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My Last 5 Diary Entries

It will be my first time...... - 2005-03-28

"Fun Times on McClellan Street" - 2005-02-23

"Dress Rehearsal" - 2005-02-05

DON'T DO IT!! - 2005-02-02

Here We Go! - 2004-12-31


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(In No Particular Order)

Saamba-Two "Cool Cats"
Jackie's Diary - Livinlovin: You gotta read the "Frontman" series.
HRT's Diary - Chaostraffic: My favorite Uncle.
Plop Phizz: Thanks for always stopping by.
MAF: Straight up, the coolest!
Incredipete: He's Back on the Air--YAY!


Designed by: Incredipete

2004-07-17 - 9:50 p.m.

"Big Fish and the Past"

�Big Fish and the Past�

My Dad caught a 53 pound Blue Catfish last night. Have you ever seen, in person, a 53 pound catfish? That son of a bitch looked prehistoric and shit. I don�t know how old it was, but it was big as fuck! It was like none I have ever seen before and believe you me I have seen plenty.

When I was a youngster (circa 1973-1982), my family lived on a river in the country (and by country I mean walk a mile to the main road and drive for an hour and a half to town country). There was my Mom, my Dad, my four brothers, my two sisters and me. For those of you who are too tired (or slow) for the math�that makes 9 people. That�s right nine people in a three bedroom trailer.

Yeah, it�s true, we had a trailer. But it wasn�t just a regular trailer mind you. It was one of those new fangled mo-byle homes with an extension on it. All in all, it wasn�t too bad since us seven kids were little. Little as in scrawny, that is. Don�t get me wrong, we were healthy, we just did not have an extra fat stores, if you know what I mean.

You might be wondering how my parents were able to support seven kids. Well, I shall not lie; we were occasionally benefactors of the welfare system. This was only a very last resort as my Dad would only take it when it meant we would not go hungry. We kids weren�t too proud though. On food stamp day we were all over that mailbox like stink on shit. There would be your choice of TV dinner and grape kool-aid for everyone that night.

For the most part, however, we managed to fend for ourselves quite nicely. Living on the river does have its advantages. You might think of nice flowing water with ducks, geese, and fish banked on either side by thick rich forests of deer, raccoons, rabbits and squirrels as a natural paradise. Me, I think of that same nice flowing water and forest as the pantry. For as was the case on many a night, dinner was whatever we were able to grow, hunt, catch, trap, or otherwise temporarily cripple.

This brings me back to the catfish. One way we survived was by doing a little commercial fishing when the seasons were right. Pretty lucrative considering the fact that you don�t have to pay any help since you have seven able-bodied kids, to which child labor laws do not apply.

We would set out catfish pots. They are very similar to crab pots if you have ever seen them. For bait, we would use, believe it or not, old moldy cheese or chicken livers. Each day we would go out get the kitty fishes out of the pots and sell them at the fish house where they would be prepared for their trip to the Long John Silver�s.

We also did the crab pots. The bait for them---catfish heads and guts courtesy of the fish house. Talk about getting the most out of your investment! We would take the crabs home and boil them ourselves in a 50 gallon drum, cut in half long ways, sitting on cinder blocks. (In the wee still hours of the night, I can still here their little pinchers and legs scratching to get out.) Then we would pack them in bushel baskets and sell them to the rich folks (cha-ching) who loved crab meat but were too fucking lazy to go catch them.

I was the only kid who would go with my Dad trapping. I don�t know why though. I think I just like being with my Dad mostly. (Ain�t that sweet?) We would set traps for muskrats, beavers and raccoons. Did you know that it is the God�s honest truth that a raccoon will gnaw its own foot off to escape a trap! It is. I have seen it! Seen a lone foot still in the trap as well as a raccoon with only three feets. Those bastards have balls. My Dad would skin what we caught and sell the fur. I would get about $1.00 for each one I caught. My Dad would get the rest since I was too little to skin them and they were his traps. It was fair.

Nowadays, the only element I brave for the sake of dinner is the stampede of rude ass people on the grocery side of the Super Wal-Mart. I have, in my 33 years, decided that it is much easier this way. I am however thankful for the upbringing I had. Every kid today should have to live it for one year.

Anyway, as I was saying, that was one big fat motherfucking catfish��..

P.S. If there happens to be any nay-sayers here abouts. I would like to state that everything and absolutely everything you just read is the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth so help me God.

13 Whatcha think?

Steppin' Back - Movin' On



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