Always Lookin' Out for Little Brother

Mario the Matador

I get a lot of farrier calls to rehabilitate miniature horses, miniature donkeys, adopted BLM jacks, and ponies. It seems these are in the catagory of "pets" and a lot of folks buy them without researching proper care.

I would like to introduce one such criter. His name is Mario and he is a miniature donkey. Never heard of such? Well, picture a donkey whose back is only as high as the desk at which you are now sitting but with full sized donkey ears. They are adorable, with very open, eager, expressive personalities. They do, however, have a "dark side".

When I was called upon to treat Mario his present owner had found him running the highway with feet horribly overgrown, twisted, and misshapen. The little fella was in a lot of pain and uncomfortable at all times. I was impressed my Mario's willingness to tolerate this discomfort stoicly as I worked on him; at one point he just sat back on his haunches and presented his front hooves for me to work on. Needless to say the little trooper stole my heart and I have endeavored to bring him back to 100% soundness since that day. I am happy to report Mario is about 90% sound as of today and I expect by fall he will be 100% if there is no permanent soft tissue damage.

I commented to the owner , Bobbi, the first day I saw Mario that he had a great personality. She looked at me strangely and said, "There's more to Mario than what he's showing you."

JACIII - "Really? This little fella?"

B - "Oh, yeah, he's quite a little demon when he wants to be."

JACII - "Mario, have you been misbehaving?" No respone from Mario.... "What's he been gettin' into?"

B - "Well, we didn't have a seperate pasture for him when we found him so we put him out with the cows. I just couldn't imagine him having trouble with them. You should have seen him! I wish I had video! He attacked the cows!"

JACII - "No. He didn't. Did he get hurt?"

B - "Huh! He ran everone of them into the pond and wouldn't let them out. I just left him in there. I thought surely by morning he would get tired of harassing the cows, but when I got up he still had 'em in there and would charge any that tried to get out!"

JACII - "What did you have to do?"

B - "I thought, 'I'll fix you, Mario', turned the bull out, went to work and didn't think anything else of it."

JACIII - "Oh, well he looks like he came out OK."

B - "Well.. You're not gonna believe this, but Jimmy (her husband) saw it, too. When I came home I went to check on Mario. He was hanging on the bulls neck. He bit that bull on the neck on was just dangling there!"

JACII - "No. Mario? Mario bit The Bull. Like a bulldog."

B - "Yes!, I was afraid he was going to KILL it. I had to go out there and pull him off that bull! I literally had to DRAG him out of that field, he fought me the whole way! I had to tie him behind the house where he couldn't see them before he would calm down."

I looked at Mario, a bit more wary than when we first met. I haven't seen any sign of Mario's megalomaniacal episode resufacing, but I damn sure don't let his mouth anywhere near my neck.

Self Explanatory

What Fun!

cedarfordsucks

Highbrow Poetry.....

I'm not one to wilfully raise the level of discourse above potty jokes, but I came across these on the Kawasaki GPZ (one of the motorcycles in my stable) email list. To put it gentley, the population of posters on this list is a bit long in the tooth, though technically astute, accomplished riders who have logged a lot of miles.

I hope no one is unduly traumatized by the realization there are people like this on our public roads.

The following is by '1KPerDay' whose handle refers to the IronButt ride Nate and I have bragged incessantly about.

"Oh, blast," I once sighed, steaming mad,
"My tire's flat! I can't ride! This is bad!"
But I gathered my strength,
Filled my lungs their full length,
And then pumped up the tire with my nads.
:D
Utah Jeff
'96 SheePz1100

This is a celebration of non-rosy cheeks. You can imagine the ribbing this guy takes for 'riding' sheepskin. It's even funnier when you realize there is damn near an entire hide laid across his tank and seat!

A sheep, though not warm as a yeti,
Offers more than just lamb with spaghetti,
For the skin, not the meat,
When applied to my seat,
Keeps my buttocks from getting all sweaty. :D

-- Utah Jeff '96 SheePz1100

Gregg, I thought of you when I read the first one.

There's no money in this

but it's fun anyway.





This is a Courting Candle. It is used as a timer for when one's daughter has a gentleman caller. After one's daughter and the gentleman caller are seated in the parlor, a candle is placed within the spiral and the wooden dowel is used to elevate or lower the candle above the top winding. When the candle burns down to the top winding it is time for the gentleman to depart. A father must periodically check on the candle thereby keeping an eye on the two and preventing any sparking.
No, it is not a spring, nor was it ever a spring. I decorated it as a vine complete with a leaf on the end to serve as a base. This piece is made from a length of straight 3/8" steel rod, forge fire, hammer, and anvil.




This is a modified design of a Celtic Cross. This piece is made from a length of 3/8" square bar stock. There is no welding, drilling, or drifting used in making this cross even though it has an open center. It is one piece of steel. Women love them.

Nothing like a good strokin'

I'm talkin' about ego here. Put your filthy minds in neutral.

Miss Sarah is one of my most faithful clients. She has had anywhere from 2 to 5 horses at any given time, alway bakes me cookies, pays in cash, is from North Carolina, attractive for a middleaged woman, and just as sweet as can be.

She has always had one horse named "Bucky" who is good for the most part, but has been known to cut a shine on occasion. Well, last time I was out there Bucky was cuttin' one. I bore down and held on and he settled down, but I knew he wasn't through. He started up again and I still managed to keep his foot. Then, just to let him know I didn't appreciate his attitude I shoved him bodily against the fence (I was under a front leg).

Miss Sarah: "See there, Bucky? Better straigten up, you're messin' with 'real' cowboy!"

I ain't exactly ridin' bulls, but I'll take it. I promise not to lord the fact that I have been declared a 'real' cowboy over my brothers.

I'll just have to make sure I don't let an ARRGH! slip while I'm at Miss Sarah's.

I wonder what I have to do to be declared a 'real' pirate? I've got the wench ravishing down pretty good.....

So here I am, minding my own business....

sort of, and SpaceBunny comes along and whacks me upside the head:

Does anyone else find the idea of a farrier Pirate amusing or is it just me?
Spacebunny | 07.27.05 - 7:49 am

I'm just getting in touch with my inner scoundrel. Is that so wrong?

On this subject: a bit of synchronicity. I have been watching all my favorite 'sea' movies since I started sailing and 'Pirates of the Caribbean' was up Sunday night. The last line of the last scene is applicable here. I'm not postin' it. It's a fun movie - watch it again, bearing in mind that "blacksmith" is a common reference to a farrier.


Stand up there, ye scurvy pony, or I'll feed ya' to the sharks!
ARRGH!

Must be a Record

This must be the busiest "old" post I have ever seen. There are periods of three posts per minute!

Man Down!

I went ridin' today. Got Big Red out on the road with with a group of 4 cruisers and a V-Max. Yes, I tried it. Yes, I can take it.
The Vmax rider and I rundoft and left the cruiserboys so we had to stop periodically and wait on 'em. We stopped at one point and waited, and waited, and waited... Hmmmmmmmmmm. Better go back.

Sure enough. Man down. An older Gent who rides with us from time to time and is a very good rider went down on a curve and had intimate relations with the guard rail. We got him up, got the bike up and headed down the road, and went on our way. He's shook up a bit, and it could have been much worse had he not been wearing PROTECTIVE GEAR. Granted he only had on a helmet, gloves, and boots, but those cover the places where he had no injury. Not even a scratch. Take away the helmet and he talks funny and shits himself
the rest of his life.

Two of the other cruiser guys had not worn helmets. They expressed that they felt naked after watching someone go down.


There are two kinds of riders: Those who have been down, and those who are gonna go down.

Dress for the fall, not the ride. They are trying to kill ya'.

ARRGH!

Felony Z01

Anbody can tell me what a Z01 or Z52 is gets a popsicle.

12 years ago.....

Bad day at work. I'm pissed, I'm frustrated, I'm ready to rip somebodies head off. Phuk it! I'm goin' out for dinner. I step out into the cool evening and spot my Corvette waiting all alone in bumphuq as if the mercuries, fords, and plymouths are taking no chances. It's graceful, it's gorgeous, and it's brutal. The targa is stowed away letting it's curvaceous form look crouched, set, coiled. That's just my game in this frame of mind.

I open the long door and slide down into the white leather seat, grip the thick white leather wheel, depress the clutch, and guide the stick into neutral. Of course it's a stick; what am I a secretary? I take a deep breath as it rumbles to life. I ease down the parking lot since it is bad form to leave black stripes on company property, and so as to not cause someone to mention such a thing for I would surely execute them on the spot.

I almost escaped when this young fella comes running out of the building waving his arms. I drove by, but I saw his early twenties crestfallen giulless face in the mirror and felt bad about it so I stopped. He ran up, "Where you goin'?" I mumbled a resturant name and he got in.

I listened tolerantly as he told me it was his first ride in a Corvette. We exited the parking lot. I came to a stop sign at the intersection just outside the automatic gate, when he asked, "Is this thing supposed to be fast? I think my bother's trans am is faster...." That brought a smile to my face. Not the happy kind, no, the "Boy, you just fucked up!" kind.

I immediately executed a clean gate turn onto the side street in a cloud of tire smoke, focused on the street ahead and let 'er wail. I grabbed second gear while the tires were still spinning, the vette was still sideways, and pinned the accelerator to the floor figuring we were set for 85 mph and held on. I scanned for children as we rocketed down the lane and chose a spot on the curve near the end of the street to shift. The kid stopped breathing. He grabbed the dash. I made the mark and hit that magic button (Z52 hint)that jumps three gears and continued accelerating. As soon as I saw the kid go white at the sight of the intersection approaching at over 100mph I hit that magic button again and stomped the brakes until all four tires were trying the antilock system. Hauled 'er down about three feet past the stop sign. Not bad; if I do say so myself.

I'll never forget what the kid said as I selected first and eased through the intersection.

"Hey, man! Are you OK? Is something the matter?"
"No, Why?" I asked offhandedly.
"'Cause I'd like to have kids before I die!"

I see that fella around sometimes. He thinks I'm crazy. I can't imagine why.

ARRGH!

Our New Maritime Address

We have been trying out area lakes for their suitability for sailing this summer. I have sailed Cave Run , Cumberland, and this weekend Green River Lake. Happily the closest, most pictureque, and least utilized of the three has the best wind, so barring a trip to Kentucky Lake or Lake Barkley we will be spending boat time at Green River Lake.


Here are my girls hamming it up after we anchored the boat off a nice pea-gravel shore conveniently located at the campground where our trusty motorhome awaited.

It's a pirate's life for me. Arrgh!

Pirate Flag Spotted by Bill

Is it just me or does that look like a reticle alignment aid to anyone else?

ARRGH!

For the record:

Nate,



This is a cutlass NOT a scimitar.

ARRGH!

Now THAT'S Sailin'!

For those who know: Note the Main is reefed and there is still no hull touching water. She's completely on plane!

A sailing hydrofoil. Whooda thunk?!

ARRGH! and Double ARRGH!

Just so you don't think the assheads haven't been tryin'....

There is a sailing site I check into often that deals primarily with racing, but everything else gets thrown in, too. It's a hoot and the folks there are at least as odd as the 'C-triad'.

This is from the forum there concerning conversations overheard on the marine radio (That'll be VHF fer ye landlubbers, ARRRGH!) by a sailor who shall remain anonymous:

This was a few years ago, just after 911. A Canadian warship burst in calling for a ship to identify itself. The Canadian crewperson, a young woman , proceeded with a litany of questions for the ship which the radio person answered in strange, almost too perfect, English, beginning each transmission with a nervous ?yes yes??

The the ship was a 600 ton oil-tanker due into New York in two days, registry port of Kingston, Jamaica. After the questions, the Canadian warship signaled its intention to board the vessel and asked the tanker to slow to 8 knots. No answer and dead air for a couple of minutes. The young woman on the Candian warship again announced its intention to board and requested the ship slow to 8 knots, through a rope ladder over the starboard side, have papers ready, and have all crew identification ready. The tanker finally replied and the man with the automated English voice said that the ship would not slow down and would not comly. He claimed they had to make their June 20 delivery date in New York and since they had boarded recently, they didn't need to be boarded again. Silence.

Once again the young female navy voice requested that the oil tanker slow to 8 knots and again was met with silence. After a couple more times, the automated voice from the tanker asked what authority the Canadian warship had to board? The warship responded citing a US Canadian Treaty, this time with a much sterner more mature female voice. After another request was met with silence, the stern female declared that if the tanker did not comply, the warship would be forced to file 50 mm warning shots across its bow, but hoped it would not come to that. More silence.

This time the captain of the warship made the request. This time, another, more frantic voice with a noticeable accent answered from the tanker stating that the ship would not comply. After a lot of back and forth, the warship captain started a 2 minute countdown that ended in 10-9-8-7....3-2-1 fire!. Silence.

This time the stern woman's voice made the boarding request and again was met with silence. This time she indicated that the warship would fire 500 yards across the bow. "Clear your decks of all personnel," she said. This time, as the countdown progressed, the mic was left keyed and we could plainly hear the sounds of guns over the radio.

The tanker quickly broke radio silence. They yelled that they were on the phone with their agent in London and that they would lodge a complaint with the International Shipping Organization. They also told the warship to shoot all they wanted, as they were videotaping this for CNN.

The warship responded that it would start firing over top of the tanker if it didn't slow to 8 knots and prepare to be boarded. "Clear your personnel from your top decks." This prompted a similar response from the tanker who now claimed that they had been boarded four times in the last three days and they would not slow down.

As the warship started its countdown, the tanker quickly interrupted and claimed it was slowing to 8 knots, not because it was about to comply, but because it was having "engineering problems." At this point, however, the transmission was starting to fade and get garbled with static and within minutes we lost the transmission.

This long-winded account comes from my log at the time.

Ya' just don't know what kinda shit these sumbitches are up to everyday. We're just mushrooms. They keep us in the dark and feed us shit all day. But every now and then a little light gets through....

It's stealin', I know....

but Nate brought up mass transit and I have always thought mass transit was a Bad Idea. Unless you are cattle on the way to the slaughter house destined for death anyway. I know y'all know the old exercise where you identify a solution to a problem by lookin' at it from the perspective of "How would I make this happen if that was my goal?"; so How would you make folks inviting targets for raghead assheads?

Hmmm.
1) Group them altogether in a small space so the least amount of munitions would result in the greatest destruction per unit of munition and personel.

2) Put this same group on a predetermined fixed schedule.

3) Advertise said shedule months in advance so one would have plenty of time to plan very specifically and in detail.

4) Restrict the targets movement within the the small space and ability to independently repulse attack.

5) Encourage folks to habitually follow the instructions of those representing themselves as authority figures.

6) Inhibit the ability of those supposedly charged with the safety of the cattle from removing or prohibiting the presence of ragheads in their 20's and 30's.

This list could go on a long time, but you get the picture. Just for fun think about how dumb it is to put yourself this much under the control of an entity that obviously works counterproductive to you own safety, survival, and freedom.
-

In Context:

"'Is it so nice as all that?' asked the Mole shyly, as though he was
quite prepared to believe it as he leant back in his seat and
surveyed the cushions, the oars, the rowlocks, and all the
fascinating fittings, and felt the boat sway lightly under him.
'Nice? It's the only thing ,' said the Water Rat solemnly, as he
leant forward for his stroke. 'Believe me, my young friend, there is
nothing--absolutely nothing--half so much doing as messing about in
boats. Simply messing,' he went on dreamily: 'messing--about--in
boats; messing-----'
'Look ahead, Rat!' cied the Mole suddenly.
It was too late. The boat struck the bank full tilt. The
dreamer, the joyous oarsman, lay on his back at the bottom of the
boat with his heels in the air.
'---about in boats---or with boats,' the Rat went on composedly,
picking himself up with a pleasant laugh. 'In or out of 'em, it
doesn't matter. Nothing seems really to matter, that's the charm of
it. Whether you get away, or whether you don't; whether you arrive
at your destination or whether you reach somewhere else, or whether
you never get anywhere at all, you're always busy, and you never do
anything in particular; and when you've done it there's always
something else to do, and you can do it if you'd like, but you'd much
better not'..."

The Wind in the Willows by Kenneth Grahame

Who said this?

"There is nothing half so much worth doing as mucking about
in boats. In them or out of them, it doesn't much matter"

What's your name?

I'm sittin' in my lawnchair readin' the Stephen Hunter paperback I didn't realize was out there when I look up to see a three year old pixie. Wouldn't make a popcorn fart and slim and small as nothin - big green eyes and dishwater hair in stubby curly pigtails. Gotta be an elf in the woodpile.....

-"Hi! What's your name?", she doesn't really care, she's just getting the conversation started.

+"Jim. What's your name?", I do care. I've never met elfinkind before.

-"Tiffany! Is your mommy awake?", she means my wife. This get's me outa the chair and grinnin'!

+"uh-huh. I'll get her for ya', c'mon."

I stick my head in the door of the motorhome, "Oh Mom, someone here to see you!"

What fun. This little girl carried on like that all of last week while we were on vacation.

It's the 'little' things that bring joy to life.