Trailer Park Karma

And Now, It's Dave With the Latest Financial News

[Editor's note: I've never had a thing to do with the stock market (and we try not to think about those options I got just before the Dot Com Bomb), but my dad follows such things. I know some of you do, too, so this post's for you. Dave feels your pain...]

(from the emails of David G. Morris, with permission)

Mein Gott, the stocking market, today, exploded in my face (also, did it last week in a lighter fashion) and wounded the lovely smile on my countenance.  My sweet old granny of Swedish origin would have said to me, "Oh, Dafit [she couldn't pronounce 'David'], sing someting [someting, not something] or whistle while I play my guitar and sing Rock Candy Mountain."  Stomped her foot as she plucked, she did.  I was too young to know that was the forerunner of "rap." 

Among other things of value, guess I'm gonna have to up and sell my Lamborghini along with my prized '78 Ford Pinto Cruising Wagon (what a great car that are -- no rear windows on the rear side panels, just a couple of portholes).  Damn the S&P and it's cohorts, wantin' to do me in!  Haji Baba and A Siss-boom-Bah! What time is it Portney, and bring the wine! 

Quien Sabe? 

Dave (Fox)

More Multicultural Eats, Dave-Style: Cold Corn Salad

[Editor's note: While we're rollin with the back-to-school-punches, please allow me to toss up here the ditties that come my way from beyond The Park.]

(from the emails of David G. Morris, with permission)

Thought I'd pitch you a simple little recipe I picked up from a hole-in-the-wall restaurant (more like a small cafe, I reckon) that just opened up a few months ago.  It's called Kelly's and he had another small  place in Mission Bend that went kaput -- no customers, so he folded up his tent, untethered his camel and moved down the road about six or seven miles. Now he's doing better, is on Hwy 6 about two miles south of Spec's (my cheapo liquor and wine store), maybe a 15-minute trip, or less, from here.

Anyhoo, the owner/cook/clean-up guy/waiter and one-who-stokes-the-cafe-fires is Lebanese and I've dined in his establishment a couple of times. I must be partial to the Lebanese folks, a likeable bunch, and you might recall that the Italian Restaurant we like is owned by two Lebanese guys, Wally and Mike. Been going there for 25 years. Any way, as it turns out, Kelly's owner is called Kelly -- aha, aheh, aha, ha, ha! Gettin' carried away here, so here 'tis:

Cold Corn Salad

1-10oz. pkg frozen corn, thawed
1/4 cup chopped yellow bell pepper
1/4 cup chopped orange bell pepper 
1/4 cup chopped red pepper
1/4 cup chopped cucumber
1/4 cup chopped red onion
1 chopped small tomato
1/4 cup mayonnaise
Black pepper to taste
 
Mix all together, chill before serving, then you may eat. (Gonna try it out one of these days, too!)
 
PS:  He does have some help at the joint as his wife, also a growed-up daughter, help out as needed.
 
Zorro Grise

Never Too Late: Happy Fourth! Break An Egg!

(from the emails of David G. Morris, with permission)

Here it comes! The "Fourth" will appear tomorrow at day's start.  Gonna take JDIT's advice and fly me a flag again from the front porch and if it gets stolen again, just fly another one. (What a sorry bunch of bananas around here.) Had given up displaying a flag on appropriate days because I have, in the past, had two flags stolen from my home in broad daylight, so none have gone up from my house in the past three to four years. We gonna see what happens this time. Will duct tape the flag to it's holder this time -- at least it will be harder to steal, huh?
 
Speaking of the "Fourth," it reminds me of the "Fourth" at Ellington Air Base just outside Houston where I was stationed from November 1953 thru November 1954. Spent 362 days at that base and drew the well known "KP" duty about every 10 days (something unheard of -- only had it twice in 10 weeks in basic training at Lackland AFB in San Antone!) That would be about 35 times a year. Not only did the lowly airmen draw it but even Staff Sgts had the duty -- talk about pissed!! 

That July in 1954, on the "Fourth," I came up with KP again. Jeeeez, and me being the Airman of the Month, so often!  In past days I'd tried to have enough cash on hand to buy my way out of the "duty." An amount of $10.00 would be enough to have someone take your place at the old "pots & pans" job, or other lovely jobs such as scouring garbage cans. Even $5.00 would buy a half day -- guys needed money, ya see, and I had a little extra as I was drawing separate rations, lived with my parents, and paid no rent. Also, I worked the "graveyard" shift and as a result could, at times, rent my car out to guys needing transportation on many nights. What a racket I had! 

That time (the "Fourth" of 1954) I was a little short, and it being a holiday, no one was willing to even work a half day. So guess who pulled KP on the 4th. Howsomever, I learned on that day, from an old seargent, how to break eggs, two at a time, one in each hand over two small bowls, at breakfast time in the mess hall. A lot of eggs were broken at breakfast back then as airmen came by in the line at a good clip, one after the other, and no one really wanted to eat SOS (chipped beef on toast.)  It's an art!  Can still do it, but no need now. (I do fry a mean egg!)
  
Will let'cha know how the flag flyin' goes, JDIT!  (These dang "ratzafratzs" 'round here!)
 
Dave the M  (Fox) 

Never Too Late: And Now, It's Dave with The Weather

[Editor's note: When I was a kid, we lived in a townhouse with a carport. No garage (aka a Gulf Coast basement), just a carport over half the driveway. One of my fondest memories is of my dad, sporting a glorious tan that belied his Swedish heritage, smoking plastic-tipped cigars and drinkin Pearl, sitting in an aluminum folding chair, in his bathing suit, under the carport and watching the weather come in from the north.

Weather-watching is a highly favored sport in these parts. 
Now, the old man observes the weather from his livingroom via cable TV.

This just in...]

(from the emails of David G. Morris, with permission):

They're at it again, it seems. That, of course, would be the local television weather folks around the Houston area and wherever their signal reaches. 

There is this reported tropical storm now named Alex and not yet in the Gulf of Mexico. (Got a grandson named Alex.) The weather folks are beginning to worry that if this storm turns out to be a hurricane (and if it does we're told it will be just minimal, barely over 70mph) it won't even reach the Texas coast -- maybe, if we're lucky, at least it will reach the southern tip of Texas, down around Brownsville. If that were to happen, then all those weather types would be headed to the Rio Grande Valley area in the old reliable news vans, concocting various stories as they roll on down the road for reporting when they get on the scene.  

We do have some really good actors in the weather bunch in the Houston stations who can brace themselves convincingly against the slightest breeze. 'Course, if it goes in around the northeastern area of Mexico, then what will all the forecasters do for ridiculous talk and weather speculation? Just think, no standing outdoors fighting off the wind and rain while yelling into a mic, "golly bum," "gee whiz," and mentioning in every other breath, "It's just terrible and horrific, folks!"  Also, think of the wasted funds on yellow rain slickers, boots and such if no winds show up.  I'm here to tell you that these local weather guys are all chompin' at the bit, almost praying for some winds at least close to 70 miles per hour. Now, ain't they somethin??
 
Gotta go now and see to it that we have supplies. That, of course, would be foods, water, emergency lighting, first aid kit and -- two or three boxes of Chardonnay.  If I had a dog, it'd be my luck that I'd have to teach the mutt how to dog-paddle. May request some monetary donations from y'all later on to replace my house and car.  I should'a moved to Tombstone, Arizona a while back and walked the streets with the ghosts of Wyatt Earp and Doc Holiday. 'Course the Tombstone area has some pretty good monsoons, I unnerstan. Also, Paula said it was too hot there and it would be a long trip back to Houston to see our doctors.
 
Aye Chihuahua,
 
Dave the M  (Fox)

Never Too Late: Remember the Jitterbug?

My old man did some time in Germany, back during the Korean War. For a boy who was born in Louise, Texas and raised a little bit there, a little bit in Cajun country, and a little bit in the big city, the Germany experience wound up making a lifelong impact. A lot of what I get from him for this blog is by way of my being accidentally added to his Air Force buddy-list.

Since I'm currently still in the throes of rattler battlin' and drivin around swollen river branches (not really, Daddy! I'm okay!), I thought y'all might like a little weekend morning entertainment from Dave Morris. This video and note are from an email he sent around more than a year ago (and Daddy, I can just see you dancin like this...):

Man, I'm formulated now.  Take a look at this beautiful piece of entertainment of the dance.  If you be a little down, this should up your drooping mind to the Nth.  Mein Gott Im Hemmill! Tremendous!