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By Dewey Lovitt, June 29, 2010 11:00 AM

We had a little rodeo here at the ranch this morning. It looks like Ocho may have to go-go. As I attempted to enter from morning chores Big Dog pushed his way out of the backyard and tore into Ocho. Then Cali tore into Big Dog; her loyalty seems to be to her new buddy, Ocho. Before long I was on the ground using arms and legs to seperate them amid a cacophony of growls, barks and cries of anquish – the dogs’ cries, not mine. Eventually I was able to cradle Big Dog and carry him into the house while the others were leaping up anxious to go another round or two. I’m getting too old for this crap. Dewey is the going to contribute today’s entertaining post.
~ Hugh Betcha

Fun under the Big Top

The circus is in town. Come one, come all! For children of all ages – it’s the Greatest Show on Earth! Daring feats that will amaze and amuse you will be performed under the big top.

When I was a kid we couldn’t wait to go to the circus to see the lions tamers, the high wire acts and most of all the clowns. The Ringling Bros. Circus was the biggest and best, but not the only show on the road. There was the Clyde Beatty-Cole Bros. Circus. Clyde was great as he entertained audiences with his acts of courage. He combined lions, tigers, cougars and hyenas in the cage all at one time. He was armed with a whip and pistol. He is believe to be the first to use a chair in his performance.

And there was the Shrine Circus founded in 1906 and is affiliated with the Shriners organization. It still travels to 120 cities annually. When I was about 5 years old Mother took me to see it at the Illinois Wesleyan University sports arena. After the thrill of watching the motorcycles whirring around inside that steel globe I was treated to an even bigger thrill. The incident involved an animal tamer who allowed his gorilla to purposely escape and run into the bleachers. As he came toward me I was screaming and crying like a little girl. I nearly wet myself. He finally had to pull off his head to reveal a man in gorilla suit before I would stop my caterwauling (Caterwauling: To cry or screech like a cat in heat.)

A favortite of Dewey's was Emmett Kelly's ''Weary Willie'' the hobo.

Then came the clowns. I enjoyed them the most and none could compare with Emmett Kelly and his “Weary Willie” character he had fashioned after the depression era hobos. Kelly had begun his career as a trapeze act with John Robinson’s circus. It was there he met and married Eva Moore who also performed as a trapeze artist. They went on to perform together as the “Ariel Kellys” and Emmett would occasionally perform as a white face clown. By 1931 he was clowning full time. I began clowning full time 30 years later in Mrs. O’Brien’s 4th grade class. I spent most of that school year in the cloakroom. She put me to work painting murals. I still managed to get As and Bs.

With peanuts, popcorn and cotton candy to satisfy the confectionary desires of kids and adults alike, the afternoon was delightful and unforgettable. It made summer as exciting as Christmas to this midwestern lad during the 50s. I thank all those circus performers who gave their all to give us the thrills and chill of “The Greatest Show on Earth.”

The Tucson engagement ends this week, don’t miss it! I’m taking the kids.

~ Dewey Lovitt (or what?)

Hugh Betcha we do!

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By Hugh Betcha, June 28, 2010 10:50 AM

''I need a friend. How about it?''

Cute little fella, isn’t he? Ocho appeared on the property about two weeks ago as stray dogs often do on our rural acerage. At first he would keep his distance and hide out where ever he could find shade. Staying cool has become nearly impossible now that summer has pushed the mercury beyond that 100 degree mark. Ocho would wander to another location when I would attempt to bring food and water to him; returning only after I had distanced myself.

These days the little monster has made the front entry his domain and has become quite possessive of it. He barks at the UPS or Fedex drivers and attempts to jump the courtyard wall when he sees the Schwan’s man. Maybe he likes their ice-cream.

You may be curious as to why I call him Ocho. The Chiefie decided that the name fit because he is the eighth dog this year to gravitate to our old homestead. How they find us and know we are as soft hearted as we are soft headed I’ll never know; animal instinct, I guess. On one occasion awhile back we were standing at the front of the house talking with a contractor when I noticed a stray sauntering down our road. She looked to be in distress and as he approached I noticed her face had several pieces of cholla (see Hell Weed from an earlier post) stuck on her face. She ignored me and the contractor and sat down facing the Chiefie. She knew who had 27 years experience with Animal Control and could deal with the situation. After having her immediate problem attended to the bitch ended up living with a neighbor – the dog, not my Chiefie.

With the pecking order placing “Big Dog” at the top and newcomers at the bottom – Cali being somewhere in between me and Hugh – it has been necessary to segregate the dogs. Big Dog has not been outside the pool area since Ocho arrived. He’s beginning to suffer from cabin fever. Cali cannot be trusted since she makes a mess the moment you turn your back and has to remain in a makeshift pen at the back door in the kitchen. Since Ocho now wants to join the family and come inside from the heat, barricades are now placed at the front door to keep it from being destroyed. A gate at the bedroom confines Big Dog so that he doesn’t attack Cali when she is allowed to roam the house. Between all the barriers and obstacles throughout, it has become a steeplechase any time I need to enter or exit my castle – all that’s missing is the moat.

So if you know of someone looking for a nice loveable dog to care for, please, come get this mutt so I can get back to work. And that will be just as soon as I can iron out all the technical issues that constantly develop with the three computers and the various printers, cameras, etc. The moment one computer glitch is vanquished the gremlins will simply move on to the next. The desktop, the laptop and the notebook; as the Nina, the Pinta and the Santa Maria did for Columbus, these three vessels transport me to new realms of adventure. Unfortunately these uncharted territories are on the other side of the River Styx. This would be the case since our animals are no doubt incarnations of Cerebus the three headed hound.

With all that, plus the excitment that “Joe Mama” adds to our lives, it can be hell on a ferris wheel around here most of the time. Since sitting down this morning to finish this piece I have been up a dozen times to move dogs around and deal with their various needs; food, water, potty, get the hell of the bed – you know the drill. The best thing to do is end it all. The blog post, that is. What did you think I meant? The world would never been the same without Hugh!

Hugh loves ya, Baby!

~ Hugh Betcha

Hey, next time I’ll discuss dogs and cell phones, and why the twain should never meet.

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By Percy V. Daswitty, June 25, 2010 3:59 PM

Cousin Dovetonsils

Hi there! Bet you’ve been wondering (perhaps not) just who this Percy guy is. The name’s not really Percy. Not if I want to still get laid. It’s just a silly little pseudonym I recently gave myself to avoid ridicule and prosecution. Actually, I’ve known Hugh for about twenty years. I ran into him last month, and eventually he asked me to write for the site. We used to work together here in Tucson, and we discovered we could use our inane antics and bullshit to terrorize our co-workers and even each other. Hugh had created the “Laugh-In” door that was a dutch-door separating his work area from mine.

We would take turns opening the door without notice and recite something we had concocted. This, however, turned out to be on an esoteric level as far as our boss was concerned. I think that felt and toothpicks were on an esoteric level to him. One day (to our chagrin) we came in to find the “Laugh-In” door nailed shut, which resulted in almost total loss of communication between departments and a 30% rise in quality defect levels. Morale plummeted, and Hugh attempted suicide. So, dear friends, the moral of this story is:  ”If it ain’t broke…don’t fix it!”

My real name is Pete, and I’ve been living in Tucson since 1972 after moving  here from Wisconsin. I had tinkered with writing since Junior High School, but now can be ‘unplugged’ so to speak. Unfortunately, I had eaten something suspect last night, and unplugged myself for almost half an hour this morning, but I’m okay now. The Hap Harris character and his companions are my first real effort at any continuity, and I have other subjects planned. So, until then, glad to be here and glad there are still good friends out there.

Yours truly,

Percy V. Daswitty

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By Percy V. Daswitty, June 23, 2010 6:49 AM

Hey kids, Hugh is on a drunk and I have to deal with a stray dog, so Percy is here today to regale you with part 2 of Hap’s tale. And I’d stay off the streets if I were you!
~ The Bucky

The two rushing vehicles entered the intersection simultaneously, and the left front of Doris smacked into the right rear of the ambulance as it crossed, causing it to spin wildly counterclockwise. It jumped the curb on the far side and slid into the pumps of Murray’s Gas Station. They exploded and engulfed the ambulance in searing flame.

“HOPE YOU GUYS GOT FIRE INSURANCE! WHADD’YA HAVE TO SAY NOW, JAY!?”
“The bus has hit the paramedics and the ambulance is on fire. Dreadful screaming can be heard from within. Looks like they’ll have to dispatch another,” he reports.
Craig and Stephanie held each other tightly, waiting for certain death. She was screaming hysterically, and Craig began to recite ‘The Lord’s Prayer.’ “Come back here and have a snort!” Eddie called out from the back. “That’ll calm you right down!”

Hap was now totally enthralled by the carnage he had caused. He gripped the wheel with his enormous hands and commanded “ONWARD, MY SWEET! ONWARD TOGETHER!” It was then that he saw the Grand Prize. The Brass Ring. The Holiest of Holy Grails. An elderly woman with a cane in one hand and pulling a two-wheeled shopping cart in the other had just entered his sights. She hobbled along in the crosswalk wearing a long, grey coat and a small, black sequined hat. Hap now forced the pedal all the way to the floor. “I’M THE GATOR AND I GOT YOUR GRANNY!” he gleefully cried.

''Rollin' rollin' rollin'...''

The poor thing only had time to turn and see the oncoming leviathan with a grinning man behind the wheel. She had never seen teeth so white. The impact shook the bus, and a huge gout of blood washed over the front of it as the old woman was impaled by the frames of the two bikes as if they were egg-slicers. Her cart full of groceries was catapulted into the air, ejecting its contents forwards. “We have just struck a senior citizen squarely, and she appears to have died on impact. However, I have noticed the cans of cling peaches that are currently 2-for-1 at Piggly Wiggly. Perhaps less now that they are dented.” Doris rolled on.

''You're the greatest!''

It was a macabre sight. The bus was traveling with its octogenarian hood ornament; her shoes were missing, and her cane had become hooked on the upper lip of the front bumper, tapping and scraping along the road like some mindless curb feeler. As Hap turned again to find additional prey, it was all over. A police roadblock had formed, and he was forced to stop as any good citizen would do. Moving just behind and parallel to the squad cars were people on horseback and large, gaily colored floats. “The Rodeo King and Queen are leading the way. Last year they were Tom Selleck and Reba McEntire,” Jay announced with satisfaction.

As the officers approached with guns drawn, Hap opened the doors, looked up at the rear view mirror and graciously said “THANK YOU ALL FOR RIDING WITH TARTARUS, AND…DON’T FORGET YOUR BIKES!”

Until next time, keep your pants zipped and your powder dry!
~ Percy

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By Hugh Betcha, June 20, 2010 9:31 AM

At times he was our best buddy!

Here’s to our Dad’s – past and present – be they young or old, meek or bold, short or tall or big or small; we appreciate all you’ve done. If your Dad is gone then take a moment to recall a special memory of a time you shared and say a prayer on this day. If he is living and well give him a hug, a thanks and an “I love you.”

There were times when he taught us how to ride a bike or bait a hook or build a bird house. There were time we made him mad when we the trouble we made was bad. We also mad him proud when we brought home the grades he knew we had worked to earn. At times we thought he could do no wrong. For some of us those time are now long gone. One again, here’s to Dad!

So forget the ties and hallmark cards and just give him a call to say your thinking of him. I’ll bet he would say that no greater gift had ever existed. Hugh would have to agree. How about you? There’s no better time than the present.

Other times he could get a little crazy!

This is the day out of each year when we set aside time to honor dear old Dad. Father’s Day was recognized by a Joint Resolution of Congress in 1956 and established as a permanent national observance to be held on the third Sunday of June by President Richard Nixon in 1972.

Daddy’s Hands
~ by Holly Dunn

I remember daddy’s hands folded silently in prayer
And reachin’ out to hold me, when I had a nightmare
You could read quite a story in the callous’ and lines
Years of work and worry had left their mark behind

I remember daddy’s hands how they held my mama tight
And patted my back for something done right
There are things that I’d forgotten that I loved about the man
But I’ll always remember the love in daddy’s hands

Daddy’s hands were soft and kind when I was cryin’
Daddy’s hands were hard as steel when I’d done wrong
Daddy’s hands weren’t always gentle but I’ve come to understand
There was always love in daddy’s hands.

I remember daddy’s hands workin’ ’til they bled
Sacrifised unselfishly just to keep us all fed
If I could do things over, I’d live my life again
And never take for granted the love in daddy’s hands

That’s it for now. We have an afternoon by the pool on our schedule. See you Monday!
Hugh Loves you, Baby!

~ Hugh Betcha

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By Bucky O'Hara, June 18, 2010 11:18 AM

Here we are at the end of the week and the beginning of another great weekend. The five day forecast for Tucson predicts an average high of 103 degrees. My plan is to make it even hotter. After watching part of an infomercial for the Insanity Workout I decided that no one had a mindset more prone to insanity than yours truly. The result was to pump things up a notch with the plan to ratchet it up more each week as the summer passes.

My goal is to shed those remaining 2 inches of flab from my waistline by Labor Day weekend. Last year I lost 25 pounds (and regained 10 over the Holidays) so I decided to create my own insanity and add some energy to my cardio workout by tuning to “Strobe” on the satellite channels. This ain’t your Grandfather’s Disco Music. I intend to burn the fat calories the way Sherman burned Atlanta.

See what I mean. That’s the music you need to keep the old pump crankin’ and give you the needed rhythm to keep your body moving. So join me in using the summer months to strip off the extra pounds and boost your energy level. You’ll be glad you did.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Bucky has left the building!
~ Bucky O’Hara

P.S. > If you follow the Strobe link, be sure to click where it says “click me to get trippy.” Just don’t stare at it too long. You won’t be able to focus for awhile if you do.

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By Percy V. Daswitty, June 17, 2010 5:00 AM

Hey kids, Percy, that purveyor of profound parables and prognostication is back with another tale of adventure featuring America’s favorite psycho Bus Driver. Read at your own risk. ~ Hugh

To the Moon!

It really was the loveliest of summer days, and Hap Harris had every reason to appreciate it; a new bus to break-in, a generous raise despite the current economic situation, and the promising love of a beautiful woman. He wheeled Doris out of the lot and onto Purgatory Avenue to begin his scheduled route.
After about four blocks, there stood (although a bit wobbly) his first passenger. Edgar was one of his regulars. He rode the buses all day long simply because he had nothing better to do. Edgar Willetts was a 64-year old white Vietnam vet, who was half-blind and 100% drunk. Sporting a grizzled grey beard, a grimy brown baseball cap, black sunglasses, a t-shirt with “Hannah Montana” on the front (I told you he was blind), a backpack for his booze, and a few remaining teeth. “HI, EDDIE! ALWAYS GLAD TO HAVE YOU ON BOARD!” boomed Hap’s deep bass baritone voice. It sounded like a jovial James Earl Jones. “Happy to…uurp…be here, Happy. Gee, I said ‘happy’ twice. That’s funny, huh?” Edgar spoke with the type of hoarse and gravelly worn-out voice of a man who’s spent most of his life smoking and drinking. “You’re the best goddamned driver I ever knew! I always have fun on your bus! And you’re a lot friendlier than those black guys. Queer how you sound like one, though.”

Got a light?

Hap ignored the remark. Edgar was just a sloshed old fool. Besides, he really wasn’t as prejudiced as one may think. Normally, Hap would throw a drunk off, but Eddie was harmless and would sit in the back and usually pass out after about half an hour of nipping the contents of his pack. Jay was patiently waiting at the next stop. Hap was impressed by the fact that in the past he was a bus driver, as well, but not just an ordinary one. Jay used to drive the tour buses in Hollywood. He knew where all of the star’s homes were, and had his speeches down pat. He had had that job for some thirty-odd years, but the problem with Jay was that he never let go. He had the annoying habit of announcing everything he saw. Gas stations, car dealerships, restaurants -they were the most numerous- and a prostitute or two.
Hap pulled over and opened the doors. “The doors have opened and I am entering the bus,” Jay calmly stated. He was a big bald man of indeterminate age, sixty or so, maybe older, wearing paisley suspenders holding wide olive-green pants well above his large paunch. Under the pants were several bulges that betrayed an elaborate network of trusses. He looked like a cross between Uncle Fester and Zippy the Pinhead. “HOWDY, BIG MAN! WHAT’S ON THE AGENDA TODAY?” “Well, I was hoping that we might go by that rodeo parade going on downtown. I hear it’s real big one with lots of floats and horses and stuff,” he replied in a high-pitched whine that was eerily monotone and effeminate. “Oh, God help me” Hap thought. “He’ll never shut-up now!”
Jay sat down on the seat just behind the driver’s seat as he customarily did, and Hap eased Doris back into traffic with Jay dutifully reporting the trip. “Vinnies’s Ice Cream Parlor on the left. Heard he’s going to change ‘ice cream’ to ‘gelato’ soon,”…and on…and on…and on.

Sure, I've got a light!

Coming up on Purgatory and Twilight, a young couple stood at the stop holding their bikes. “We are approaching the next stop where you can see a man and a woman with bicycles. Look like Raleighs to me. She’s wearing light-blue culottes, and he…” “RIGHT, BUDDY! I SEE ‘EM!” Hap interjected. He didn’t recognize them, so they must be new riders.
The bus slowed and stopped; the couple mounted their bikes on the front rack, stepped-in, and paid their fares. The young man seemed of normal build, but the woman was too large for his tastes. “The bus has stopped and has accepted two new…” “CAN IT, JAY! I GOT IT! HEY THERE! HOW ARE YOU FINE FOLKS DOIN’? IT’S A BEEE-OOTIFUL DAY TODAY, ISN’T IT?” “Yes sir. It sure is…thank you!” replied the woman. “What a nice man, dear.” “Hmm-mmm!” he acknowledged. “MY NAME’S HAP HARRIS! WHAT’S YOURS?” “I’m Craig, and this is my wife Stephanie,” answered the man. They both sat down on the seats directly across from Jay. “WELCOME ABOARD MY BUS! HER NAME’S ‘DORIS!’ HOPE YOUR RIDE IS A HAPPY ONE! JUST LIKE MY NAME…HAP!” Craig and Stephanie laughed, and Doris faithfully moved along.
“Vrrr…rrr…rrr. Kvrr…rrr…vrumm!” They looked over in astonishment to see Jay imitating the sounds of the motor and changing of the gears. “NEVER MIND JAY, FOLKS! IF HE WERE AT THE CIRCUS, HE’D BE THE WHOLE BAG OF PEANUTS!” Looking at Stephanie in the mirror, Hap said “SPEAKING OF ELEPHANTS, LOOKS LIKE YOU’RE A BIT ON THE PLUS SIDE! ONE GIRL PLUS A COUPLE MORE! HEH, HEH!” The woman’s eyes grew wide in disbelief and her jaw dropped. “I beg your pardon! How dare you say that to my wife?! Just who do you think you are?!” Craig yelled.

 “YOU SHOULD HAVE SEEN MY SECOND WIFE, EVELYN! SHE WAS A LEAN, MEAN BOINKIN’ MACHINE AND YOU’RE JUST A BIG-ASS OINKIN’ MACHINE!” Craig shot out of his seat as Stephanie’s face got red and she began to cry. “This is harassment, and we’re reporting you!! This is #2025, isn’t it?!” “NOTHING PERSONAL, HONEY, YOU EVER HEARD OF JENNY CRAIG? I’LL BET SHE’LL GIVE YOU A LIFETIME CONTRACT!” “Stop this bus right now! We’re getting off!” commanded Craig. The bus began to accelerate quickly, and Hap looked at them with glazed eyes. The eyes that once were so bright and engaging.
“HEY, WATCH THIS!” Hap shouted. A man walking a black Labrador was crossing the street. Hap honked the horn at them. The man jumped back just in time, but the dog was not so fortunate. Craig and Stephanie in horror heard the “ka-thump, thumpa, thumpa” of the animal accompanied with its death scream as it was crushed under the big wheels and was thrown up into the wheel wells.
“My God…you monster!” she cried accusingly. “Wheee!” exclaimed Eddie from the back after being woken from his drunken slumber. “STUPID MUTT! THAT’LL LEARN YOU TO PEE ON MY TIRES!” “The driver of the vehicle has just struck a black doggie. Not a good day for animal rights.” Hap suddenly made a hard left onto Mercy Street which flung the terrified Craig back into his seat, landing on top of the bawling Stephanie. “YOU WERE LUCKY SHE BROKE YOUR FALL, CRAIGSTER! BET THERE WON’T BE A SINGLE BRUISE ON YOU! HEY, AIN’T IT AMAZING WE’RE GOING THIS FAST SINCE SHE EXCEEDS THE 18,000 POUND WEIGHT LIMIT?!”
As he approached the first intersection, Hap heard the distinct wail of…an ambulance siren.

To be continued…

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By The Real Hugh, June 16, 2010 6:16 AM

That would make you all losers! I know that wasn’t nice and Mother did teach me better than that. None of the answers to “Name Hugh’s Birthmark” were correct. I mean. come on, Daffy Duck? Do I look like the type who would walk around with Daffy Duck on my derriere?

An ignominious end for Boston Blackie. An embarrassment to Hugh.

For those of you who are dying to know the answer – well, it’s Chester Morris. So next time you are wondering whose face is on my ass, use your head.

Hugh knows, who cares!

~ Hugh Betcha

If I became a philosopher, if I have so keenly sought this fame for which I’m still waiting, it’s all been to seduce women basically.
~ Jean-Paul Sartre

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By Bucky O'Hara, June 12, 2010 5:00 AM

I don’t need to tell you what kind of week it was last week. If I tell you I was dealing mostly with people of a bureaucratic mindset – some who should be institutionalized – it should suffice. Facing the immoveable object that is the implacable civil servant – not all of them have this unique demeanor – is like being caught in a logjam. You struggle to keep from being sucked down by the swift undercurrent. And just when it seems to be inescapable, the dam breaks and you are swept away only to end up cast off as flotsam on some desolate shore.

Needless to say… where were these guys when I needed them?

I sure could have used you guys last week!

I know just how you feel, Tom. Let’s go drown our sorrows in a bottle. Make mine a bottle of Tylenol… or Geritol.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Bucky has left the building.

- Bucky O’Hara

“I have not failed. I’ve just found 10,000 ways that won’t work.”
~ Thomas Alva Edison