Fool Opens Mouth and Removes All Doubt

“It is better to keep your mouth closed and let people think you are a fool than to open it and remove all doubt.”
~Mark Twain

Oh, wonder of wonders. After my latest post someone who called themselves "youareanidiot" left this wonderful little constructive comment:

"You mispelled BLOND=BLONDE."

To that statement I have but two points with which to counter.

1. You misspelled "misspelled." It has two s's retard.
2. An entry from the Merriam Webster Dictionary:

Main Entry: 1blond Variant(s): or blonde /'bländ/Function: adjectiveEtymology: Middle French blond, masculine, blonde, feminine1 a : of a flaxen, golden, light auburn, or pale yellowish brown color b : of a pale white or rosy white color c : being a blond2 a : of a light color b : of the color blond c : made light-colored by bleaching blond walnut>- blond·ish /'blän-dish/ adjective

Ouch. It looks like you "youareanidiot" are an idiot.

That's the story of my life...

My Libyan nationalist friend R'hamed sent me this great photo of his brother-in-law's ass. This happened yesterday in his hometown of Isrhkstmlkieytykistan.  

Waring Man Encounters Goddess, Walks Away with Phone Number

Marble Falls, TX - Sometimes life happens when you least expect it. You walk out the door like you always do and then go to your job like you always do and then you do your job like you always do when suddenly, quite suddenly, quite wonderfully something out of the ordinary happens. Segue story:

Last Wednesday, I found myself in Marble Falls Texas, per my job with Servpro, a fire and water damage restoration company. I go to Marble Falls every two weeks because I drive all over the Hill Country marketing this company reminding insurance agents to call Servpro when they need someone to clean up a water or fire damage.

In one of those little, makes-no-sense-whatsover decisions, I turned down a street a block early. As I was driving down said street, I noticed on the opposite side of the road a pickup truck bed full of pink. As I looked closer, I realized the pink was a display of some sorts, and whoever was displaying the pink items was selling everything "half-price, going out of business."

As I drove by, I spotted blond hair. If you are not a man, let me explain something to you about men. Blond hair= drive by and get a better look.

I made my scheduled stop two blocks away and then quickly returned back toward the sight of the display. As I approached the truck, the Blond turned away from me and started walking toward the sidewalk.

At the very last second, she turned around and we made eye contact.

Whoa.

I made it eight cars past her and came to a stop sign.

Now I digress. When I was in high school, and even my freshman year of college, I was a consummate dweeb. If you gave me the choice between facing a beautiful woman or running away, I would run away. Loping. With my arms dangling awkwardly below me. Like an ape really. Sometimes I cried, as I recall.

Now back to the stop sign. Sitting there, I made a split second decision to put the little green Servpro truck in reverse. It was one of those empowering decisions, like when you buy an airplane ticket, or tell someone off, or bravely drive past a rest area when you have to go to the bathroom really bad.

I screeched to a halt and inquired of The Blond what she was selling.

“Mary Kay.”

Perfect. I had absolutely no reason whatsoever to buy Mary Kay. But men are shameless and I found a reason to buy ten dollars worth of Mary Kay. Long story short, her name was April and she was even cuter than I had surmised from the first drive-by. We exchanged cards and she even gave me her cell phone number. We tentatively planned a lunch get-together the next time I came through town. Time will tell if Miss April (ha ha ha get it?) is just another pretty face or if she actually has some depth and personality.

I left Marble Falls that day proud of my decision to back track and talk to a beautiful woman. It helps me to forget all the times I didn’t. Luckily, I had a disposable Kodak camera with me and snapped a quick photo of April. You can see the photo if you scroll down. It turned out pretty good for a throw away camera.

That’s the story of my life…

This is a snapshot of my new friend in Marble Falls named April. In this photo she is frolicking on a rock beside the Colorado River. Luckily, I just happened to have a camera with me!  

Local Man Writes Ferribly Tunny Twongue Tister, Doctors Perform Tongue Amputation

I wrote a series of tongue twisters once. I would like to share them with you. It is one of my greater accomplishments. Please feel free to dissect them for grammatical legitimacy:

"How many Czech chicks' checks could a Czech Czech chick check checker check if a Czech Czech chick check checker could check Czech chicks' checks?"

"How many woodchucks could Chuck upchuck if Chuck could upchuck woodchucks?"

And now the grand finale:

"How many of Czech Chuck's woodchucks would a Czech woodchuck checker chunk if a Czech woodchuck checker could chunk Czech Chuck's woodchucks?

Okay here's one you have to say real fast. I did not write this one but it's one of my favorites. If you're name is Randy Wolff, turn around and say this to your wife as fast as you can with a perfectly straight face:

"I'm not a pheasant plucker. I'm the pheasant plucker's son! I don't pluck the pheasants till the pheasant plucker comes!"

That's the story of my life...

A northeastern view of the very secretive, never-to-be-revealed location of Think Pot Studios, high in the hills outside San Antonio, Texas. Jonathan is located at the base of the structure and I am suspended in mid-air above his head. The gentleman in the background is a Libyan nationalist named R'hamed.

Local Duo Retreats to Secret Undisclosed Location to Locate Disclosed Unsecrets

An Undisclosed Location - My best friend Jonathan Avitia and I have stumbled upon something very special. For the majority of our lives, we have both considered ourselves thinkers. We do not get paid from nine to five to think, but we do often find time to sit under a tree or by the water and philosophie about life and all its intricacies and ironies. We rarely note these conversations on paper and never record them on any kind of electronic recording device.

Such is the case no longer. We are proud to announce Think Pot Studios, a play on words of course on Stink Pot, which we have both been accused of being. We have already faced preliminary accusations that the name has a different meaning, but we will leave the grammatical jerrymandering to others.

Think Pot Studios is located in a very secretive never-to-be-revealed location high in the hills above a three car garage outside of San Antonio, Texas. If you are thinking that Think Pot Studios is in the aforementioned town of Waring, you could not be any further from the truth. Please don’t try to find us. T’would be a fool’s errand.

The Studio has a mission of sorts: to be an incubator for recalcitrant thought and actions (like smoking pipes and saying cuss words arbitrarily) as well as providing a secured location to posit theories on almost any topic as well as pursue academic endeavors such as writing and designing things. The only stipulation is that all thoughts, writings, designs and actions must be documented thoroughly, or at the very least duly noted. Remember, changing the world begins with the pleasant realization that a thought you just had is worth remembering.

Another rule, although not as stringent but just as important is that once entering The Studio, the Thinker must always be wearing a head covering of some kind. We wear Thinking Caps here at Think Pot Studios, and any one with a bare head is considered a non-Thinker and is not allowed under any circumstance to participate in the thinking.

Tonight’s mission is two-fold. First I am completing a writing contract assigned by ETS Publishing out of San Antonio. The deadline is tomorrow. (The passages I am writing might, might end up on the TAKS test. If you are a teacher in the state of Texas, don’t be a hatuh. I am trying to make a buck just like everyone else.)

Part two is to interview my good friend Jonathan Avitia about some of his life stories. This is of course research I am doing for my first novel, A Place of Shade and Stream. If I do my research correctly, it could be the definitive work in American literature regarding the trials and tribulations of coming of age in a small town.

Think Pot Studios is stocked to the gills with libations, food, as well as sleeping quarters for any Thinker who desires to slumber here for the evening. I have made the Thinking process even more enjoyable by packing a bath robe which I am wearing as we speak.

Everyone in this world should have a place like this, to retreat and ponder, to light a fire and let the soft smell of vanilla pipe tobacco fill the room- to distance yourself from the very world on which you pontificate. I encourage you to find one for yourself, but please don’t ask to use ours. When it comes to Think Pot Studios, our door is always closed.

And that’s the story of my life…

Lack of Internet Access Hampers Blog Posting Process, Riots Ensue

Please bear with me. I am terribly busy and pressed for time. Look for a new post early next week!! AAaaaaaaargh! Thank goodness this page is not a reputable publication...otherwise I would be losing credibility by the minute! Aack!

Old Dog Learns New Trick, Master Mourns Loss of Age-Old Colloquialism

Boerne, TX - In an unprecedented turn of events early Friday morning, my dog learned to fetch a stick. Now, most people would not consider this odd except for one extenuating factor: my dog is almost eleven years old.

My best friend Jonathan inquired while holding a stick whether or not my dog, named Girl, knew how to fetch a stick, to which I replied:

"I have never seen her fetch a stick, in all eleven years of her life."

Jonathan flung the stick across the yard at which point my dog fetched it, willingly, obligingly, and quite eagerly, plopping the stick at his feet and gazing upward while anxiously awaiting the next throw.

She did not fetch the stick for me. After several fetches for Jonathan, she quit, laying down in the grass and rolling over in the please-scratch-my-stomach-because-I-acquiesed-to-your-ridiculous-request pose.

Her actions completely discredited the old axiom, unless of course she learned the trick while she was young and waited nine years to do it - which with this dog is highly possible. I guesss you can decide. In the meantime, I am going to go fetch some dinner.

That's the story of my life...

This is a photo of my good friend Randy Wolff, the former executive director of Fireside Ministries and Wind River Ranch in Estes Park, Colorado.  

Firefighters Fight Lactic Acid Flare-up in Pectal Region

With the new year I have begun, like 239.7 million other Americans, working out. The reasoning is simple: routine exercise encourages discipline which encourages phyical and mental well-being. Easy, right?

I have a time tested workout routine which I have condensed into seven simple steps.

#1 Place an Eminem CD in the CD player. Eminem is angry at the world, his mother, white male politicians over 40, and his wife Kim, and the music industry. This angst tends to come across in his lyrics. Because he is angry, his music sounds angry and then it entices you to become mad at your own laziness, which translates into a frantic, hate-filled workout session.

#2 Wear clothes that horribly emphasize any part of you that sags, wobbles, bounces, or shifts in any unnatural tendency. (Remember, you were created in the image of God.)

#3 Get a tattoo - for one simple reason. You look tough and that makes you automatically a little more in shape.

#4 Sit ups. I did just a few of these the other day and my stomach is so sore that when I sneezed I accidentally did a jumping jack.

#5 Pushups. These are good for pectoral and arm workouts. Do these until that blod clot in your forehead dislodges itself.

#6 Jump rope. Jumping rope is an excellent cardiovascular workout. Cardiovascular is a combination of two latin phrases. Cardio- which means "breath so hard" and vascular- which means "that you dry heave uncontrollably." Jump rope also makes your calves sore. Today I received special attention at three places of business simply because of the way my sore calves made me walk. (As a side note, a rancher friend of mine put his baby cows on a plane and it made his calves soar.)

#7 Lastly, you want to drink plenty of water. Water is vital to the function of your muscles and most major organs. Doctors recommend drinking about eight glasses of water a day (more if you are working out.) Water can also kill you. Most doctors will not tell you this. Drinking 500 glasses of water at once will kill you. Scientists and emergency personel call this "drowning." So, as you work out, be sure to strike a delicate balance between the two extremes water offers.

Hopefully these tips will help you as they have me. I am so sore I can't blink without feeling it in some extremity. But, I will persevere until I am buff or dead-whichever come first.

That's the story of my life...

My Favorite Limerick Ever

I'm not sure who wrote this but it is worth reading:

A flea and a fly in a flue
were imprisoned so what could they do?
Said the fly "Let us flee!"
Said the flea "Let us fly!"
So they flew through a flaw
in the flue!

Blessings today for you and all you hold dear.

Metlife Blimp Passes Over Waring, Citizens Awed By Massive Dirigible

Waring, Texas - Today I am seated under the front portico of the Waring General Store shamelessly borrowing a wireless internet signal from the small business across the street. This store is one of those places that time truly forgot. The gas pumps still register gas here at 44 cents per gallon. Which by my calculations was the price of gas in 1856. My dad tells me it was more like 1970ish. My dad always says when he was a boy gas only cost a nickel. Which, again by my calculations would have put the gas in 1920 at -5 cents per gallon. The gas attendant acutally payed you five cents to buy gas. But I digress...

It was on a wonderfully sunny day just like today just several weeks ago that the good folks of Waring, Texas, witnessed a spectacle the likes of which may never be seen here again. At approximately 9:03 a.m. on October 17, the Metlife blimp puttered into view from the southeast headed northwest at a blistering 21 miles per hour and flew directly over the town.

When it first appeared on the horizon, the employees of Servpro ( a water and fire damage restoration company that comprises at least a quarter of the employment opportunities here) gathered on the steps by the stop sign pointing and giggling in awe at the monstrous zeppelin floating across the landscape. Then running like giddy school children the employees waved and hollered at the pilots of the blimp.

Pilot One: Hey, look at that.
Pilot Two: Are those monkeys?
Pilot One: No those are regular citizens, just like you and me.
Pilot Two: Oh. I thought they were monkeys.

A sturdy headwind left the blimp limp as it struggled northward, leaving Waring forever, but not before leaving us with a story that the good folks of Waring will tell their chilren and their children's children.

Grandpa: Did I ever tell you about the time the Metlife blimp flew over Waring?
Grandson: Yes. Now leave me alone.
Grandpa: Sorry.

The Metlife blimp's brief appearance here is proof positive that this town is not like every other town. Why else would a blimp pilot go out of his way to pass through? Ah, until next time.

That's th e story of my life...

This is (from left to right) me, Chad Helwig, and Colin Feldhaus cutting up outside a cathedral in Chihuahua, Mexico. 

A Man You Must Meet Before You Die

Waring, Texas - Humans are peculiar creatures. I mean, really. We are all very bizarre. Which beckons the question, if we are all so weird, then when we meet someone who we think is weird, is he actually normal?

Every so often in life, you come across an individual who surpasses all expectations every time you talk to him. And by surpasses all expectations I mean in everything, across the board.

Enter M.E. Montgomerey, my neighbor across the street here in Waring. Sometimes a name says it all. This is not one of those cases. Just this morning, prompted by sounds of drills and banging and an assortment of other noises, I walked across the street to see what exactly this man was working on. As it turns out, he was constructing some sort of homemade wireless internet tower with three men I’ve never met before. Imagine Kramer from Seinfeld only dangerously intelligent.

The following is a list of several things you should know about M.E. Montgomery:

-He has a plan for bringing about the demise of the entire Democratic Party before the 2008 Presidential Election. He claims it will only take one phone call.

-He names his chickens adjectives so that their names are easier to remember.

-He lives in the old Waring Train Depot, which he converted into a dilapidating old Train Depot.

-He once got kicked in the face by a deer.

-He is known in South Padre Island, Texas as “The Man Who Whipped Wendell”

-He has everything. He once told me: “Whatever you need, I have one…maybe two.”

-He smoked a lot of pot when younger “in a stairwell in New York City.”

-He learns five new words every day and writes them all in a notebook. Several days ago he taught me the word “motte.”

-He once helped construct the bathroom in the bottom of the Grand Canyon.

-He is in the Guiness Book of World Records for the Millerpede, a sand structure over 10,000 feet long that he and his best friend Amazing Walter organized the construction of.

-He claims to be able to track down anything in the world in three phone calls or less

-He is listed in the phone book under “Wheebie” the name of his deceased cat, a masochistic creature who derived pleasure from being whalloped with a fly swatter

All this being said, please understand I have not even scratched the surface with this guy. There is much much more to come. My next M.E. Montgomery installment will be about his life as a professional sand castle builder with Amazing Walter.

Until then, that’s the story of my life…

This is me in Chihuahua, Mexico looking quite sinister.  

E.T. Would Phone Home But...

Sprint seems to always cut off his phone service at the most inopportune moment. Does anyone else out there deal with this problem as often as I do? Somehow, with the way sprint is set up, if your last payment overlaps next months bill for two seconds (and you exceed your ridiculously low credit limit) Sprint unmericifully flips the switch on your service. I have always imagined this process taking place in some sort of gaunt board room full of sinister old men with long nose hairs sitting around a giant on/off switch that simply says "Winston's Sprint PCS Service." They then laugh obnoxiously as Wendell, the elder of the group, throws the switch and kills my service.

One time, I was in the middle of trying to find a friend's house in the dark when Sprint cut off my service. Because I was unable to call her, I had to drive around for thirty minutes looking for the d%#@ house. At one point I made an illegal u-turn in a last ditch effort to find the house of the girl I couldn't call and got pulled over by a Texas highway patrol officer who was very surrepticiously perched behind a billboard watching my phoneless escapade unfold the entire time!!!

Ugh. Luckily, the outages never last long. I just make it to the nearest computer and pay my bill. Whatever happened to the good old days when the phone company cut off your phone after you missed like six payments. Oh well...

That's the story of my life...

If Less is More Then We Have the Most

If you haven’t heard, I currently live in a small town outside San Antonio called Waring. The town has a population of approximately 52 including me and my dog, Girl. Ironically, as I write this, that classic rock song about being raised in a small town is blaring on the radio behind me...

The town of Waring recently adopted a new unofficial town motto: “If less is more than we have the most!” It will only be official when it appears on a t-shirt at the general store. I say it is unofficial because I came up with it. I am hoping the good folks of Waring will embrace the saying at adopt it as their own, seeing as it stems from a philosophical way of thinking a la “less is more.”

Every notable town has a motto. “Everybody’s somebody in Luckenbach.” “The City of Brotherly Love,” “The Big Apple,” “The Windy City,” and one of my favorites out of Mentone, Texas: “If everybody has to be somewhere, why isn’t anybody here?”

Of course, Waring had some mottos that did not make the cut. The following is a list of those mottos. These were eliminated on several pieces of criteria, the least of which was the amount of truth found within them.

- No imbreds here. Just ask my sister/cousin.
- You can meet the Waring mayor, sheriff and fire chief when he’s not busy.
- Our only gross domestic product (GDP) is in the septic tank
- The last African American left here in 1956.
- Now entering/leaving Waring
- Waring, Texas: Founded in 1526 by Spanish explorer Cabeza de Vaca and his rag-tag band of hardy sidekicks
- Where-ing?
- “I thought I was lost – turns out I am.”
- Santa stops here first
- Birthplace of Christianity
- If this isn’t the center of the universe, than why do people do so many doughnuts at the intersection?
- Birthplace of President John Quincy Adams

Obviously these are good, but they do not pack the philosophical punch that the winning motto carries. Perhaps it’s true. We do not have most of what people consider “essentials.” We do not have a bank, gas station, ATM machine, or hookers. But we do have happiness, friends, neighbors, and when it all goes down hill, shoulders to lean on in every direction. So truly, if less is more than we surely have the most.

I think it’s a motto we can all agree on. All 52 of us.

Neck deep in the 21st Century

I am officially now neck deep in something. I believe it is the 21st Century. Welcome to "The Whimsical World of Winston." This is a blog intended to keep those around me up to date on what all I am doing (or not doing) in this crazy world.

I have found it an impossibilty to keep in touch with every single person I know. This is a wonderful loophole around that. (I love technology don't you?) So bookmark this page my old friend and check back on occasion. I will wow you with stories from my whimsical world and as some of my friends recently dubbed it - my "unreality."

Happy readings!

p.s. Dad - do not be afraid of the blog. It's so easy even you can use it!