Hillbilly Wisdom.

Your fences need to be horse-high, pig-tight and bull-strong.

Keep skunks, bankers, and politicians at a distance.

Life is simpler when you plow around the stump.

A bumble bee is considerably faster than a John Deere tractor.

Words that soak into your ears are whispered, not yelled.

The best sermons are lived, not preached.

If you don’t take the time to do it right, you’ll find the time to do it twice.

Don’t corner something that is meaner than you.

Don’t pick a fight with an old man. If he is too old to fight, he’ll just kill you.

It don’t take a very big person to carry a grudge.

You cannot unsay a cruel word.

Every path has a few puddles.

When you wallow with pigs, expect to get dirty.

Don’t be banging your shin on a stool that’s not in the way.

Borrowing trouble from the future doesn’t deplete the supply.

Most of the stuff people worry about ain’t never gonna happen anyway.

Don’t judge folks by their relatives.

Silence is sometimes the best answer.

Don‘t interfere with somethin’ that ain’t botherin’ you none.

Timing has a lot to do with the outcome of a rain dance.

If you find yourself in a hole, the first thing to do is stop diggin’.

Sometimes you get, and sometimes you get got.

The biggest troublemaker you’ll ever have to deal with watches you from the mirror every mornin’.

Always drink upstream from the herd.

Good judgment comes from experience, and most of that comes from bad judgment.

Lettin’ the cat outta the bag is a whole lot easier than puttin’ it back in.

If you get to thinkin’ you’re a person of some influence, try orderin’ somebody else’s dog around.

Live a good, honorable life. Then when you get older and think back, you’ll enjoy it a second time.

Live simply. Love generously. Care deeply. Speak kindly. Leave the rest to God.

Most times, it just gets down to common sense.

Yesterday, after humping all my meager possessions up to my second floor apartment (Thank God for Otis Elevator) I got my apartment in what could be described as early college student decor… I went to the local supermarket for some grub as Phil wasn’t around to graciously feed me. Getting what would needed at the minimum to carry me over to early Sunday morn excursion to Wally Weird, so as to avoid most of the dieversity, screaming kids and super tanker land whales to sustain me for the month.

I put my grub on the check out conveyor and flirted with the young thang ringing up my purchase and stepped at the end looking around the store and the young thang asked “paper?” and I replied, “no, plastic is fine…” She looked at me funny and said, ” No, paper but the bag is 5 cents” , 5 cents for a bag, was my startled reply… Yes and no plastic bags unless it is one you bring in… What the fluck am I gonna use to line the fracken waste baskets? Two guys that had followed me in from the parking lot and had commented on my South Dakota tag and my Ornery Bastard on Board bumper sticker Phil had sent me were behind me in the check out line started busting out laughing at my ignorance and naivety to “OREGON COMMIE” way of life… fuck, my thought, what the unholy hell have I got myself into, 5 fucking cents for a paper bag where just a short time and one state away, paper and plastic bags were given away free gratis with your purchase, and you had a choice between paper or plastic. Five cents, not gonna break me, but the adage, “Nickel and Dime me to death” sure came to mind.

I called Phil that night to vent my building rage at the fucking 5 cent extortion I have been exposed to. When I left the Glorious Socialist State of Oregon in 2000, we only had a nickel a can and a dime a bottle “deposit” to contend with. I don’t ever believed in all the time I have talked with Phil over the phone that he truly had a belly laugh like that at my expense and Phil ain’t got a belly! I am sure between the tears of laughter he was obviously was trying to wipe away he explained the state of Oregon, and the state of Washington in their bloated, craven socialist utopia to implement a ‘tax/fee” to the unwashed deplorables for the temerity to insist they cut down trees to allow us proles to carry home our meager food stuffs. Wasn’t the eco-terrorists that exclaimed we need to switch to plastic bags because the trees were disappearing? Now, the plastic was degrading the landscape so we need to switch to trees? I can’t keep up with this shit. Phil went on to say I wasn’t even started yet with all the fees, wait until I register my truck and travel trailer and wait until I get my power bill… and when I learn all the rules our overlords have decreed upon high. What the hell have I heaped upon myself, is it too late to cut my loses and escape back to sanity and a modicum of freedom? Phil said , no, I am now here behind enemy lines for eventual combat. suck it up, embrace the suck was my thought. I called ChuckinBama and he laughed his ass too off at my apparent stupidity…and my rage over five fucking cents.

I was considering selling my travel trailer, but now have decided to keep it and also to pare down my belongings I toted around unused for over a year in case I finally get mad enough, or make a judicious escape from this paradise because I pissed some one off higher on the food chain or shot a karen/ken liberal asswipe and it seems that have multiplied since I lived here previously. Please keep me in your thoughts and prayers that I retain my sanity and I not let slip the dogs of sociopathic homicidal beserker.