Creative Writing Paper: The Great Dope Run

Back in 2001 I took a creative writing class in college.  I felt really good about my short story, "Strom Thurmond's Body Must Be Destroyed."  I felt so good about it I decided to continue the story of my lead character, Raymond Steele.  (Yeah, that's a 90's name if there ever was one, huh?)

My creative writing teacher loved me.  She absolutely adored my writing.  But then again, I took her class seriously, and turned in quality papers.

So, if you are out there in internet-land I hope you enjoy this story.  But please!  Last minute writers!  Do not plagiarize this work.  It will easily show up in Google Search.  It will take your professor two seconds to check it.  Otherwise, enjoy!

The Great Dope Run



"Oh..., ah..., pain..., unbearable... pain," I barely muttered. "Oh my God..., the pain..., get me a.... Budweiser for God's sake.., get me... some sort of alcohol."

I could barely open my eyes, couldn't even lift my arms. It felt like they were chained down. Now that I thought about it, I couldn't feel my legs either. Which was odd, because I generally had to drink a lot before my legs would go numb.

"Ray!" someone shouted. "Ray, are you awake? Do you know where you are?"

"Who... is that?" I asked.

Truthfully, I didn't know where I was, if I was awake, or if my name was Ray, although that did seem familiar.

"Ray, it's Jack, your friend and lawyer. Do you remember what happened?"

"Hey..., I'm the one... who should be asking.... something like a question.. I .. , where ... am....," I didn't get a chance to finish.

"Nurse!" yelled Jack. "Get this man something! He's in excruciating pain!"

I could only hear. I couldn't see what was going on. I heard the nurse say,

"Ray, Ray, give me a sign. Can you hear me?

"Yes...," I whispered.

"That's good Ray," said the nurse that I could just start to make out. "Are you in pain Ray?"

"Oh God yes," I muttered.

I felt like I was starting to come around. My voice was a clearing up as well.

"You should not be in pain," said the nurse with puzzlement in her voice. "You're hooked up to a morphine tap."

"Nurse...," I started. "I am a professional drug addict..., and you're going to have to give me a hell of a lot stronger stuff than a simple morphine tap. I would kill for a Bud to drink, and a bud to smoke, as well as some Vicodin, Heroin, Percocet, whatever thirty-one flavors of drugs you have."

My eyes were starting to focus. The first thing I saw was Jack and the nurse standing over me. This was not one of those twenty-seven year old hot body nurses fresh from college. No, she looked like my grandma. Right now she was looking at me like I was being completely ill rational. So I made myself a little more clear.

"More... drugs..., please!" I exclaimed as best I could.

"I'll get the doctor," she said as she took off out the door.

Well, at least she had a good work ethic. Anyone who would run that fast to get drugs for me can't be all that bad.

"Ray!" yelled Jack... again.

"Jack..., you're at an eight...., I need you at a two and a half," I said.

"Thank God you're alive," he said, much quieter this time. "Ray, do you remember anything, and I mean anything that happened."

"Happened?," I asked. "When, what, I don't know. My head is still spinning. Tell me, I've been unconscious haven't I?" "It feels as if my brain was shoved into a blender, and poured back into my head. Jack, why can't I move my arms and legs?"

"Ray," he said with a look of extreme sadness. "You can not move your arms because the police handcuffed you to your bed, and you can not move your legs because you bruised your spine in the accident."

"What accident?" I wondered aloud.

"I'm still trying to put the all the facts together. All I know is ....," he paused. "There was an accident involving your boat. It somehow flipped and crashed. After it crashed, the beach was littered with drugs, pieces of your boat, dead Cubans, and an injured manatee that is now recovering at the Lowery Park Manatee Hospital in Tampa. Ray, I hate to tell you this, but your political enemies are coming out of the woodwork on this."

"A manatee?" I asked. "I love manatees..., they're so... darn cute. I have... a... manatee... license plate."

"Yeah, well, the press loves them too. This one's getting more air time than President Bush. They're calling him Snuggles, Snuggles the Manatee," stated Jack with an irritable look on his face. "Damn it Ray! What the hell were you doing out there? What happened?

That was a good question, what the hell did happen?

(48 hours earlier or, what the hell happened)


In the land of waffles, the man with the biggest waffle iron is king. In the land of fishing the man with the biggest rod does not always catch the most fish. That's why I use dynamite. The underwater shock wave obliterates anything near the initial blast. After the fish come floating up to the surface, it's as easy as throwing a cast net out to collect dinner, and the cat's fish head buffet. It's been hard to fish for mullet as of late, with the illegal netters and all. Almost as hard as finding a hungry hooker with no front teeth.

I love fishing. A true fisherman has no excuse to waste a day of his life. Every day has potential, and the excuse to get away from crazy housewives who's minds are more fucked up than West Virginia's gene pool. My boat is a thirty-five foot Excalibur cigarette style boat with a seven-hundred horse power inboard engine. Cigarette boats are built for one thing, and that's speed. However, I like using the Natural Disaster for dynamite fishing because the hull is reinforced for high speeds. Fishing puts men back in touch with their roots. Where else can a man get totally shit-faced, kill animals in obscene ways, drive at inappropriate speeds, and still be legal?

Tonight was a dark and stormy night, well, no it wasn't. True, it was dark on account of being nighttime, but a nearly full moon echoed like a soft lightbulb across the water. The few puffy clouds that were in the sky made me think of my pillow, and that I should really be at home sleeping right now. 

I, however, was on another mission. At 2:00 in the morning and 20 miles off Miami's shore, I was here to meet somebody, or should I say pick up a package for a friend of mine from Cuba, by way of South America. At three foot high, the waves were not that bad for being so far offshore, I hated any kind of rocking of my boat. Especially when I'm trying to cut cocaine with a fishhook, because I forgot my razor. My friend's associates were already an hour late, which gave me plenty of time to savor every drop of my gin and Gatorade. The gin was to get drunk as fast I could, so I would actually go along with this plan, and the Gatorade was to keep my electrolytes up so I wouldn't get that nasty hangover in the morning, which I probably deserved. Mainly for going along with this crazy scheme.

After some heavy drinking, a few lines, and enough speed to kill a horse, I finally heard the plane. Looking out with my Bushnell binoculars, I could see the lights of the small single engine plane. Those morons probably hadn't changed their watches over to Eastern Standard Time. I grabbed the CB and let those egg layers have it.

"Breaker, breaker, this is Flapjack, did you get lost? It's only ninety miles straight up, you mentally deficient red commie bastards."

They started spouting something back at me over the CB, but hell if I knew what they were saying.

"Hey Castro!" I shouted. "You're in the U.S. now. Speak English or die!"

Again, all I could hear was mass confusion over the CB.

"Listen, you are acting way too unprofessional for a drug dealer. I am going to have to report that your work is very unsatisfactory to your boss. Also, I don't give a hoot in hell what your problem is. I am here to do a favor, and you are not making this easy for me you fucking retards."

At this time I could see the plane coming in. It was one of those water landing, single engine, prop planes. I also noticed a much bigger plane sitting almost on top of it trying to force it down. I guess they had a reason to be panicking.

"Sico..la...ah..no....ah.....no...Ahhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!" yelled the pilot over the CB.

At least, that's what it sounded like to me.

"Hey Chico!" I shouted into the CB. "Get your head out of your ass, and land the damn plane!"

At this time, both planes were flying low and fast. I could just make out the letters on the big plane. D.E.A.

"Oh fuck me like a thirteen year old runaway." I muttered.

The United States Drug Enforcement Agency. This guys were worse than the Alabama Highway Patrol, and twice as vicious. These guys would rip your guts out with a plastic fork, or nearest utensil. Well, at least they were predictable. Their next move would be to bump the plane, and send it spiraling into the Atlantic ocean.

"Yep, yep," I muttered to myself. "Here they come."

With one almighty swoop, the federal pig's plane blew over the smaller aircraft disrupting the air flow, sending Pedro and the grass into a tailspin straight into the ocean. As all this was going on, I cranked up the engines on the Natural Disaster, and started making my way to the aerial dogfight.

The show was spectacular, from my perspective anyway. Lupe was probably shitting his pants right now. A very unprofessional thing for a smuggler might I add. The light display was grand, almost too grand. That's when I realized that the LSD that I was carrying in my sock had gotten wet from the saltwater, and was starting to kick in. Thank God for those little blessings.

"Hey Jorge, pull the goddamn plane up you worthless excuse for a smuggler!" I yelled over the CB.

This was starting to become way too much work.

"Where did you get your driver's license?" I screamed. "New York or Walmart?"

Ricardo might not have heard me, seeing as how he was still in a tailspin with the nose of the plane pointed straight down at the ocean, and he was only five-hundred feet off the water. I just knew that a lot of good home grown pot was going to end up in Davey Jones' locker, along with a small plane and some dead Cubans. At about two-hundred feet above the water, Lupe somehow managed to pull the nose of the plane up enough for it to land.

"Thwap!" echoed across the water as the plane touched/crashed down.

Thwap, a kinda half thud, half slap, a thwap. Although the plane was mangled, it did manage to float, although probably not for long. I kicked the boat up to seventy miles an hour to pick up my delivery, now that they had finally landed. 

I thought to myself, most people would run from this sort of situation. I mean, it's pretty obvious that they've been caught, and why should I put myself at risk? I've got a dog and a turtle at home that need me. However, the bacon isn't expecting the pickup to be so close to the crash site. Hmmm.

At that point I kicked the engine up to eighty miles an hour. Hey, I had a job to do, and I had to show these amateurs how it was done. This situation actually reminds me of something that one of those communists reporters over at the St. Petersburg Times said about me.

"In trying to pull something this big off, it shows just how crazy, how insane, how.... arrogant you are."

Of course, I was in a different predicament then, but I still kicked him in the nuts as hard as I could. It wasn't about the insult, it was about integrity.

I pulled up to the plane to see a grizzly scene. It seems one the Cubans was sticking though the front window. He was bleeding profusely with a piece of the plane's window in his stomach and sticking out his back. Believe it or not, he was actually moving. He was whining about his mother and some chick named Mary, whoever the fuck they were?

"Hey Pedro," I yelled. "I'm here to help you out."

"Crack!" went my Smith and Wesson thirty-eight revolver as I shot him in the head.

"That hurt me a lot more than it did you," I told the now dead body.

I now counted three Cubans in the boat. Why the hell did they send me so many? I needed drugs, not immigrants.

"Listen up!" I yelled. "Fuck the Pope, and your filthy cunt mothers! I'm your new boss, and I'm going to make you work for a living. Not like living off the government tit, like you do down there in Cuba!"

At this point they started to question my authority. A very bad move, if I do say so myself. They immediately jumped into the water, and tried to get aboard the Natural Disaster.

"Back, back!" I screamed as I beat them mercilessly with my boat paddle. "Back to plane!" I yelled as I pointed to the plane. "Grass first, boat ride second! If you don't move it, I'll turn you over to Aryan Nation, the Black Panthers, or U.S. Immigration, whichever I get to first!"

Now that I had asserted my authority, they suddenly got a lot smarter. In no time they were moving the huge, carefully wrapped cube blocks of Mary Jane out of the plane, and into the boat.

"That's it! Put your backs into it!" I said trying to sound like one of those pirate captains from 1950's television. "Arrggghhh! I'll make ya walk the plank. I'll shiver me timbers. You know, I'd hate to think that Castro has to put up this shit everyday to get you people motivated!"

Now the Natural Disaster is thirty-five foot long, but it's not very wide. It's built for speed, not comfort. It's a typical cigarette boat with it's center console located halfway between the back and middle. So cubes of pot, or square groupers as they're called by the authorities, had to be set up near the front of the boat. Therefore, by adding all that weight onto it, it's a pain to keep it balanced enough to hold the nose down so it doesn't flip.

"Here's the rope! Tie it down tight! Move the contraband up near the front to keep the nose down, and center it down the middle to keep us from leaning so bad! Stack them low, so the center of gravity helps to keep the boat from flipping!" I yelled, forgetting the fact that they didn't understand a word I was saying.

However, though my great managerial skills, and tough love, all the weed was secure.

"Get on the floorboards now! Put your fingers in your ears, and open your mouths. I'm going to cause some major destruction.!"

It was then, that I took out the rest of my dynamite sticks.

"In case you wonder what I'm doing, that plane needs to be gone when the feds get here. These twenty-four sticks of dynamite are going to help me accomplish that," I said as I wrapped the wires together.

"Thirty seconds after I light this, we need to be as far away from here as possible."

I fired up my Zippo, and lit her up.

Like Joe Namath, I threw the bundle of dynamite over the dead guy/cornerback through the giant hole in the windshield.

"Thirty seconds!" I yelled as I kicked the boat up to four-thousand RPM's and climbing.

"Hang on boys!" I told them. "We have twenty miles until we hit shore. Get down on the floorboards to keep the center of gravity low!"

At this point, I could tell by the look in their eyes that they were going to try and pull that, we don't speak English bullshit. Totally unprofessional, seeing as how I couldn't get the boat up to speed unless the center of gravity was right.

"Get on the ground!" I shouted as I waved my revolver around. "Hit the deck, you monkeys! We have fifteen seconds!"

Smith and Wesson, the ultimate in motivational techniques.

"Alright, all engines Go!" I bellowed in my best Captain's voice as I kicked the engines up to escape velocity.

I had put a comfortable distance between the plane and the Natural Disaster when I heard the explosives go off.

BOOM!

I could hear the explosion echo across the water, as well as see the fire reflect off my windshield and dashboard.

"They're not going to find anything now," I said talking out loud to myself. "I can hear the morning news now, the D.E.A.'s plane bumped a suspected smuggler's plane, and sent it spiraling into the ocean where it was destroyed upon impact killing all crewmembers."

I could pull this thing off yet, and make the D.E.A. look bad to boot. Not a bad day's work.

"Listen up mateys!" I said yelling over the roar of the engines. "The first ten miles may be a little rough! Once we get inshore, the water will be like glass, and I can kick her into high gear! Just watch the merchandise, and make sure it doesn't go sliding around!"

For the first time on this disastrous trip, things were starting to go right, grass on deck, Cubans on the floor, compass pointing me in the right direction, and Elvis on the radio.

"Oh yeah, this is what it's about boys!" I said doing my best Elvis impersonation. "Come on, sing with me! Cause there ain't nothing higher, than the sweet smell of desire! Come on, you're not singing! Burnin up! I said a hunka hunka burnin love! 

You guys are such pussies. You see boys, that's your big problem. You just roll over and play dead. Then you wonder why Cuban women act like such bitches, and not just to you, but everyone. Do they collect your balls upon receiving a certificate of marriage? You need to smack em around a little, show em who's in charge. Show some initiative."

I shook my head in disgust.

"You might think I'm being a little hard on you boys, and you might be right. What you have to understand is that the merchandise comes first. This whole thing is bigger than any one man. Me, you all, the dead pilot, the president, we are all a far second to the merchandise.

The waves were now starting to become nothing more than little ripples. This gave me the opportunity to show these tourists just how fast this boat could go. However, they would probably freak out if I really showed some gumption, so I figured that sixty miles an hour while carrying a full load might be about right. That way it also kept the engine at about forty-five hundred RPM's.

"Things are starting to look alright boys," I said.

It was that very moment that a spotlight shined brightly in my eyes. There is no greater feeling in the world than thinking that you have pulled off a great crime. However, there is no worse feeling than having the marine patrol shine their lights on the hundred bails of marijuana that are sitting on the deck of your boat.

"I am so fucked," I said knowing full well that I was, so fucked.

"This is the D.E.A., stop your engines, and prepare to be boarded!" said the voice out of the loudspeaker of the approaching boat.

Shit! These guys weren't the usual sea pigs. Someone had called out the big guns. Not only were they in the air, but on the sea. This could only mean they had been tipped off, or I had been set up. Either way, I was pissed.

"Mr. Sulu, prepare for warp speed!" I yelled.

Like I told the boys, you just can't roll over and die. Especially when you've been set up, sold out, and own a boat that can go three times faster than anything the D.E.A. is driving.

"Hold on to your hats boys! The ride is going to get... fast!" I yelled, thinking of nothing better to say.

At this point I kicked the engines up to nine-thousand RPM's, while the Cubans were in the floorboards, lying in their own urine. Almost in unison, six boats flipped their high beams on the Natural Disaster. This was starting to get worse by the second. I could outrun them, but I couldn't outmaneuver them.

"Boys," I started. "It's times like these that you know, no matter how doped up you are, that the end is near. If you believe in God, now's the time to start praying."

I only had one option.

"Prepare for ramming speed!" I yelled as I steered the Natural Disaster toward the Fed's boat that was directly between myself and land.

"I've never had her full throttle before boys, but there's a first, and a last time for everything!" I yelled as I pushed her to the max.

"Stop your engines, and prepare to be boarded!" came the voice from the loudspeaker again.

"Go fuck your mother!" I screamed, drowned out by the roar of the engines.

You should have seen the Feds scatter as they saw me and the merchandise coming straight for them at one-hundred-thirty MPH. It's a wonder that the Natural Disaster hadn't flipped yet. When a boat this big, is driven this fast, it actually rises off the water, with only the engine props touching the water. It felt like I was flying.

"Prepare for impact!" I shouted, as we bore down on the Fed's boat with only seconds left before imminent destruction and annihilation.

Woosh echoed across the water as my boat dodged to the right of the Feds. I may be eccentric, but I'm not stupid. Although, I didn't turn so much to my right, as the Feds turned to my left. They weren't in the mood to play chicken, especially with a man who can't turn the wheel of his boat too far, because he is using one hand to give them the bird.

"Sit and spin on this you monkey fucks!" I bellowed at them while giving them the one fingered salute.

"Damn I'm good!" I half yelled, half laughed.

Now came the hard part. All the boats were behind me, but I had only four miles to go until I hit shore. Speeding at one-hundred thirty miles an hour, that gave me less than two minutes to come up with a plan. I could start to make out the mangrove islands as I was coming in. I had to keep the Natural Disaster down the middle of the channel where she could run in the deep water.

"What to do? What to do?" I kept muttering to myself.

The best thing I could think of was to make a run at the boat ramp, and then cut right into the harbor so I could dock in my private hanger. I had enough distance between me and the Feds, to where, if I could make it to the hanger, the merchandise could be loaded into the awaiting truck in five minutes or so. This was depending on a lot of ifs, but's, and maybes.

I was now half a mile from the boat dock. I was going to have to time this turn just right. I needed to keep my speed up enough to avoid my pursuers, but I needed to slow down just enough to make my turn.

"Get ready boys! We're going to be pushing our luck!"

The mangrove islands were close on both sides of us. As long as I stayed in the channel we were alright. At five-hundred yards from the boat dock, I cut the speed back to ninety MPH.

"Just hold her straight." I muttered. "Only a few more yards till we..."

My eyes almost jumped out of their sockets. In the span of a few seconds, everything went wrong. It was early morning, nothing should be in the channel. Nothing except a school of manatees passing through.

"Oh shit!" I screamed, knowing they were too close, and I was going too fast to avoid them.

Just as I threw the engines into reverse while turning a little too sharp to the right, the Natural Disaster hit one of the manatees.

"Aaahhhhhh!" I could do nothing but scream, as my boat was ejected into the air, and sent into a roll.

I was flying, sent into the air trying to scream again, but I couldn't even breathe. I felt like a golf ball being hurled forever through space and time. The only thing I could do was watch myself being thrown towards the mangrove island that was originally to the right of my boat. I kept flying and flying, knowing full well that I was not going to hit the water.

This is the end, I thought. Please God, not the big tree.

Splat!

(Back at the Hospital)


"I'm sorry Jack, I don't remember anything," I said.

"Ray," Jack started. "For the time being, try to get some rest. I am going to find out everything I can. Ok buddy?"

"Thanks Jack," I said with a smile.

Jack was the best lawyer that a guy could have. His cool demeanor said everything about him. How was I to know that in five minutes all hell would break loose, and Jack would be in the middle of it all?

"Mr. Raymond Steele?" said a voice walking into the room. "I am Officer Kraft, and this is Officer Clem. We are here to read you your rights."

"Ray!" Jack halfway screamed. "They are required to read you your rights by law, ok. Just let them read them, but keep your mouth shut! Don't say anything!"

"Excuse me sir," said pig number one. "I'm going to have to ask you to step aside and let us do our jobs."

"Excuse me sir!" Jack stated with an apparently irritable attitude. "I am Jack Bourgois, and I am this man's attorney, and I am here to make sure you do your job, without violating my client's civil rights. Let me say this, you and myself are going to have a conversation about placing handcuffs on a man who can not move from the waist down."

I loved it when Jack went into full lawyer mode. He was tearing new assholes for the both of them. I couldn't understand three-quarters of what any of them were saying, but it was funny to watch.

"Alright," said Jack. "You can read my client his rights, but he will make no statement."

"Fine," said Officer Kraft. He walked over to me and started to read this giant warrant.

"Mr. Raymond Edward Steele, you have been charged by the State of Florida on this, May 4, 2001 with the following offenses. 

One count of endangering a federally protected animal, a manatee, tagged as manatee number 1247, also known as Snuggles the manatee, a first degree felony. 

One count of endangering a federally protected tree, a mangrove, a third degree felony. 

One count of possession of LSD, a second degree felony. 

One count of possession of LSD with intent to use, a second degree felony. 

One count of being under the influence of LSD, a second degree felony. 

Fifty counts of possession of a square grouper, better known as bails of marijuana, a first degree felony. 

One count of drug trafficking, a first degree felony. 

Three counts of smuggling illegal aliens into the borders of the United States, a third degree felony. 

Three counts of smuggling illegal aliens into the borders of the Untied States with intent to avoid law enforcement agencies, a first degree felony. 

One count of possession of an incendiary device, dynamite, a second degree felony. 

One count of intent to use an incendiary device, dynamite, a first degree felony. One count of using an incendiary device, a first degree felony. 

One count of resisting arrest with violence, a first degree felony. 

One count of resisting arrest using a moving vehicle, a boat, a first degree felony. 

Eleven counts of reckless endangerment, a third degree felony. 

Three counts of manslaughter, a first degree felony. 

Twelve counts of interfering with the duties of a law enforcement officer, a third degree felony. 

One count of destruction of evidence, a second degree felony. 

One count of speeding in a no wake zone, a third degree misdemeanor. 

One count of criminal mischief, a third degree misdemeanor. 

You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do, can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you can not afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand the charges brought against you, and your rights?"

"No," I said. "I just had my head bashed in. My middle name is Edward? Yuck. What the hell kind of mother do I have?

"Shut up Ray," said Jack. He then turned to the cops.

"Under federal law, you can not take my client into custody, or take a statement from him since he is not mentally competent, and I will have any number of doctors testify to that right now. Get those cuffs off him this second or I will have your boss, the Miami Herald, and the ACLU on the phone in the next thirty seconds."

That's why Jack was worth the money. The cops knew they were beat, and my wrists were free at last. After they left, Jack said to me,

"You realized that you just created a lot of paperwork for them, don't you? Of course, I didn't make things any easier for them myself."

"Jack, I don't remember much, but I know that I love you man."

"Remember this," Jack said. "You don't know it yet, but the whole world's a show to you."

"What's the world to you?" I asked.

"Right now," he started. "It's a card came. However, I'm not playing to win. I'm playing not to lose. You really messed up this time my friend. They have enough charges to put you away for life, or at least two-thousand years. The only thing as certain as those dead men on the beach, was the marijuana found scattered everywhere. Do you remember anything?

"Truthfully," I said. "I don't remember anything."

"I was afraid you would tell me that," said Jack with a mournful look on his face. "I'd hate to think, that all this death and destruction, was the result of a few smokes.

Creative Writing Paper: Strom Thurmond's Body Must Be Destroyed

 Back in 2001 I took a college creative writing class.  I was in my Dr. Hunter S. Thompson phase at the time, and wrote this short story in the vein of Dr. Thompson.  I was quite happy with my writing.  I was thinking about it the other day, and realized that I never got around to posting it.

I've had my blog for coming up on twelve years now, and I can't believe that I never even thought of posting it until now.  My blog is for all things that come in and out of my head, and this story is directly from my head.  But the good news, is that, I am now posting this.  I hope you enjoy.

And for those high school/college students who are thinking of ripping off my story for their creative writing class... Don't do it.  This will easily show up in Google search.  Besides, this story is about 20 years out of date.


Strom Thurmond's Body Must be Destroyed


"Break out the guns and neutron bombs!" I declared as I broke into my lawyer's office. "It's an emergency!" I made a mad dash for the secretary's desk, and grabbed a hold of Jean. "Jean, didn't you hear me? I need to see Jack right away. It's an emergency I tell you!"

"Mr. Steele, please, you're going to have to calm down," she said. "Besides you know you need an appointment. We've been through this before."

Damn secretaries, they always think they know everything. I never met one I liked. Especially Jean, she was the ultimate bitch. She looked and acted like an angry librarian gone dyke. I knew I needed an appointment, and she knew I needed an appointment. Why then, did she even bother telling me something that we both knew anyway? I wish I knew what her problem was. However, since I knew, that me knowing what her problem was wouldn't help either of us, I decided to drop it.

"Damn it woman! I need to see Jack pronto! Our very lives are at risk!" I shouted. Looking very perturbed in her wire rimmed glasses, she said,

"Mr. Bourgois is busy right now, you just can't barge in here and demand to see him without an appointment."

Obviously this woman didn't realize, or didn't care about the danger we all were in. I had to put up with this type of attitude all the time, she was no different.

"Jean, if you don't let me in to see Jack right now, you leave me no choice but to strip naked and run through the lobby. Come on woman, what's the point of having a lawyer on retainer if I can't barge in and talk to him?" I asked.

"You know that's not the issue Mr. Steele," she replied. "You are in here three or four times a week, and twice on Tuesdays. You know Mr. Bourgois has other clients he has to meet with."

I think she was trying to use some sort of reverse logic on me. Too bad for her it wasn't going to work.

"Ok," I casually replied. "I understand." I was down to my boxers before she finally broke down and called Jack on the speaker phone. She was unhappy, but she'd get over it.

"Mr. Bourgois, I am sorry to interrupt your meeting, but Mr. Steele is here, and he is in one of his moods... again."

Out of the speaker phone I heard Jack's voice.

"No problem Jean. Mr. Martinez and I have finished. Send Raymond up." Jean glanced up looking slightly afflicted,

"Mr. Bourgois will see you now. I'm sure you know the way."

After putting my clothes back in order, I raced up the stairs into Jack's office only to find Jack, and some well dressed Cuban guy speaking to one another. If this was "Mr. Martinez," why was he still here? More importantly, what did he want?

"Ray, come on in," said Jack. "I want you to meet a friend of mine, Mr. Robert Martinez of the Law Firm Martinez and Fernandez. He works in this building as well, on the seventeenth floor."

At this point I had bigger things to worry about, than Jack trying to get in good with one of the cites most powerful lawyers. The fate of the world was at stake.

"Yes, hello Bob, have we met? Oh, you were just leaving right. Ok, see you soon, bye." This was no time for niceties. Sometimes you have to help people help themselves by giving them a shift kick in the shins. I used to play rugby, and I can kick hard.

"We'll talk tomorrow around ten," Jack said to Bob as he quickly walked him to the door. Bob looked as if he were stuck in a black hole and didn't realize it yet, but Jack knew what was important.

Jack closed and locked the door behind him to make sure our private conversation would stay between me, him, and the goldfish. It took me a while to break him into the habit of locking all three locks on the door, in fact, I'm the one who put them there. I consider it a good investment. We didn't need any anyone on the outside meddling in our conversation.

"Ray, have a seat," he said shaking my hand. "What can I do for you today?" he said as he leaned back in his huge leather cow skin chair smiling a wide grin.

He was in one of his "smiley" moods. I hated it when he was like this. He was always so much more ineffective like this.

"Damn it Jack, there's no time for niceties!" I yelled, as I never even bothered to sit down. "We have a crisis on our hands!"

"Actually Ray," he said, as he put his feet up on his mahogany desk. "I need to know before we start if you are on any type of drugs."

I couldn't believe he said that to me.

"Hey, you know I don't do illegal drugs anymore. I've found the legal ones are much better," I replied.

"Honestly, please tell me what you are on right now so I know how serious to take this," sighed Jack.

Jack was a good lawyer, but I found his lack of faith most discouraging. However, Jack was always honest with me, so I tried to be honest with him, or at least as honest as one could be with a lawyer.

"I had two Xanax, one hallicon, a shot of blackjack, and some herbal tea. Overall, a light morning. You know, you really should have a full body cavity search performed on your secretary," I informed him.

"If any man other than you would have said that, I'd take that a lot differently. Also, please don't crawl under my desk and start looking for listening devices again. I had the place swept this morning," he said as he got comfy in that monster of a chair.

"Really?" I replied.

"Really" he said with that smiley sort of smile.

"Well, you can never be too careful." I said with a crook in my brow.

I could trust Jack. He was a good Catholic man. Not necessarily a good Catholic though. A good Catholic would have turned me over to the Pope's goon squad years ago for all the meddling I've caused them.

"Anyway, I came here to tell you something drastically urgent, and I don't think you're going to like it."

"Tell it to me straight, and I'll help you out the best I can," he replied, again with that smiley sort of smile. Looking him straight in the eye, I told him,

"Strom Thurmond's body must be destroyed."

At that point it took me a few minutes to calm him down. Some people cry when faced with adversity, but Jack tends to laugh. He laughs hard. The kind of laugh that sends one sinking into the extravagant carpet of their glamorous eleventh floor downtown office complete with big chair, and a desk the size of a Volvo. Jack was definitely taking this one hard. Being the compassionate soul that I am, I helped Jack back to his chair, and poured him some ice water. After he finally regained his composure he said to me,

"I'm not a fan of the GOP, but why does Strom Thurmond need to be destroyed?"

"No!" I shouted from across the desk. "Strom Thurmond does not need to be destroyed, Strom Thurmond's body needs to be destroyed!"

He put his hand to his forehead. Suddenly, the smile was gone. I knew he was not taking this well. Jack started to raise his voice.

"What's the difference? Ok Ray, just stop right there. This is where you need to start at the beginning, and work your way forward."

This was the hard part. This was always the hard part.

"Forty-six years ago Strom Thurmond was elected to the United States Senate representing the state of South Carolina. During the 1950's and 60's Thurmond was best known for being the main leader for the pro-segregation forces in the Senate. Because of his hard line stance, he has become a symbol of hatred and intolerance for the rest of the U.S. since the 70's." Jack interrupted,

"I know this, but that isn't a reason to kill the man. As your lawyer I am extremely concerned about you. You've never wanted to go this far before," he said with a storied look on his face.

"You have to let me finish man!" I screamed, as I stood up once again. "Do you know how old Strom Thurmond is?" I asked while sitting back down.

Jack thought for a bit,

"He's pretty old. I know that."

"Strom Thurmond is ninety-eight years old," I replied, as my knuckles turned white as I gripped the edge of the desk. "You see, it's not that the man should be dead. The man is dead! He died!" I found I was standing yet again. "His corpse was then taken over by aliens trying to infiltrate the government!"

Jack suddenly turned very white. He did however manage to croak out a few words.

"What the hell do you mean aliens?"

He looked like I hit him with a giant tuna. It was time to let him in all the way. There was no backing out now. I walked over to pour a drink of ice water from his mini-fridge.

"You see, nobody likes Thurmond except those damned racist rednecks in South Carolina. He's always a sure bet. If you were an alien race trying to infiltrate the Senate, there would be no better person to take over. Your re-election is guaranteed."

Jack sat there for a while as I poured two glasses. I didn't want any water, but he looked like he could use some. We sat there quietly for a few seconds while Jack regained his composure. This kind of info is always hard to swallow at first, but like bourbon whiskey you get used to it.

"Ok," he started out. "Let's say I actually take you serious this time, besides the age factor, what leads you to believe that Strom Thurmond's body has been taken over by aliens?"

I knew for Jack to believe me, I had to let him in slowly.

"It started when I was websurfing. I found a conspiracy site, or should I say, an enlightenment site that taught me the true nature of the world's affairs."

"Wait!" he interrupted as he threw his hands up. "You don't mean to tell me that all this commotion you've brought in here is based on some degenerate website?"

"Can I finish, please? Can I?" I asked as we both leaned into each other across that huge desk. I had to keep Jack under control to some extreme or else he might never let me finish.

"Go ahead, my time, your money." Jack said as he leaned back in his chair while throwing his hands up in defeat. He was no longer smiling. I continued.

"This webmaster who goes by the name Placebo dug up information going back to over a decade. It seems that in 1989 Strom Thurmond went on a business trip to California. On his way there he was suddenly struck ill, and hospitalized in Las Vegas, Nevada. This brings up the question, what was he doing traveling by car, and not plane, to California? Anyway, before he got sick, his route took him close to Area 51, the secret Air Force base where human/alien hybrid spacecraft are tested out. You see, if his destination was California, he would have traveled by plane."

"Again," he interrupted. "I have to interrupt."

He turned his chair to look me dead on.

"Many older persons travel by ground, because they can't travel by plane. Their bodies can't handle the pressures that are exerted on them during flight. And if he did get sick in a plane, how would he get help? More than likely he is medically required to travel by ground."

I looked at Jack. I almost looked through him, but I thought better of it. I was going to start yelling again, but I thought better of that too. I just kept sitting and continued.

"The true destination for Senator Thurmond was Area 51. A project that he helped create in the 1950's. However, while he was there, something happened. Whether by accident or purpose, his body was taken over. Then, he spent the night at a Nevada hospital, but not just any hospital, but a U.S. military hospital, and here's the kicker. He never completed the trip to California.

Since then, his behavior has been erratic, even when dealing with his own political party. As of late, he has not been acting normal at all. He has misspoke at times, can't remember at others. In addition, he has been hospitalized repeatedly in the last year for a variety of illnesses. He has taken to having two "aides" at his side at all times. Two guesses as to who, or should I say what, they really are. You see Jack, the body is dying. The alien implant inside the body is spending as much energy as possible in an attempt to keep it going, but eventually it will lose it's fight with mortality.

The two aides have been sent to collect the alien parasite once Strom Thurmond's body has finally died. They want to do this quietly so that the alien can be implanted into another U.S. Senator, like Jesse Helms. This is only scratching the surface however, the real question is, why are the aliens are here. What is their purpose?"

Jack just looked at me for what seemed an eternity. He took a long drink of water, and thought for a bit. I could hear the mouse in his brain turning the gears. Taking a deep breath, and looking me in the eye he said,

"Well I can see why you wanted to see me. The way you put it, it sounds very serious... to you. Tell me Ray, has it occurred to you that this sounds like an X-Files episode?"

"Actually, it's more Invasion of the Body Snatchers." I hated to correct Jack cause he immediately got that pissy look in his eyes, but it had to be done.

"I mean," he said harshly, "that this is over the top. This is TV science fiction. It's some asshole on the internet twisting the truth and jerking people off. Tell me, do you actually know what Placebo means?"

I stretched out in my chair and thought for a minute. Then I just half assed guessed.

"Isn't it a medication of some kind?" I said with a look of perfect innocence on my face.

"Well, it's a type of pill. It's a fake. A fraud. It's a pill that they give to hypochondriacs that demand medication. It's a sugar pill that is harmless, and causes no effects, but hypochondriacs think it magically cures all their problems." he stated as he set his hands in his lap, and leaned back in that wonderful chair.

I was wondering what Jack was getting at.

"Jack, what are you getting at?" I asked.

He again came forward in his chair, this time speaking a bit slower, and a lot softer.

"Ray, you've been a great client a long time, and you know that I have always tried to help you with advise, whether it's legal, financial, or personal. Trust me on this, and please don't do anything stupid, this Placebo guy is just messing with you and others on the net."

I couldn't believe Jack was saying this. The evidence was so clear. With a startled look I asked him,

"Are you telling me that you think all the evidence is fake, and just like that, you're going to dismiss this entire conversation?"

He calmly got up from his chair, and came around his desk. He pulled up one of the smaller chairs so we were looking face to face, just inches apart.

"No, no listen to me," he said quickly, effectively, but softly. "I heard everything you said, and yes, at first I thought it was hilarious, but now I'm concerned because you seem to be taking this too far. This theory, if you can call it that, has more holes in it than Swiss cheese."

According to your logic, why would aliens want a dead body to implant a parasite in, if Thurmond was dead at the time of implantation? This Placebo guy said that the parasite needs a live body to survive, but he contradicted himself by saying that Thurmond had already died while in Area 51."

"O' Lord I can't believe I just said that," he mumbled under his breath quickly. However, he quickly regained his thoughts."

"Not only is this guy a liar, but he's a bad liar at that."

"Another thing," he exclaimed while still sitting only inches from me. "Why control the GOP? Sure, they have the money, but their conservative philosophies might make it hard for them to accomplish an "alien agenda."

He was starting to get on a roll, speaking louder and louder.

"Why come to America at all? Trying to climb up our political ranks is impossible, trust me I know. Why not go to Iran, Iraq, or one of the former Soviet republics? They could climb the political ladder a lot faster over there.

He kept getting a little closer. I could start to feel his breathe on my neck.

You know," he started to shout. "I can't believe I'm even arguing with you about this! I don't even believe in aliens! The other stuff you bring me week in and week out I can deal with. Drugs, yeah so what. Explosives, sure why not. But, aliens in D.C. Come on! You don't need a lawyer, you need a psychologist and a padded cell."

He was almost standing with his hands resting on the arms of my chair by the time he finished.

"Uh Jack," I interrupted. "Do you need a Nardol and Vicodin? See, I'm just trying to save the world man, and I just thought you might want to come along for the ride. I didn't expect you to go Tony Soprano all over me."

I knew he was upset. Whether it was because of his straight edge moral beliefs that left him unprepared for the event of an alien invasion, or because he hadn't been getting any lately, I suspected that he just wasn't ready for this.

"Ok, let me calm down," Jack said.

He stood all the way up, and walked back over to his big comfy cow chair. After taking a drink of water, and rubbing his temples he said to me,

"To tell you the truth, I just wasn't ready for this. When you came in here, I thought you were going to take me dynamite fishing with you this weekend."

I thought that wasn't a bad idea, but I had other things to do.

"Listen, we can go fishing when the earth isn't being invaded. Although, I did just get a full case of dynamite from one of my friends in Madagascar. Traded him a few cartons of Marlboros. I think we both came out ahead."

"If I could get us back on track here," Jack interrupted... again. "As your lawyer how about if I suggest a compromise."

That's what I liked about Jack, he was quick on his toes, however, he danced like shit, but that's another story.

"What do you have in mind?" I asked.

I was anxious to see what he had thought up in just ten minutes. Like I said, he was fast off the cuff.

"First off, do not kill or harm anybody. Ok. That's a must. If you want answers about Senator Thurmond, look up things on public record. Then contact this webmaster about things you know are true, and see if he falters. I guarantee he will. Again, this guy is a fake who either has way too much free time on his hands, or gets his rocks off by jerking people around. Don't waste your time with this stuff. That's the best advice I could give you. That, and don't kill anyone," he said as he leaned back in his chair, proud of himself.

"So what you're saying is that, this is just some guy who enjoys messing with people in his spare time?" I asked.

"Exactly," Jack said with a strong look in his eyes.

"One man who messes with another just for the fun of it? Why? Why would he do that?" I asked while shaking my head in wonderment.

"Maybe he's ill rational. Maybe he's lonely, or has nothing better to do. I don't claim to know or understand those types. All I know is that they are out there, and sometimes we have to look out for them," Jack said with a look of satisfaction in his eyes.

That's the look he gets whenever he feels he's won an argument, or any verbal battle. That was my Jack. I knew the alien business would get him at first, but he never fails me. Like a true high powered attorney, he comes across great. Everyone should have their own personal lawyer. It's sad that some people don't. It's even sadder that some people actually believe in aliens.

Adrian's Year in Review: The Best Blog Posts of 2019

It's that time again my friends.  It's Dec. 31st, 2019, so it's time for the "Best of Blogs" for this past year.

I've been writing this blog since April of 2008. Since 2011 I have been writing my "Year in Review: The Best Blog Posts of." When I started this blog I wanted to average one blog per week. Every year I have attained my goal. This year, including this post, I will have written 70 individual blog posts.

At the end of every year I make two lists for my "Best of" blog posts. The first one is my personal favorite blog posts. The second list is the most viewed blog posts.
This year I had a quite a number of posts I liked.  Since I usually write around 55 posts per year, a top five list works well.  However, I had 70 posts this year.  So I decided to expand my personal favorite blog posts to a Top 10 list this time around.


Top Ten Personal Favorite Blog Posts


#10. Philmont 2019: Day 78, The Horse
https://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2019/08/the-horse.html

I felt this was a classic angry Adrian post.  It was short, to the point, and angry.  The honest brutality of it really appealed to me.

#9.  Idiot Scoutmasters: The Idiot Committee
https://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2019/12/idiot-scoutmasters-idiot-committee.html

It was time I stopped whipping the Scoutmasters and turned my attention to the Trop Committee.  If you ever wanted to read about an epic failure, this is it.

#8.  The Failing Victory of Upgrading My Cello: A Long and Ridiculous Story
https://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2019/11/the-failing-victory-of-upgrading-my.html

It was long, painful, and completely unnecessary.  This was one of my major screw-ups in instrument repair.

#7.  Tattooing Josh's Guitar
https://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2019/05/tattooing-joshs-guitar.html

I was able to do something I've wanted to do for a while.  That was wood-burn into an instrument.  It turned out brilliantly.

#6.   All I Wanted Was The Recipe!!!
https://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2019/09/all-i-wanted-was-recipe.html

I don't need your life story.  All I want is the damned recipe!

#5.  Death, Grief, and Memorial: The Passing of Curtis Johnson in Three Parts
https://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2019/10/death-grief-and-memorial-passing-of.html

My classmate Curtis Johnson passed away at the age of ten.  It was quite traumatic for Shaw Elementary's 5th grade class.  I've included this post on my top 10 because of how well I wrote it, and the pure honesty of it.

#4.  Coffin Case Failure: All I Wanted Was A Handle
https://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2019/03/coffin-case-failure-all-i-wanted-was.html

Not all companies are the same.  Not all companies know what the hell they are doing.

#3.  Philmont 2019: Day 70, Cold Fish
https://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2019/08/philmont-2019-day-70-cold-fish.html

This post was, by far, the funniest post of the year.  Nothing else came close to it.  You'll laugh.  You'll cry.  You'll facepalm.

#2.  Days of the Week
https://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2019/01/days-of-week.html

This might be the best written blog post of this past year.  I explain what a Strawman argument is, and show the hypocrisy behind it.

#1.  I Have The Perfect Mascot For Gay Pride Events!
https://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2019/10/i-have-perfect-mascot-for-gay-pride.html

What started as an offhand funny thought quickly morphs into an idea so crazy it could work.  There was no doubt that this post would be my favorite blog post of the year.


Top 5 Blog Posts By Views


#5.  Springtime For Bluebirds... And Happiness!
https://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2019/03/springtime-for-bluebirds-and-happiness.html
21 views.

A pair of Tufted Titmouse birds move into the birdhouse.  Photos ensue.

#4.  The Birdhouse Community Apartments
https://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2019/03/the-birdhouse-community-apartments.html
26 views.

I decide to go from one birdhouse to an apartment complex of birdhouses.

#3.  I Accidentally Bought An Amp
https://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2019/04/i-accidentally-bought-amp.html
26 views.

What started as a bad situation became one of the best amps I've ever played.  And now it's mine for $54.
30 views.

#2.  Generations: Finding My Great Grandfather's Grave
https://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2019/08/generations-finding-my-great.html
33 views.

It took four people, one graveyard thick with brush, and a hell of a weed-eater to find my Great Grandfather's grave.

#1.  New Pickup Day: Dragonfire Gatebucker Review
https://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2019/03/new-pickup-day-dragonfire-gatebucker.html
36 views.

I wrote a review of Dragonfire's Gatebucker pickups.  I couldn't find another review on the internet, so I figure a lot of musicians were viewing this blog post.


So that's it for the year everyone.  I am content.  I wrote 70 blog posts this year.  That's the most for a single year dating back to 2008.  That, of course, is when I started this blog.  2019 ended up being quite a productive writing year for me.  So I'm going to keep it going.  As long as weird stuff keeps happening to me, I'm going to keep writing this blog.

Adrian's Year in Review: The Best Blog Posts of 2018

Well, here we are again, it's my "Best of Blog Posts: Year in Review."  It's my best blogs of 2018.

I've been writing this blog since April of 2008.  Since 2011 I have been writing my "Year in Review:  The Best Blog Posts of."  When I started this blog I wanted to average one blog per week.  Every year I have attained my goal.  This year, including this post, I will have written 56 individual blog posts.

At the end of every year I make two lists for my "Best of" blog posts.  The first one is the top five blog posts that I love.  The second list is the most viewed blog posts.

First up are my favorites.  This year will be a little different.  I couldn't whittle this list down to five.  So here are my top 6 personal favorite blog posts.

#6.  The Ghost at Grandma's house.

There's a ghost haunting me at Grandma's house.  So I go in search of him/her/it.

https://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2018/10/the-ghost-at-grandmas-house.html


#5.  The Day I Met Dimebag Darrell.

I'd been aiming to write this post for years.  It finally felt like the right time.

https://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2018/12/the-day-i-met-dimebag-darrell.html


#4.  More Weirdness in Dreamland.

When Adrian dreams, reality goes out the window.  Heck it goes off the planet.

https://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2018/03/more-weirdness-in-dreamland.html


#3.  Mommy and Me and Cthulhu.

Adrian finds a new dislike on Facebook.  It's those Mommy and Me pages.

https://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2018/05/mommy-and-me-and-cthulhu.html


#2.  Kids... The Great Overactors of Our Time:  An Easter Story.

Kids really are like drunken midgets.

https://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2018/06/kids-great-overactors-of-our-time.html


#1.  Everything Will Kill You, And Other Things I Learned From A High School Play.

I know the play was meant to be anti-alcohol and anti-drug, but I really needed alcohol and drugs to get through watching the play.  It was like a car crash.  Except that a car crash can be entertaining.

https://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2018/06/everything-will-kill-you-and-other.html


Now it's time for the five best 2018 blog posts by views.


#5.  After 20 Years, It's New Hat Day.  (36 views.)

My very first post of 2018 makes the #5 spot.  In this post I share the story of finally buying a new hat.

https://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2018/01/after-almost-20-years-its-new-hat-day.html


#4.  The Juggernaut.  (41 views.)

No, Adrian is not a giant mutant from Marvel Comics.  Adrian buys a Dean Juggernaut Bass!

https://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2018/01/the-juggernaut.html


#3.  I Made A Table!  (44 views.)

James Hetfield may be the table, but I made one.

https://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2018/03/i-made-table.html


#2.  More Weirdness In Dreamland.  (48 views)

This is the only post to make both lists this year.

https://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2018/03/more-weirdness-in-dreamland.html


#1.  New Guitar Day:  Epiphone ES-335 Pro With a Lot Of Work.  (91 views)

I made sure to add a lot of tags to this post.  I'm sure that's why it received so many views.

https://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2018/03/new-guitar-day-epiphone-es-335-pro-with.html


So there you have.  Another year, another great end of year list.  In over ten years I have written 677 blog posts.  It's hard to believe it's been that long.  But hopefully I will be able to continue this blog for many years to come.  Whether or not anyone keeps reading them, I'll keep writing them.  Take care, and happy new year everyone.

Adrian's Year In Review: The Best Blogs of 2017

It's that time of year again.  Every year my last blog post of the year is the, "Best of Blog Posts."  Today I will be counting down my best posts of 2017.

Including this post I will have written 56 posts for the year.  That makes my goal of at least one post per week.  

This is the way the "Best Of," works.  I make two "Top 5" lists and one "Top 10" list.  The first "Top 5" list is for the most viewed.  I'll admit that does bring up the problem that a post in January has had twelve months to be viewed while a post in December may only have had a couple of days to be seen.  Still, this is strictly by the numbers.

The second "Top 5" list is for my personal favorites.  It doesn't matter how many views these blogs have.  These go strictly by which ones I like the best.

The third section is the "Top 10" most viewed blog posts period.  That means I rank the "Top 10" most viewed posts out of my 622 posts on "Destruction for Fun and Profit."

Section One:  The most viewed posts of 2017.

5.  Angelfish: Gold Evolution.  35 views.
http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2017/05/angelfish-gold-evolution.html

I was able to take some great photos of my angelfish.  My black and white angelfish suddenly sprouted gold.  It's quite amazing.

4.  There's a Fine Line Between Good Customer Service and Stalking.  50 views.
http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2017/10/theres-fine-line-between-customer.html

If you've ever dealt with Sweetwater.com you'll know exactly what I'm talking about in this post.

3.  Goddess.  54 views.
http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2017/04/goddess.html

Creepy guys never get old.  They just get creepier.

2.  Go Truck Myself!  Part 1.  56 views.
http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2017/09/go-truck-myself.html

After 22 years I finally bought another vehicle.  This is the story of how I bought that vehicle.

1.  Fuck You Dimmit Chevrolet.  124 views.
http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2017/07/fuck-you-dimmitt-chevrolet.html

Before I bought that truck I had an experience that put me off Chevy trucks forever.  This is that story.


Section 2:  Adrian's favorite posts of 2017.

5.  The Glass.
http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2017/01/the-glass.html

I guess what drew me to this post was the fact that it is so different than what I normally write.  It also shows a bit of my own vulnerability.

4.  Train Your Dragon:  Doppelganger Edition.
http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2017/03/train-your-dragon-doppelganger-edition.html

You know I love, "How to train your dragon."  I thought this was a great post that unfortunately, didn't get the attention I thought it deserved.

3.  The Fault In This Movie.
http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2017/06/the-fault-in-this-movie.html

I noticed the movie/book, "The Fault in Our Stars," is very divisive.  People either seem to love it or hate it.  I liked it except for one moment.  So I went out and tested to see if that moment actually worked in real life.

2.  A Dog and His Boy.
http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2017/12/a-dog-and-his-boy.html

I think I saved one of my best blogs for the end of the year.

1.  Fuck You Dimmit Chevrolet.
http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2017/07/fuck-you-dimmitt-chevrolet.html

Normally, the same blog wouldn't be number one on both lists, but this one is too great not to be.  I feel like I tapped into my best Hunter S. Thompson while writing this.  It also proves that, yes, Hell is other people, but Hell is also Chevrolet dealerships.

Section 3:  The best of all time.

10.  Tsunami Death Toll.  803 views.
http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2011/05/tsunami-death-toll.html

Simply put, the best band name ever.

9.  Goth Night at the Coffee House.  823 views.
http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2012/09/goth-night-at-coffee-house.html

Like Hunter S. Thompson said, "When the going gets weird, the weird turn pro."

8.  My Yoyo Loach is About To Explode.  841 views.
http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2015/12/my-yoyo-loach-is-about-to-explode.html

My loach became a giant balloon.

7.  Farmer Adrian and the Sheepie Pigs.  1042 views.
http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2013/01/farmer-adrian-and-sheepie-pigs.html

I should really put in my copyright for, "Sheepie Pigs" since this little post became as popular as it did.

6.  Tough Choices, Evil Empires, and Black Gold.  1065 views.
http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2011/12/tough-choices-evil-empires-and-black.html

I wrote this blogs when I was at a crossroads in my life.  I think this post has so many views because of the evil Dick Cheney photo.

5.  The Internet Picture Collection, Part 1.  1410 views.
http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2011/12/internet-picture-collection-part-1.html

I'll admit it.  I was looking for hits when I wrote this.  This was when I first discovered that folks may not be searching for a post, but for a picture.  So when a picture pops up in Yahoo images, and someone clicks it, my blog gets a hit.

4.  I'm Finally Putting My Orchestra Training To Use.  2875 views.
http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2012/05/im-finally-putting-my-orchestra.html

I'm pretty sure the only reason this one has so many views is due to the picture of an orchestra layout.

3.  Stacy Q Rocks?  3577 views.
http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2011/10/stacy-q-rocks.html

I guess there are a lot of other truckers out there wondering the same thing?  Who the hell keeps writing, "Stacey Q Rocks!" on all the restroom doors?  Oh, and I spelled "Stacey" wrong on my original post.

2.  Dad's Retirement Speech.  6040 views.
http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2011/02/dads-retirement-speech.html

I have to say, this one surprised me.  I didn't expect it to be seen like it has been.  It has no pictures, and no fancy tags.  I guess people just wanted to look up advice on writing a retirement speech for their father's.

1.  Chick's Dig High Profile Vehicles... Like Dragons.  9509 views.
http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2011/06/chicks-dig-high-profile-vehicles-like.html

This is one of my best works.  I have to say that.  It combines everything I love about, "How to train your dragon," with hot rods, crazy writing, and wild photos.  I'm sure my Creative Writing teacher from college would be proud.

So that's it for this year.  It's hard to believe that I've been blogging since April of 2008.  Yes, that means in another four months I will have been blogging for ten years.  The funny part is that, I was told I should have been blogging years earlier.  And the person who told me that was right.  But I feel good that I've kept up with it, and as long as I'm able I will keep on writing.

Unwind

You may want to read this to understand this post a little better.

http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2015/10/the-worst-ripoff-my-musical-failure.html

I've been thinking about this song I wrote this past week called, "Unwind." It's not my usual kind of song, but maybe I'm mad because it's a bit "too true" to what's been going on in my life.

Maybe I'm also mad because it actually seems to be a well crafted, and above average song to listen to. I'm just not sure I should play it out. Of course, what's the worst that could happen? People ignore it or gently clap?

I mean, I'm glad I finally wrote a song after not writing one for a long time, but this is not the song I expected to write. Maybe I just need someone to play it for. That's what was so great about Josh. He could see what was good and bad in a song. He could pick up on a song, and know where to go with it.

John C. was also like that. He was a bit more finicky, but he was kind of like my creative writing teacher, in that, he wanted to do repeated drafts, which is what you are supposed to do.

I remember reading that Professor Dumbledore once said, "People can be madder at you for being right than being wrong." Well, I think I'm madder at myself for the fact that I wrote a song calling me on all my bullshit. Which makes me think....

Lady Gaga once told Howard Stern that it was completely nerve-wracking for her to make a song public. She said (her words) that, "It was like showing my vagina to everyone." And I get that. I don't have a problem showing my giant scar on my stomach to everyone. However, showing my soul? Well, that's another story. That's a bit difficult.

Since I have been sick for the pass two months, I have basically dropped all human contact outside of the house, and that's not good for me. I don't have a realistic measuring stick of reality.
Now that I am checking this post over, I probably should have added it to my blog instead of posting here. But, oh well. It's not going to hurt anything.

Maybe I need to write a new song. The problem is I haven't been getting out, and I get my best ideas from weird things that happen to me. Maybe I need to join a support group for weird people, and ask them about things that have happened to them for song inspiration?

(Side note:  This post is kind of split into two parts.  Kind of a before and after.  What I wrote above is the "before."  And the next part is the after.)

So, I finally got to play my song "Unwind" for a person/victim. I got to play it for my friend Danielle. 

She gave me some really great feedback. Namely, people know that I do silly, "out there," songs, as well as some serious songs.

Since this is a serious song, I was not sure how it would go over. However, Danielle felt this was a personal and honest song, and she liked it better than my silly stuff.

Maybe it comes off as a more "professional" song? Maybe it "speaks" to people? Or maybe it's just honest? Either way, I'm going to have to play it out to get more feedback.

Super 500!

Back on April 4th, 2008 I posted my first blog post.  Like the blog itself, it was called, "Destruction for Fun and Profit."  My original idea for the blog was to talk about how things had to be destroyed in order to create new things.  I had to cut up and destroy a tree to make it into a guitar.  I had to cut grass and bushes to create the nice lawn we had. 

Pretty soon however, I started running out of ideas about destruction.  I started telling a lot of old stories of things that had happened to me or others.  I also blogged about my musical instrument obsession.  When I was dating Lili, I had a number of posts about me repairing and improving her house.  Some of my favorite posts were about pets and pet care.  I even had multiple parts to blogs that would span up to four parts/chapters.

But here seven and a half years later is my 500th blog. 

I wasn't sure I'd get this far.  A lot of people took up blogging, and then life happens to them.  However, I made a promise to myself to try and post four blogs per month, and if I could one a week.  I thought that would be a fair amount of time to put towards a blog. 

So here's to Super Blog number 500!  I already have an idea for blog number 501, and no, it's not about Levi's Blue Jeans.  It's about..... yet another guitar.  So I'll keep writing even if no one reads.  But I have a loyal few readers, and that's all I need.

Amazing Blog Post #300

That's right.  This is my 300th post.  It all started with a suggestion and then a dream.  First it was my sister who said that with all the crazy ideas I had, I should really have a blog to express those ideas.  I then had a dream to write a blog about destruction, hence the name of my blog, "Destruction for Fun and Profit." 

It all started when Myspace was the big social network to be on.  Myspace was kind of an all in one website, that's why I liked having my blog on it.  But Myspace decided to change their format multiple times, and made it more and more user unfriendly.

So I decided to move my blog over to blogger, and I couldn't be happier.  Their format allows me to easily post photos and videos, and make my blogs even more entertaining.  It was one of the best decisions for my writing and blogging. 

But I can't believe it.  300 posts.  This is a perfect time to make a 300 joke.

Back when I started my blog, I made myself a promise that I would try to post once a week.  I thought that would be a fair amount.  But once I decided that I would post about more than just destruction, I found out I had a lot more to say.  So instead of posting just once a week, I have averaged about 80 posts a year.

Today just happens to be exactly one year since I moved my blog over to Blogger.  I switched over on Saturday February 26th, 2011.  I remember it well.  It was right around the time I got really sick with my gall bladder.  After surgery, I found that I had plenty of time to blog since I was going to be out of work for a while.

Once April 4th comes around, it will be exactly four years that I have been blogging.  I am glad I expanded beyond just talking about destruction.  I have posted true life stories, odd thoughts, pranks, tall tales, picture posts, and some general mayhem. 

I am very proud of quite a number of these blogs I have written.  I always try to outdo myself, and hope that somewhere in my next 300 blogs I will be able to do that.  I always try to entertain and hope that I will continue to do so. 

Adrian's Best Blogs of 2011

I guess it's that time folks.  It's time for the new year, but before we do that, we look back at the old year.  This post is going to review the best of my personal blogs from 2011.  Now, while I did transfer the blogs from my old Myspace account to Blogspot this year, I am only going to count those blogs that I wrote in 2011.  Not the ones that were written prior to that, and transferred this year.

If I go strictly by numbers, here are the top blogs:

5.  Stacy Q Rocks.  44 Views.
http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2011/10/stacy-q-rocks.html

This one kind of surprised me, in that, I didn't think it was that good.  But a lot of other truckers are looking for info about this strange statement carved into truck stop restrooms.

4.  Bitch'in Camaro.  138 Views.
http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2011/04/bitchin-camaro.html

A lot of people are looking for pictures of vintage Cameros, and I have some good ones.  This blog was from my trip to West Virginia, and while I was there, they had a mini-car show. 

3.  Questions I Would Ask J.K. Rowling.  362 Views.
http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2011/06/questions-i-would-ask-jk-rowling.html

I wrote this one with the intention of getting a lot of blog hits.  A lot of people find this blog post looking for Harry Potter pictures.

2.  Tsunami Death Toll.  484 Views.
http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2011/05/tsunami-death-toll.html

This was supposed to be a funny blog about band names.  However, due to the Slayer pictures, this blog gets a lot of hits.

And finally number one, by a long shot....

1.  Chicks Dig High Profile Vehicles... Like Dragons.  6732 Views.
http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2011/06/chicks-dig-high-profile-vehicles-like.html

This blog took off due to a bunch of kids looking for pictures of Toothless the Dragon.  Every time that movie aired on HBO or Cinemax, you would see the hits spike on this blog.

Now, for my personal five favorites:

5.  The Republican Candidates Are In Fact, Underpants Gnomes.
http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2011/10/republican-candidates-are-in-fact.html

I was really proud of this one.  I did my homework, and went to the actual websites of the candidates.  I had been listening to a lot of news radio, and it just sunk into my head that the Republican candidates don't understand business.

4.  Grimm's Fairy Tales Have Nothing On My Mother.
http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2011/07/grimms-fairy-tales-have-nothing-on-my.html

Again, this is one I am really pound of.  I spent a lot of time writing it, and making sure it was perfect.  The "tales" my Mother told me at a young age stuck with me for all these years.  I'm surprised it took me this long to write a blog about it.

3.  Overpriced Couches and Insulting the Locals.
http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2011/04/overpriced-couches-and-insulting-locals.html

This is a bit of truth being stranger than fiction.  I never thought of writing a blog out of walking into an antique store.  However, that is what happened here.  When the strange gets tough, Adrian writes a blog out of it.

2.  Inside the Secret World of Adrian's Hunting Adventures, Part 2.
http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2011/12/inside-secret-world-of-adrians-hunting_28.html

I put so much hard work into this one.  This contains the videos of me after I had shot a hog out hunting, and then the hilarious aftermath.  This would easily be number one on my list except for one thing....

1.  Chicks Dig High Profile Vehicles... Like Dragons.
http://angjellockheart.blogspot.com/2011/06/chicks-dig-high-profile-vehicles-like.html

How could I not vote this number one?  I have over 280 individual blogs, and just over 10,000 individual views.  This one blog alone has 2/3's of my entire blog views.  I am also proud of the thoughts and writing of this blog.  I honestly saw one of the new Pontiac Trans Ams, and it just clicked that I should write this.

So there you have it.  Agree?  Disagree?  Can't pick a favorite?  Hate em' all?  Let me know.  Write a comment.

I do want to wish everyone a happy new year.  I will keep writing, and I hope you will keep reading them.  Happy blogging everyone.