For some reason, today, my memory neurons were firing images of an old train i used to have growing up. It was this big ass train that we used to set up around the base of our holiday tree. It was an old school engine about the size of my steal current steel-toe boots. There were 4 cars that it towed, including a caboose that had it's own lights inside and took it's own batteries. The train itself took about a million batteries and ran and made noises and even made real smoke from it's smoke stack. (you had to put house-hold oil in this little compartment and the damn thing burned it or something... smelt like a real train.) There's no way they're making trains now that smoke!
Anyway, this thing had so many lights and bells and whistles it looked liked like a freakin space ship at night coming around that tree. I still remember the joy i would get from taking one of the lesser ornaments and setting it on the track as the train came round and taking mental bets to see if the ornament would derail the train or if the cow-brush equipped engine would crush the ornament... or some combination there off.
Howard Stern is playing best of episodes all this week before Xmas and i caught part of one today on my way to work; it was one with Sam Kenison as the guest.
Sam Kenison was one of the funniest muthas of the modern era (rivaled only by aristotle's timeless classic "fake spear through the head" routine). [sigh] such a genius... rumor is he gained his tremendous delivery skills as a preacher but then fell from the church. Sam has been dead for over 10 years and i still can't freakin believe it. The worst part is, his material has moved into near total obscurity. His stand up is too "real" for regular TV and too old for premium channels. And the few songs/tv spots/movies that he appeared in have all gone by the way side. In fact, i can't even find much in the illegal MP3 web. Why sam? WHY!!?
Finally, i will leave you with a quote from my current favorite blogger, Latigo Flint:
Where do the female whitewater rafting guides go, with their tight cutoff jeans and sunscreened noses, when the first days of winter roll so dreary and cruel?
Back to heaven I reckon, where they do pass the time with granola and sit-ups until sunshine and joy does call them once more to the shore.
1 comment:
Hmm... That is a good question where do they go??? I would have to assume they are all recreational studies majors at the University of West Virginia.
The way I see it... if you add a little oil to many toys they will begin to smoke, it is just a matter of figureing where to put it.
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