More Stuff About a Good Ol' Boy

I read somewhere that people are starting to pay Internet writers (b**ggers) to promote their products or services. See, like if I could get paid for it, I would send you to Cuffs so you'd know where to buy your handcuffs and leg irons. Every family should have handcuffs and leg irons. In fact, if I got paid enough, I'd recommend you buy two sets in case your burglars or your sado-masochists are coming in pairs.

So far, this is not working too well. I am certainly willing to get paid, but nobody wants to pay me. So, get your handcuffs somewhere else, as far as I'm concerned.

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If you see this license plate anywhere, like in Florida or Texas or Macedonia, grab the guy behind the wheel and buy him a beer. You owe it to Ol' Hoss for providin' you with the continuing story of his life. Here are some more numbers as we continue toward "12,848 Things About Me."

87. I had to have my prostate removed on accounta I was getting the Arnold Palmer disease before he had it. Twelve days of catheter is not like 12 days of Christmas. With the profits from this trim job, my doctor bought hisself an SUV. Now the poor sucker is paying $2.40 a gallon for gas. The dipshit will have to cut twice as fast, now.

88. When I had my heart attack the doctor had to send a wand thingie up a leg artery to a spot near my neck that was fairly well clogged with hog fat. Then he did this angioplasty whatsit. I saw him a couple of weeks after I got out of the hospital and he asked if I had quit smoking. I said, "No." And he said, "Why am I not surprised?" I always vote against smart-ass doctors.

89. I quit smoking in March this year, though, because the alternative was to quit breathing altogether. This damn doctor told me you need to be able to breathe to smoke but if you smoke you can't breathe. I don't think there's a doctor alive that hasn't pissed me off.

90. In 1950 I worked on the railroad section gang for a lumber company in Bend, Ore. We would realign rail track and replace old ties. We were transported to work by a little powered railroad car called a speeder. There was hardly ever a better job because it was portal-to-portal -- our pay started when we got on the speeder and ended when we got back to the lumber mill. Everything in the old days is better than today.

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My favorite word today is surprise. N., son of a beach. Def.: The large pile of sand on the floor in front of the washing machine that your son swears was shaken from the beach blanket before it was stowed in the trunk.