The art of Disinformation...

Den of the Beastly Bear

Hi Folks!

The other night I was talking with a fellow Team Leader at work...we had experienced some severe weather in the state with a possible tornado touchdown near Hale, MI.

Jokingly I said "I'm a Yale man myself..."

He looked at me and said "If you went to Yale, what the Hell are you doing working in here?!?"

"No no, I was born at Yale Community Hospital...in YALE, MI." 

"Oh," he said "oh that makes more sense..."

This got me to thinking...I know, shocking right? Lol

About the art of disinformation. Not lying "per se", but presenting facts in a certain way. Saying or not saying something that leads the listener to make assumptions.

As an example, before I started dating Momma Bear...I dated a bit. At the time I was driving Semi's for Perry Drugs. An honorable, if less than exciting or profitable sounding venture.

So should I meet a young lady in a bar and she asked me what I did for a living I would say that I was an 
"Interstate Pharmaceutical transportation Engineer" for Perry Drugs.

"Oh my..." She might answer, hearing "Pharmaceutical" and "engineer" in the same sentence. "Tell me about that."

"Well," I'd continue "I get a company vehicle, because I travel all throughout Michigan, Ohio, Indiana, Illinois, and Wisconsin. When I have to be out overnight the company puts me up in a hotel room, and pays for my dinner. I check routing, visit stores, interact with vendors from multiple companies. I check and verify the security of the drug shipments on the route I'm on any given day...it's time consuming but very rewarding."

Now technically all that is true...but it certainly gives a different impression.

"Wow, where did you go to school?" She'd ask.

This one was a little dodgier...
"Ever hear of M.I.T. ?"

"Oh yes..." She'd say breathlessly.

Here I give a slight nod of the head, along with a minimalist shrug and raising of the palms as if to say "There you have it..."

"Cool..." She might answer...come on, this was almost 30 years ago....cool was, well...cool! Lol

Again, I never said I went to M.I.T....I merely asked if she'd ever heard of it.

Now before you all jump on my head for being a player and a Cad...I never kept up the charade longer than a few minutes...gently teasing them about being perhaps a little too trusting(gullible).

There was a time though when I used the art to confound an idiot, and send him sputtering out of my life forever.

After graduating High School I went to work for Gell's Sporting Goods full time...the military wouldn't take me, so why not?

After a couple years I was promoted to Assistant Manager myself after one of ours quit and Steve returned to Manage the Livonia Store.

I almost never had problems with customers, even belligerent ones seldom fazed me...but there was this one guy.

Let me preface this story thus:
I am a hunting/shooting/reloading nut. Rifle, pistol, shotgun, bow and arrow...you name it! Have been since the age of 12 or so. Read every magazine/book/article about the subject I could lay my hands on. I memorized ballistics charts and reloading manuals like other kids did batting averages. At 15 I was the youngest person Gell's ever hired to work the gun counter, I was of course too young to do the paperwork but I did everything else. The depth and breadth of my knowledge of the subjects was attested to in that if the older guys didn't know the answer to a question...they asked me.

One day two fellows came in to look at reloading equipment, an obvious "newbie", accompanied by an
"expert" read as "know-it-all".

I'd seen this before...

Newbie wants to "try it out" for a minimal outlay of cash.
The Expert trying to impress the newbie with his vast and superior knowledge tries to oversell his "friend" things he neither needs, nor is likely to use or use properly. Reloading is definitely an area where a little knowledge can be a dangerous thing.

As they walk up, the expert jumps in an starts to run the show...telling me what he wants, how he wants it, and so forth. The newbie is obviously uncomfortable.
So when the expert was done, I politely asked the newbie himself a couple points of clarification. With his answers in hand I began assembling for him a "beginners" beginners kit. One that would give him an introduction, at minimal cost and maximum safety.

Every step of the way, the expert had a comment, nothing was right, nothing was good enough....at every comment I stopped, explained my decision...gave the pro's and con's of going a different way...and each time the newbie trusted my judgment.

Finally the expert says to the newbie in exasperation:
"Don't you hate these fucking smart ass kids that's think they know every fucking thing!?!"

"Excuse me?" I said, not sure I'd just heard what I thought I just heard.

"You heard me..." He said.

"Sir if your recommendations are any indication...they show your knowledge to not only be limited, but dangerous for a beginner."

"Fuck you" he snarled.

"Sir, if you're not happy with the level of service being provided the door is located at the front of the store. If you can't find it on your own, I'd be happy to show it to you."

"You can't talk to me like that you fucking asshole, where's your Manager?"

"I AM my Manager sir..."

"Then I want to talk to the owner!"

"My Dad won't give a shit what you have to say..."

"Fuck this!" He sputtered "I'm outta here!!" 
And out he stomped, leaving me alone with the newbie.

"I'm sorry about my buddy." He said apologetically.
"As you can tell he's a bit of an asshole..."

"My apologies to you, I shouldn't have let him get under my skin...but that last comment was just too much!"
"You've got a good safe kit here, I started with one just like it when I was 14. It will do what you want with a maximum amount of safety. And if you decide you like it and want to upgrade, you're out a minimum amount of money"

"One question though..." He asked leaning in conspiratorially "Is your Dad really the owner?"

I leaned in as well "I never said he was. I said 'my dad won't give a shit what you have to say' which is true. 
I never implied my Dad owned the store...he made that assumption."

He got a big smile on his face and stuck out his hand.
"Rick" he said.
I shook his proffered hand.
"Joe"

"Your secret's safe with me...damn I wish I was as fast on my feet as you are!"
He gathered up his booty and walked off chuckling.

A month later Rick was back, enjoyed it so much he wanted a "real" set-up...asked for me by name.
Became a loyal customer, right up until they closed the doors due to the owners retiring and their kids not wanting anything to do with the family business.

Never saw Rick's buddy again...not that I missed him!

Be Well Folks!!!

Beastly Bear

My other, other Dad...

Den of the Beastly Bear

Hi Folks!

I've always been a bit of a prankster...a couple of these stories might have brought this home, and yes my sisters DO still speak to me! Lol

When I was driving for Perry Drugs, one of the first guys I met was Joe Cain.

Joe was a very dark complected black fella about 20 some years older than me, born in Bay St. Louis, Mississippi, and raised in Baton Rouge, Louisiana. To say he had an accent would be an understatement...for the first week I knew him I barely understood every third word he said.

But I have an ear for dialect and before long I was translating "Joe" for some of the other drivers.

Joe and I were kindred spirits, both loving nothing more than a good laugh...and if we were the cause of a good prank, even better.

Talking one day, I discovered just how much older than me Joe was...and I told him "You're old enough to be my Daddy!"

He cried "SON!"

I cried "DAD!"

And a comedy duo was born.

We took our act on the road...every truck stop between Detroit and Chicago...and a couple in Milwaukee. 

Our act went something like this:
We'd go into a truck-stop for something to eat, get a table and peruse the menu.

After a time a world weary, overworked and underpaid waitress would appear and ask us what we'd like.

Me: "I don't know...Dad, what are you gonna get?"
Joe: "Well Son, I was thinkin' on the chicken fried steak."
M: "You know Mom wants you to watch your cholesterol! You should get something healthier!"
J: "I was pickin' my own food long afore you was born and I ever laid eyes on yo Mama I'll get whatever the hell I want.."
 The Waitress following us back and forth like the last round at Wimbledon: "You two REALLY Father and Son?"
Together: "Yeah....WHY???"
"Well you're..."
"Unh huh?"
"And he's..."
"Yeah?"
Waitress walking away shaking her head "Mmm mmm mmm!"
She'd leave, and we'd cut up!

We weren't above pranking each other either...

Many a time I returned to my truck after having stopped somewhere with Joe. He'd give the twirling finger "Let's go" sign, I'd release the air brakes and put the truck in gear to begin to pull out...only to leave my trailer sitting where I'd parked! 

While I was otherwise occupied, Joe had extended the dollys on my trailer, pulled the fifth wheel pin and removed the air lines!!! The last thing I'd see as he pulled away was him bouncing in his seat hooting in sadistic glee!!!

Oh but I got him back...yes I did!

Sometimes when we went to Chicago, instead of getting a room we'd pull into a truck-stop and sleep in our trucks and pocket the overnight money the company gave us.

One such night Joe and I agreed to meet back at the New Buffalo, Mi. truck-stop to catch our 40 winks before heading back.

I had gotten tied up at one of my stores, and was a couple hours late getting there. In an age before cell phones, there was no way to let him know.

It was almost midnight when I pulled into the mostly empty lot, the truck-stop was closed...but I spied Joe's truck all by itself in the back.

As I pulled by his truck I saw Joe, head cradled in his arms across the steering wheel fast asleep...he didn't even flinch as I rolled by.
And I got an idea...a great Grinchy, awful idea!!!

Instead of backing in beside him, I kept going...shut off my headlights and circled the lot.

Arranging it so our trucks were nose to nose, about 40 feet apart...
set my headlights to high beam, turned them on and grabbed a fist full of air horn! To sell it I mimed a scream and threw one arm up as if to hard off the oncoming collision.

Joe came full awake instantly, standing on the brake pedal with both feet and sawing on the steering wheel trying to miss me! Oh, his eyes were like saucers and all color had drained from his face....which is saying something!

He was less than amused when I about fell out of my seat laughing at him...he disowned me for a few weeks saying "You ain't no son'o mine!"

One of my favorite memories, was one holiday the company combined Mon., Tues., and Wednesday's Chicago runs into one day. A Monday, we would deliver that day and come home the next...New Years Eve., Wednesday we were all off for New Years Day.

There were 8 of us, and we decided we'd meet back at the TSA Truck-Stop in Gary, IN., sleep in our trucks and spend our overnight money in a bar that was within walking distance of the truck-stop.

I had the longest, worst run as I was youngest and had the lowest seniority. Which meant everybody got to the bar, well before me.

This bar was your typical truck driver/redneck/biker bar...sawdust on the floor, common fights, occasional shootings/stabbings! But hey, beggars can't be choosers!

A sign over the door proclaimed "No Heifers Allowed" (but it wasn't enforced)...along the wall was a "Fist of Fury" machine, that measured your punching power and a "Bull Wrangler" Machine...built to look like a bulls head, you took each horn in your hand and squeezed the two together to see how strong you are!
RED-NECK!

The guys got there and started drinking, when they were approached by a "Lumper".

What IS a Lumper you ask?

A Lumper is a nomad that travels around from truck-stop to truck-stop offering to unload your truck for you...for a price. Sometimes it would be $50, sometimes a ride to the next truck-stop. Often times they'd have a con or a scam they'd try to run on you...they are best left alone.

Like Carnies! Lol

This Lumper was a mid thirties well built young man, brown haired and blue eyed. Flannel shirt and jeans. He approached the guys offering to arm wrestle for drinks...appearing three sheets in the wind already, a couple of guys gave him a try...but he sobered up enough to beat them! After winning a few rounds, Joe told him:
"Y'all wait til my boy gets here....he'll give you a thrashin'!!!"

So as I walked in, I was greeted with a resounding "SON!!!"

I walked to the table, a beer was stuffed in my hand and I was given the lowdown on the nights activities so far...

"You gots ta whoop that punk ass bitch...do it fo yo Daddy!" Joe added.

So they called him over, he looked me up and down...seemed unimpressed "So, they think cause you're big you're tough huh?"
He said with a slight southern drawl.

"Oh, I never claimed to be tough...I was just wondering if you were still taking bets?"

"Sure...Whats the bet?"

"Well you were arm wrestling these guys for drinks, right? Let's start there..."

"They got so much confidence in you, talked you up big...let's make it a round. You win I'll buy you all a round, I win you each pay me the price of a beer. Whatdaya say?"

The guys were all nodding and giving me the thumbs up, so I said:

"Sure, why not."

A table was cleared, we set across from each other and locked hands. At the count of three the match commenced...

What the Lumper didn't know, and what nobody felt like telling him was that this was kinda my "Thing", in fact I'd beaten every man there easily back at the shop.

I beat my Dad, and his entire bowling team when I was 13.
Since then I could count on the fingers of one foot how many times I'd been beaten since...

I was more than prepared for the Lumpers initial surge, that's generally how you win...a big burst at the beginning til you have the leverage advantage, then power your opponent down.

He was unprepared for it to have no effect...

He was strong, I'll give him that...but I twisted my wrist, putting him at an awkward angle and started taking him down.

He took losing with good grace...then offered:
"Hey, how about double or nothin'....left handed!!!"

"You sure man, that will be like $40..."

"I'm sure" He said.

"OK"

Again we lined up, locked hands...as the count started he says:

"You oughta know, I've never lost left handed" and smiled, thinking he had just lined up an easy mark.

"You oughta know" I replied "I...am left handed" He lost his smile.

At one, I put it all into my own burst...powered through his, and rapped the smug bastards knuckles against the table as I won.

"Dat's my BOY!!!" Joe Hooted.

The Lumper let out a "yip" and started rubbing his shoulder...

"That'll be Forty bucks please..."

He reached into his shirt pocket and tossed a couple $20's on the table. Joe gleefully scooped them up and headed for the bar.

The Lumper leaned forward and says:

"Can I ask you sumthin'...?"

"Sure"

"Is that guy really your Dad?"

"Yeah," I said "why?"

"Well cause he's a N..."
The narrowing of my eyes as a leaned closer to him, brought him up short.

"He's a what?" I asked in my most dangerous tone.

"Uhhhh, nothin' man...never mind..." He got up. 

"You guys have a great New Years." he said over the shoulder he was still rubbing as he moved away into the crowd.

Well Folks we drank WAY too much that night, celebration will do that to you...drove home the next day with the worst hangover of my young life. Never regretting a minute of it!

Joe retired almost ten years ago, I'd left Perry's long before that...
Did I make it to his retirement party? You bet your ass I did!!!

He had plans to move back to Louisiana...whether he did or not I'm not sure. I Talked to him on the phone a few times after he retired, each call farther apart..you know how it goes.

Think I'll try giving the old man a call tomorrow...see what he's up to. Share a laugh, I miss it.

Be Well Folks!

Beastly Bear

Gifted...

Den of the Beastly Bear

Hi Folks!

I have in my possession a vintage pair of Smith & Wesson(yes the folks that make guns) Model 94 

Maximum Detention handcuffs.

Back when I got them, some 30+ years ago...they were the end all and be all of handcuff technology. 

Tube keyed and nickle plated steel.

Supposedly impossible to pick.

I did not buy them, they were about $85 back then...

No, they were gifted to me, and therein lies a tale...

It was the spring of my senior year, doing optional semester with Oakland County Sheriff's Dept. and working my after school job at Gell's Sporting Goods.

On Saturdays I habitually worked a 12 hour shift, 9-9.
This made for a long day, but I worked with a great group of people(for the most part) and we had a lot of fun!

I had gotten a new Assistant Manager, up from our store in Livonia named Steve Borza. Steve was in his late 20's...a red haired, brown eyed fella with pinched ferret-like features, and tons of nervous energy! Steve had one true love in his life...The Beatles! A fount of knowledge about the band, their songs, movies, you name it!!!

This particular Saturday, it was just Steve managing the store as the manager was off, and the other assistant was on vacation.

I was, as usual working the gun counter on the far side of the store with my buddy Mike Dumas.

The morning had been busy, but uneventful...business as usual. Around 3 o'clock, maybe three thirty I saw a youngish black fellow squatted down looking at our revolvers through the glass showcase and stepped down to see if I could help him.

"Good afternoon," I said "anything I can show you today?"

He didn't answer, but slowly stood.
He was a good inch or two shorter than me, 5'9" or so and slight of build. By his dress, he appeared to be not too well off...not a judgment, but as a salesman you learn to access the person you're dealing with.

His attire was budget store chic. Navy work pants...a little big, maybe second hand. Black converse sneakers, a green and red striped pullover shirt(ala Freddie Krueger) and an army surplus OD green knee length overcoat, open, completed the look.

He pointed through the glass and said:

"May I see that one?" Pointing to a S&W model 28 "Highway Patrolman", a 4" barreled .357 magnum popular with police depts. across the country at the time.

I unlocked the case and removed the gun he indicated, checked it was empty and handed it to him butt first.

He took it from me, examining it closely opening the action, trying the trigger, the things a "normal" buyer does.

Then he did something normal buyers DON'T do...
With the gun in his right hand, he raised it and put the barrel to his temple and pulled the trigger 6 times...
"Click, click, click, click, click, click"

"Yep," He said "that'll do...."

I snatched the gun away from him, as other customers and Mike looked on in shock.

"What the Hell are you doing man?!?"

He just looked at me and shrugged, turned and walked away...
I watched him until he was out the front doors and out of the store.

Steve had been in the back of the store when this happened, and Mike and I told him what had happened. So should this guy come back, he'd be prepared if the guy asked Steve to show him anything.

A couple hours later, I was in back on my dinner break when Steve sent one of the other guys to come get me. When I found Steve he was watching the guy I had waited on earlier. I went over and asked him what was up.

He told me this guy had in fact returned, and asked him to see the exact same gun. Having been forewarned he had declined, saying he had heard what he had pulled earlier and would not be showing him ANY guns. Instead of leaving...the guy was now "creeping" around the store...
Steve tasked me with shadowing him until he left.

When I went over and asked if I could help him, he asked:

"Oh, you work over here too?"

I allowed that "Yes, I work the whole store...so anything you need, I can help you."

He meandered through the store, stopping every now and then to examine something that caught his eye...all the time mumbling to himself.

He went back to hockey, through camping, and baseball...where he looked at a couple bats (I half expected him to start smacking himself in the head with one).

When he went into shoes, I broke off and told Steve that perhaps we should call the cops...this guy's not right, and I'm getting a really bad vibe off him. Steve was hesitant as the guy had not actually done anything yet.

When I turned around, I had lost sight of him...a quick search put him back in the boxing/weight lifting area. As I walked up on him he was standing in front of the barbell rack. Picking them up one at a time, checking their price tag before setting them back in the rack.
Finally settling on the 15 pound cast iron dumbbell.

"I've been needing one of these..." he said to me.

"The cashier will be happy to ring you up at the front of the store sir." I offered, hoping against hope this foolishness was over.

"There is one other thing I need..." He replied and headed back towards the gun dept., weight in hand.

I caught Steve's eye and mouthed "Call NOW" and he headed towards the phone.

Our overcoated weirdo headed up the aisle right for the case with the revolvers in it.

At the last minute he stopped and started looking at the books and magazines on a spiral rack at the end of the aisle and I took the opportunity to put my self between him and the showcases.

He picked up a book from the rack and held it up like he was intently reading the cover, but when I looked at his eyes he was starring back into mine. In that instant,the hatred that flashed across his face made me think the dumbbell was intended for me. Time slowed...

He flung the book towards my face and launched the weight as hard as he could towards the glass showcase. There was a deafening crash of glass as the weight smashed through the case, and the glass selves collapsed sending thousands of dollars worth of guns into a pile at the bottom of the case, covered in broken glass.

Thinking he had distracted me, he launched himself towards the now open showcase. What he had not counted on was me ducking like my life depended on it...which I thought it did if he was swinging that weight for my head. The book sailed harmlessly past my head.

As he passed me I got both hands full of the front of his coat, redirected him and using my own body as a fulcrum used his momentum against him to spin him around and slam him into the wooden counter, knocking the wind out of him. He went down on his knees but tried to spring up and away from me. I brought my left elbow down hard between his shoulder blades, the blow driving him back down. I grabbed his left arm, wrenching it behind him. Twisting, I brought my right forearm across the back of his neck and shoved his face into the mat, pinning his right arm with my body and holding him there with my weight. He went limp and stopped fighting.

Steve was at the counter where we landed, and was momentarily stunned by the sudden turn of events.

"Get me a set of cuffs!" I said to him...he just stared at me.
"Steve!" I repeated loudly "Cuffs!!!" 

He snapped out of it, opened the case and tossed me a set of the cheap $20 handcuffs we sold. I released the pressure on the guy's neck and snagged them with my right hand. 

"Don't move" I told him, increasing the pressure on his left arm.

I put the cuffs on him and got him to his feet. Searching him, I found no ammo...that was a good thing.

"What's the matter with you?" I asked him.

"I did it for my girlfriend...I have her picture in my pocket." He said pointing to his breast pocket with his chin.

There was but one piece of paper in his pocket, with one picture on it...this one! No Shit!

"This is all that's in there.." I told him.

"Isn't she pretty?" He answered.

We took him back to the office to wait for Waterford PD, which was a short wait as Steve had been on the phone with them when the showcase collapsed.

He was arrested, charged with attempted armed robbery and assault and taken for a psych. evaluation, or to sober up if he was in fact high.

A week later when I came into work the owner of the store was in, Steve came and got me and told me solemnly they wanted to have a little talk with me before my shift...certain I was going to catch hell for something, I followed him back.

In the office were the Manager, the owner Robert Gell, and the two Assistant Managers.

I wasn't in trouble. 

Instead they thanked me for stopping what could have been a very bad situation.

"Steve tells me you're taking Law Enforcement training through school, is that right?" The owner asked.

"Yes sir." I answered him

"Then these will come in handy," He said reaching into his pocket
"I hear they're the best they make!" Handing me the distinctive blue box.

"Thank you Robert!" I said, shaking his hand.

"Don't thank me...Thank Steve, it was his idea and he ordered them."
I looked to Steve.

Steve gave me a wink "You earned them buddy!"

Months later, I was at the trial...expecting to testify when I was told it had been plead down to "Malicious destruction of property, over $1000" He was given a year...and didn't end up serving but about 8 months.

So there ya have it...how I came to own a pair of one of the best handcuffs ever made.
Though I know some of you will think this instead...

Be Well Folks!

Beastly Bear

  

Fathers Day...

Den of the Beastly Bear

Hi Folks!

I know, I know....it's been a while.

No real excuse, just got out of the habit.

Today is Father's Day...I lost my Dad almost five years ago to lymphoma.

So instead of a cookout and a carrot cake (my Dad LOVED Mama Bears carrot cake) it was a trip out to the cemetery.

I took instead another of my father's favorite things,

Jack Daniels Bourbon whiskey. I did a shot with Dad in rememberence of better days. Well, I did a shot...Dad's was poured upon his grave.

That swig of Jack took me back...

Years ago my Dad and Step Mom (who was never like a step to me) used to go camping every 4th. of July week at South Higgins Lake State park. They went with other family and friends and between them they took up about 8 camp sites.

This tradition started around my junior year in High school and continued on for a decade or more.

It was always a great time, I got along well with my step siblings and I went every year that I could.

Our days were spent hiking, swimming, and walking the park. My step Uncle Bob was the "King of speed boating" and always brought the coolest boats!!! He was more than willing to give every and all a ride. My favorite was a black picklefork(hydroplane) with a built 454 cu. inch marine engine that would do well over 80 mph on calm water.

Evenings were spent around a campfire...and with not much else to do, talk and drink. Back then the legal drinking age was 18.

One year there was to be a lunar eclipse during our time there, and of course we were determined to see it ...weather permitting.

We were sitting around the campfire as the hour grew late...the younger kids hit the tent. A long day of activities wearing them right out. Finally the womenfolk had had enough, and they turned in as well. Leaving about ten of the guys to drink beer and wait.

Someone produced a half gallon of Jack Daniels, the seal was broken and it started making its way around the campfire.

Now my Dad was a quiet, unassuming man(this definitely skipped a generation)...hardly the type you'd have pegged as an ex-Marine. But as the Jack made it's way around the group, it's effects lubricated Dad's jaw to the point he was becoming quite talkative!

The bottle was well past half empty it's fifth or sixth time around, when it came back to my Dad.

He was sitting next to me on a log we had drug out of the woods, when he lurched to his feet.

He held the bottle over his head and raised a hand for silence. When he had our attention he began:

"I have been a Marine! I've been around this big wide world more than once, and I've been drunk on everything there is to be drunk on! And I'm here to tell ya, there ain't NUTHIN' better than Jack Daniels!!!"

He allowed the wisdom of this to sink in a moment before adding:

"HEY! Something's eating the moon!!!"

At which point our attention was diverted from the virtues of Jack Daniels to the occurring lunar eclipse above us.

That was one of the few times I saw my Dad unresserved, a rare and refreshing glimpse into the uncensored mind of my father.

Sadly those glimpses were too few and far between, and now are just memories.

Happy Fathers Day Dad,

Love You.

Be Well Folks,

Beastly Bear

It just vibrates...

Den of the Beastly Bear

Hi Folks!

Many, MANY years ago...

I was always a curious young man, interested in everything. How it worked, why it worked, if things really worked.

I have twin sisters, 18 months my junior...and often times they were my guinea pigs.

How many times in cartoons or TV shows have you seen someone get ground black pepper in their face and it sent them into a sneezing fit, usually to great comic effect.

So trying to be funny, when my sisters were about 8...

I shook some pepper into my hand at dinner, called my sister Brenda by name and when she turned towards me I blew the pepper in her face.

The result was immediate if unexpected...

No comic sneezing fit ensued...oh no!

Instead, she screamed like she'd been set on fire!!!

See what I had not counted on was how it felt to get black pepper in your eyes!!!

Not like on TV at all!

An ass whipping followed, and that was the last time that particular stunt was pulled.

One of the things our family would do back in the 70's would be little day trips...

We'd pack up in my Step-Dad's Eldorado and off we'd head.

One destination we always enjoyed was a place called 

Almont Saddlery. Almont was no more than an hours drive from us, but to kids it seemed all day...

Almont Saddlery was a big two story store that sold everything!!! Saddles and tack, clothing, hats, boots...and everything you could ever need for raising livestock.

While our parents looked around, us kids were pretty much left to our own devices with the admonition not to break anything!

The girls and I were on the lower level, in the area with livestock accouterments when I spied a foot long chrome cylinder with what looked like a bicycle grip on one end. A cattle prod.

I had heard of these devices, used to get cattle moving when they were recalcitrant. I had however, no idea how they worked. I picked it up to closer examine it.

It was heavy, it had batteries in it! Hmmm, why batteries? There was writing on the cylinder near the grip, "Twist to unlock" so I did.

There were two rods about ½ inch apart on the other end...I didn't know why. I pushed on the grip, my other hand on the cylinder itself and the whole thing vibrated and buzzed like one of those prank hand buzzer things they used to sell in novelty shops.

Aha! So to my young mind I had puzzled this out...

The batteries made the thing buzz and vibrate, the rods concentrated this sensation because cows have a thick hide and wouldn't feel it otherwise. This sudden buzzing vibration applied to the cows side startled it into moving! Hey, quit laughing...I was 11!

There stood my sister Anna, wearing shorts...wouldn't it be funny if I used the cattle prod to scare my sister?

So I applied the end with the two rods to the back of Anna's thigh and pressed the grip!

Oh she was startled alright!!! If you call falling to the ground like she'd been smacked down by the hand of God, and screaming like a flayed cat while experiencing uncontrollable tremors...then yes she was startled.

"Quit faking," I said. "it just vibrates!" 

After all, that's all I felt...

But she didn't!!! Suddenly we were surrounded by employees who snatched the prod from my hand just as our parents arrived! They took in the sight, figured it out instantly and the ass whipping commenced...out the door, across the parking lot, all the way to the car! Where I was left to contemplate my crime while the rest of the family continued their shopping adventure...

Hell, I was ahead of my time...I invented the stun gun!!! Lol

Here's hoping your day is not quite as shocking!

Be Well Folks!!!

Beastly Bear

Genetically Modified foods...Really???

Den of the Beastly Bear

Hi Folks!

I've been fulminating this little rant for a while now.

Like most "created" crisis's the ingredients are the same:

A little bit of truth.

A lot of disinformation.

A dash of ignorance.

A healthy dose of fear.

Remove all common sense.

Now with all ingredients mixed together, whip up to a media frenzy, and WA-LA... created crisis!

The particular one that is chaffing my ass these days is the whole *here use deep reverberating Godlike voice* GENETICALLY MODIFIED FOOD CRISIS!!!

I'm sure you're all familiar, so I won't rehash here.

But I will summarize: Scientists (always evil in these) have genetically modified our wheat, fruits, and vegetables to the point that they are now actually dangerous to consume.

First of all, we humans have been genetically modifying things for centuries...we just called it something different. Selective breeding.

Want proof? Look down at your feet, or in your lap.

That dog, or cat curled up there...a product of genetic modification!!!

Whether it's a Great Dane or Chihuahua, Shitzu or Bulldog none of these occurred in nature!!!

Look outside, admire your beautiful lawn of Kentucky Blue Grass...genetically modified.

Go to your local greenhouse, tell the helpful clerk you'd like to buy a rose bush...they will gladly point you to an area where they have no less than 30 varieties for sale and the ability to order about 150 more, all products of genetic modification!

"Ah Beastly" you say "but these are not food!"

Let me tell you boys and girls, l-o-n-g before technology allowed us into the DNA of plants and animals your food was genetically modified!

Take that morning cup of coffee you enjoy everyday, genetically modified. That's why a pound doesn't cost as much as the family car.

You see once people started roasting coffee beans to drink as a beverage, two things were discovered.

1) the highland species produced the largest, most flavorful beans. Was very hardy, but produced relatively low yield of beans.

2) the lowland species produced bounties of beans that were smaller and lacking in flavor, and they were less hardy and prone to frost damage.

So, enterprising fellows a couple hundred years ago, cross bred the two in an effort to create a hardy bush, resistant to frost that produced large quantities of large, flavorful beans. This new, genetically modified plant made commercial coffee production possible.

The cream for that coffee, and the milk in your cereal, the butter for your toast? Thank the guys that selectively bred domestic cattle to produce the Dairy Cow...genetically modified.

Enjoy a banana on your cereal? Bananas as we know them...genetically modified.

Broccoli, cauliflower? Man made...by genetic modification.

You probably like apples! Delicious, Granny Smith, Fuji, Gala...all genetic modifications.

People used to spend careers, even their whole lives dedicated to creating a fleshier tomato, a drought resistant wheat, a seedless orange....or a Persian cat!!! 

Sure technology has allowed us to speed up the process...and there have been some notably failures.

Killer Bees come to mind.

But every time I hear some blowhole spewing forth about how genetically modified foods are killing us... as they sit there eating their organic banana and Granny Smith apple I just shake my head.

I've tried to educate them...but it's much like trying to teach a pig to sing, all it does is waste your time and annoy the pig!

The world as you know it is genetically modified folks, like it or not...me? I embrace the fact that roses smell sweeter because someone spent their life in that pursuit!

Well, that's my two cents worth...

Here's hoping your day is rosy!

Be Well!!!

Beastly Bear

Endings...

Den of the Beastly Bear

Hi Folks!

Endings...all things end.

End of shift, the end of the day, the end of a song...

Some you're grateful for, some leave you wanting more...

Today my time with the Camaro ended!  :-(

Washed it, vacuumed it out, filled the tank and turned it in.

Got in my 2006 Chevy Aveo and headed home!

Definitely wanting more!

Today also marks the end of my vacation...head back to work today...good God, how much more can one man take?!? Lol.

Had a good week, got to hang with some friends...nice trip to Cinci, nice car to drive! Got me thinking "I could really get used to this!" Come on lotto numbers!!!

Today, stark reality returns...next vacation, end of July!

Got a call today from a buddy at work that had been off work the last 4 weeks on sick leave for an injured back (chucking wood at home). He called to tell me he had retired the 31st.!!! 

Another ending, yet a happy beginning for him!!!
Congratulations Fred!!!

And finally, the end of today's blog...

Be Well Folks!

Beastly Bear

Three C's on Saturday...Camaro, Cincinnati. and Craig Johnson!

Den of the Beastly Bear

Hi Folks!

You're gonna read about a happy, contented Beastly Bear today!!!

Yesterday was completely consumed with our trip to Cinci, and what a trip it was!!!

First of all, I got to drive this...

Yes, that is a 2014 Chevy Camaro SS Convertible!!!

The only problem experienced was this...

We've had a string of absolutely PERFECT days for going topless...oh calm down, I meant the car! Lol

I do not own this car, it belongs to the General Motors "Ambassador" fleet. Employees submit their names to get the chance to drive a vehicle for a week, show it off and hopefully influence someone to buy one! You get to pick the car you want, but not the model. Hence when I signed up for "Camaro #13", I had no idea whether it would be a basic V6 or the ultimate ZL1 Supercharged 600+ HP V8!!! So I show up Wednesday, after jumping through the appropriate hoops I'm handed a set of keys and told: 

"Camaros are in the last row..." Wow, thanks for the help.

So I walk down the row hitting the unlock button when finally "chirp,chirp"!

It's good that there were no camaras around to record the look on my face...so happy I was momentarily rendered a complete idiot complete with lip drool!!!

Of course as soon as I started it up...it started to rain.

Not a springtime drizzle that's here and gone, oh no!

The all day, torrential soaking downpour summer thunder-bumper!!! Not an auspicious beginning.

Thursday dawned clear and bright, and I've been driving the wheels off of it, fulfilling my obligation to show it off! 

Being new to convertible driving, I made a rookie mistake...

No SUNSCREEN!!! Well, not until it was waaaaay too late!!!

Does this look like a guy going to a book signing?!?

Now Mama Bear finds the car claustrophobically confining with the top up, so in order to drive it to Cinci, I had to don a head covering (yes I burned my scalp through my hair...what there is) and slather up on the SPF50!!!

The drive was uneventful, my one bitch is with the State of Ohio!!! What the HELL is the reason 90%

of I-75 is 55-65 mph SPEED LIMIT?!?!?

Arriving at 3:30, prior to the 5:00 pm start time, because never having been to a Craig Johnson signing I had no idea what to expect.

First of all, let me praise the Joseph-Beth Booksellers!
What a wonderful venue for a signing!!! A large, two floor bookstore, they had the author area setup over by a fireplace. A podium and about 100 chairs, and a signing desk to one side.

I have to say, I've never been to a signing I've enjoyed more! No bracelets, no area cordoned off to wait in, and the author would sign ANYTHING not just a book purchased there...so you could bring in your past books, DVD's, shirts, hats, you name it!!!!

There is a small Bistro restaurant within the bookstore, best spinach artichoke dip I've had in a long time!

We took our seats, about a half hour before he was to arrive, second row!

Craig arrived exactly at 5, and thanked us all for coming. 

He spoke for 20 mins. or so, telling stories and talking about the book tour, writing, and "Longmire". The A&E show based on his books! 

"This one time, at Charles De Gaulle airport..."

What a humble, warm and heartfelt man! He went on to read from the first chapter of the book, and then take questions from the audience.

Hard at work, signing my books!

When that was done he sat down to commence the signing. 

Again, here Craig differs from many authors I've met!
He didn't just sign his name on the face page, give a nod and "thank you", now move your ass along....

Craig and your friendly neighborhood Beastly Bear.

Craig took time with each and every person. Talked, yes actually TALKED to his fans! Personalized every signing, asked where you were from, greeted those he recognized from past signings, and posed for pictures!!!

He treated every single one of us like an old friend he was happy to see again, a very personable man.

While we had second row seats, we ended up towards the back of the line, and you know what? It didn't matter!!! Because we got to listen in on all the conversations...and hear the genuine gratitude he has for his fans.

I think Mama Bear and I had probably come the farthest, some 5½ hours each way...but there were also people there from Kentucky, Tennessee, West Virginia!!!

Each time, Craig seemed surprised by the outpouring of love for his works...and the adoration of his fans.

All I can say is, it's well deserved Craig!!!
You are one class act!

Craig and Judy Johnson.

His wife Judy and he also let slip to us that there is a possibility he'll be in Detroit come October for an event. Nothing definite yet, but if he is, I'll be there...
Count on it!!!

Finally rolled in about 1 am, happy but sore!
It cooled off enough Mama Bear relented and the top went up...guess she'd rather feel closed in than freeze!

Well, that was my Saturday!
Hope yours was at least half as good as mine...
But that makes mine twice as good as yours!!! Lol

Be Well!

Beastly Bear