Freddogg Off The Chain

Here in the resort area there are cops of all kinds-state and local-real and rent-a –cops, marine police, ferry police and a host of under cover brothers tripping over each other hoping to arrest those with arresting faces.
A few years ago a parent of one of my students cornered me at a football game and asked,”Is it true that you told your students if they haven’t been arrested then they don’t have much of a social life.”
‘That is true, ’I said. ‘There have been kids in boats arrested by cops in cars and kids on boardwalks arrested by cops from the beaches. And there are no Miranda warnings, local cops believe they can take a person into custody on suspicion of “underage drinking” handcuff them to a bench in the police station then solicit testimony from them I could go on but that’s my probation officer on the cell and I really should take his call.”
The latest infringements on the rights of people just out there living a life are the cover band police. Did you know that if you have a band playing cover tunes like a medley of lame ass classics that should have been jettisoned to outer space with the rest of the golden oldies 45 years ago –by the way I outweighed sputnik 57 pounds-when it was launched by the Russians- you are supposed to get permission and pay a fee.
“Imagine a bar at the shore on a Wednesday night and sitting around are Sham the Sham, Question Mark minus the Mysterians, Bee Bumble who popularized the “NO NO” song before leaving the Stingers–Nobody can do the Popeye like I do-Chubby Checker who stole the twist from Hank Ballard in the first place and Bobby Rydell who is never far from a shore bar where he may be recognized by an aging Italian blimp who still sees him as a rock star.
What you don’t find are Motown police because the culture is way different. I have seen the Drifters live in shore bars 16 times with never the same people. Some manger dude drives the narrow streets of North Philly recruiting singers then filling gigs in a two hundred mile radius as old white people wax nostalgic from Under the Boardwalk-half of north Philly was there in the summer of 58’-no white people and up on the roof where you could find the other half-“we talking flat roof..
Bust one of those Cover bands and you’ll be covering your ass on the way out the door in a very special Magic Moment.

Just a walking the Freddogg

Don’t Ask! Don’t Giggle!

I just by chance captured this photo from a road race I covered last Saturday in honor of a fallen marine. Three marines with multiple tours of Iraq under their belts ran the 5k but none of them could get to the finish line before Carla the transsexual work in progress.
I love Charlie/ Carla who used to run for that California Club of recovering Heroin addicts. He is a gentle person who wouldn’t hurt anyone and I’d go to war to protect his rights to be a really different kind of cat.
I just wonder if the marine in hot pursuit would say the same thing and if perhaps Charlie/Carla should show up at Advanced PT on Paris Island-in the Springtime- to show them a bit of the rigors of proper training and how you have to be a lot tougher as a grown man in a two piece than a guy who sports a high and tight haircut.
I personally know CIA gay guys and a few WAC’s that were whack before there were summer softball leagues.
You must watch the video produced by the greatest of USA track and Field athletes Carl Lewis and then tell me you would want him in your platoon.

http://withleather.uproxx.com/post.phtml?pk=3058

The seven deadly sins are: lust, gluttony, greed, sloth, wrath, envy and pride.
The seven parallel and counterbalancing virtues are chastity, temperance, charity, diligence, patience, kindness and humility.
I think it is possible to be a combination of all the sins which if you are honest sounds like more fun than being a balled up and hung up paragon of seven deadly virtues. Where is the fun?
Nuns in the old days sometimes called out students like me as a good for nothing sloth and I thought why not throw in gluttony and lust because once you find one fat assed sloth his bitch is sure to be nearby and they are prideful as well and if you pet one sleeping in the crook of a tree he will instantly become “unwrathed” and start humping your face with steel claws.
Yesterday I went by “the Yacht Club” swimming pool and there he was the omnipresent “pool slug” wallowing in the shallow end sitting on a yellow noodle used in morning aqua size class.
This 60 year old too tan short stepping sloth is at the pool every hour it is open. He just keeps being there-it is all he does. He can’t be Catholic not from my generation because of the sloth/guilt matrix.
How do adults camp-like on a beach- and just sit there?

Joke: A guy is watching Monday night football when there is a knock at the door. He groans, gets up and answers. A slug is on the front porch. The guy uses his thumb and finger to propel the slug into the wet grass.
Three years later on a Monday night it’s the same slothful and gluttonous guy watching football. There is an annoying knock at the door. The guy answers and there is the slug on the front porch. “What the hell was that all about,"the slug queries being a queer slug?

In education it’s called the dead man’s trap. Never reward a person for doing what a dead person can do. "Tyrone just shut up and sit there with your hands folded and don’t bother anybody and we’ll all get along fine.”

The noodle keeps the pool slug from the trap.

Peace

Freddogg

E Harmony has taken the place of Cognitive Dissonance the basic instinct and negative emotion generated by people who do not attract but are repulsed or is the word repelled?
Back in the early days of computer data processing–remember those IBM cards and number 2 pencils- the high school where I work had a computer match fund raiser and yes in retro it was a dumber idea than the slave auction in the cafeteria during spirit week which was cool until the black people deduced it reflected badly on them but if there were a fag auction who would dare open their mouths-that doesn’t sound right at all.
Anyway I picked up a questionnaire and card and choose every undesirable and loathsome trait that was available by forced choice and later dropped it in a box with the name Gorilla Monsoon and for homeroom teacher I put Fredman.
Day’s later cute kids & student council types accustomed to being lust targets showed up at my room to give kids who played the dollar game their 10 person match list. I had forgotten all about it.
Big white Sharon- clumped hair and stained Hulkamania tee shirt and -god bless her it was so sad-because she had a good heart- looked down at her list to the soul mate in number one position.
“Hey! Who the hell is Gorilla Monsoon,”she screamed. I never worked so hard to remain expressionless as 28 other kids stared at me. Do you know how hard it is to look clueless when you are not? For a battered Catholic boy it’s not that hard. And I have even been falsely accused often in my life and rightly accused. I always have remained calm just once or twice saying "Sister I didn't fucking do it!"followed promptly by a smack down which only stings it doesn't hurt.
Later that spring when coaching track I had to provide an adult official to the state track meet. No one volunteered so I wrote in the name Gorilla Monsoon on the entry sheet.
The Meet Director from a private school went on the public address system and announced in perfect pitch and resonance “Gorilla Monsoon of Cape Henlopen please report to the long jump pit or your team will be disqualified.”
I got that same look from my team. They knew Gorilla Monsoon was Fredman their coach but I was so deadpan and even told the Meet Director that Gorilla Monsoon had to attend the wedding of his older brother Bo Bo Brazil but perhaps Chief Big Heart would do it if I could find him.

Freddogg

I watched a documentary yesterday on Belleview Hospital in New York. The psychiatric emergency room sees 60 new patients a day. I can’t think of a single place with more fresh material for a writer and I’m trying not to say one with a minor in comedy.
Did you know that most mentally ill people are substance abusers and it’s hard to know what came first the psychotic chicken or the coconut egg? The psychiatrists on staff said cocaine is the schizophrenics’ drug of preference because it chases away negative feelings and voice activated messages “you are god” are mostly positive not “you are such a schmuck” negative.

One dude was asked “and why would you be chosen to be the messiah to come back to earth” and he responded “why not me it has to be someone”?

Another woman with broken glasses scotch taped together-and those were the new ones- said she just wants to wake up one morning and not be afraid and to have “slices of roast beef with Swiss cheese wrapped around them.”

Another guy was begging for release and a woman doctor said, ”We have to keep you here for awhile for detoxification and to get you on new medication.”

He objected said lots of people drink two bottles of vodka a day to chase mood elevating pills and she said, ”Yes but didn’t you call the police and tell them you were going to commit suicide by jumping out the window of your apartment building?”

“Yes I did,”he admitted. “But them I called them back and told them I lived on the second floor.”

I know, I know, none of it is funny but the good news is if you drink and drug enough you can become as crazy as the next person.

I walked the second floor at 6 a.m of a private institution for exotically mentally ill adult males whose families have lots of money. I was just in high school. A counselor guy told me “If you are interested in psychiatry you must observe the wake up ritual.

I believe in pornography it is called “morning wood” and no joke it was a loggers convention every morning just non inhibited lumberjacks standing in door ways some actually talking in casual conversation to a person across the hall. That’s why all Psychology texts are bullshit because they can’t handle the truth of human behavior when it goes off road in a two wheel drive convertible.

freddogg

I limped through the main door of Saint Joseph’s Hospital in Northeast Philly last Wednesday looking like Cabana Boy from the movie “Cocoon.” A community band was practicing in a big room, lots of brass and an audience on wheels and balancing on walkers. The were playing the Irish anti war song “Johnny I hardly Knew Ya” and somewhere is a lyric “you’re an armless boneless chickenless egg soon to be armed with a bowl to beg” and I thought “at least it’s not “My Way.”
We were visiting my wife’s aunt, Sister Martina 91, who had been unceremoniously tossed from the mother house of the gray nuns, an order she entered at 14 years old to play out her remaining days plagued by a sharp mind all senses on overdrive who must look up everyday and think ”How did I end up in this mother fucker?”
The lobby looked like a convention of Homo Semi Erectus Sapiens with all styles of walkers. Once every 10 minutes and alarm would go off when a patient tried to ‘steal away or slip slid away as Paul Simon wrote “the nearer your destination the more you'rE slip sliding away.”
The walkers had paste on sensors to nab those who would rather take their chances in the ghetto than on a floor with 24 patients and one nurse's aid with a bad attitude.
There was bent over old Joe standing in the middle of the room looking at his shoe tops. Joe had been in the men’s room and came out and halfway across the lobby before he realized he forgot his walker. Inside the men’s room is a bolted to the wall urinal. A big puddle is underneath it that glistens and teems with super mutated micro organisms.
Sliders to sofas traffic everywhere and a room of false starters those who try to get up behind the walker but it just ain’t happening so the room rocks and pops like the ballroom of an ocean cruise to the end of the earth as REM sang “It’s the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine.”
We drove home touring the North Philly ghetto streets where my great and no so great grandparents lived. And my parents and my smart ass. I remembered houses and corner stores and fat-ssed aunts and half ball games. “Who owns the ghetto, “I wondered?
My wife asked me,”If you get stashed in late life would you prefer Saint Joseph’s or a ghetto front porch.
“Not even close and hopefully next door to a crack house,”I said. “But I must be alone I can’t worry about protecting your bag lady self.”
I’ve said this before but I think everyone on Medicaid should get free street drugs including Balco cream. Shit I’ll be making balloon animals out of walkers and laughing my ass off behind McDonald’s food.

And that was “My Summer Vacation”

freddogg

What it is-is those damn Jap Beatles!

An octogenarian willingly playing his role as “old guy on the bench” dressed in tractor cap, light weight flannel shirt, green dingo pants, suspenders and boots was sitting on a bench at the Bay watching the world go by. I was on the bench next to him playing my role as famous community person who most times moves inconspicuously among the throngs and thongs as my alter ego “Big Loser Boy”.
Neighbor lady who was also old but kept bringing up people in stories and by way of introduction saying ‘I am of course younger than them” to which the man would transition “well anyway”.
The talk was of Cousin Ernest who passed that day to pancreatic cancer but he didn’t tell nobody and every thought it was the bad heart that would get him. And quickly the conversation turned to tomato plants and those pesky "Jap Beetle" and I wanted to ask if they were related to Krout Cockroaches or Gook Gnats and I thought of Black snakes but too pejorative and not funny.
The man said,”Those Japs ate all my bulbs” and the woman responded “every dam one of them” and he said “yes, all but three” and then she said,” Have you seen that groundhog living under your neighbor’s shed out in the back and the man responded “He mined hisself under there is what he did- well anyway.”
This cute couple had run the limit with me as I thought “what if I just wanted to watch the sun set and not listen to this bullshit what if I preferred Jap Zero with my Coke Zero?
And poor Ernest got no play whatsoever. The tomato plants drew more refection.
The woman’s parting shot “It’s supposed to be hot like this tomorrow. Don’t even look for me I won’t even pop my head out” Well anyway.

Freddogg

Uptown Girl or not who marries Billy Joel with their eyes open, his are big enough to see for two people? That dude could walk the Congo Basin at night without a flashlight.
Now Brinkley’s fifth husband is in open court on the short end-insert pun- of a divorce trial because he preferred Doe-Eyed Girl he discovered working in a Toy Store-I’ll take that one-to Uptown Girl.
Her husband ironically named Peter-ironic in that he had a 3k per month porn site Jones and thought it was a good idea to ‘Choke his Chicken’ for the Hewlett-Packard web cam. “When is somebody going to clean this LCD panel?”
By the way “We didn’t start the Fire” was a stupid Joel hit with world events stolen from a chronology book I stole from the school library years ago. And grand mom Rose told me when I was 14,”You are so smart but unless you get up and learn how to play that stupid blond piano in the corner of the room no one will listen to a dam thing you have to say.”
People have pointed and clicked their way into prison and community disgrace so follow my basic rules of asking the question: “Is this a good idea?” three times knocking down three stop signs before scanning your penis on a piece of classroom hardware then hitting import –doing exaggerated adobe adjustments- then attaching it to a mass email and sending it off into the world of Cyber Creeps just like you. This happened to a school teacher down south who was also a grandfather and deacon in the local church of extension ladder day saints.
A sociology professor of mine 35 years ago told the class “the upper classes are the ones going outside the norms into the realm of taboos and hanging sexual behaviors over the edge.”
I raised my hand,”Hanging exactly what over the edge of exactly what?”
George Barnard Shaw defined a pervert as “A person who only knows one way of doing things?”
No perverts in this story.

Freddogg

'Backspin' on the Sirius satellite radio-old school style rap- and the beat was all up inside me before I walked into the bank and up to the teller. And I wanted to “tell her” “I want a gangsta bitch!” I didn’t know I wanted one until a few minutes ago but hell yea I want one preferably one that can take sports photos.
A few years ago I asked my large Irish professor friend James during a class in Irish Literature if say a Master P was just as smart and clever as William Butler Yates and the fact that James wasn’t cool was keeping him from realizing that.
James took a deep breath then asked me if I was fucking crazy?
Comedian Eddie Griffin said that every time someone talks about lyrics that are harmful to society because young kids will mimic the behavior and act it out in reality they always use Gangsta Rap as an example.
“What about that Heavy Metal, mega death, bite the heads off of chickens and stab mommy with a pitchfork white boy music,” Eddie asked. “You know what I call sick ass shit.
Rap this and rap that but shoot the relatives at the back yard barbecue sick ass shit why not talk about that for while.”
Comedian Gary Shandling in dead pan delivery said,”I like gangsta rap. My bitch and I listen to it all the time in the car.”
Many times as a teacher I wanted to quote that Shandling line but knew my students would run to my wife’s room, ”Fredman said you are his bitch” and that out of context I’d be facing the school board behind closed doors.
“Mr. Frederick did you tell your class that you and your bitch like to listen to rap music when you go driving and infer that said bitch is actually your wife chairperson of the English department.?”
“That bitch is straight up gangster know what I’m sayin- hip hop hippity hop.”
I once told a classroom joke in front of an evaluator from Middle States who then expressed concern to my principal.
“I used to be engaged to a girl from Czechoslovakia but it didn’t work out because my parents wouldn’t accept checks.” Students made the mistake of laughing.
“Then I was engaged to a girl with a wooden leg but my parents made me break it off.”
I told students a good creative writing exercise would be “I used to be engaged to a blank but….”
And you wonder why people aren’t funny anymore cramming for irrelevant state tests.

freddogg

Lyrics if you want to memorize


Master P
If she ain't a gangsta bitch
Then I don't want her don't want her
And if she ain't a gangsta bitch
Then I don't need her
You can keep her


I need a bitch to hold my stash, a bitch to give me some ass
And when I'm on the run I need a hoe to send me some cash
I'm a ball 'til I fall and that's the first right
I need a bitch to watch my house while I live the streetlife
And I know it sound crazy
I want a gangsta bitch to have my baby
And pack a 380
And ride calm by the po-pos with dope in the Mercedes
And known to be a lady
And massage me with hennessy and weed when she bathe me