Perhaps ya'll have read this account before. If so, my apologies, but I'm in a nostalgic mood and reliving some of those "good times", so bear with me.
*****************
Ya ever notice the dearth of female hunters? Why is that, do you suppose? Don't gurls like to kill things too? I mean, whas up with that? I think it may be because they weren't properly trained in childhood like a lot of us guys were.

See, like, early on, I honed my hunting skills as a young boy, armed only with a Daisy Repeater BB rifle and my trusty Boy Scout knife, pitting myself against the wily sparrows and robins that flitted about our neighborhood.

After word of my hunting prowess spread, It didn't take too long before the avian community shunned the tree in my back yard all together, forcing me to go further afield, to my next door neighbors yard in quest of game. Soon, I was known and feared throughout the "hood."

Now, I guess a lot of gurls didn't have those kinds of "early-life experiences." They were no doubt too busy playing with their dolls and such and playing 'dress up', much as they're still doing today I venture. However it occurred to me just recently, like,

"Why can't we all just get together and have some good clean fun?"

So, after pondering this notion for a while, I sent this ad into to the "personals" which I have never done before, looking for that "special someone" to fill that void in my life. Here's the ad I ran,

"SWM Hunter. Looking for intelligent like minded, nurturing female, race not an issue, who shares my Passion for stalking, killing and gutting wild animals such as sparrows, squirrels, rabbits, cows, etc, etc. Must be a caring, sensitive individual with large breasts who is willing to foray to the art gallery or to the local bookstore when we're not out in 'the killing fields.' Please send a large color photo of your current weapons systems to Capt. Hoohah, Great White Hunter at Large."

Well, sheeit, it's been two weeks now and I haven't had a single fucking response. Man, what's th deal here? You try and be a sensitive Third Millennium kind of guy by "reaching out" and trying to "share" and what does it get you? Nada, amigos!! Nada a fucking thing!! It's enough to make ones bile flow like the Amazon during the rainy season, you know whut I mean? Well enuff' of this rancor and bitterness, I am going to share a recollection of happier times with you from the past, This was a superb day.

I had just received an E-Mail from a friend of mine about a hunting trip he just got back from. It seems that Grotor and a couple of friends went out on a cold, rainy, nasty morning in search of some game. From his description of their trip, it sounded to me like a four hour trip from hell with no results, except for the sighting of a German shepard, which, incidentally, they missed! Tsk, tsk. I always recommend a high powered scope for th best results.

Now, the last time I went hunting, I started off the day around 10:30, on a pleasant morning, down at the Classic Cup, in the Country Club Plaza District, with a hearty breakfast of some eggs Benedict, some spinach and cheese quiche, and a robust cup of Lite Almond Mocha Cappuccino to get me going. In case you've never been there before, this is a favorite place for hunters and fishermen to gather, before going out into the wild.

After finishing my repast, I got into the Town Car and directed my driver a couple blocks south to the killing fields, sometimes known as the Loose Park Duck and Goose Pond. He retrieved my various supplies from the trunk including a nice bottle of slightly chilled Merlot, with a bold, yet not audacious nose, and set up a most comfortable lawn chair. He put on a lovely Stravinsky piece on the sound system, and I prepared to do battle with the feral fowls.

There were approximately 35 to 40 Duck/Geese (I had forgotten my Audubon Field Guide, which accounts for the uncertainty in identification.) critters honking and squawking about, as though they didn't have a care in the world. Ha ha. Surprise!

Well, in any case. my man set up my communications system with my hunting partner Capt. Gunther Bohunk. We had decided on using the A-10 Warthog as our weapon of choice. Although it's primary mission is that of "tank killer" we found that it also adapted to the role of “goose killer” very nicely. Using those twin 40 mm mini-guns in the nose, firing a depleted uranium round at a combined rate of 200 rounds a second, it makes a formidable anti-Duck/Goose weapon. Well, you know, if it'll take out a tank, you can pretty much figure what it'll do to a goose, eh! With this dude you never find yourself saying,

"Hey, I think I may have winged him, Ha ha."

Well, I lay back in my lawn chair, sipped at my Merlot, unwrapped a Cuban cigar and figured out the coordinates. I relayed these figures to Lunceford and he cranked up the communications system and relayed the data to Bo, and gave him the Go signal.

On his first pass he came in too high and missed the pond altogether, although he did take out the top three floors of the apartments flanking the park. I was quite dismayed and I'm afraid I rebuked Lunceford rather sharply. I thought it rather cheeky his mild retort that he had given the co-ordinates as instructed, but I good naturedlly made a couple of small corrections, Gunther's next pass was spot on. The whole pond erupted as though a powerful bomb had gone off there. Bits of feather and other duck related debris, drifted down for the next minute or so covering the Town Car with a light dusting of greyish white duck down.

Man!! What a Rush!!! There's nothing quite like the primeval feeling of Elation and Exultation when Man goes up against Beast, and emerges Victorious.

I leaped up out of my chair in a completely spontaneous burst of unrestrained JOY and pumped my fist skyward and let out a hearty, YEAAAH! A veritable Triunph of the Human Spirit. Oh man, th adrenaline was pumping.

Later, after a few relaxing cups of some soothing herbal tea, I did send letters of condolence to the survivors in the apt. building across the way. It's unfortunate that you sometimes have this collateral damage in the Hunting Game, but, hell, Life itself can be Unfortunate sometimes, eh! Es la Verdad, no? What are we going to do? Give up our Sport because of a few malcontents? Ban Hunting or something! No and No and No, I don't hardly think so!!

And you know what; even though there were no pieces of duck to eat, oreven to ritually rub a bit of blood on our cheeks, it didn't really matter. Cuz that wasn't the whole point. The main thing was,
THE THRILL OF THE KILL!

And, what a THRILL it was!!!

Like I said, boyz and gurlz, a Superb day! All our days should be thus, eh?

th cap'm

Yep! That would be, none other than, Moi. Not only wuz I a gang-banger, I wuz in fact El Supremo of my set. Numero Uno. I ran th show. We were th "Gumer Street Gangsters" (thas pronounced goom-er, as in boomer) of Dayton, Ohio. Our turf wuz th West side of Smithville Road. Guys on th East side of Smithville; they were th Enemy!

This wuz in 1951. We were th hooligans of th hood and I wuz th head hooligan. We all went ta Holy Rosary and we were all in th fourth and fifth grades. There were eight or nine of us mobbed up. When we decided ta form up, everybody wanted my older brother Earl ta be Prez since he wuz th toughest, but I thought I deserved ta be prez cuz I wuz th smartest. Like, heavy-hitters are a dime a dozen, dig, but I figured an Organization needed some grey matter at th top, y'know whut I mean. When I mentioned that very thing, th guyz looked at me and said,

"Whut th heck are youse talkin about? Grey matter? Whas sat?"

And I said, "Youse guys jus made my case fer me!"

Y'see, after all, I had been Honor Student Of The Year (* see below) at Mount Sacred Heart Military Academy in th first grade. I figured I wuz pretty hot shit, y'know. No one else could make that claim. No one else had ever been Honor Student of The Year. So I laid th situation out fer em in no uncertain terms, terms they could unnerstan.

"If I can't be Pres I'm not gonna play!"

Y'know, I gave em an Ultimatum! What an asshole, right?! Ha ha. Somebody suggested they oughta punch me out which is xactly whut my bro wuz gettin ready ta do when cooler heads prevailed. Mine that is. I suggested a compromise, namely that I be Pres and my bro could be Vice Pres, And so it came ta pass.

However it didn't take too long before I realised, that Earl wuz in fact th real Boss, and I wuz jus a figurehead.

This rankled me, so every now and then I felt th need ta assert my Authority. I figured peoples got ta show th Pres a certain amount of respect, right?

We had our clubhouse in whut used ta be th coal bin in our basement. So, one time I wuz tryin ta conduct a meeting there and fuckin Rossi kept cuttin up, foolin around, gigglin and whisperin, and payin no attention ta me at all. I wuz tryin ta run down a new secret code I had developed, Ya know how that goes in th gang biz; in any gang worth a hill of beans, ya gotta have a secret code. It's de rigeur.

So I'm standin there at th blackboard tryin ta splain how it wuz gonna work and that damned Rossi pushed me. I warned him. I warned him ta knock that crap off or there'd be serious consequences, but he jus kept it up.

Man, that fuckin Rossi pushed me; he pushed me too far, Rossi did! I had ta take action. He forced me ta. It wuzn't so much that he wuzn't respectin ME, but that he wuz disrespectin th Office of Th Presidency. (does that sound familiar?) So I acted, not in my own interest, but in th interest of th

So, I had th guys drag Rossi out of th clubhouse into th basement where I had him tied ta one of th support poles and I forced Tommy Green (Rossi and Tommy were tight) ta lay th leather on im. Fer th record, it wuz only a stick with a piece of rope tied ta it, but it worked very nicely. I figured a good flogging might take a bit of th surliness out of him. Sheeit, I woulda keelhauled, if we'd had a keel!!!

Well, Tommy had barely gotten started on im and Rossi started bawlin like a baby, and then that fuckin pussy Tommy started bawlin even louder than Rossi. He wuz weak, Tommy wuz. I began ta wonder If Tommy had th balls ta be a Gumer Street Boy or not, so then I had him tied ta another pole and I got Robin ta administer th Justice. Man, my basement sounded like a pig slaughter house with all th squealin goin on. In short order, my mom heard all th commotion and came down ta see whut wuz goin on and Rossi and Tommy were both cryin and carryin on and sayin,

"Mrs Dreck, make th cap't stop. I'm gonna tell my mommy. Whine! Whine! Boo hoo hoo."

Sheeit, it wuz disgustin, I'm tellin ya. Guys in my crew breakin down like that. My mom made us untie em and they both went tearin up th stairs, gettin outta Dodge, whinin and cryin and bawlin th whole time.

My mom sez,

"You jus wait til your Daddy comes home young man. You're gonna get a whippin you won't ferget."

And, whew! Wuz she right, cuz I do still remember it 54 years later. Oh man, my ol man got out th special belt he used fer Class A offenses. This wuz a rilly heavy thick plastic belt that took yer skin away with it on th backstroke. Wow. I took a lickin, I wanna tell ya!

In spite of th welts and bruises I figured it wuz worth it ta insure Order and Respect within th ranks, ya dig! I can tell ya one thing, altho Rossi and Tommy couldn't conceal smug grins when they saw my legs and backside, I never had any trouble with em again, vis a vis Insubordination.

Now, Skipper!! That SOB. He jus about brought th whole Organization down. But thas another matter fer another day.

th cap'm

* by th way, that gives me a good idea fer my own bumper sticker ta put ta counter all those other assholes braggin bout their punk ass Honor Roll students they tell everyone about with their bumper stckers, I'm gonna get one that sez,

"Honor Student Of The Year,1st Grade 1947!"

Whadda'ya think? Do ya think peoples behind me will be impressed enuff ta honk or somethin?

OK, where was I? Oh yeah. RESPONSIBILIY. Dammit! It's time peoples started acceptin Responsibility fer their Irresponsible ways, Y'know whut I mean!

Like whut happened ta me last nite! I'm lookin at this dried up rice scattered all over and stuck ta my kitchen floor.....and whose fault is that ya ask? Whose gonna take Responsibility fer that? Well, shit we all know who oughta; but will th guilty parties acknowledge it? Hell no! But I'm gonna hold em responsible!! I'm not goonna let em walk on this one.

I'm gonna sue th manufacturer of that pot, with it's shoddily designed and ill manufactured handle. There is an obvious design flaw there, otherwise I would never have dropped it in th first place, would I? Of course not. They need ta accept Responsibility!

Awright, next; those assholes who manufactured th dishwasher unit. Jus how hard would it be fer them ta install an air bag on that door, huh? Y'know, if they can send a man ta th moon, why can't they put a fookin air bag on th dishwasher door? Tth answer is; they could if they wanted! If nothin else they could at least pad th damn thing so as ta minimize injuries ta consumers such as myself who happen ta occasionally fall on their appliance. But nooo. Obviously, Consumer Safety is not high on their list of priorities, is it? It's time fer them ta accept Responsibility.

OK, even though th bartender where I imbibed earlier in th evening is a good friend of mine, it is blatantly apparent that he over-served me. Fr'instance, witness my crashin about the kitchen, unable ta maintain my perpendicularity and fallin on th dishwasher door. Hardly th actions of a sober person, eh?. One doesn't fall on their head fer no apparent reason, do they? Th answer ta this one is simple once again; it's NO. It's time he accepts Responsibility.

Now then. there is th owner of th joint, who also happens ta be a friend of mine, BUT, he needs ta be sued fer showin such bad judgement in th hiring of his personnel. HE needs ta accept Responsibility!

Whut about th those peoples who make that Budweiser? I'm talking Anheuser-Busch Brewing Co. Said product of which I consumed waay too much. There is no notice on those bottles sayin,

"Warning! Warning! The Surgeon General advises that excessive use of this product may cause one to drop their rice bowls and fall on the dishwasher!!"

Nada word. Oh sure, there's a caution there about pregnant women and drivin vehicles, but, do I look like a pregnant woman? And th answer ta that my friends is, once again, NO! Whut good does that do me at 4 in th morning!! They need ta take Responsibility.

And I know I might be stretching it here a bit, but there may be some way ta even connect th makers of th Uncle Ben's Rice product ta this debacle? They could do somethin! Mebbe a simple warning such as,

"Warning! Warning! The Surgeon General advises against the use of this product in conjunction with Irresponsible Manufacturers of badly designed Appliances while under the influence of Intoxicating Beverages sold by Irresponsible Brewers and served by Irresponsible Bartenders in Joints owned by Irresponsibe Owners" or, y'know, somethin ta that effect. Peoples jus don't want ta accept Responsibility fer their irresponsible ways!!

Whut is with peoples anyway? I jus don't get it! We have apparently become a Nation of peoples who always wanta point th Finger of Blame at some one else. Sheeit.

th cap'm

It wuz one of those nites. Yeah, it wuz one of those nites! Whut I'm talkin bout is; last night I came home and decided ta fix myself some victuals as I am often wont ta do early of a morn.

THIS wuz a mistake boyz and gurlz. We know from past kitchen experiences under similar circumstances, that of all peoples I shoulda known better than ta step into th kitchen in my drunken loon condition. Whut wuz I thinkin? Like, do we never learn from our past mistakes? Are we doomed ta commit th same follies over and over ad nauseaum, a la Santayana?

Well, it would seem so. My misadventure started when I attempted ta remove a large pot of previously prepared rice from th icebox, (sometimes known as a refrigerator) Somethin went horribly wrong. It happened so fast I don't even know how it happened; but I lost my grip and I wound up with this cauldron of rice crashin all over th kitchen floor. It wuz rice rice here, rice rice there, rice rice everywhere! Oh McDonald, it wuz a fookin mess! My first thought wuz, naturally,

"Oh sheeit! Whut am I gonna eat now?"

and while I wuz contemplatin that, plus tryin ta figure out how ta deal with th mess, I wuz so heavy into thought that I completely forgot ta maintain my balance (this is not an unusual occurrence) and found myself careening over backwards landin on th open door of my dishwasher, crunchin it all th way ta th floor. This is a position it wuzn't originally designed ta execute.

I deftly rolled off th door over on ta my hands and knees, and managed ta obtain a wobbly, mostly perpendicular stance usin th solidity of th wall as an aid from which ta observe th damage. Curses! Th fuckin dishwasher door wouldn't close now. Fortunately th utility closet wuz only steps away and I just happened ta have a "dishwasher door closing implement" there. (sometimes known as a hammer)

Well, after nine or ten hearty whacks, I managed ta get it closed and locked into place. Not so strangely, it looked pretty beat up when I got done. Ha ha. I'm hopin my landlord, who lives upstairs doesn't get too inquisitive as ta why I wuz hammerin at 4 in th morning? Whut a mess!! I got rice everywhere and I had no way of dealin with it at all, cuz th last time I moved, I purposely left my shovel behind. I had gotten tired of luggin th damned thing around from place ta place fer years on th off chance I might need it someday ta bury somethin in th backyard. It never occurred ta me that someday, I might need it ta move a mountain of rice.

Now........ here I am with this mountain of rice and no shovel ta work with. Ya might say, ta use th old cliche, "that I wuz up shit-creek without a shovel" or somthin like that. Finally, in a moment of rare clarity, I decided that mebbe I should forego th whole eatin project and try and deal with it on th morrow cuz I felt that th ability ta be able ta stand upright without usin any walls would make th clean-up effort all so much easier. So, usin th steadyin effect of th walls as an aid, I made it ta my rack fer my appointment with Morpheus.

to be continued......Th Consequences; Accepting Responsibility

th cap'm

Last nite, at th saloon, I happened ta overhear an interesting and informative bit of information about astronomy. Oh sure, one can get a well rounded education from watchin th Teevee nof course, but if ya listen carefully, ya can always learn somthin from a nite at th tavern too.

This young amateur astronomer dude was tryin ta explain ta his Astro-ignorant cohort how ta see Mars in th evening sky. He said,

"All you have to do is; look into the South-East and when you find Alpha-Romero; look just to the left of it and there it is!!!"

OK...now have ya got that boyz and gurlz? Accordin ta that dude, th amateur astronomer, tryin ta impress his date with his broad range of knowledge; it's jus ta th left of Alpha-Romero!

And that greatly simplifies th search, cuz as we all know, thas th constellation that looks like that stylish Eye-talian sports car.

th cap'm

P.S. And my apologies fer referring to his gurlfriend as Astro-ignorant. That was completely uncalled for and totally unfair on my part. After all, while he was gettin his college education, she didn't have th time or luxury of learnin meaningless crap like that cus in Home Economics she was too busy learnin how ta efficiently schezhule her hours so as ta have some time fer th babies after cleanin th house, and doin th laundry and moppin th floors, and foldin her spouses underwear and balancin th family budget and darnin socks and knittin sweaters and bakin cookies and shovelin th snow and, fixin her hubby's favorite meal, y'know, and lotsa other stuff like thet. One of these days tho, gurls will be able ta do a lot of things that men do now. Mark my words, it's gonna happen.

Well, I mean ta a certain extent anyways, I mean, it's not like some little girlie's gonna be racin in th Indianapolis 500 or bein a Marine, or a firefighter, or a cop, or astronaut or things like thet, but they will be playin soccer and stuff. Now, ya might be thinkin, "Oh pshaw! Never happen." but keep in mind, I have an uncanny knack fer seein trends and extrapolatin on whut they portend fer th future. They don't refer ta me as 'th Seer' fer nothin, y'know!

"War Heroes-You Might Not Know Their Story"

This is th title of a piece of crap being circulated right now, I have received this bit of dreck from a number of peoples in th past week. Not surprising I suppose with Memorial Day coming up. Kinda like my story bout my Uncle Benny, except with th major difference bein, that this one is almost total bullshit.

It sez that actor Lee Marvin once said on Johnny Carson's show (complete with alleged transcript) that he and Bob Keeshan (Cap't Kangaroo) were both wounded on Iwo Jima while scaling Mt. Suribachi. Marvin went on to sat that he, Bob Keeshan, was th bravest man he ever knew. It sez further that Lee Marvin won th Navy Cross and th Purple Heart there.

It also sez that Mr. Rogers, yeah, that Mr. Rogers, had 22 confirmed kills as a sniper in Nam. It sez that he wore his long sleeved sweater to cover up th many tattoos he had on his forearms and biceps. Ha ha.

I thought that detail was a nice touch. Who wouldda thunk it? It states further that Mr. Rogers, "was a master of small arms and hand-to-hand combat, able to disarm and kill in a heartbeat."

Whew! Mr. Rogers!! Once again, who wouldda thunk it? Ha ha

OK, th facts are: Lee Marvin was in combat and was wounded in his buttocks on Saipan, Not Iwo Jima!! Altho he wasawarded th Purple Heart for his wounds he was never given th Navy Cross.

Bob 'Cap't Kangaroo' Keeshan enlisted in th Army just two weeks before th war ended. Was never on Iwo Jima with Lee Marivin.

And, kindly, shy Mr. Rogers was never in th service at all!

So, tell th next person who sends that phony-assed garbage to you, encouraging you to pass it on to...........

(you fill in this part)

th cap'm

With Memorial Day approaching I send this out again. Most of you have read it before, but I do it every year anyway as a tribute to my Uncle Benny, American Hero.
****************
This past Saturday I read a book called A Special Prisoner by Jim Lehrer, the former co-host of the McNeil/Lehrer News hour on PBS. He has written a number of fiction and non-fiction books over the years.

This book is about a B-29 pilot captured by the Japs (war time language) during the waning months of WW11 when we were bombing Japanese cities at will, their Air force having been mostly decimated by then. What planes they did have left were being kept in reserve to be used as Kamikaze planes for the the Final Defense of the Home Islands.

The Japanese considered these captured pilots as, "war criminals" for the complete and total destruction they were wreaking throughout the country. Any captured allied pilot was thus deemed a "Special Prisoner" and were subjected to the most brutal, inhumane treatment imaginable from the very moment of their capture.

Many were beaten to death by their civilian captors before they could even be turned over to the military. After that, survival was measured in weeks. Only one out of twenty airmen captured by the Japanese survived their detention! Whereas in Germany, the survival rate was nineteen out of twenty.

This book got me to thinking, with Memorial Day approaching. It got me to thinking about my Uncle Benny. Benedicto Flores of San Antonio, Texas, who died Nov.14th, 1992.

My mother came from a large Mexican Catholic family of sixteen, of whom 14 survived to adulthood. There were originally eight hermanos and eight hermanas. During the war the Flores family had all seven of it's boys served (one having died in early childhood) during the war. There are only a handful of other families who can claim that distinction, and none who can claim more. They did their duty. Three served in Europe and four in the Pacific. Though some were wounded, all survived.

As a kid in the late ‘40s and ‘50s, watching movies like the Sands of Iwo Jima and other war movies of the time I always used to try and get my uncles to tell me about their "war adventures" as I thought of them, but none of them would ever do so. Like so many others who had been in actual combat, they had no desire to relive those terrible experiences and then to share them with a 12 year old. It was understood, that you didn't even mention it to Benny.

When I was growing up, my dad was a career Air Force officer and so, because of frequent transfers we moved around a lot and were only able to make it to San Antonio to visit all my uncles and aunts there in between my dad's assignments.

And because there were so many of them and time was always limited, we were not able to spend very much time with them individually, so I never was able to develop the normal relationships with my aunts abd uncles and cousins, etc, most families enjoy, but I always looked forward to seeing Benny. I thought about Uncle Benny yesterday, you know, the Memorial Day occasion and all, and just having read that book.

You see, back in 1941, Uncle Benny, already being in the Army before hostilities broke out, had the misfortune of being stationed in the Philippines at the time. After Pearl Harbor, the Japanese struck swiftly throughout SE Asia with alarming success.

As the Japanese invaded the Philippines, the American and Filipino troops there, under the command of Gen. Douglas McArthur, were woefully unprepared. After some resistance, McArthur and his Command Staff, seeing the hopelessness of the situation, were evacuated by submarine to Australia, (thereby forever earning for himself the dubious nickname of, "Dugout Doug" in the minds of those left behind) leaving Gen. Johnathon Wainwright in command.

After months of heroic, but futile resistance, subsisting on reduced rations for months, with almost no ammunition or medical supplies, the out-gunned, out-numbered allied forces with no air cover and no chance of re-supply or re-enforcements were finally forced to surrender.

Uncle Benny, along with 18,000 other POWs. already malnourished and in poor physical health, was forced to march 100 miles with virtually no food or water to a former American Army post called Camp O'Donnell. The infamous Bataan Death March ensued. Prisoners, unable to sustain the brutal pace were beaten to death, bayoneted, beheaded, and executed for the duration of the entire march. 8,000 of them died on the way. Only 10,000 made it to the camp, weakened and barely alive. Uncle Benny was one of them.

For the next three and a half years they were worked and starved and beaten to death by thei captors. Living conditions were unbelievably harsh and brutal. The daily death rate was appalling. Near the end of the war there were only two thousand left. Uncle Benny was one of them.

At this time the Japanese decided to transfer these remaining survivors to the Japanese home islands. They were loaded on to two transport ships, each holding a thousand POWs apiece. Conditions on these ships made the 'Black Hole of Calcutta' look like a Summer Resort. Prisoners died standing on their feet and remained there because there was no room to fall down.

Tragically, in one of those inexplicable misfortunes of War, while en route to Japan, the ship Uncle Benny was on was bombed, strafed and sunk by American planes, the pilots completely unaware of their precious cargoes, as the ships were not marked in any way. Of the thousand POWs on Benny's ship, only fifty of them survived. Uncle Benny was one of them.

At wars end, Uncle Benny weighed just seventy pounds. He looked like a survivor of Auschwitz. In situations like that, the only people who survive are the STRONG. The WEAK, though maybe the Best, most Humane, and Moral of people, do not survive. Only the Strongest survive! Uncle Benny was one of those.

After recovering in the hospital for many months, eventually Benny was discharged and moved back home, into the house on 1100 Denver St. in San Antonio where he was born. He remained there until his death back in ‘92. He was a life-long solitary bachelor, who subsisted on the meager proceeds from a second-hand furniture store he owned. He was a heavy drinker his whole life. And, who can blame him? He endured what we cannot even imagine.

He was always a low-keyed, mild mannered man around us. He had quiet, sad eyes, and he often times seemed lost in thought and a bit unfocused, as though he was someplace else. I could never imagine him being mad about anything, because he was always so gentle around us, but on the other hand, he always seemed to be getting out of some minor scrape with the law. (that was one of the things I liked about him. Ha ha)

I used to ask him how he got that black eye, or this bump or that bump, but he would just laugh shyly and dismiss it and say it was nothing. No matter! I think that whatever transgressions Benny may have committed in his life, are forever expiated by the Living Hell he endured for three and a half years.
In retrospect, I suspect Benny was a lot madder than I would have ever known. I think he kept his Anger, and Resentment bottled up and hidden from us. I don't think any of us realized the extent of the painful memories he carried within, for the rest of his life. And maybe too, he felt Guilt. as many do in situations, where... they wonder... why they lived? Against all odds?.... when so many others around them died?!

I wish I could have sat down, as an adult in my own right, with Benedicto Flores and gotten to know him as a Man, as the Man he really was... and not the notion I have of him as, 'Uncle Benny, my 'favorite uncle', but as Benedicto Flores, a genuine American Hero, who deserves to be remembered with the utmost Love and Respect. I wish I had been there for Uncle Benny, when he needed some one to be there for him, like he was there for you and I, from March ‘42 til Aug. ‘45. I wish I had had the privilege to have known him better!

When Uncle Benny died back in ‘92, they didn't discover his body until several days later. He had become a recluse. The utilities had been long turned off. He had sat in the darkness, drinking his muscatel and gave in one night. He was apparently just another reclusive wino, dying alone.. amidst the detritus and clutter surrounding him. The circumstances of his death were, and still are.... so sad.

Where were we, Uncle Benny? Where were We when you needed Us? You, who endured so much on our behalf, died alone and forgotten like a piece of discarded furniture.

I'm sorry Uncle Benny; We let you down. Ironically, a few days after his death they found a hand written Will leaving TWO HUNDRED THOUSAND dollars in CASH to the Pope! And $124,000 in real estate to the Church, and yet he died seemingly destitute.

A couple of years later, family members received a statement from the Vatican acknowledging Receipt of same. They acknowledged receipt, but I guess their mothers never taught them any manners. because they forgot to say, "Thank you." (which rankles me to this day)

And so, once a year I send this out in tribute and remembrance to Benedicto Flores.

th cap'm

Ok ya'll, th first episode starts off with a blatant "product placement" of Kellogg's Raisin Brand Cereal. They rilly had to stretch credibility on this one. You see, Christine had to decorate a wall in her son's third grade class and th theme she was assigned was Portugal, so she bought a bottle of wine and a box of th Kellogg's cereal. That makes sense doesn't it? Portugal and Kellogg's cereal. You can see th connection there can't ya?

Then Mc Donald's was mentioned for basically no reason at all.

OK, now in th second episode, there was an utterly stupid joke featuring Quiznos. Followed by a dumb joke about Radio Shack and then th obligatory boob joke. Red Hot Cheetos then mentioned twice. Then a tampon joke, followed by a bra joke, and ending with a panty joke.

So, there ya have it! I only mention these things in case you weren't able to see th show yourself and were curious about what you had missed. Now ya know.

Now JL-D was good on Seinfeld, but that is apparently th only character she had in her cuz she's got nothin else!! Terrible. I can't imagine any other Idiots than myself actually watchin this badly cast, badly acted, horribly written piece of garbage!

I only endure it so you won't have to!!

th cap'm

P.S. Oh yeah, by th way, on CSI Miami, when ever they put th cuffs on any one now, Horatio (Horatio!!! Ha ha I gotta laugh every time I hear his name) sez,

"HOOK HIM UP!!"

What is that? Do all th cop shows use this expression now? Or is he th only one to say that? He also sez "DO IT!!" an awful lot now too.

You must watch this show tonight starring (and I use that word loosely) Julia Louise-Dreyfess, y'know from Seinfeld. It is so fucking bad, that it's worth while lookin at, if ya know whut I mean. Absolutely pathetic!

Th supporting characters are so ridiculous. Where in th hell did they find these peoples? Who is th guy who plays her ex husband? Who is th tall, gangling, moron who plays her brother? Who is th robot like person who plays her husband's girlfriend? Who ARE these people. And where in th hell did they find th writers for this show?

She has only one expression; where she turns down her mouth in a gesture of disdain, disappointment, disgust, embarrassment. Th woman looks terrible in any case.

Who are th writers of this piece of crap? And do they actually get paid for that? Check it out and see if I'm not right!

th cap'm

P.S. Count th number of times they throw in rilly bad boob jokes. No kidding, no episode is complete with out at least two! And they're jus sooo lame!!

Earlier today I drove by a park and there were scores of little girls, oh maybe, 4 to 6 yrs. old, and all their parents and relatives. And all these little gurls were somersaulting and cartwheeling around in their little outfits, much to the delight of all present.

I mean, what is happening here? When I was a kid, little gurls on the block left that sort of thing to us guys. If there was any kind of somersaulting or cartwheeling to be done in the neighborhood, well, we took care of that, while they played with their dolls and had contests to see who could scream the loudest and other appropriate gurl-type activities.

What kind of training is all this non-sensical bouncing around? How exactly is this gonna prepare em fer their future? How are they going to catch a mate just cause they know how to cartwheel around and stuff, when what they need to know is; how to fetch things, and mop and, you know, all that kind of stuff.

I think this sort of thing definitely contributes to the "attitude" a lot of gurls give you, when you simply ask them to fetch your smokes, or yer beer or something,

"What?! Are you a cripple or something? Do I look like the fucking maid? Get your own godam cigarettes!'

And I go, like,

"You mean you're Not the maid?? Well, who in the Fuck is the maid then?? And who's going to do all this kinda stuff around here if you're not?"

See...... they pick up this kinda attitude when they're young. Now, you ask some gurl you've just met to come by your house and clean your kitchen, and they give you this wide-eyed incredulous look, like you're from Mars or something and they say something like, "Are you fucking insane?"

Now, they just want you to buy them a Margarita.

See, and, this all started...when they were just little tots, out in the park cartwheeling and somersaulting and tumbling about, when they should have been at home, learning the proper way to fold their future loved ones underwear, and so on, and so forth. Now, here in the third millennium we got Gurls driving at Indy. Do you think she folds her husband's underwear? I think not! It's no wonder frustrated guys pick up their guns and go to the mall, eh!

the capt.

I have "for sale" my very own large collection of Sesame Seeds which I have told you about before, all in prime to mint condition. These seeds have all been well maintained and lovingly stored.

Each and every seed is completely suitable to be mounted and framed. I have many fasteners available, which I would be willing to sell as part of a “package deal,” should you decide to display them. Not enuff for the entire collection, of course, but enuff to make a dramatic display for an entire wall.

Guests in yer home will be Impressed and Envious.

Opportunities to capture an outstanding collection such as this do not come along every day, as you recognize if you are a collector yourself. Also, contrary to rumors, I am not in possession of th fabled Albino Seed, which after years of futile searching for, I believe to be as non-existant as the Ivory-Billed Woodpecker.

In any case, please make an appointment with my secretary for a private viewing. And do bring Cash. Amerikan. Small bills only.

th cap'm

Sometimes peoples come up to me and say,

"Yo cap't, where's a good place to die?"

I always recommend 51st and Wornall. It's a very simple process really;all you have to do is, sit at the intersection going either east or west, doesn't matter which.

OK..... so here's what you do; look straight ahead, don't look to the right or to the left, only look directly at the stoplight....when the light turns green...accelerate straight ahead thru the intersection.... cuz, what the hell, you got a green light.........right! However, at this particular intersection, chances are about 50/50 that some north or south bound asshole loon will T-bone yer ass doing about 60, thus causing you die right there.

For some inexplicable reason, peoples who travel Wornall along this strip, when the light changes yellow, even though they're in the middle of the block...they speed up....of course there's no way they can make it, so when the light does turn red, they're still 3-4 car lengths away......now, they really tromp it, to ensure they're doing at least 60 as they blow thru the intersection.

I like to mess with assholes such as this. I some times sit there at the light, with my left foot on the brake, my right hand on the horn, and watch one of these jerks getting ready to blast thru and when the light turns green, I spring forward, hitting the horn and the brake almost simultaneously, so that I hardly move at all really; it's just a momentary lurch, but the illusion is that I'm pulling into the intersection. What fun to see the wide-eyed look of horror in their eyes as they think they're about to have a really serious collision as a result of their recklessly running a red light at 50-60 mph.

My goal is that that Panic they experience momentarily, might make them think twice the next time they try to beat a light in such a foolhardy and dangerous manner, especially those who are talking on their cell phones at the time.

So what do You do, boyz and gurls to foster safe driving in your community?

the capt

P.S. Another good way to show peoples such as this how annoying their behavior can be, is to follow them and throw beer bottles thru their windows, while expressing your displeasure at their boorish behavior. Sometimes tho, this can be counter productive, because in their haste to get away from you, they will prolly be running thru many a red light. I guess, that like many problems facing Society, there just aren't any easy answers, eh?

Last nite I saw this TV show How I Met Your Mother. In this episode this couple were havin an argument and so decided to take a "time out" and go to Red Lobster to eat.

As they walk in, th Red Lobster neon sign is obvious in th shot and th camera lingers on it. As they eat, th Red Lobster logo is obvious on their bibs. As they talk th guy sez to his girl friend somthin like,
"Is there anything in th world more delicious than this butter sauce?"

as he dips his shrimp in it. She tries to get him to talk serious to her and he keeps talikin bout what could possibly be better than this popcorn shrimp dipped in th absolutely delicious butter sauce, wanting her to confirm that it's th Best!

Th scene ends; break to commercial.

And th fuckin commercial comes on and it's fer, yep, you guessed it.

RED LOBSTER!

It's bad enuff, that network TV, minus th commercials, is down now to about 20-22 minutes per half hour. Of course, product placement in movies and TV has been goin on fer a long time now, and is nothin new anymore, altho every time I see it, it still pisses me off, but this is too much! Now they incorporate their fuckin commercials in th story plot line.

BASTA!! Fuck that show! I'll never watch it again.

th cap'm

Th things they can do today with special effects is amazing. Fr'instance, have ya seen that cute little commercial where th baby elephant is dancing thru th jungle to th tune of, "Dancing in the Rain"?

At first I wondered how they trained that elephant to do those moves, but then I figured it was all jus "special effects". But what really gave it away was; everyone knows elephants can't jump!!

th cap'm

I was behind a car today that had a bumper sticker on th back that said,

"I (and there's a big red heart here) NY" translation; "I luv New York"

And I got to wonderin bout this asshole who put that there? I mean, who would buy and then go to th trouble to put such a thing on their bumper? Does he rilly think we, that is, anyone, gives a shit about his feelings towards New York? I mean, he loves New York; so what!!!!

After he put it on did he step back and admire it and look at it from different angles and think; how cool other peoples who got behind him would think he was? Did he imagine em thinkin things like,

"Ohhh look, that guy loves New York. He musta been there before. Mebbe he even lived there at one time. Omigosh. How fuckin cool is that? I gotta pull along side im so I can actually see im. He's gotta be sooo cool! I'll bet anything his son is an Honor Student at some prep school and I'll bet he owns a Rhodesian Ridgeback too, but he's too cool to mention those things."

It's beyond me why peoples do ego-maniacal shit like that? OK, now looky here, I'm not sayin I've never done anything like that myself before, cuz I have. There was a period in my life when I thought it was vitally important that other peoples know that I'd been to Mammoth Caves, and Tennessee, and Alabama and th Smoky Mountains and that I had actually been to th Civil War Museum in In Richmond, Va. and on and on. Th rear windows and th bumpers of my folks car were full of documentation in th way of decals of places I'd been and seen.

But sheeit, I was fuckin 8 years old, ya dig!!!

Eventually I grew outta that phase and matured and thought it was cheesy to do stuff like that. Course I was nine years old by then!

So...what are these jerks’ excuse?

th cap'm

I read in th paper today where Billy Joel gave a speech to th students at Syacuse University. He urged them to do what they loved in life. He said,

"Do it for love. Because if you love what you do, you'll always do what you love."

Didja get that? Now, personally, I've always thought Billy Joel was nothin but a fuckin hack pop singer, but now, after readin that bit of profundity, I dunno, mebbe I need ta re-evaluate im. Mebbe I need ta get a bottle of scotch and some reefer and rilly try and get into what he's layin down?

th cap'm

Oh man, this is jus too much! I jus found my glasses! Can ya believe that? I found em in a storage room where I had been goin over some old comic books and had set them aside while lookin at some old stuff.

I jus asked St. Anthony not more than five hours ago!! I can't believe that guy! It's a shame others of his ilk aren't as forthcoming and responsible as he is. I don't like ta mention names but take St. Jude fr'instance. Th aptly named patron saint of Lost Causes. Yeah, I gave up prayin to im as a lost cause in itself!

While this is fantastic news fer me it doesn't bode well fer Fido next door tho.

th cap'm

Dammit, dammit, dammit. I've gone and lost my shades. They've been missing since yesterday. I've looked in all th usual places. Nada! These are my favorite pair of glasses. They are, by themselves, th A List. Th other five are th B List. I can't be ME without them. They are absolutely essential to my Being. I didn't know who that stranger was when I looked in th mirror a while ago. Some old geezer starin back at me.

"Who are you?"

I said, but he remained silent and jus stared at me. Actually, when you get down to it, it's prolly better that that image didn't reply, eh, cuz, like, that woulda been pretty weird.

So, a little while ago I called on my buddy fer some help, and I think I can call him my buddy, since we have always had amicable and usually fruitful interactions. I'm talkin bout St. Anthony here. In case yer not familiar with him, he's only jus TH PATRON SAINT OF LOST THINGS!!

He has helped me out numerous times in th past, but I only use him as a last resort cuz he's a pretty busy dude. I mean, imagine if you had to find stuff fer fer every Tom, Dick and Harry who asked ya to? By th way, jus who are those guyz anyway? Those Tom. Dick and Harry dudes? I've always wondered bout them?

"Yo St. Anthony, this is th Captain speakin. Do you read me? Over. Come in St. Anthony. Ground Control to Major Tom. Over. I have important message fer Big Tony. Over! My shades have gone missing. Over! Need assistance most quickly. Over and Out."

Now altho St. Anthony has come thru fer me many times before in days gone by, I have a bad feelin bout this one tho, cuz I've searched my crib high and low. But they jus ain't here! But, like, if he does find em fer me that would be soo cool! I'm thinkin some kinda sacrifice might be in order. Y'know, like, some kinda animal sacrifice. Th problem is tho that I don't have access ta any bulls or goats or even chickens, so I'm thinkin of my neighbor's dog. Y'know th one! Th barker! Yeah, thas him. A good throat slashing would do wonders fer th Peace and Quiet of th entire 'hood while also makin a nice gesture of appreciation. This is strictly my own idea here of course, cuz, like, St. Anthony hisself is not th type to go in fer stuff like that.

Well, I'm jus gonna have to wait and see I guess.

th cap'm

I got an e-mail jus a few minutes ago with that subject line of, "Bogeymen Mutilate". I thought to myself,

"Hmmmmm. What a titillating and intriguing subject? Gosh! I wonder what thas all about?" Sounds exciting."

But, when I opened it; oh darn! It was jus another e-mail. Curses! Conned again.

th cap'm

Last nite, sittin in th saloon, I happened to glance at th TV where a basketball game was in progress. In case ya didn't know it, May is part of th NBA playoff months. I'm not sure bout June and July cuz I'm not rilly much of a basketball fan.

But th one thing I Do like about th NBA Playoffs is that only 28 out of th 30 teams get to participate. All th players on th other two teams can only watch in despair and disappointment and dream about what mighta been, what coulda been? Now, they gotta wait til next season to give it another shot to make th playoffs.

Fortunately fer them, th new season starts about 45 minutes after this one ends, so...that mitigates things and makes their sufferin a bit easier to bear. And in spite of missin th playoffs, I'm sure th experience will no doubt toughen their resolve, and can't fail to build some "character," always keepin in mind that overcoming adversity is a crucial key to achieving Success.

th cap'm. Legendary Sports Guru, Visionary, and Seer

A few nites ago, I was sittin there drinkin my beer and this young gurl next to me. who was mebbe 22-23 was tellin her friend, how her job had her so stressed out all th time. It was soo bad she was wonderin if she was gonna be able to continue or find some other field to get into.

She taught pre-school and kindergarteners. She told her friend about th shit she'd been thru that very day. Omigod! It was awful!!

It seems th kids were let out into th garden to find some worms. After a short time Sarah came up to her and was cryin. Boo hoo hoo.

"Whas th matter sweetie?" she asked.

And little Sarah, between sniffles and sobs tearfully replied.

"Miss Karen, Megan has two worms and I don't got any. boo hoo hoo. How come she gets two worms and I don't have even one? boo hoo hoo "

Miss Karen went on,

"You see what I have to deal with? And that's just one example. I have to deal with that kinda thing every single day! How am I supposed to explain that to Sarah? Th poor little thing. It's driving me crazy. How do I explain to her why Megan has TWO worms and she doesn't have any? I don't know if I can keep doin this!"

Now since I wasn't part of th conversation I didn't say anything but I wanted to tell Miss Karen that she should have told Sarah this,

"Lissen Sarah, get this straight. OK! Cus if you learn this lesson good right now, you will remember it for th rest of your life.

TH MEGANS OF TH WORLD ARE ALWAYS GONNA HAVE TWO WORMS AND THE SARAHS OF THE WORLD ARE NEVER GONNA HAVE ANY!! SO...GET USED TO IT!! Once you accept that, Life will be so much easier for you."

Or, my other approach woulda been,

"Sarah, sweetie, stop with yer whinin and snivelin! OK. If it makes you sad, remember this; they're jus FUCKIN WORMS!! OK!? Little small, slimy, wiggling things good fer absolutely NOTHIN!! OK. If Megan had a whole wagon full of worms, do you know what she'd have? Thas right precious, a wagon full of fucking WORMS. You don't rilly want a wagon full of worms do you! Course not, so stop yer bawlin about it!"

But this was jus one of th Moral Dilemmas Miss Karen was forced to deal with every single day! Th age old problem of th equitable distribution of th Worms. I wonder how Karl Marx woulda explained that to Sarah?

All in all, a very interesting conversation to overhear. Th stresses some of our young peoples must endure, eh. How DO they do it?

Oh yeah, one other bit of information I picked up; when children get to Kindergarten they lose their Innocence and they become very manipulative!! You have to try and be smarter and not succumb to their machinations. If ya know any kindergarteners personally, you prolly already knew this tho.

th cap'm

OK, this is a blanket, cover-all response to those of you who wrote me back about this, and remarked on my Gullibility/Stupidity in sending th aforementioned e-mail about th dangers of th HIV infected gas pump handles. Jus fer yer information,

I KNEW IT WAS A FUCKING HOAX WHEN I SENT IT!!!!! OK! I WAS AWARE OF THAT TH MINUTE I READ IT.

I thought that it was obvious in th prelude where I wrote and listed many of th legitimate things we have to worry about..... AND NOW THIS!! GASP! HIV INFECTED GAS PUMP HANDLES. ON TOP OF EVERTHING ELSE. It was supposed to be a parody. Nothing I said was meant to be taken literally.

Fr'instance, where I said I was tellin ya this in my role as,

"GUARDIAN OF TH PEOPLES OF TH EARTH".

See, jus in case ya didn't know it; I don't really think I am "th Guardian of th Peoples of th Earth". Thas not my job! While I know some of you are keenly disappointed to hear that, it's th Truth. (and th Truth shall set you Free) George W. Bush is th Guardian of th Peoples of th Earth, not me!

I only wrote that to give ya th impression that everything that followed wasn't to be taken too seriously. But I was sure wrong there.

Because more than a few of you let me know it was a hoax, as tho I was unaware of it, now makes me wonder whether you can ever make yerself understood using sarcasm and satire to make a point in th written word? It's discouragin. Peoples tend to take what you write at face value. They often miss th Irony and th satirical intent, mis-interpreting what you write, as what you actually believe.

When we speak, we can demonstrate what we actually mean by tone, inflection, facial expression, body language, etc, that we're being facetious or sarcastic. Obviously not so easy when writing.

While I am not entirely Innocent of passing on total nonsense, Ha ha, and even occasionally th wrong info, like, a while back I sent out a highly critical and derogatory bit about Cindy Sheehan where I repeated th totally erroneous assertion that she had abandoned her son Casey, (who was killed in Iraq) when he was only a child, I did acknowledge my mistake a couple of days later.

I wrote a rilly long retort about this where I dissected this thing almost line by line, tryin to show my pessimism and amusement at th whole silly notion, but it got waay too complicated tor even, I. Th writer to understand, so I deleted it all, and started over.

So thanks fer lettin me know it was jus another of those urban myths, but next time, before ya write me back makin me fer a dumbhead... read a bit more closely.

th cap'm

My friend Gabby sent this to me. It's pretty amazing how it works. Taught me a little something about myself. See how you do with it?

th cap'm

http://www.dr-joe.net/quiz.html

Awright boyz and gurlz; bad news. A new crises has arisen. A good buddy of mine hipped me to it and in my role as Guardian of th Peoples of th Earth, I'm passin it on.

Now I understand ya may be a bit preoccupied with th War on Terror, th War in Iraq, th War on Drugs, Osama bin Laden and Al Quaida, Nuclear confrontation with N. Korea or maybe Iran, world wide bird flu pandemic, mad cow disease, th ongoing problems with Palestine v. Israel, th crises in Darfur, Sudan, Rawanda, rising gas prices, global warming, Geo. Bush, th hole in th ozone, pollution of our rivers, lakes and oceans, second hand smoke, restricted beer sales on Sundays, illegal aliens (and Mexicans too) our soaring national debt, drunk drivers, th Royals, Medicare, health insurance, social security, th reaming of amerikans by th insurance, banking, oil producers, pharmaceutical companies and so on and so forth. To name jus a few.

But.... pay attention to this latest crises. This important article will perhaps make you stop and think, and be more AWARE!! And may save yer Life!!! th article below.

*****************

"Read this before your next gas fill-up. This world gets sicker everyday! Folks: Please take a couple minutes to read this warning about Gas Pumping Handles. Warning: Look at the gas pump handle BEFORE you pump your gas. Please read and forward to anyone you know who drives a car.
My name is Captain Abraham Sands of the Jacksonville, Florida, Police Department. I have been asked by state and local authorities to write this email in order to get the word out to car drivers of a very dangerous prank that is occurring in numerous states. (WOULDN'T YA THINK THERE MIGHT BE A MORE EFFICIENT WAY TO GET THIS INFO OUT TO TH PUBLIC INSTEAD OF A FUCKING E-MAIL? I DUNNO, JUS A THOUGHT) Some person or persons have been affixing hypodermic needles to the underside of gas pump handles! These needles appear to be infected with HIV positive blood. In the Jacksonville area alone, there have been 17 cases of people being stuck by these needles over the past five (5) months. We have verified reports of at least 12 others in various states around the country.

It is believed that these may be copycat incidents due to someone reading about the crimes or seeing them reported on television. At this point no one has been arrested and catching the perpetrator(s) has become our top priority. Shockingly, of the 17 people who where stuck, 8 have tested HIV positive and because of the nature of the disease, the others could test positive in a couple years.

Evidently the consumers go to fill their car with gas, and when picking up the pump handle get stuck with the infected needle. IT IS IMPERATIVE TO CAREFULLY CHECK THE HANDLE of the gas pump each time you use one. LOOK AT EVERY SURFACE YOUR HAND MAY TOUCH, INCLUDING UNDER THE HANDLE! If you do find a needle affixed to one, immediately contact your local police department so they can collect the evidence.

PLEASE HELP US BY MAINTAINING A VIGILANCE, AND BY FORWARDING THIS EMAIL TO ANYONE YOU KNOW WHO DRIVES. THE MORE PEOPLE WHO KNOW OF THIS, THE BETTER PROTECTED WE CAN ALL BE.

Rose Lambert, Chief Aide to Supervisor Gerry Hyland, Mount Vernon District, 2511 Parkers Lane, Alexandria, VA 22306. (I'm not quite sure how we went from capt. sands of th jax police dept. to ms. lambert in va. but.......?)

PLEASE READ THIS AND PASS IT ON TO EVERYONE IN YOUR ADDRESS BOOK!!!!

*****************
OK, so thas what I did and, like, I feel like I've done my part in tryin to warn th populace of this developing threat. If I might use a cliché here, "th ball is in yer court now." It is now Your responsibility to take this startling information and warn as many citizens as you can. Th dangers of th HIV INFECTED GAS PUMP HANDLES must be exposed, so that all Amerikans can be informed and thus know how to protect themselves from this insidious threat to our Democracy and our very Way of Life. I'm counting on you to do your part!! HAVE A NICE DAY!

th cap'm

Cinco!
Cinco!
Cinco
de Mayo!
Cinco!
Cinco!
Cinco
de Mayo!

Scuuuse me, jus a little chant I do on May 5th in celebration of this day. But hey, lissen here, some of ya'll may not be aware of it but, May 5th is not Mexican Independence Day! You'd be surprised at how many peoples do think that tho! Even many Hispanics. I had an argument with a Mexican dude about this last year. He said, more or less,

"Hey dude, I'm from Mexico, I oughta know!"

And I said,

"Yeah, yer right dude, ya rilly oughta know!! Ya oughta know that SEPTEMBER 16th, 1810, IS MEXICAN INDEPENDENCE DAY!! But May 5th, 1862, is th day a Mexican Army defeated a larger French Army at th village of Puebla.

Nah, he wasn't buyin that. He reiterated that HE was th one from Mexico, whereas I was jus a gringo who didn't know what I was talkin bout. Obviously Ignorance knows no borders, eh! Ha ha
Y'know, they don't really celebrate Cinco de Mayo in Mexico itself like peoples of Mexican origin here in this country do. And while it was an important victory, it had nothin to do with Mexican Independence!"

It's kinda like th battle of Gettysburg. July 1st, 2nd, and 3rd of 1863 were important days in Amerikan history marking th turning point in th Civil War, but they didn't mark it's end, and so other than some re-enactments, we don't pay a helluva lot of attention to em. Thas pretty much th way peoples in Mexico feel bout Cinco de Mayo.

But I think Hispanic peoples in this country needed some thing to celebrate, so they picked Cinco de Mayo, leavin their relatives back home wonderin, "Huh?"

I suspect tho as years go by, th peoples of Mexico itself will begin to embrace this holiday also. It has turned jus like St. Patty's day into quite a commercial holiday.

Fer example, take th Irish. Th Irish of Ireland used to celebrate St. Patty's day as a quiet day of worship. It was a solemn religious day. There was no revelry, no drunkenness, no rowdyism, peoples went to church and had family gatherings. That was how they celebrated St. Patrick's Day in Ireland.
But, after watchin their Amerikan cousins turn it into a drunken brawl, they decided that no upstart Amerikan Irish were gonna out-Irish th Real Deal Original Irish and so now today in Ireland, it has turned into a country wide bash. I'm thinkin th peoples of Mexico are gonna take notice of what's happening with their northern counterparts and take another look at this day, cuz each year th Cinco de Mayo celebrations are getting bigger and bigger. Sheeit, they didn't even have em twenty years ago. Jus like there were no St. Patty's Day celebrations here in KC 30 years ago.

Jus like every city now has a Mardi Gras, whereas, for many years if ya wanted to do Mardi Gras, ya went to New Orleans.

Now, peoples in Hays, Kansas get drunk on Fat Tuesday!

"Hey Clyde, whut th hail is Fat Tuesday anyway?"

"I dunno Jake, beats th hail outta me, but gimme another one of them there green beers anyways."

Happy Cinco de Mayo muchachos y muchachas!

th cap'm

P.S. Remind me to tell ya sometime how my mother's peoples, th Flores de Abrego's, settled along th San Antonio River in 1723, in what was then called Nueva España, courtesy of land grants from King Phillip of Spain. You can go to Floresville, (named after, guess who?) Texas, fer th annual Pecan Festival and read th marble commemorative marker in th town square. Jus tell em El Capitano Carlos sent ya and tell em ta put those pecans on my tab.

Have you heard some peoples, prolly th very same ones who want to build a wall to keep folks from crossing over in our southwestern borders, who sugest we send all th illegal aliens back where they came from. Now there's an idea some one put some thought into, eh!

Now, th figures I hear most bandied about are 11-12 million illegal aliens here in this country. Has any one of these morons who suggest this simplistic idea given so much as one second to consider th logistics of, first of all, finding all these peoples? It's a pretty big country ya know. Consider they are spread out all over this country. Every single state has some.

And then, and then, ya got th problem of actually moving them back to wherever they came from! How would you accomplish this? By bus mebbe? That would be cheapest I guess. Well, let's see, say, like, you put em on th bus forty at a time, it would then take 275,000 to 300,000 bus trips. Whew!

If ya could run 200 buses a day, seven days a week to Mexico, it would take over four years to move em all. And unless ya handcuffed em to their seats I'm kinda thinkin that by th time they got to th border they would be missin a few peoples, don'cha think?

Of course a quicker way would be to send em in catlle cars. Stack em in a hundred to a car. I'm not sure how long that would take. Th Germans could prolly give ya a better idea.

th cap'm

I stayed home a couple of nites this past week. I wanna tell ya, it was an utterly ghastly experience! I watched some late night TV. Ooooh it was bad. How do peoples do that kinda thing on a regular basis? "Th Horror! Th Horror!" I have a couple of simple solutions to th late nite TV wasteland. A crap cleansing if you will.

First on th list; David Letterman! I don't like David Letterman. There was a time when I did like him. But sheeit, we're all young and dumb at some point in our lives, eh? But then, after some many, many, years we grow up and mature a bit (aw'right, stop with th snickerin) and wonder how it was, that we ever thought he was cool and hip? I mean, whut was I thinkin?

Now, here I am in th Third Millennium and I don't like David one fucking bit! I don't like nothin about him! I don't like th way he walks out on th stage. Watch him with his feet all splayed out at 45 degree angles. He looks like some clod-hopper. I don't like th way he buttons and un-buttons his lame-ass double-breasted suit durin his monologue. I don't like th way he delivers his monologue.

If ya recall, Johnny Carson had a knack for milking laughs out of jokes that didn't work initially. As I listen to Lame Dave's efforts to accomplish th same thing, I'm only thinkin he oughta jus shut th fuck up about it and move on, but noooo.....on and on durin th reat of th show, he keeps repeating th punch line that didn't work to begin with, as tho, thru constant repetition we will finally see th humor in it and chuckle.

Fergeddabout it Dave; cut yer losses and run. And I can't stand his halterin, stumbilin, stammerin way he interviews his guests.

And that utterly goofy expression he gets when he clamps his tongue between his teeth and makes his eyes bulge. Whut th fuck is that about? Thas exactly th kinda look you would expect from a six year old if ya asked em to make a, "funny face". On a six year old, "cute" maybe; on an adult, "ridiculous"! I would get a kick outta it if th next time he dangles his tongue outta his mouth in that goofy way that some body oughta come up behind him and slap their hand down on his head Real hard, and then quickly snatch up his tongue and flush it down a toilet.

I know, I know, I can hear some peoples goin, "OMG, OMG, thas a terrible thing to say." But hopefully, this would mean we wouldn't have to endure "His Lameness" any more.

Or, if thas too drastic a solution, if thas mebbe goin too far, th next best thing would be a palace coup, bloodless if possible. We would have Conan O'Brian simply walk out durin David's lame excuse of a monologue, notify David that his time in th sun is over, that he is as passé as Robin Williams, and that it's time fer him to mosey. like, in other words David,

"Take a fuckin hike!!"

And then, th next best thing in cleansing late nite TV would be to get rid of th Other Cretin, Jay "Asshole" Leno, by any means necessary. Sheeit, ya could run re-runs of 'th Dukes Of Hazzard or Lost in Space or somethin like that, y'know, with some kinda redeeming social value. Ha ha. As godalmighty awful as they are, it would still be an improvement!!

Fuck it! I ain't stayin home no more! And while it's not all that much fun, I would rather sit in an empty bar and stare at myself in th mirror than endure that again!!

th cap'm

I was at yer Marsh's Sunfresh earlier cashin in some lottery tickets fer an elderly lady friend, and right in th middle of my transaction, th phone rang and th young gurl clerk answered it and proceeded to take care of th person on th line. I stood there for a while, waitin patiently for her to finish, and my patience wore thin after a minute or so, and I was gettin a bit perturbed and I told her to finish calculatin what I was owed so I could egress th hell outta there. She waved her hand at me in a dismissive manner and motioned fer me to hang on.

That rilly kinda pissed me off. Finally, she hung up and went back to her calculator without so much as a word to me, to figure how much I had comin. I said,

"Y'know whut? It rilly bugs me when I'm standin here right in front of ya and yer in th middle of my transaction, and th phone rings and now you're takin care of th person on th phone! Whut about me? I'm right here!!!"

And she replied in a real exasperated, irritated tone,

"Sir, I'm awfully busy!"

And I said,

"Hey so what? I'm a busy too y'know. I got better things to do than wait around fer you to take care of someone else while I'm standin right here in front of ya and yer in th middle of my transaction. Screw it, next time I'll go someplace else."

She said, and again in this peeved tone,

"Go ahead, do whutever ya want, I don't care."

And I told her to kiss my ass and she told me to kiss hers.

This kinda shit happens everywhere ya go these days tho. I've been at th bank waitin in line and finally it's my turn and th teller is doin my stuff and th phone rings and next thing they're lookin up that person's account, talkin bout this that and th other, and th whole time, I'm standin there waitin fer em to finish with me! Why in th fuck don't peoples realise how rude that is?

I was sittin in a car dealership last year talkin to th salesman about a car I was plannin on buyin, when th phone rang and this guy said, "excuse me", and started lookin up some info fer this person on th phone, and I'm thinkin,

"Sheeit, whut th fuck? I'm sittin here gettin ready to spend thousands of dollars to buy a car from this dude, and he's now talkin some bullshit nonsense to some one else on th phone. What about me dude?"

So I waited, gettin madder all th time. Finally. when this guy got done, he apologised fer th delay, and said, like,

"Sorry bout that. OK! Now, where were we?

I jus snorted and I said,

"I don't know bout where you are, but I'm outta here is where I am. I hope that conversation ya had with that dude on th phone was worth th commission on that car I was gonna buy."

And he's followin me out and apologizin all th way to my car and I jus got in my car and said,

"Keep this in mind th next time yer phone rings while yer talkin to somebody in yer office. Have a nice day," and left.

What can be done with these kinda peoples? Don't they understand that th person standin in front of them, with cash in their hands, is a helluva lot more important than th person interruptin em on th phone? Do we need to start a nationwide boycott of em in order to make our presence felt? Do we need to march around in circles, chant some slogans, wave some banners? Scream about th Injustice of it all?

What will it take to get a bit of respect and attention?

th cap'm

You already know of my solution to th illegal Alien problem that currently exists. But what about th future? How do we prevent this from becoming engulfed in this quagmire again?

Once more th solution is rilly very simple! Build a large plastic bubble around th entire world and monitor it with a system of satellites.

Of course th peoples of Mars want to come here and experience th Earthly Dream, thas understandable; all Freedom Loving Beings in th Solar system do! But there is a legitimate way to go about it. They need to register at Area 51 first and learn to speak Language.

They are certainly allowed to use Telepathy in th confines of their Pods, but if they aspire to be Earthlings, then they should learn to speak. I don't think thas askin too much!

th cap'm

I know! I know! Jus send em all back to Mars!

th cap'm

I'm jus not sure jus where I stand on this. On th one hand I'm generally simpatico to our amigos de Mexico. I am part Hispanic myself. My mother's maiden name was Flores de Abrego. And all of us, unless you happen to be an Indian, came from somewhere else originally. So, our entire country is made up of immigrants. But th biggest majority of em came here legally.

So, th issue of illegal immigrants puts me in a quandary. I can't articulate my feelings, cuz I'm not sure jus exactly how I feel about it. I do know a couple of things tho for sure.

First of all, a couple of weeks ago when they had protests and were flyin Mexican flags my first thought was,

"Well fuck you! If yer so big on Mexico, get yer ass back across th border and fly yer fuckin flag all ya want. This is Los Estados Unidos and we already got our own flag. Leave yer Mexican flag at home if yer lookin for my support."

Secondly, we have a Pledge of Allegiance and it's in Engles. We don't need no steenking Spanish version. We don't need it in Ebonics either. Jus like we don't need no Vietnamese, Cambodian, or any other kinda version. It's in English. If ya can't go to th trouble of learning our Pledge of Allegiance in English, then get yer ass back across th border and recite yer Mexican Pledge of Allegiance in Spanish til ya get hoarse and can't talk no more fer all I care!

Thirdly, I don't care for a lotta th attitude I'm gettin that you have some inherent right to be an Amerikan citizen. Sometimes I get th impression that you believe we OWE this to you. No way Jose! Thas somethin ya gotta earn! Jus like every one else did.

Now they're callin for a boycott. Not gonna buy anything fer one day to show how much we need em. Once again thas not th way to get my sympathy. How would ya like it if we boycotted yer paycheck? (course thas been done to em before)

These are a few of th things that annoy me about it all. I think their leadership sucks on so many levels. They have no idea at all how to get their point across. They need to hire a Madison Avenue marketing guru to sell themselves. Th way it's goin now they are generatin as much ill will as good. And they need all th support they can muster.

BUT... on th other hand, I think so many of these peoples are deserving a chance to be an Amerikan citizen. So many of them have been exploited by greedy employers payin em shit-as wages, workin menial jobs most peoples don't wanna do. I'm for some kind of Amnesty, but jus not sure what form it should take.

I don't know whether that would solve th problem of future illegal immigrants or not. It might encourage em. I dunno. But th idea of building a wall across th entire southwestern US is ludicrous to th extreme. What a dumb-ass, simplistic, utterly ridiculous solution to a complicated problem.

Build a wall and they won't come!! Ha ha

BRILLIANT!!

th cap'm

"Godammt man, spit it out already. Some peoples are busy and don't have th time to wait for you to finish what yer sayin."

Fortunately, th peoples who run th show must be aware of this, since he never speaks more than a couple of sentences at a time. Even tho he is th star of th show I'd bet he has fewer lines than other cast members.

And ya know what; I'll bet he even walks with his hands on his hips. I bet he showers with his hands on his hips. He goes up and down th escalator with his hands on his hips. He even does th horizontal bop with his hands oh his hips I'll betcha!

His momma shoulda tole im,

"Junior, take yer friggin' hands off yer hips and hold yer head up. Ya look stupid and peoples will think yer a Moron! And hold yer head up too whileyer at it"

But I guess she didn't. Or maybe, since he can't act his way outta a paper bag, mebbe his actin mentor tole 'im,

"Look Ace, since ya can't act, jus stand around with yer hands on yer hips alla time, and mebbe no one will notice."

Oh yeah, his character's name is "Horatio". Horatio, fer chrissake! What kinda name is that? Well, ya take a goofy fucker like that and I guess ya gotta give im a suitably goofy name. And fer all you dudes out there named Horatio (Is there anyone actually named that in real life? And Horatio Nelson doesn't count) change yer name to WonTonWilly or somthin that's not so dumb.

th' cap't

P.S. If one of yer friends stood around like that alla time with their hands on their hips and their head tilted like that you'd havta tell im ta knock that shit off and stand around like a normal person. I couldn't put up with that myself.

Have you guys noticed lately how all th local news wonks, in an effort to get us to tune in to the later newscast are saying things like,

"Police pull over a car on a routine traffic stop and YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT THEY found in the trunk!!"

or,

"Police pull over a car for a routine traffic stop and GUESS WHAT THEY found in the trunk?"

or

"Police pull over a car for a routine traffic stop and WAIT TIL YOU HEAR WHAT THEY found in the trunk!"

I mean do these ridiculous, childish, sensationalist efforts rilly make peoples go, "Omigod, I just have to tune in to the ten o'clock news to find out what the cops found in that trunk! Gosh, I wonder jus what in th world it could be? I can't wait til ten o'clock!"

Was it a long lost Biblical scroll perhaps? Or a lottery ticket worth ten million dollars? Or Jimmy Hoffa? Osama Bin Laden? Nah, more n' likely it was maybe, like, a litter of kittens or some other mundane, banal thing. Certainly nothing worth th hype.

Who are these peoples who treat us like a flock of mindless Morons who can be so easily deceived into watching their news show, rather than th competition, with these cheap, tawdry attempts to pique our curiosity? Are we rilly that gullible? After you've been conned one time, who would be tricked again?

Big time hype, Small time payoff.

Th so-called “news” these days is jus pathetic. I'm tellin ya, it's a sad reflection of our decadent society where Everything has gotta be wrapped in a blanket of Sensationalism, otherwise no one will listen!!

th cap'm

P.S.Why in th world would you replace Bob Schieffer with a Katie Couric fr'chrissake? Give me a fucking break huh! That rilly puzzles me. Hell, why not Jerry Springer or Oprah? Or Barbara Walters? Did any one bother to check and see if Geraldo was available?

I would be willing to bet that tonight, Scott McCllelan gets his first good night's sleep in a couple of years, knowing that tomorrow, he will not have to face a national TV audience and try and explain away th Chicanery, Incompetence and Foolishness that is th Geoge W, Bush Admistration.

th cap'm

P.S. Heck, (as they say in Bushland) he might even break out th Mad Dog and th bong just to be sure