwards out of the trailer.  LJ slid the gate shut.  

       All the while, the birds stayed tightly packed with the one soldier still weaving his head back and forth, up and down.  That bird was ready for more.  

       Johnson got up from the ground, cussed about his broke cigarette and spilled beer.  No mention of the ripped jeans or his bloody face.  Or the fact that he just got his ass kicked by a bird.  However, he was pissed.  I tried telling him that this was not the way. 

      Johnson headed towards his Jeep.  I tried to stop him.  LJ yelled, “Let him go.  He’ll be back.”  Johnson fired up the Jeep, opened a beer and headed back into town.  LJ and I talked about how the rest of this was going to go down.  I could NOT have imagined what was to happen next.  

       Once again, I heard the Jeep cross the train tracks.  Johnson got out, took a chug of beer, reached in the back of the Jeep and pulled out a football helmet.  A helmet like Joe Theisman wore while playing for the Redskins (remember that team).  An old helmet with a single bar face mask.  I wasn’t sure if that was enough protection.  He then placed a cigarette in his mouth, grabbed the same knife and put it in his back pocket–point up.  Then he reached into the bed of the Jeep and pulled out a… oh my, this might work, but is this right… yep–he pulled out a wood baseball bat.  

      He then marched to the trailer, without a beer, slid the door open and climbed back into the gladiator’s arena.  Once again, I partially shut the sliding door and barked some warnings.  I felt like Rocky Balboa’s brother-in-law as Rocky fought Ivan Drago in Rocky IV.  I was barking something but the fighter wasn’t listening.  Johnson then stepped forward and the bird began the routine of the head bob.  Johnson held the bat up, much like a little leaguer trying to decide when to swing.  He leaned forward and the bird struck BUT Johnson ducked and then swung.  Oh lordy!   Contact.  The bird now had a broken neck.  Johnson grabbed it by the neck and pulled out the knife.  Bloody!  And it was just now 8 am.  

       Now, Johnson had a rhythm going.  Step in and engage. Then dodge, duck or dive, followed by a swing, then cut.  Next.  As he finished that trailer load, the customer pulled up with the next load.  Johnson only got hit by the birds a couple of more times.  But he finished the job….bloody, battered, torn and bruised.  Nonetheless, there were no more birds to be disposed.  The job was done.  And then he really went to drinking, smoking and cussing.  

I’m not saying it was in-humane.  I’m not saying it was humane.  I will say it was effective.  Maybe they should have just been turned out and shot.  I truly don’t know.  Today, there is probably a rescue mission for big birds.  I truly don’t know.  The internet was just getting going.  There was no video or pics.  So, according to today’s society, that means it didn’t happen.  Right?  

       Well, maybe it did.  Maybe it didn’t.  

Can you make this sort of thing up?  Have you seen the opening of The Hangover 3?  Tiger King?

I told you to quit reading.  In fact, the very first word was “Stop”. 

Believe it.  Don’t believe it.  I wouldn’t.  

      This was a post that I was going to wait until January 17, 2022 to post.  But, here it is.  Too quick.

On Christmas Night, Kela, Duke, Tammy and I were cooking and making things.  We were playing music and discussing random trivia.  The kids were trying to show me how to operate Spotify.  

       The topic of women in entertainment came up.  I made the statement, “If there was a Mount Rushmore of women in the entertainment industry……Dolly would be on there.”

Kela agreed, “No doubt. But the George Washington of the group would be Lucille Ball.”  We all agreed with that.  

I said, “Who goes next?”

Kela replied, “For me, I think that Carol Burnett has to be one of the four.”   Definitely, so funny and was a producer, writer, comedian, singer, director, etc.  That lady had the best Tarzan call.  

Duke then asked, “Who’s the fourth?”

Tammy answered quickly, “Betty White.”   

Oohh!    We all agreed.  

You can’t argue that those 4 women are all-time classics.  I mean you could argue but then you would be…well, wrong.  These ladies were great but not just for their screen and musical work but also their business acumen and lengthy careers.  

I challenge you to read up on these four ladies.  It is interesting reading.  Betty White might have the best bio as she personally dealt with WWII, sexism, racism and she worked in a wide array of mediums…starting with radio, to black & white tv, color tv, HD tv, movies and she had to deal with social media, etc.  And she excelled at all of it.  I remember her SNL skit about a “Dusty Muffin”.  

     I saw a post that said “On one hand, she was 99 years and 348 days old.  On the other hand, she lived through 24 leap years–24 extra days.  So, arguably she lived 100 years and 7 days.”  

Here it is.  The end of another year.  

Things changed around the Kelln Kompound–A LOT!  Not many goats on the premises.  There has been some remodeling and additions with more planned. 

Duke is working on wind turbines and has his own place in Weatherford, OK.  It’s like he is an adult as he is concerned about cooking and cleaning supplies.  

Kela is still working in Hollywood-just in different capacities.  She did manage to squeeze in working on a season of The Amazing Race.  This helped her constant need for travel and to see new things.  She got back to Cali from OK.  And then traveled to Mammoth Lakes for snow boarding.  Not a boring life.  

Tammy had a successful trip to Houston with her mother.  Tests revealed that things are looking very good.  Our family has seen enough of this cancer shit.  But my brother has tested clean and the MIL is kicking ass!  Prayers do work.  I don’t care what religion you adhere to…..just pray.  Pray that people can pull their heads out of their own asses and quit watching the news, listening to politicians and just get back to living.  In the upcoming year, just work to help other people.  Help a neighbor.  Help a kid.  Help somebody in need.  Make sure that you take some food to somebody that could use it.  

People, it is 7:53 pm on New Year’s Eve.  I am fighting some sort of sinus deal–snot and sinus pressure.  Covid? doubt it–but really, who give’s a rat’s ass if it is?  I don’t.   It feels just like a cold or sinus infection that I would get every other year before 2020. 

I’m not going to see midnight tonight.  Which is not unusual.  

In NW OK, the start of 2022 is supposed to be windy AF and butt cold.  Lovely.  I HATE the wind.  At least I don’t have does kidding during this.  I guess I will have to stay inside and watch a football game.  Being a Catholic Cowboy, my team will win.  But, it will mean more to Okie State.  Go Pokes!  

People, it’s been good but can always get better.  Here’s to hoping that your day is great but tomorrow is better!  Prayers to you and yours.  And yes, CHEERS!!  I think that Woodford dissolves snot.  I might need some more medication before I hit the couch.  Happy New Years!