When older brother,  Blues Brutha , and I were kids, as well as my younger brother, The Village Idiot (TVI) ..., I was the middle finger - I mean - middle child.  As such I usually ended up with the short end of the stick, so I had to find some means of balancing things out.  I found two elements that worked rather well;  The pencil and scaring the fudge soup out of my siblings!  This left me with a feeling of satisfaction - at least until the tables were turned.

 

Now, big brother never quite what you would call "pound me into mince meat".., but more like playful, punches and noogies to the head bone.  If he had of decided to pound me into mince meat, he coulda but he didn't.  However, I'm sure that doesn't mean he didn't at least think about it a time or twelve.

 

We would slip rather insulting notes and taunts under each others bedroom doors.  In my case, it was slip it under the door and run to my room to lock myself in.  I only remember two or three of those insults and taunts - one of which was something like "You eat dog crap AND LIKE IT!".   Now why would I feel the need to run after slipping a note like that under big brother's door?  I have no clue.

 

One incident I had planned on scaring big bro.  So I made my plan, slipped an insulting note under his door that ended with "You cant find me because you are too stupid".  My plan worked great - up until it blew up in my face.  I know what you're thinking at this point - but you are getting way ahead of me and cheating yourself.   I ran to my room, climbed up onto the shelf in my closet and covered myself with a sheet - thinking I was well hidden.

 

 I lay quiet, waiting for big bro to come in looking for me.  I was sure he would look in the closet, just not expect me to be hiding on the shelf.  The door opened! I waited for the moment I would fling off the sheet and yell 'BOOO!'.  Such things had to be well timed you must understand.  But - it just didn't work that way.  The sheet was pulled off me, as I yelled "BOOOO!"   My mother screamed - stepped back - saw it was me and my butt was toast.  Big bro had a major laugh about that one and reminded me of it for a whole month.

 

Apparently my mother figured I was outside and wasn't going to change my bed sheets so she would do it.  It was a matter of baaaaad timing on my part.  It didn't even occur to me about the Mom Factor.  That was the only time she ever got caught in the middle - and I made darn sure to consider the Mom Factor after my foo-poo.

 

I tend to think of our growing up years as the Brady Bunch Boys gone horribly wrong. REALLY baaaad and really wrong.  Stay tuned for "The Phantom Menace - Part Two" of the Memoir Files.., whereby I terrorized..., [insert dramatic musical overture here].., younger brother.., The Village Idiot!   Oh come off the high horses - he was there and somebody had to do it.  Better me than a stranger, right?. Right?  RIIIGHHHT?

CANNED SPAM BELIEVERS! and UnBelievers..., here is a Spam Recipe that was given to me by a bonefide Chef.  And I have to tell you - its major good eatin'! and simple!

 

INGREDIENTS
1 (12 ounce) container fully cooked luncheon meat (e.g. Spam), chopped

2 eggs, beaten
20 soda crackers, crushed
2 cups milk
1 cup shredded Cheddar cheese, divided

DIRECTIONS
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F (175 degrees C).
In a 9x13 inch baking dish combine the meat, eggs, cracker crumbs, milk and 3/4 cup of the cheese. Mix well. Sprinkle remaining 1/4 cup cheese on top.
Bake uncovered in the preheated oven for 1 hour. Let cool and serve.

 

Okay - its that time of year again when all the LOSERS vie for Champion of the Air Guitar title. Now, I don't know of too many people who have not imbibed of the Air Gutarism, just horsing around - but jeesh. A major competition of it?   I watched a few videos of these international competitions - and I am unimpressed.  It seems most of them forget they are supposed to be playing an air guitar and just dance, swing, jump, crump and lump all over the stage - with occasional reminders that maybe they do have an imaginary air guitar in hand.

 

Sorry - but I wont waste good money attending a convention of losers.  It takes one to know one? Yeah - whatever. I'm just saying the whole thing looks idiotic.  Then thats just me and my opinion.  I am pretty sure I do not possess any great power to persuade people my way of thinking - and I really don't want that responsibility.  If you like these things, mo powuh to ya - but that doesn't change my opinion, one bit.

 

And by the way - if it weren't for my back and my gimpy knee - I WOULD SOOOO RULE THAT STAGE! YEAH BAY-BAY! I am confidant I could show them clowns how REAL "air guitar" is played.  But I guess I could assume role of trainer - Dave Miagi, sinsay of the Air Guitar Arts.  I would just have to find "The One" next great Air Guitar Master, and train him or her to perfection.  We could split the $2 grand prize and retire for the rest of my life. My Air-Guitarist Stage Name?  "THE DAVEMASTER" - I so blipping Wock!  **picks up trusty old air guitar from a case what hasn't been opened since the 70s, blows off the dust and strums a chord**

The creatures were all over the back porch last night. It seems the rain drives them from every outer surface of the house. Rather than salt the slugs and create a horrible slimy mess - Urethra! I had an Einstein moment!  I got a fly swat (from my Great White Fly Hunter days) ..., and scooped them one by one, flinging them off the fly swat into the yard.  But one - a wily one, a sinister slug.., hung on just long enough - for the swatter end to flex backward - the force I used, sent the slug barreling back - it seemed that split second became an eternity as the slug from hell came closer and closer, with no time to react.  SPLAT!  The sucker stuck on my forehead!!!!!!!!!

 

That's science at work folks E=MC .., ?  or actually its more like.., for ever action there is an equal but opposite snail on your face.

 

I did my Indian Dance, screaming "Oh God noooo! Oh God noooo! Ewwwwwwww!!!!"   yes, thats right! Exclamation Mark City, baby!!!!  Oh the horror!  I grabbed the vile slimy creature with my one hand that wasn't flinging wildly about and tossed it manually into the darkness.   Needless to say, if anyone had been between me and the bathroom at that moment, would have resulted in Hit & Run charges.  I scrubbed my forehead like the wind! Using the antibacterial soap - I scrubbed for thirty minutes, until I felt the squeamishness pass.

 

Maybe its Karma paying me back for certain comments I made a month or two ago. I dunno. Karma can be efficious at times.