"Astle, did anyone ever tell you that you are a worthless bleeper? You are so bleeping stupid that I am convinced you don't know your right hand from your left...Duh!" My old high school chum Arthole was an obnoxious bastard to say the least. "Jesus, I will be married with five kids before you get that thing changed. What is wrong with you boy? Are you mentally challenged?" The more he needled at me the more nervous I became. "OK Maestro! If you're so bleeping smart, why don't you do it?" I then threw the wrench I was holding at him. The task of changing the starter in my 1960 Ford Falcon station wagon had become more than I bargained for.
"I am positive that you are destined to be a rocket scientist one of these days Astle. That's if you can ever manage to graduate from high school." Listening to Arthole flap his mouth while he replaced the starter in my car was driving me bonkers. But I didn't want to piss him off. I needed the starter replaced and he was the guy to do it. "Einstein" he called me, "All you have to do is unscrew the screws, take the old starter off, put the new starter on and then screw the old screws back in. You would think a guy who is destined to be a rocket scientist would know that...Duh!"
I started the car after he finished and it purred like a kitty. He then closed the hood and said, "It's no wonder why you don't have a girlfriend. You are so bleeping stupid, you wouldn't know what to do with one anyways." The starter was replaced and the car was running. What did I need him for? "Bleep you Arthole!" I yelled as I locked the passenger side door, "Who's the idiot now? Bleep you!" I then threw the car in drive and sped away, leaving him covered in a cloud of dust and rocks.
"Get back here you bleeping bleephole! I am going to kick your ass! Astle get back here!" I kept stopping the car at hundred yard intervals. Once he got five yards or so from the car I would take off again. After the third time he became angry and threw a rock at the car, shattering the back windshield. For the next six months I drove around town with a couple of garbage bags plastered over the damage. Here's the part of the story I think is funny. When I explained to my dad what had happened to the back windshield, he looked at me, shook his head and said, "Arthole is right about you - you are never going to be a rocket scientist."
Monday, June 30, 2014
Saturday, June 28, 2014
The Madison High brain surgeons club.
"Astle, do you want to know when the best time to bleep a chick is?" It was fun being sixteen in small town Kansas. Not a care in the world. Things were so much easier back than. "I always thought it was any!" I stated. My old high school chum Arthole and I had some high level intelligent talks when we were young. "Astle," he piped - "The best time to bleep a chick is when she is pregnant - that way you don't have to worry about getting her pregnant."
A double entendre is a literary device that can be defined as a figure of speech that might have multiple meanings or could be understood in two different ways. "Arthole," I said with a puzzling look on my face, "Let me make sure I am understanding what you just said. You are telling me that the best time to bleep a girl is when she is already pregnant. Because you can't get her pregnant again because she is already pregnant? Am I understanding you correctly?"
Further clarification of his statement was required, and he provided it. "That's what I am saying exactly," he blurts. "It makes sense. Think about it - it is impossible to get a girl pregnant when she is already pregnant. So if she accuses you of making her pregnant. You can use the excuse that she was already pregnant when you bleeped her." A couple of Ivy Leaguers we were not! I did have one last thing to clarify before we put the conversation to rest. "Arthole, would the girl who is pregnant that you would be bleeping already be pregnant because of you? Or would you be bleeping a girl who is pregnant by another guy's seed. Because if you are the guy who got her pregnant in the first place. I mean, the damage is already done - Right? But if you are bleeping her after someone else got her pregnant. Then I can sort of see what you are thinking in that twisted little mind of yours." He looks at me after the query; scratches his head, raises his eyebrows, scratches his head again and says, "This conversation is too confusing. Maybe you are better off wearing a condom no matter what." I nodded in agreement.
A double entendre is a literary device that can be defined as a figure of speech that might have multiple meanings or could be understood in two different ways. "Arthole," I said with a puzzling look on my face, "Let me make sure I am understanding what you just said. You are telling me that the best time to bleep a girl is when she is already pregnant. Because you can't get her pregnant again because she is already pregnant? Am I understanding you correctly?"
Further clarification of his statement was required, and he provided it. "That's what I am saying exactly," he blurts. "It makes sense. Think about it - it is impossible to get a girl pregnant when she is already pregnant. So if she accuses you of making her pregnant. You can use the excuse that she was already pregnant when you bleeped her." A couple of Ivy Leaguers we were not! I did have one last thing to clarify before we put the conversation to rest. "Arthole, would the girl who is pregnant that you would be bleeping already be pregnant because of you? Or would you be bleeping a girl who is pregnant by another guy's seed. Because if you are the guy who got her pregnant in the first place. I mean, the damage is already done - Right? But if you are bleeping her after someone else got her pregnant. Then I can sort of see what you are thinking in that twisted little mind of yours." He looks at me after the query; scratches his head, raises his eyebrows, scratches his head again and says, "This conversation is too confusing. Maybe you are better off wearing a condom no matter what." I nodded in agreement.
Thursday, June 19, 2014
The Snack Shop.
I received a message from cousin Sally yesterday. The message read, "Your Village Idiot of Las Vegas blog is vulgar." She also wanted to know - "Where I picked up my potty mouth from?" For as long as I can remember cousin Sally has sported a holier than thou attitude. The sensible thing for me to do would be to simply ignore her. Which I plan to do after this post is complete. But she did specifically ask where I formed my potty mouth. The answer is simple: The Snack Shop in Madison, Kansas.
The Snack Shop was an establishment of a bygone era. It was a place where a kid could be a kid. It sported three or four video games, a couple of eating booths, a soda machine, hamburgers & French fries and an array of the finest characters Madison, Kansas had to offer. If Peter Pan wanted to grow up and be Dice Clay - the Snack Shop would have been the place for him.
"You stupid bleepsucker! Bleep you! Give me another bleeping quarter. Donkey Kong you suck bleeps!" Hanging out in the Snack Shop was like watching a never ending Richard Pryor stand up routine. "Astle, you are a bleephead! You bleeping bleephole!" The leader of the Snack Shop potty mouth gang was none other than my good friend Arthur Spotter, better known as Arthole. If anyone in the tri county area deserved to have their mouth washed out with soap - it was him.
"Arthole, why do you swear so much?" I remember asking him that exact question many years ago. And I still remember his answer like it was yesterday - "Because I bleeping like to. So bleep you!" Arthole wasn't the only guy in town who needed his mouth washed out with soap. There was my buddy Pecker (his real name was Peter) but everyone called him Pecker. As far as I know, he still holds the Madison record for most swear words spurted in a minute...believe it or not, such a contest existed at the Snack Shop.
There were many other characters from the Snack Shop who influenced me as well. But for posterity's sake, I will refrain from mentioning them. My goal was to simply answer cousin Sally's question as pertains to where I learned to talk (vulgar). The answer is the Snack Shop in Madison, Kansas.
The Snack Shop was an establishment of a bygone era. It was a place where a kid could be a kid. It sported three or four video games, a couple of eating booths, a soda machine, hamburgers & French fries and an array of the finest characters Madison, Kansas had to offer. If Peter Pan wanted to grow up and be Dice Clay - the Snack Shop would have been the place for him.
"You stupid bleepsucker! Bleep you! Give me another bleeping quarter. Donkey Kong you suck bleeps!" Hanging out in the Snack Shop was like watching a never ending Richard Pryor stand up routine. "Astle, you are a bleephead! You bleeping bleephole!" The leader of the Snack Shop potty mouth gang was none other than my good friend Arthur Spotter, better known as Arthole. If anyone in the tri county area deserved to have their mouth washed out with soap - it was him.
"Arthole, why do you swear so much?" I remember asking him that exact question many years ago. And I still remember his answer like it was yesterday - "Because I bleeping like to. So bleep you!" Arthole wasn't the only guy in town who needed his mouth washed out with soap. There was my buddy Pecker (his real name was Peter) but everyone called him Pecker. As far as I know, he still holds the Madison record for most swear words spurted in a minute...believe it or not, such a contest existed at the Snack Shop.
There were many other characters from the Snack Shop who influenced me as well. But for posterity's sake, I will refrain from mentioning them. My goal was to simply answer cousin Sally's question as pertains to where I learned to talk (vulgar). The answer is the Snack Shop in Madison, Kansas.
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