Saturday, April 28, 2007

Dangerous Waters

Visit sleekpelt and read his review on Travels with Roscoe its all for true!

n observance of Cinco De Mayo Travels with Roscoe will grow in value to $5.00
$Cinco Americano...
This increase will take place around midnight on
Quatro De Mayo, or there abouts. KInd Regards from Roscoes favorite publicist. JW

This was written a couple of years ago by Roscoes alter ego, much of it is filled with lies, I was more of the hero, but this does not dissuade me from suggesting you buy Travels with Roscoe available with a click on the cover on the right margin of my esteemed blog. It could be said that when you purchase this book all your wildest dreams will come true, and that if you do not purchase the book for yourself and 10 friends your luck will take a turn for the worse for the next 7 years, this is probably not true and is not how I promote literature. But you know better safe than sorry . Kind Regards Roscoes favorite publicist. JW

We reminisce this tale and debate the accuracy of our memory. - So much so, that we challenge each other to describe our own version on our blogs. Josh, who pens the “My Mule” blog, and I have known each other since the early ‘70s. Josh’s older brother Charles Chadwick, my twin brother Joe, and older brother Big John witnessed the event. The players’ identities remain mysteries. Now, nearly thirty years later, they refute the truth.

One of the country’s largest city parks, Eagle Creek Reservoir is found on the Indianapolis northwest side Designed for flood control and nature habitat, the reservoir serves as a recreational area and city water supply, The reservoir headwaters at 79th street and runs south 4.5 miles to the dam near 34th street. The 56th street causeway bisects the vessel. The dam, completed 1968, retains 1350 surface acres. The primary forage fish is gizzard shad and it supports Walleye, Bass, Bluegill, and more. Boats are limited to a 10 hp maximum.

Josh’s dad was a phenomenon at buying boats. In fact, this pontoon was the first of many future boat purchases. He bought it and a small speedboat in the same summer. Undoubtedly, he acquired them in a brilliant barter. This was a typical 1970s aluminum pontoon boat - green, 16’ deck, aluminum railing, green Astro-Turf carpet, and 10hp motor. I have no recollection of seats, benches, storage, or canopy. With anchors front and back and a “helm”, it was no frills, pure boat. Josh’s dad called it ‘Annie’s Pride”. We called it the USS Wet Dream.

Charlie and Big John were in the same grade and shared an equal obsession for moto-cross motorcycles. Josh, Joe and I share adventures of backyard minibike racing, camping and fishing. We relied on our older brothers to drive. Big John drove a custom (homebuilt 76 Dodge) van. It sported lakester side pipes and rally wheels outside. Hideous brown shag carpet squares and wood paneling adorned the interior with a black velvet-like upholstered couch, CB radio, and huge-ass quadraphonic 8-track stereo (8 speakers, 4 brands). Aerosmith and Blue Oyster Cult. . . Awesome in quad!

I shudder at the following memory. Even thinking about it makes me feel like I’m swallowing a tennis ball. For on that day, we knew not what horror await.

On a crisp autumn afternoon, we boarded. An inventory of gear included fishing poles and a compliment of tackle like spinners, jigs, worms, hula-poppers, and other brightly colored shiny things. We stowed coolers for soda and sandwiches and one to bring home our harvest. We carried fishing licenses, seating and gasoline. I sported a life vest and pith helmet, a prophetic preparation. This day we preyed on Pomoxis annularis, the elusive White Crappie.

Farewell and adieu to you fair Spanish ladies,
Farewell and adieu you ladies of Spain.
For we’ve received orders for to sail back to Boston,
And till nevermore shall we see you again.

Josh and Joe sat on the fore deck, their lawn chairs in front of the railing. Between them was Josh’s disproportionately large tackle box. (You see, Josh was a small kid. He, weighing less than 100 pounds when on his freshmen wrestling team, owned a 30 lb tackle box.) While dual figureheads surveyed the horizon, all eyes strained for evidence of our tasty prize, Charlie captained from the ship’s helm in one of the chairs we swiped from his mom’s card table set. John and I made passage mid-ship.

We cast lines at the 56th street bridge, our little boat bobbed happily in the gentile swell. Time passed fruitlessly and we agreed by majority to try our luck near the dam. Josh weighed the bow anchor and Charlie the stern. We struck out for the inlet at the southwest corner. I felt uneasy as the engine roared at flank speed for I knew, cruel mistresses are luck and the sea.

Entering the inlet, a throng of bank-side anglers greeted us. We found the hot spot but we were late.

WHAM!!! The bow pitched down and rolled to starboard, hell-bent for murky depths unknown. Tearing metal raped the pristine tranquility of the park, the sound Godzilla screams as he tromps through Tokyo.

A white water explosion engulfed the craft, luckily sending Joe and the huge bait box tumbling over the railing and into the boat. Tilting forward, the now exposed screw sang wildly. Charlie scrambled to silence the banshee and a wide-eyed John grasped helplessly at a hoagie. Josh! . . . poor Josh went overboard to embrace certain doom. He thrashed fighting death with every stroke.

Thinking quickly I collected Joe and all of Josh’s lures except one hula-popper, tripped the engine kill switch and put mustard on John’s sandwich. I stripped my safari style chapeau and threw it to my floundering friend, knowing its buoyancy would support his picayune body. He grabbed his life raft and paddled toward shore.

By the time the pontoon resurfaced the deck held six inches of liquid. Within minutes the game warden arrived in the water cop boat leading an aquatic cavalry of emergency equipment. His assessment determined that an improperly stowed anchor had fallen from the bow, snagging a submerged stump and nearly capsizing the boat. “Roscoe, your cool headed action saved everyone on board”, he said to the applause of the embanked anglers. Later, we went for pizza.

Kind ladies and gentleman, I’m no braggart. This is but a humble fishing story. Undeniably, had James Cameron learned of this legend he would have wasted no time on that other boat movie.

You might ask, “What happened to Josh?” . . . Josh swam to shore like Harrison Ford did in “The Fugitive”.

Monday, April 23, 2007

The Roscoe Papers

In the golden age Roscoe had the foresight to create dog houses from used washing machines. Roscoe made some fat cash from this endeavor and now is selling part of his story online for near pennies. On the right hand margin you can purchase a first edition of Travels with Roscoe. It doesn’t cost much for the bundle of happiness you will receive. Kind Regards JW

Long ago, on a distant bulletin board

Most read story in TeamMooch!:
Comments are owned by the poster. We aren't responsible for their content.

Posted by: wyatt on Apr 16, 2001 - 08:13 PM
[TeamMooch!] I have an old refrigerator I hope to convert into a dog house. Does anyone have some old motorcycle parts I can use for the conversion?

by roscoe on Apr 17, 2001 - 04:48 PM
You don't really want to convert an old refrigerator into a dog house . First, if that dog bites into the feon coil he's gonna get a real bad headache. If your dog gets a real bad headache, it's gonna be grumpy. B, a refrigerator can be top-heavy. One good gust of wind can squish Old Faithful flat (flat dog = crying kids). Third, purchase a washing machine converted into a dog house. You will enjoy a lower center of gravity and without freon , it is environmentally friendly. I have an old Maytag modified with some Hodaka Super Rat components that works just fine. It's a classic. And my Rott, 3-Foot just loves it. He is a lot smarter than old 2-Foot.

by Anonymous on Apr 17, 2001 - 07:21 PM
1. How much for the Maytag and do you offer financing? My old dog four foot has one foot in the grave after he ate the freon coil, you were a little late on the advice but thanks anyway.

by roscoe on Apr 19, 2001 - 04:00 PM
That Super Rat Maytag is not for sale. It is just a demonstrator. Now, I do have an avocado KawaMana I could put four foot into in just 41 or 42 easy payments . Sorry to hear the old pup is under the weather. He may come around in a few days. Maybe he can use a little Pepto & 7up, that always makes a rumblegut feel better.

by Anonymous on Apr 19, 2001 - 07:19 PM
My neighbor has a nice motorhome that I might trade you for the house. Do you barter?

by wyatt ( on Apr 25, 2001 - 04:57 PM
I'd like to make mention of the fact that I bought one of Roscoes Washing MAchine dog houses and my dog aint one damn bit cleaner than when I first put him in the contraption. The Rinse cycle is broken and spin dry just made my dog throw up. So what gives? I want my neighbors motor home I traded you for it back!

by roscoe on Apr 26, 2001 - 03:41 PM
I'm sorry, there will be no refund on the motorhome. I traded it to my neighbor Freak Show Roy for a chimpanzee named Diablo. Freak Show was going on the road and needed a tour bus. He said that monkey was a prime ape so I figured he was pretty smart and I could teach him to strip out washing machines. Since I don't speak Spanish I named him Tater (Tater Chimp, get it?). Well, things just got worse after that. It took an hour-and-a-half to wrestle Tater into his coveralls . He wouldn't keep his tools organized and all he wanted to do was pick bugs off the dogs.

The other day at lunch, Tater went nuts . He jumped up on the table, stripped himself naked, and started playing with his fish stick and hush puppies. He screamed and threw food everywhere. Old Two Foot sat there howling and confused. He's got a cataract in one eye , a sty on the other and his good ear was full of coleslaw . I thought that I would never get things to calm down.

So , if you have problems with your new dog palace, you can bring it back. But, your taken the monkey !

by wyatt ( on Apr 26, 2001 - 05:01 PM
I'll take the Chimp and put him to work detailing cars. Monkey Shines Detailing will be the name of my company.Does he eat people food?

by roscoe on Apr 28, 2001 - 08:03 PM
Freak Show told me Feed that ape what you eat. One thing is certain, he doesn't like seafood. Otherwise, he eats almost anything. Be careful. If you set him to work detail on cars, he is liable to start eaten turtle wax like chip dip. I don't know if he likes the wax or if he likes the turtle, but he can sure power that stuff down. Burritos and bananas!!! Do not feed him burritos and bananas! WHEW!!!

If you want this monkey for your car business, let's figure out a deal. Maybe we can trade some detailing on my new dog house palace line. A good buff and wax on household appliances can make them look like new .

by Anonymous on Apr 28, 2001 - 11:56 PM
No deal! Your Monkey is mine, and if you want to start trouble then you ask the little fool monkey who he wants to live with? ME IS the correct answer you monkey hogging fool!

by Anonymous on May 01, 2001 - 11:02 PM
Roscoe, looks like weve got a real crack pot on the Forum. Monkey Hogging fool?

by roscoe on May 02, 2001 - 05:26 PM
OK Mister , it's a done deal. Spit and a handshake that monkey is yours . No more questions, arguments, promises, warranties or refunds... He is your monkey. May he bring to you all the joy and happiness that he gave me. In some ways I hate to see him go but, in most ways I say good luck and don't let him into the tequilas. He can be a mean drunk.

by Anonymous on May 02, 2001 - 07:02 PM
Not so fast there slicky! Keep away him away from the Tequila? I never trust a monkey that cant hold its liqour, find some other sucker! Now I recognise you for being one of those slick, fast talkin sophistimiticated con-men, I aint biten, fish is dumber waters slicky.Deals off!

by roscoe on May 02, 2001 - 07:49 PM
It's the darnest thing, just as I thought I was stuck with that monkey I fell into a gold mine. After dinner Tater got mad because I would not let him watch Adam 12 on the telvision set. Well, he got up and ripped the air-conditioner right out of the window! As he threw a fit around the garage, the insides fell out of that air-conditioner. With a little more work and some plexi-glass , it's going to make a great hamster or Guinea pig habitat. It needs a little more research and development because right now that motor driven exercise wheel really tuckers the little guys out. I'll grab the sprockets and chain from an old YZ and change the gearing. Thanks to that chimpanzee, I have a new product line . I'm gonna make millions!!

by baker ( on May 02, 2001 - 08:51 PM
Tread lightly my friend, I hold the Patent to the habitat cooler. My brain thought it up not your monkey.

by charlie on May 04, 2001 - 09:59 AM
Well I'm glad to see our web site is doing good service to those who need some safe place to hide. Roscoe, do you have any thing for my cat? 22 pound simese and meaner than hell. She killed 11 men in 9 minutes, she is hungry and must be fed daily, I just don't have it in me any more, old age and being banned from Osco dosen't help. Osco and Roscoe, they rhyme, they both treat cyapedigo, but one wears a diaper and one sells a diaper. A canoe tips and the pricks on the out side of a porcupine. Gotta go lick my wounds, thank dog I'm not injured where I can't lick. Waiting to cage a kitty in Cadiz. The moral to this story is if you can't remember the joke just blurt out the punch line, chances are we've all heard the joke before.
Help my cat.

by wyatt ( on May 04, 2001 - 10:18 AM
I have an old dryer, could that be converted to a exercise wheel for a gerbil who has a bad case of giganticism? I live near a nuculer plant.

by roscoe on May 04, 2001 - 08:21 PM
Charlie, HUH ? What did Wyatt's radioactive gerbil say to Charlie when he was hungry? Here kitty kitty! Now, that is a punch line. Has George W. Bush been writing your material? I have a monkey who's a tree climbing, p@@p flinging brain trust compared to that babble . What do you do for a 22 lb. cat? Well, I'm not really a cat type person so I'll just say buy nice big tupper-ware with a good seal. Otherwise, come on down to the monkey house . . .err, uh... design department. We'll hang an old Yokohama knobby tire for a swing and put Tater to work on your new cat house.

Wyatt, you could be on to something here. If there were some way to plug this glow in the dark Super rat in to that dryer, it might be the purest form of potential energy. A rodent dynamo! Hook that beast up to a turbine and power California!

Thursday, April 12, 2007

Order ...Travels With Roscoe ...on My Mule

What does the tall skinny book in this photo have in common with the other books in the collection?They are all eclipsed by the new Novel based by the entire world’s friend Roscoe. Roscoe has invented a entirely new genre which may indeed be the ever elusive Great American Novel...Read the review below and then promptly place your order for the first edition of .....
Travels with Roscoe $4.00 with shipping and handling!

Here are what his peers are saying, through a well respected medium...

Ernest Hemingway, I would have shot myself sooner had I know there was going to be a Roscoe, all my work for nothing!

The Bard, I would have not have bothered putting quill to paper had I know there was going to be a Roscoe.

Tolstoy, I did not understand what he said, it sounded like he was speaking Russian, he did sound despondent.

Mark Twain, I would have remained a river boat captain had I known there was going to be a Roscoe.

The Reviews go on and on, we talked dozens of well-respected dead authors even a few ancient Greeks, they all said essentially the same thing, Roscoe is the only book you need on your shelf, in the library or at the University. Buy it HERE $4.00 With shipping

I know traveling in this great country, especially with a good woman and a chimpanzee, is the American dream. All I can say is that a I got lucky. I worked hard and I was able to retire early. I cashed out the business, threw the bikes on the bumper and hit the road. Roscoe


Tuesday, April 10, 2007

I Suspect I am the Kin of kings

Did you ever wonder about your most ancient ancestors?
The Genographic Project will introduce you to them, and
explain the genetic journeys that bond your personal
lineage over tens of thousands of years.

Saturday, April 07, 2007

My Mule Archives 05ish

Book Review Flannery O'Connor

This review was first published Jan. 19 2005 and met with good reviews, it aint easy reviewing but I continue pushing that boulder up the hill, the hill grows steeper and the boulder larger but I just keep growing stronger...kinda...or maybe just more deluded. JW July 25 2005

A Good Man Is Hard to Find and Other Stories by Flannery O'Connor
Edition: Paperback
Price: $9.60
Availability: Usually ships in 24 hours

107 used from $1.15

13 of 15 people found the following review helpful:

I seen the dummy!, January 19, 2005
I recommend reading Linda Linguvic's review, she is dead right. Reading Ms. O'Connor stories is time well invested, and I agree one at a time is about all you can to digest, its like Harper Lee meets Edger Allan Poe. I always find myself in surreal situations that remind me of a Flannery O'Conner story...STOP READING AT THIS POINT AND GO TO LINDAS REVIEW...You see I am in a witness protection program and the only way I can communicate with my family is through Amazon...sad but false.Which reminds me of when I was a kid visiting my grand parents and favorite uncle in North Carolina (we stayed with them every summer until they told my folks to stop). My mom, grandparents,uncle and brother went a visitin' some obscure relatives in a town that seemed to make my grandfather grumpy, reckon that would have been any town USA. However this particular town was near another particular town that held something of interest, the spaghetti man, or as my grandfather called him the dummy. They called him the spaghetti man because he was Italian, he had worked for a circus and happened to die in the nearby town I mentioned, back in the early 20th century is my guess. The manager of the circus only gave the local funeral director a deposit for the burial with the promise of returning with final payment, which never came. So the Spaghetti man/mummy/dummy remained in his freezer for years. The son inherited the business as well as the dummy as I will refer to him from this sentence on until the end of my review. Well back in the 60's my brother, uncle and to a lesser degree myself badgered my grandfather enough that he agreed to leave the family gathering to go find the dummy. He found the town just fine it being on the map and all, but had to ask directions to find the dummy "where's the dummy"? after several blind alleys we found the funeral home and in the garage the owner took us for a small fee to the garage, he opened the freezer and there in the flesh was a shrunken up freezer burnt dummy! One of those moments you never forget, a certain smell might take you back or a foreign accent, but you dont forget those memory's by god! cause that's what life's made of, memories and things like that, eating too. Years later in the year 2000 I visited my folks in NC and in honor of the dummy I went to Target and purchased a white T shirt a couple of sizes to big and a black marker. I laid the T-shirt on my kitchen table and scrawled "I seen the dummy" across the front and into the armpit. The next day I showered,shaved and put on my new shirt, drove to the airport early , requested exit row (I'm above average in height you know) and flew to Charlotte. I then boarded a commuter plane to New Bern and the flight attendant asked me what my shirt said and I told her "I seen the dummy" ...Even though I was in the front row and she had to sit in the jump seat in front of me she was sort of cool and impersonal the rest of the flight, people you figure them out? If you like reading, buy Flannery O'Conner its not a walk in the park but you aint no dummy now are you?