Neanderpundit

When thinking of those sunday morning pieces, I started ruminating about the sunday evenings at home, in Cedar Lake.

We had channel 2, 5, 7, and 9. Channel 32 came in, but the signal was weak. So we relied on the networks to provide us with entertainment- and did they ever. Sunday, if we went to eight o’clock mass, started with Tiny Tov. yeah, I watched a jewish kids’ program, and knew some of the hebrew alphabet before I was ten. I didn’t know what the fuck a hebrew WAS, but I knew some of their alphabet. I figured they were immigrants from hebrewland. We had polacks in the neighborhood, it was only natural. Anyway, after mass, if I didn’t have homework, I would watch the Cisco Kid or the Lone Ranger. I had a preference for the Ranger, as Clayton More had such a great voice and Pancho was a dumbass. Still, I watched whichever was on. Sometimes I’d read if Cisco was on, looking up from my book to see the good parts. then it was Charlie Chan or Sherlock Holmes. Charflie was good, though confusing, I hadn’t made the connection yet that they had variously used Sydney Toler or Roland Winters, two eminently non chinese men, to play the part. Sherlock was better, because it was England, (which fascinated me, another country where they spoke the same language! How cool! I wonder why they chose to speak english?) and because it was always Basil and Nigel. you could count on Basil to be smoking, annoyed, and condescending. I wanted to be one of the Baker Street Irregulars. Still do, as a matter of fact.

From there, it was a locally produced show called “Passage to Adventure”. I can’t find any reference, but it was a couple of guys who showed off their 8mm travel footage, and voiced ovber the footage. Some of the stuff was cool, exotic destinations, exotic people. Pyramids. Aztec ruins. Some of it was lame. Tulips in Holland. Lame-o. It wasn’t always good, but it was a good bridge to the meat of Sunday: The WGN lineup.

The lineup consisted of Mutual of Omaha’s Wild Kingdom. The Wonderful World of Disney (you know, the show where they pushed the lemmings off the cliff) and Family Classics with Frasier Thomas. This was- and, for me, is- comfort television. Family Classics especially- they were replete with Jules Verne stories (Journey to the center of the earth, 20000 leagues under the sea, Mysterious island) Ray Harryhausen films(Jason and the Argonauts, Sinbad, etc) classic movies (treasure Island, Little Women, Tom Sawyer) as well as classic SF like Tobor the Great and seasonal classics like “Boys town”.

Later in life, I would stay up late to watch WTTW, because they always had interesting stuff, but it was on a sunday evening in the early 70’s when I sat in my PJ’s in front of the TV, and watched Eric Idle Confusing a cat, that I knew my televising would never be the same again.

Kim is talking about the vermin in california, and their inability to deal with raccoons. Wait, I think I got that wrong…. No, nope, I got it just right.

it brings to mind a family friend, whose wife didn’t want him shooting raccoons, he was supposed to use “other” methods to get rid of them. He was able to trap and relocate a few, popped off a few when the wife was away, but one individual was determined and nasty,and kept getting into the garbage, despite bungee cords, heavy chains, etc.

So our friend, who I’ll call Chuck, waited for the raccoon.

Now these were the old galvanized cans. No, not the cans made out of galvanized steel, but all-steel cans, welded, fabricated, and then hot-dipped galvanized as a whole- the cans themselves must have weighed thirty pounds. You had to use a cart to get them up the driveway to the street.

So Chuck waits, and sees the raccoon hop up on one can, lift the lid of the adjacent can, and slip inside, the lid closing on him. Chuck has baited the can with some old eggs and freezer burned fish fillets. As soon as the lid drops, Chuck runs up, holds the lid down, and ties it secure with clothesline.

Then the fun begins. he rolls the can down the driveway. ( steep hill!) it hits the curb at the bottom and bounces across the street. he drags it on it’s side back up the hill. beats on it for ten minutes with a bat. Hands the bat to his 14 year old son, who takes a turn, with the exhuberance of youth. Duct tapes a random orbit sander to the lis and turns on the air, lets that vibrate it around for a couple minutes. Then carefully cuts the cord, and throws the can of the (20 foot) deck. The coon staggers out, lifts up on his haunches and sneers, fals over, and runs staggering away. We saw him again after that, but never again did he come near a garbage can.

Put a comment in an old post hoping, no doubt, I’d overlook it.

Here’s a clue for you earl, you penguin squicking, goat felching, satan worshipping fucktard. God hates you, and he sent a kid with tourettes to you because God wants you to know EXACTLY what he thinks of you. Every time your son says “FUCKFUCK!! CUM KIKE JEW BITCH CUNT! it’s a little message from God to Dwayne Earl.

Listenup, assgasket. You are too fucking stupid to get it, and you always will be, because you’re the kind of moron that believes in shit like Rapture. Know what, DuhWayne? If you get taken up in the Rapture, it will make the world such a good place that Jesus himself won’t want to leave.

Go listen to your kid tell you just what God thinks of you. Moron.