Freddogg Off The Chain

Chicken Little was cool he was just a little chicken.

This coward ain't buying markers and bringing signs to games! How gay!

“Ain’t that tuff enuff? Ain’t that tuff enuff?”

I'd wrestle with a lion And a grizzly bear
It's my life, baby, But I don't care Fabulous Thunderbirds


Show me a person who is overcoming tremendous physical and emotional challenges every day of their lives and let me write the story. I will capture their spirit and goodness and have you crying by the end. But Ricky don’t call my number, please never punch my ticket, because I am a straight up pussy, metaphor mixing, wimp ass.

Just this morning I wrote a story about an athlete I coached who was diagnosed with terminal cancer, first found in his lower jaw, when he was a junior in high school. He was given two years to live and survived 26 through 12 operations passing away on Thanksgiving Day.

The Reverend Annie, an Indian who adopted Sam an Afro American and his spirit and stayed by his side for 26 years said, “Sam was beautiful and I always told him that. He would refuse the needle and rather suffer the pain.”

That wouldn’t be me under the same circumstances. I’d be mainlining every pain and mind altering drug out there in between taking bong hits.

Two days ago I saw another former student whom I carried into the ocean a few years back in a Special Olympics polar bear fund raiser. This young man has a stomach tube and pump that releases nuclear medicine into his system everyday. Three years ago I admired how he dealt with being wheel chair bound. His illness is exotic and possibly progressive and I thought “what is tuff enuff” for crying out loud, being careful not to use the blasphemous “for Christ sake” but if there is a higher spirit why has it forsaken these innocents? This kid was driving his electric wheelchair down the bus lane of a major highway. He was dressed it black with earrings with sliked hair cause literally that’s the way he rolls. I thought of going back but didn’t want to insult his determination to be independent.

Trust me I grew up inside a family of saintly tuff enuff people who died young, my father 41 MS, mother 53 and sister 48,ovarian cancer, all to terminal illness that gave them too much time to reflect on where they were going.

So while I’m healthy let me shout out, ”I am a pussy! Leave me be! Someone has to write the stories.”

Freddogg

No I don't need a drink the check box for liquor is simply highlighted in my subdural preference menu.

Hypnotic and Morphine produces just the best Hullucinagenic nurses.

Cujo is depressed because of his bad reputation. "Attack one bitch and her crazy with fear lillte daughter in a broken down car and right away you're a mad dog, "he said. "Why didn't someone just fill my water bowl"?

This study was conducted by a University of Pennsylvania Professor and published in the Netherlands bacause no one stateside would certify the blantently obvious.

GRONINGEN, The Netherlands, Nov. 28 -- A first-ever depressive episode following a myocardial infarction signals a significantly greater risk for new cardiovascular events.

That's according to Peter de Jonge, Ph.D., of the University of Groningen, and colleagues, who compared outcomes for MI patients with incident depression, non-incident depression, or no depression.

Well thank you, Dr.de Jonge Bob. Now, first of all, if you are a survivor of an infarction and actually heard the word "Clear"” before a paddle attack then most certainly you will have lingering incident depression otherwise you are a moron or you drink chilled Hypnotic pulled from a Igloo playmate while driving your Tundra pickup through town in the middle of the day but enough about me and my dog Darby Doodle.

And whom is the "ClearÂ" command supposed to protect? Can you imagine being a bystander and getting knocked on your ass because you didn'’t clear?

Non-incident depression refers to those mopey people who skulk around with sloped shoulders quietly bemoaning a bad hand even after they drew four cards to go with their ace.

"“What'’s wrong Leroy? You are practically face down in your pasta but at least it'’s 11 a.m.in the Walmart food court?"

“I'’m going to die young because I had a "mayocardial" infarction last year and now I can't stop thinkng about it or talkng about it plus there is not enough power in any of these electric shopping carts to get me to the pharmacy section and back again."

"“What do you need besides a blood pressure cuff, blood sugar analyser, oxyegen tank and BMI indexing digital scale that weighs you sitting down?"”

"Could you bring me back two king sized Nestles Crunch bars?"”

"No , I can't. Roll with me to the gym. I will hoist you into the truck. Have you ever slurped chilled Hynotic at 40 miles and hour while listening to Blue Grass music?"”

And finally, there are the skippers and sliders from the land of never never depressed who, in spite of all signals they should be sullen to morose people, are just happy to be somewhat ambulatory so they can smoke and drink and get fat spending time in intensive care where they can push one button to summon the nurses with clevage and another to have their morphine drip cranked up.

I'’ve met some of these people while studying lifers in prison. Two of them shot fat wives in the head while the women were sleeping because they were tired of constant nagging and losing arguments to females with greater girth. One happy go lucky lover of life anywhere said,"That bitch won her last argument but she won'’t win another one."”

I just want to party all the time.

Dr. Freddogg

I am in the pressbox in Baltimore where I ain’t nobody but I have access—did I mention the free food?

Former Superbowl quarterback and MVP Doug Williams was kep,t walking past my back getting on my nerves looking for his seat. Finally the head of media Credentializing, my girl Francine who loves me because I give her presents, asked me if I saw a name tag for Doug Williams.
“No there’s one here that reads, Doug Whaley,”I said, but no Doug Williams.”
“Francine was not happy that a member of her staff who never heard of Doug Williams made him Doug Whaley and all the time I was Dave and I am known but Doug Williams was not. "I'm gone to Didney World!"

It reminded me of a young women's volleyball coach at Cape who passed me and said,”Hi Coach.” Then she caught herself and said, ”Why did I call you coach?”

“I don’t know bitch, why?’ Actually, I informed her that among other coaching accomplishments that I had won five state titles as a track coach. “Yes but that was when I was little,’she said.

I saw Dan Dierdorff , a broadcaster and member of NFL Hall of Fame walking with his cane, as in leaning way over and barely walking. Dan-first runnerup in the “Ugly Like Czonka” contest, was with Greg Gumbell, brother of Brian, two pudgy brothers who have yet to produce which parent is white.

I had to ride over several Pittburgh Terrible Towels on my way into the parking lot or be faced with a spontaneous throw down with several Bohemian susage slaying drunkards.


Finally, I must admit to taking a shower with a puppy last night but all I can say is I was in there first and he's 25 percent poodle so what do you expect.

Peace Freddogg

Today is Black Friday but not Good Friday which is the first Friday of the Month. If you are Catholic and go to mass nine first Friday’s in a row then die you go straight to heaven it doesn’t matter which crimes you commit they are all forgiven.---Insert your own fantasy crime here!---
The late Bishop Pike once said that at the 6 a.m.daily mass there were always the same 8 old ladies of either sex. I don’t know what he meant but then again I did, sort of like listening to Bob Dylan, “She’s got the pork chop and I’ve got the pie, she ain’t no angel and neither am I.”
I intend to purchase an Iranian Hallway runner at half price today and possibly another handcrafted and sewn piece for my vestbule,foyer or whatever that space is called when you first walk in the door. Did you know that Iranian rugs have flooded the market going back to when Clinton removed sanctions from Iran because he was decorating his New York Manson and apartment?
I will not stand in line for special sales because that is eating into my time which even at minimum wage offsets the sale price. The same goes for All You Can Eat and Half prIce dinners at restaurants.
If I’m going to engaage in some “ all you can eat” frenzy I’ll do it at home in my jockey shorts so I can bellow and belch and throw scraps to Darby Doodle and pretend I’m a non violent member of a hippy cult from the Sixties.
Let’s do a little interactive blogging here. Will you shop on Black Friday? Do you go out to dinner midweek because of specials? Do you buy cheap beer because it’s cheap beer? Have you ever made a restaurant sorry you walked in on All You Can Eat Wings night?”
If a close friend won the Powerball and did not offer to pay off your mortgage would you hate them?
And can you do the Electric Slide?
Time to buy a Persian Rug. Let me tell you about Ahab the A Rabb.

Freddogg

I am the Mayor of The Land of the Lost. I am Prince of the “You Ain’t Nobody” Hamlet of Confusion. None of this is related to age on inability to sort out a myriad of disconnected details. It is the patron Saint of things lost, Saint Anthony, whom I call Ant, making sport of me for refusing to whisper the Catholic jingle “Dear Saint Anthony please come around, something is lost and can’t be found. And if you find it, bring it to me, and oh how happy I will be.”Faggot!"

Last Tuesday morning I was The ‘standing in the parts department at massive car dealership guy, armed with seven dollars, no license, no credit card except a numbered one with no name” a registration card bearing my son’s name so I could have them cut a key I lost when I moved a truck 20 feet and misplaced, no doubt sitting next to me debit card which has been “hot carded” because I think the puppy ate it and anyway he needed a good kicking. If you can consistency pooch kick a puppy and get it to roll dead inside the 20 yard line you can make a million dollars a year.

So the three parts guys with blue shirts and muted white striping and red letters on white name tags sewn on are being way too professional for whatever they get paid. Finally, I am able to show them a picture on the back of a Sam’s Club credit card and they are satisfied that I am me and they are not and we are all together but then another snafu or two.

I lost the one credit card I have by just standing there and looking for a photo I.D. then they realize the person I am is not the person on the registration and all the money spent in Service and all the people in the world I know and the millions of dollars raised by polar bearing for Special Olympics ain’t getting me no key.

‘You would be surprised what goes on back here with divorces and other family problems which is why the only person we will make a key for is the properly identified person who is on the registration.”

“Actually I am surprised by nothing except unbridled professionalism for moderate financial remuneration, ”I told them. “If I were any of you I’d seek therapy but also I wouldn’t cut some clown in a Timberline Hooded sweet shirt and Sam’s Club I.D. a key to someone else’s truck. I am out and thanks for helping us all waste time with no positive outcome.”

I was walking out the door and they all wished me a Happy Thanksgiving. It reminded me of the school administrator who gave me an unsatisfactory lesson analysis and on the envelope wrote “Please return, I recycle.”

“Recycle it now Bitch!” I wrote and it was unprofessional but definitely therapeutic.

Happy Thanksgiving! I got your drumstick right here!

Freddogg

Postscript: My good friends Brandt and Linda own a dealership C.F. Swartz where I buy my cars but the other one which shall remain nameless "Hertrich" is just closer for key cutting---NOT!

Better to break laws than taboos. There is no law against having sex with your grandmother or your great aunt but if you do and are caught you will never swim back from the tidal pool of social ostracism to the mainstream of an intolerant society.
Michael Richards ain’t funny in a quick witted way, he was a body language pratfall Seinfield guy, a program that most black people found totally unfunny. And so “Kramer” apologizes via satellite on Letterman for calling black Hecklers and Jecklers "niggers" but most black people I know hate Letterman also because basically he ain’t funny either and if Letterman ever did standup in a club with black people in the audience he would get “housed.”
Richard Pryor’s first stand up on the tonight show Carson invited him to the couch.
”So Richard, is that what your friends call you Richard?”
“No, mostly they just call me skinny Nigger, ”Pryor said, and Carson couldn’t speak for the next minute.
Anthropologists refer to joking relationships which are earned over time. They push the taboos but no one is serious about it.But 'taboo is but a sin away' and if you use the word perky you had better be damned sure the 15 year old girl knows you're talking about personality.
The team Doctor of the Oakland Raiders in the early eighties once came onto the field to attend to a hurt player. ‘Get up nigger, you ain’t hurt, ’he said to the defensive back. A Kansas City player standing nearby took offense-or was it defense, it was reported, followed by the requisite back tracking apologies.
The doctor was inside a joking relationship with his players, the humor is in walking the line, but once perceived as over, you can’t explain your way back, because the people who get it, get it immediately, and the others don’t want to get it.
I have stood up in front of lots of audiences. I always perceived the occasion as an opportunity for a career ending comment. My philosophy was “I stand behind nothing I say but I’ll stand it front of it all.” I’d rather lose all future opportunities to “rock the mic” then to snivel and apologize and attempt to explain my entire life of understanding, tolerance and friendship to a bunch of anonymous assholes.
“Kramer” ain’t never getting back, not never, not ever. The game is not fair because they get to heckle you but you don’t get to throw daggers back at them. It’s a matter of losing control and poor taste I think.
Let’s say you’re telling a joke to a crowd and a fat woman eating a cheese steak begins to heckle you in an insulting and nasty way. You look out and instantly see vulnerability and you strike.
“I see the Momma Cass Cheese steak Special is on the menu. Looks like that bitch was baptized at Sea World! When she was in high school the principal walked by and said, ”Hey break it up! She was the only person in group therapy and could only get in touch with her inner self using the roaming feature on her cell phone.”
Trust me if you ain’t ready to play back you will be a road kill on the highway to the stars.
Racist insults are not against the law but they are taboo and only freaks fly publically in the face of cultural taboos which is why violators must go away and stay away. Like my gradmother Rose said,"First cousins don't have deformed children because of genetics, they have deformed children because they are cultural freak shows. LIke when you look at cousin Janet what do you see? I rest my 20 pound purse."

Freddogg

“Where’s my bitches”? That line comes from the 1987 Robert Townsend cult classic “Hollywood Shuffle” embedded in that film, about the struggles on Black Actors in Hollywood, is a segment called "Attack of the Street Pimps” in which Zombie pimps take over a Ghetto neighborhood.

Back in the Spring of 1995 after the Cape Henlopen Lacrosse team had defeated Fort Meade to win it’s own four team tournament, I was sitting on the second row of the bleachers, my feet on the ground, waiting for my twin sons, who had spent four minutes of the game in the penalty box, mostly for cross checking and unnecessary roughness.

I looked up and there was this mother and her high school daughter adorned in ball cap and straight blond hair—a lax cutie—and some young stud with his visor turned upside down gripping and twisting on his stick in a preppy message of menace.

‘What is your name, ”the woman demanded of me? Now I am the nicest person and not confrontational and I respect women and mothers BUT I hate when someone doesn’t introduce themselves and demands to know my name.

‘What is this about,” I asked?
‘I want to know why you called my daughter a Bitch?”

Young boy tightened the grip on his short stick. The girl got a huffy bitchy look. Mom kept waiting for my answer.

Back to the game where reporter, sports dad, and teacher man, was standing behind the scorers table. Fort Meade was getting beat down and they didn’t like it. This young girl was their manager and all around expert and was continually criticizing the home girls at the scorers table like they had no idea what they were doing. By the way both those girls today are successful lawyers as opposed to disbarred dirt bags of the Western World.

I leaned over to “My girls” just to ease their ‘unnervousness’ and said “I guess this is a BYOB tournament? They looked back quizzically and I whispered ‘Bring Your Own Bitch!”

Now Miss Lacrosse cutie with hyperkinetic tendencies heard me like a rabbit dog on a chirping baby hare but the comment was not made for her to hear. I would never call a high school girl a Bitch to her face I have way too much class and sense for that.

“I never spoke to your daughter or let out an audible Bitch in the Box, ”I told the mother. I am Dave Frederick and here are the places I work and my supervisors and by the way also mention my name to your head coach who knows me. Tell them all that the Dave Frederick they know had transformed into calling high school girls bitches.”

Lax boy was getting brave like he was considering taking an unnecessary roughness penalty. “Big man, calling a high school girl a Bitch!”

Now the girl was a straight up Bitch and so was her mother and they needed to be called out but ain’t that the way with Bitches, we always give them wide berth so they continue throughout life to Bitch their way around watching others back off.
I decided conciliation had gone far enough and just focused on the young man who was strappingly fit and in his early twenties.

“As for you, faggot lacrosse catalogue Brine action wear white boy, I’m getting tired of looking at you gripping that stick, excuse me STX, and staring at me, so either swing it or take your recent loss and goofy assed visor and head back across the Bay Bridge.”

I am not afraid to fight and not afraid to get hit and I don’t mind losing what mostly scares me is winning too convincingly like “How did he manage to wrap that titanium shaft around the guy's neck three times?”

Nothing ever came of the incident because no one who knew me including the Meade Coach could believe I had sunken to outing high school Lax Bitches.

Be careful with your commentaries and be slick with your revelations.

Here’s barking at you kid!

Dr. Freddog



http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0093200/trailers-screenplay-E16005-10-2

"Stand By Me" Vern Speaks to his 12 year old buddies. "I have a cousin and she's real fat and they say it's because of a hiboy gland. I don't know anything about no hiboy gland but boy what a blimp!"


Cats are stealth and mysterious and cool and calculating and hardly ever make a mistake. That is why when our domesticated miniature jungle slayer walks across the braided rug when like to drag our foot and make him jump. There ain’t nothing like taking the cool straight out Morris and calling him a "dumb ass."

Those of us who have lived with cats have all had occasion to see them miss the hop up on to a wet formica counter and fall back onto their back on a tile floor. Even little kids with no training will erupt in laughter because slap stick is spontaneous, we don’t have to think about it.

Talk to a group of fourth graders and let some lard ass sneak pass gas, either LBH or SBD. You may be quick “who stepped on a frog out there” or “who brought the hard boiled eggs” but they have gone over to the land of fart jokes and if it’s close to Thanksgiving they will all have grandparent stories especially if a youngish and fit grandmom, protected by potholders on each hand and looking like a field hockey goalie, is bent over and lifting a 22 pound bubbling turkey out of the over when suddenly it sounds like a circus balloon is flying around the room. ‘Grandmom I don’t like turkey anymore.” “Oh all turkeys sound like that when they’re running out of gas."

I do lots of microphone work. I’m a low waged pro at it. I know if there is a mispronunciation you just stop, take a breath, and say it correctly. Amateurs make a babbling sound with their tongue sticking out like Goofy having a seizure.

Sometimes I’ll say something and my voice just won’t be there so it cracks and sounds wimpy. I usually follow that moment with a deep announcer’s voice “and that was when Fredman Turned Gay.”

Now if you mispronounce a simple message “Ladies and gentleman please welcome the 2006 Cape Henlopen Marching Gland…pause..breath..BAND! You are the "cat off the counter" because the crowd just ain’t letting you back to the land of cool.

Can you remember an embarrassing moment-it requires at least one witness-and how you handled it?

Freddhogg—I mean Dogg

Note: New Puppy is Darby which is Gaelic for Darby named after wife’s paternal great grandfather on grandmothers side but not in a bad way

Comedian Gary Shandling was discussing rap lyrics and said he didn’t mind them because he and his Bitch listened to rap every Saturday night.

Comedian Eddie Griffin talked about heavy metal devil worship, biting the heads off animals and killing mommy with a hatchet to the head songs, or what Griffin called ‘Sick Ass Shit!”

They’re always talking about Gangsta Rap but it’s the white people who are psycho" Griffin joked with a certain degree of accuracy.

Are there love songs in rap or heavy metal? Why do fools fall in love or maybe they don’t anymore and why do birds sing so gay but that’s another issue all together?

How about “When A Man Loves A Woman” He’ll use up all his money and sleep out in the rain”--or like a male dog in the backyard-- if she says that’s the way it ought to be.

We here in the USA have become the culture of crass and daytime television soul venting for losers with fat cookie dough faces.

An off white coal cracking town in Pennsylvania recently had some blood of color move in after 200 years of isolated white on white reproduction. An old Irishman who lives there said to me, ”Change is here and the problem now is there are no girls for ugly white guys.”

He wasn’t trying to be funny which is what made it funny because..oh hell I’m not explaining it just move on if you don’t understand.

The lyrics of love can be found and repeated in music because most people never read poetry although they write some pretty lame love and death bullshit. But whatever happened to “honey they’re playing our song” sentimental journeys?”

Nat King Cole ‘Unforgettable” or even Spinners “I never knew love before then came you” or Stlylistics “You are everything and everything is you.”

Write to me “what is your favorite love song” and make it quick bitch!

freddogg

John Ritter played the gay character Vaughn in the movie Slingblade whom the young boy referred to as not a "guy guy," When the boy explained Vaughn to his backward buddy Car,l he said, "Vaughn is funny. You know not funny Ha Ha but funny Queer."



I had an uncle who was in the Navy floating around the Pacific watching the randomness of kamikaze attacks. Uncle Cholly built boats inside bottles throughout his life. He was always a breath away from the "“Navy Guy" ” and navy war stories.

I've read about battles like Gaudalcanal and Normandy and I don'’t know how you re-enter “normal life after surviving those kind of experiences. So you become "Veteran Guy" or "VFW Guy or "Legion hat in a Parade Guy" and sadly mostly veterans are quiet because the very term "‘war stories" ” has the connotation of long and tedious and elaborated outside tlikelihoodof liklihood yarns from back yonder.

Young men play college football then go on to become "Alumni Football Tailgating with my Old Teammates Guys." I played football in college but I'’m not" Alumni Guy" because none of my guys wanted to be alumni guys either. I am a sportswriter so I cover University of Delaware football and they have a pregame parking lot filled with alumni guys and they have fun and they keep it all in balance and if a 50 year old man wants to wear a helmet in a parking lot that'’s his business.

I was a Rehoboth Beach Lifeguard and I'’m proud to be in the fraternity and have great friends from 30 years back but I have moved on and not "Lifegurad Guy" either. I retired from teaching and I am definietly not "“teacher guy."”

A young woman who coaches volleyball recently passed me and said,"”Hi Coach!" She then caught herself and said, "Why did I call you coach?"

"“I won five state titles as a track coach and coached football as well," I said. Her response, "that was when I was little."

Now I will cop to being "Coach Guy" and "Catholic Guy" but I no longer coach or go to church. I've run marathons and done triathlons but I'm never was "Let Me Bore You With My Training" guy. I've been called "Fat Guy" and "That Guy's A Smart Ass" but I always assumed those derisive comments were intended for someone else.

I think the guy I am changes by the minute and lives in the moment. Just last Saturday I was grandaddy with a bent back guy and today I was big beast at the gym friendly sports guy.

The is no football team that is mine and I never refer to a profession team was "we" ” should be good this year.

I am proud to be an American but I'm not "Lee Greenwood Guy." I stand for more National Anthems a year than anyone but I'’m not “"Hand over Heart Guy."

I think I' ’m just "“don'’t be that guy"” whoever "that guy" happens to be.

Peace

Fredguy

Once I was kicked in the head during a football game and the coach asked me, ”Do you think you have a concussion?” and I responded, ”I don’t know? Is that a trick question?”

I hardly ever missed work when I was a teacher but once I called the “substitute lady” and said, ”I won’t be in tomorrow.” And she asked “Are you sick?” And I said, ”I don’t know, define sick. You mean stay in the bed and mope around inside the house sick? Or low energy not motivated sick? All I know is I won’t be there and I guess if there is a category for sick then check it off but I still may go to the gym because it is through physical exertion that I assure myself that I’m not going to die because as long as I can lift heavy weights I am still destined to live although I may be sick at any given moment but who cares I ain't no baby."

I missed a football practice on a Tuesday of game week when I was at Temple and I could actually see the team running around from the 10th floor of my dorm room. ‘Tell them I’m sick, ”I asked my roommate and running back John to tell the coaches.

“Are you sick, ”he asked. “I must be , ”I said. “But I ain’t crying about it and I refuse to sound like it. So if I say it, can’t that be enough? Can we skip the act?” John responded like a true friend, ”I really don’t fucking care. If you want to be sick or think you’re sick that’s your business.”

I was recently recruited to come back to emcee the Punkin Chunkin event that draws 20 thousand people. I did it for 10 years and I think I was pretty good, the right blend of humor and shut up intelligent, but not too smart, lovable in a dumb ass sort of way.

I told the president I didn’t want to do it and he asked why and I said, ”I don’t know, I just don’t. “

Don’t you think we all spend too much time making lame excuses for not showing up and not doing things but the bottom line is “we just don’t want to go to work or practice or emcee events” they are times we just like to "slug a bug on a braided rug."

Once a 320 pound woman buried elbow deep in the chrome cookie dough churner looked at me with beads of sweat pouring down her neck and asked “Is it hot in here or is it me?”

There was no good answer so I did the old, ”Is that a trick question?” and she said, ”was that supposed to be funny” and I said, “no” but grabbed her arm and licked off some dough and said “but that was” and I think she liked it because who wouldn’t?

I don’t know.

Freddogg

What is the over/under of a fence slowing down the massive Central American human Flight to Freedom? "Cisco kid was a friend of mine! He drink water Pancho drink the wine" War

This is the first Friday of the month and did you know that if you go to Catholic mass for nine first Fridays in a row and receive holy communion that you have etched yourself a row house in heaven not on the same block as the departed clergy and not water view but with a cool little garden out front and no crack heads hanging on the corner.

Martin Luther King said if you want to see segregation in America wait until Sunday because there are still white and black churches while most Hispanics are Catholic which means white because amazingly you aren’t going to see a significant Latino “laity in all gayety” rocking and rolling during a black church service.

Did you see two weeks ago that President Bush signed a bill approving construction of a 700 mile fence along the border between Texas and Mexico? The price tag was somewhere between two and eight billion. Political pundits joked that Halliburton would be subcontracted to build it but we all know that the only people who could “get after and complete” the building of a 700 mile wall are Mexicans. “

Thanks for the interlocking pavers and perfectly pointed brick façade hombres now go back to the underbelly of opulence and stay there because in spite of all your innate abilities to build and take things apart we know there is no way you can ever figure how to beat the man made barrier rivaling the Great Wall of China. Just one question: How do you write “Keep Out” in Spanish?

Freddogg

"Go back out there to your math and English classes and just tell that smartass that you hate him and so does everyone else. You know,I used to be fat as well."
"What a coincidence becuase we used to be black."

Clark bar the door of repressed memories! Two years ago an email message arrived on my school computer. The subject was “bad news.”

The news was that Bishop Egan's beloved high school English teacher, Fred Clark, a veteran of 40 years in the classroom,had passed away. I was shocked on several levels.

The first was how in the hell did Bishop Egan find me to deliver this bad news? The other is how did a guy who was 400 pounds at age 22 live and survive to teach 40 years? And lastly, this guy Fred Clark hated me and went public with his hatred and kept his job which doesn’t seem right, I mean how hateful could I have been? And how strange that plenty of teachers from my high school had passed away over 40 years, so how come a eulogy on the one who hated me arrived on my desktop in Lewes Delaware 40 years later?

I realize people change, I have certainly changed and I’m not one to hold a grudge, but fuck Fred Clark for saying I was the worse human being he had ever met in his life and for saying it in front of a class of 50 boys, who all seized the opportunity to agree with him.

Clark had lost it in a class gone wild and roared like a Lion who couldn’t get up because he had eaten the entire impala in 20 minutes. Shut up! Everybody just shut up! Fredricks, I hate you. Hate you!” His entire fat boy swallowed aggression and eating depression self was suddenly being taken out on me.

‘Don’t play this game with me, ”I warned him. ‘You are no match, just back off. “ But he didn’t. And he hardly moved a muscle because he couldn’t, just this slow and nasty delivery and there were so many ways I could have laid him out—so many openings I let pass-- I just let it happen and keep happening. I was a bit quizzical about my own identity. How did I drive this bread truck to the point of hating me so much?

Later in the day the coaches had heard that Clark lost it and went after Fredricks, as they called me, but they were completely shocked that I didn’t retaliate because on the football field or basketball court I’d retaliate physically against anyone and I was the best at getting inside the heads of opponents before anyone ever heard of trash talk of “selling wolf tickets.”

As a teacher I was loved for the same reasons I was hated as a student. Makes no sense to me!

Freddogg

Down with dignity is the story of a long life. Sooner or later you look into a mirror or face an audience then shrug and say, ”What the hell, this is me, for better or worse.”

But too many people give up the ghost early and don’t even care. They get fat then fatter, smoke cigarettes, talk all nasty, and don’t really care what image they project. The get drunk and oiled up and have sex like barnyard animals or with barnyard animals, they just don’t care, they are passing through a life as hedonist without philosophy training. God bless them all.

Now I am encumbered, if not cucumbered, by a sense of self awareness. I want to look reasonable or at least not draw a crowd by looking ridiculous.

A dozen years ago I was hospital gowned before surgery. They wanted to double gown me with one that ties in the back and another in the front to save me and everyone else in the hospital from embarrassment. I insisted on only the back tie, left untied, and I wanted to walk through a waiting room filled with strangers. It’s implosion therapy, get all the embarrassment out there at once. You can’t hurt me. I have a hinny just like you. Then if you’re really lucky while you unconscious they will stick a Foley-but hopefully not Mark Foley- up you penis so you don’t pee on the Jewish doctor during surgery. The days afterwards when you have gotten used to that embarrassment, some fat chick dressed in a nurse’s uniform, will kneel on your bed and rip the foloy back out as you become a house whose vinyl garden hose is crimped.

Back in 1965 a drunken basketball player on parole from a rape change knocked my two front teeth in half swinging his “errant elbow” on a rebound. I have been fighting caps and crowns flippers and partials ever since.

Once I was standing in front of a football defense as the coordinator during a crucial fourth quarter time out in a tie game. A loose crown came flying out of my mouth and I caught it in midair. One linebacker said ,”Fredman, stop playing,” another defensive back said, ’Fredman is fucking crazy.”

Another time a crown was so loose when I was teaching that I had to leave and go straight to the dentist because if you remove a tooth in front of high school kids then will Hannibal Lecture you into therapy.

I procured a reluctant substitute and I was walking down the hallway leaving school drinking coffee when this little Chinese girl name Meeche came walking past. I tried to say “Meech” but then sneezed with coffee in my mouth which came out of my nose and eyes while the tooth flew out of my head.

Meeche, the controlled and respectful Asian girl, lost her mind and laughed so hard and so long and I had never seen her smile before and if I see her today years later she still cracks up and can’t talk to me.

Today my partial went away for an addition fake tooth and I am hiding like a pussy willow under the baseboard heating duct.

No one appreciates a gregarious snaggle-toothed white trashy looking redneck except women who look the same which is why I am out of human circulation for a day.

K9 Freddogg

How many times in your life have you heard something as clear as a church bell and responded with “what?” or maybe “you’re kidding?” or perhaps “have long have I been a what?”

It’s what I call the “no freaking way” principle and basically items and occurrences which don’t fit into the natural order of our world or things that will disrupt that order we spontaneously deny their reality.

Back in 1966 I was sitting at a doctor’s desk wearing jockey shots. I had a canvas bag contained no valuables tied around my neck. It was the final exit from the pre induction army physical. This drafted physician with a bad attitude looked across at my recently degraded for three hours young and fit self and asked, ”How long have you been a faggot?”

If I had been cool and prepared I’d have said, ”I don’t know, what time is it?”

But instead I did the predictable, ”How long have I been a what?” It turns out on my medical form I had checked yes for homosexual because I was in the wrong column so I also answered that I was a woman susceptible to cramping.

Like the time in seventh grade when mother superior called me out in the hall and asked me, ”So Mr. Frederick maybe you can tell me?”

“Sure I’ll tell you. Tell you what?”

“What is a boner?” (Are you starting to catch on?)

“What is a what?”
Turns out some loser kid was setting me up telling the nun I was teaching him dirty words at recess. I,of course, have no memory of ever being that guy and maybe under therapy all my repressions will come out and I will discover that back in grammar school I was, in fact, “boner man.”

Here’s a question I hate. A person walks up and says, “Have you heard about Bobby?”

I always respond, ”No, goodbye!” because I know something happened to Bobby and it ain’t good, in fact, probably catastrophic, so if I don’t hear it then maybe it didn’t happen.

I recently lost weight and people carefully approach because I’m 60 and weight loss could be a sign of sickness or health and they asked, ”You've lost weight?” I just nod an say “Crack addiction.” And they say “what?” and I just walk away Renee.

Peace Faggy Freddy Doggy

But what is the quintessential truth Ruth? What is the make up of the current American Military? Is it reflective of the American social stratification network as tied to education and class structure as pegged to economics? The answer is no and it doesn’t matter what John Kerry says or John McCain or Bush or Limbaugh because all those people mentioned are fucking millionaires last time I checked.

We are a nation where politics and government are mostly controlled by a network millionaires and Ivy League legacy privileged people. We are an elitist society that is really good at making jokes we just can’t take jokes.

The current volunteer Army lackS significant membership from the middle class and trust me there is no upper class unless they get to play with the money earned from middle class labor. That’s why in capitalism we all can’t be rich otherwise we’d be socialist who don’t get to drive Escaldes and own beach houses.

Do you know about the back door draft and 45 year old reservists doing multiple tours of Iraq? Then go read something else! You can'T sell this war on college campuses because those students just ain’t buying.

Oh there are many coming out of military connected academies and universities who are among the best and brightest and toughest young people this country has to offer no question about it. But this is also a war fought by an economic underclass with a vision to improve their own lot in a system that dealt them a low card right out of the chute.

Kerry is a stupid fucker married to a rich bitch so who cares about him and his boat and Mekong Delta and get on with your life John and go raise money for some new bars at the local VFW’s.

Draft everyone 19 thru 26 and that will inspire a national debate on this policy but until the heat is turned up under us all we’ll continue to have millionaires arguing as to who is the better patriot.

Freddogg