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King Normie

December 25

Merry Christmas my Friends!

Uh . . . . .
Lord, Fergive Me!

What the Hell!

Ain't Been This Drunk,
in Quite a Spell . . . . . .

Happy Holidays, Y'all!

Hic!

November 17

The Seeker

“Tinkle, tinkle
In the Jar.

Then I’ll know
Just What Ye are!

Be Ye Pothead,
Drunk or Tweaker,

I Will Catch Ye!

I’m The Seeker!”


The Dark, Masked Man hovered in the shadows
Of the Alley, Sample Jar in hand,
Awaiting his next “Donor”.

It, as he expected, wasn’t a long wait as the
Thin-as-a-rail girl stumbled from the
Back door of the Tavern, clearly
Under the influence of
SOME THING NAUGHTY!

He cursed softly “Dammit!”
Getting Samples from Females presented
Problems sometimes!

But, he had taken up the gauntlet, devised a Plan, and he would stick it out, even with wet, sticky fingers!

“Perhaps“, he thought to himself,
“I should buy a small packet of Pre-Moistened Towlettes.”

As his target reeled toward him, he was relieved to see that she wore a skirt -  much easier
Job now!

He made his move, stifling her silent scream quickly
And prepared to collect.

Finished, moments later, he pulled his Dig-It-All Camera from his Fanny Pack.

He remembered the days when everyone carried ID and rued the passing of the old ways . . . .

But cameras were mighty handy, too, and the Police, when he dropped them the sample, would likely have a mug shot on file and easily discern her Identity!

That was the Real “Sticky” part!  Not getting caught delivering the pic & the jar of fluid.

The Shadowy Masked Man, The Seeker, had given thought to simply letting his Donors live
But, too often, he would see them again, in the same alleyways, in the same disgusting condition . . . . . .

End








September 23

The Second Amendment

This be an Old Editorial Letter I wrote, long about a year back.

I feel Strongly about the Subject.  I am, in Fact, a One Issue Voter,
no matter how High or Low the Seat being fought for!

Without Second Amendment Support, as it is Written,
I will Never Vote for Any Candidate . . . .



17Apr2007

Second Amendment Editorial

At times I feel guilty, especially when I read such opinions as those of Bradley Bertchie, in the Tuesday, April 17, 2007 Letter To The Editor, where he asks "Why do we still allow personal guns in this country?". 
The guilt, and the relief, stems from knowing that I will not live long enough to see the sort of World arise that Mr. Bertchie thinks he would like.

Brad!  The Second Amendment was, and is, needed to allow the citizens of our country the ability to protect ourselves from tyranny perpetrated by the Government of our own Nation.

The Second Amendment is the One and Only Reason that We are different from England, Canada, Australia, Somalia, Grenada, Viet Nam, Korea, Germany, Grenada, Iraq, Iran, Nicaragua, Mexico, Russia…..Well, any other Nation on the Globe.  It is also why we have fallen into the commonly disparaged role of the "Police" of the planet.

This Second Amendment, Brad, is what separates us from those who cannot defend themselves from the innate tyranny of Government.  It is why peace-loving, kind peoples, throughout the world, end up as slaves to War Lords, Government and Tyrants, virtually everywhere!  It is why We, the United States of America, so often end up in so many other countries, doing our best to insure that the citizens of these countries have the common everyday essentials to live, Brad.

The Second Amendment, Brad, has little to do with protecting ourselves from brigands and outlaws.  It has everything to do with protecting ourselves from corrupt power in Government. 

You ask "Why do we not hear about these types of massacres from countries where gun control is enforced or even where guns are illegal?"…………and the reason is that such "massacres" are commonplace!  The massacres we Do hear of involve Thousands of citizens and routinely involve, at some level, Government Forces, those who Do have the guns.

And even in our own Land, Brad, the Land of the Free, there is No Freedom, no way to protect all those Other Amendments, without the Second Amendments!

Brad, I am getting old.  I hope I never see the carnage that may come if We, the citizens, cannot protect ourselves from our own Government.  But, it will come, Brad, Thanks to You and others who share your beliefs.  And, as you die, I hope you remember your words and mine.

POVERTY


Poverty, with a Capital "P",

Has been so Very Good for Me!

It Taught me to Appreciate
The Finer Points of Life . . . .

Like Love and Friendship,
Hate and Spite . . .

Guilt and Weakness,
Strength and Might,

It Taught me When to Meekly Sit
And When to Stand and Fight!

Yes, Poverty and Lack of Things
Has Served to give My Spirit Wings . . .

To Give My Heart, Not Shiny Rings.

I Hope, some Day, when I have Passed,
That Some Folks say I Showed some Class,

. . . .  Giving, Kind and Made 'em Laugh!

That would be One Fine Epitaph.

September 20

The Basement

In the Century-Old Home that I growed up in, one accessed
the Basement by a Door which was in the Kitchen, off to
the Left, In a Corner.

The Kitchen was where we Kids took our Nightly Sponge Bath,
 us not having a Tub.  The Corner was the Dirty Clothes Pile and,
a Now-Public Secret, where Steve and I often peed into the
Laundry Pile during the Dark, dark Nights . . . . . . It was Cold
and Extremely Scary in the Basement, where our Only Toilet
Stool was.

There was No Light at the Top of these Stairs, which Mirrored
the Stairs to the Second Floor.  Someone had, long ago, installed
shoddy shelves which held various cans, bottles, Objects of
Interest to a Kid . . . And many, many Nails protruding from above. 

Thus, the Trip to the Toilet was Hazardous!

At the Bottom of the Stair lie, with only a 30 inch Clearance
and up
agin a Brick Wall,A Two Inch Water Pipe and 3-4 other,
smaller pipes. 
One Mis-Step, one Tumble, and one's Head Smacked upon
the Galvanized Pipe.  I done done that, more than Once! 
I can't quite figgerOut how this "Falling-Down-Stairs" thing
Kills so many Folks on TV!

A Sharp Swing to the Left, at the Bottom and ye was in the Bathroom! 
The Papier du Jour was Old Newspaper.  Nobody
Named Scott, or Kimberley, or Clark, lived in Our House!

A Right could take ye to the Door to the Outside, a Seldom
Used Door . . . . But Useful in it's Own Right.  Much more
exciting was a U-turn to the Right! 

Do That, then another Right, took ye into a small, dingy room,
dirt walls . . . Therein, stacked upon pallets, was Paw's supply
of Lion's Club Popcorn, Ten-Pound Bags, Canvas, for Sale in
a Fundraising Endeavor . . . . . . I reckon nobody Wanted to Buy it! 
It was purty much Demolished by Rodents.

Across the way was the Room that Paw worked on, fer a
Family Room.  Paw was a Wonder with Cardboard! Old
Boxes, cut and stapled, covered the exposed pipes and wires,
creating a Ceiling!
And Walls!  It was Nice!  We were Poor, as I may Remind ye . . .

Smack in the Center of the Basement were the Furnace! 
It was a Dark and Dirty Place, especially in my Early Days,
when we used Coal for Fuel.  Soot, Coal Dust was King here! 
I recall Frank Merritt pulling his Truck up to the Outside
Basement Window and dumping coal through it, into a nice,
messy Pile . . . . In Later Years, we got an Upgrade to Kerosene . . . .

Then, further along, completing the Circle, Counter-clockwise,
was Paw's Workbench, the Last Item of Memory before arriving
again at the Outside Door.

The dirty, greasy, old Work Bench!  Jars of hardware Everywhere!
Rusty old Tools!  A Jar of Ammo for Paw's WWII Pistol! Never
done more than Touch it!  No way in Hell would I have ever put
one in his Pistol!  I had been Taught!

This was also where Paw performed his One-Time Brewery Project,
having obtained a 10 Gallon Crock and a Bottle Capper . . .
. . . BEER!  Home Brew!  I was mighty Young but I Still remember
the Smell, the Taste of the Hops!  It was Good!

I remember a Lot of Flooded Basement Events, too, and a
Huge Rat, one which my Sister swore to be as Big as a Cat….
Paw finally caught that Monster in a Trap but it weren't the
Only Monster which lived down them Steps!!!

That Old House still Stands, Re-Modeled, 50 years later.

I would sure like to see what has been done to the Basement!



"The Race is On . . . . " - George Jones, circa 1964

“The Race is On . . . .” George Jones, c.1964
Category: Life
20Sep2008



I grew weary of hearing about Race, Skin Color
and all that BS, Decades ago . . . . .

Yet, here we Be . . . And there ain't Hardly Nothin'
Changed, except under Force of Law!

So, I am Gonna Inform the World . . . . .

We is Brown, All of Us!  Well, Except fer the Ancient
Red-Eyed Rockers, Edgar and Johnny Winters . . . . .

They be White!  Albinos . . . . !

And Some Anthropologists have
Proclaimed the Australian Aborigines as the Only
Truly Black-colored People on Earth . . . .

But Look!  Hold a Plain White Sheet of Paper right
Up Next to yer Arm!  NOW, what Color is Ye?

BROWN, that's What!

Mike Tyson is Brown!  Africa is Brown!  Asia,
with a Yellow Tinge, is Brown!!!

The "Noble Red Man", the American Indian - Brown!

Europe - Brown!

Currently, the Hispanic Peoples claim Brown as Their Color!

I want my WORD Back! 

We is All BROWN . . . . .

So, to them of us what thinks Otherwise . . .

Knock it Off!

July 12

I Have Joined!

12July2008


I Have Joined the Battle!

Having Lost my Health Insurance, doubtless to free up Funds to support our Illegal Immigrants, I also lost my Life-or-Death Oxygen Concentrator, which cost AHCCCS about $400 a Month to the Rental Company.

So, I did some research and, finally, dipped into my meager Savings - went to a local Medical Supply Business and bought my Own Damned Oxygen Concentrator!  Cost me $400.00 Used but the one I Had was also Used!

I made all the arrangements by phone and told the two ladies I had discussed the matter with that I would be there Friday (yesterday) to pick it up.

I got there, after a quick trip to my Doctor for an up-dated prescription, during traditional Lunch Hours so, of course, both of the gals were out to lunch.

Here comes the Good Part!!!

The Machine was ready and waiting for me BUT, left to tend the Front Desk was a pretty, young Mexican Girl who, believe it or not, couldn’t speak English!

After meekly showing me my machine, asking, in pantomime, if that was my purpose in being there, she sat at the Receptionist’s Desk and tried to do the paperwork, clearly frustrated that she could not communicate with me.

Then, in a pleading voice, she asked me. . . . . . .

“No Hablas Espanol?” she asked me!!!

“No,“ I said. “Un poquito . . . . “, not realizing the implications until I was back in my truck, headed home!

The girl, meanwhile, upon hearing my “No” was dejected.  I thought she would cry.  I hope she Wants to learn the Language of the Nation where she lives, works, draws a paycheck! 

This girl, by the way, carried the 60# machine to my truck for me!  She deserves a chance to better herself - with Company-paid ESL Courses!

I wish the Company would step up and fund English Classes for her so she doesn’t have to become a Hotel Maid!

And, as sweet and nice as she was, I hope they fire her if she Refuses to learn English!

As for me, I will no longer do business with any business staffers who do NOT speak My Language!

I, in fact, will not use the Spanish Language again, a language that I have spoken, poorly, for 45 years.

There will be NO MORE  “Adios, Norm”  closing out my E-Mails and Letters!  No more “Por Favor”, No
“Gracias” nor “Buenas Dias” . . . . . . It ticks me off to do this.  I have been an Arizonan for over 48 years and these phrases (and more!) are as much a part of me as they are of any Latino.

But, when, in my own Country, I am requested to speak a Foreign Language, the Line has been Crossed.

Happy Trails to Ye!
Norm!





 
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Norm Johnson

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I'm pretty much settled & content in my little town......Wish I made more $$ but who doesn't!
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