golf, aliens, crap games and dairies.
on the front 9 i shot a 57 and on the back a 60 for total of 117 which, considering time between sessions, was kind of surprising. i thought i would shoot a 140 or so. actually hit a couple of good shots. i like a sport where i can ride, smoke, get stoned, bitch, joke, gossip and cheat. shock, the sportsman!
interesting little thing a friend sent to me which could explain a lot: on july 8th, 1947, witnesses claimed a space craft with 5 aliens aboard crashed on a sheep ranch right outside roswell, new mexico. exactly 9 months later, march of 48, george w. bush, donald rumsfeld, condolezza rice, rush limbaugh, dan quayle and bill o'reilly were all born. aliens mated with sheep?
incidently, i was living in roswell at that time. my dad owned a dairy there. good story of how he came to own that dairy; he shipped back from europe in 1946 after serving in the u.s. army from january, 1942 to dec. of 45. on his troop ship were lots of guys who had their last 10-15 months paychecks with them. my dad thought a little crap game would be in order. he got home with enough money to buy us a house, furnish it and buy a dairy. my dad, having a sense of fair play, found that the local BIG NAME dairies were engaging in price fixing so he got in his car and drove to all the independent dairy farmers and with their support formed a co-op dairy that then took on the BIG NAME guys by offering milk and cream at lower prices with the farmers actually getting the lions share of the profits. the BIG NAMES retaliated with violence and threats against our family. my dad said that ironically he ended up being more afraid of american capitalists than he had been of nazi fascists. fearing for the lives of his wife and children he got out of the dairy business and went back to pool hustling, a safer business. later he ended up in the furniture business and lived a long and happy life.
more information about my dad: he was also one of the best soft ball pitchers in all of america prior to the war and when he joined the army they put him in special services and what he did was pitch exhibition soft ball games for the troops after the battles were over. he had patches from all the major campaigns in europe and north africa including anzio, normandy, battle of bulge etc and he never saw a shot fired in anger. he always got there AFTER the fighting was over. (can't help it if he was lucky). since he could speak german, he also worked as an interrogator but with prisoners that had been in our custody for some time and were being shipped back through his base on their way to some pow camp. i have a pistol that my dad took off one of the german officers. (funny story: my dad is in his work tent and they bring this german officer in and he is wearing a pistol. my dad says, "give me that gun." the german says, "under geneva convention rules of war an officer may keep his sidearm." my dad says, "under shock's rules of war all my prisoners are unarmed. so give me that gun or i will have that m.p. there shoot you." since the german didn't know if my dad was serious ((he wasn't)) he gave up the gun. the gun is a walther pp, not the ppk of james bond fame, but the piece of shit that was made towards the end of wwII by slave labor somewhere in poland i believe. the gun won't shoot straight, just can't trust those slaves now can you?)
anyway, blah, blah blah i ramble this morning.
interesting little thing a friend sent to me which could explain a lot: on july 8th, 1947, witnesses claimed a space craft with 5 aliens aboard crashed on a sheep ranch right outside roswell, new mexico. exactly 9 months later, march of 48, george w. bush, donald rumsfeld, condolezza rice, rush limbaugh, dan quayle and bill o'reilly were all born. aliens mated with sheep?
incidently, i was living in roswell at that time. my dad owned a dairy there. good story of how he came to own that dairy; he shipped back from europe in 1946 after serving in the u.s. army from january, 1942 to dec. of 45. on his troop ship were lots of guys who had their last 10-15 months paychecks with them. my dad thought a little crap game would be in order. he got home with enough money to buy us a house, furnish it and buy a dairy. my dad, having a sense of fair play, found that the local BIG NAME dairies were engaging in price fixing so he got in his car and drove to all the independent dairy farmers and with their support formed a co-op dairy that then took on the BIG NAME guys by offering milk and cream at lower prices with the farmers actually getting the lions share of the profits. the BIG NAMES retaliated with violence and threats against our family. my dad said that ironically he ended up being more afraid of american capitalists than he had been of nazi fascists. fearing for the lives of his wife and children he got out of the dairy business and went back to pool hustling, a safer business. later he ended up in the furniture business and lived a long and happy life.
more information about my dad: he was also one of the best soft ball pitchers in all of america prior to the war and when he joined the army they put him in special services and what he did was pitch exhibition soft ball games for the troops after the battles were over. he had patches from all the major campaigns in europe and north africa including anzio, normandy, battle of bulge etc and he never saw a shot fired in anger. he always got there AFTER the fighting was over. (can't help it if he was lucky). since he could speak german, he also worked as an interrogator but with prisoners that had been in our custody for some time and were being shipped back through his base on their way to some pow camp. i have a pistol that my dad took off one of the german officers. (funny story: my dad is in his work tent and they bring this german officer in and he is wearing a pistol. my dad says, "give me that gun." the german says, "under geneva convention rules of war an officer may keep his sidearm." my dad says, "under shock's rules of war all my prisoners are unarmed. so give me that gun or i will have that m.p. there shoot you." since the german didn't know if my dad was serious ((he wasn't)) he gave up the gun. the gun is a walther pp, not the ppk of james bond fame, but the piece of shit that was made towards the end of wwII by slave labor somewhere in poland i believe. the gun won't shoot straight, just can't trust those slaves now can you?)
anyway, blah, blah blah i ramble this morning.
posted by Ron Shock | 10:27 AM
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