Come Back Little Sheba Walker ©

Come back, I haven’t left Gab, I’m still here.

I’m not as motivated as I used to be I guess.

Maybe I’ve lost my Mojo.

Hmmm, so this is how Curly must have felt without Mo and Jo.

Just a lone stooge without his MoJo.

Yes there is Larry but he’s just a balding clown.

What have I been up too?

Well, alot actually but mostly taking care of my parents………..let me rephrase that.

I'm busy being tortured by my parents.

Don’t get me wrong I love my parents to death which doesn't really say mush as they are still alive.

My father is loosing his license in 32 days.

He got into an accident with a bicycle and this pretty much spelled the end of his driving.

It’s funny how the system works though.

You are not fit to drive but they let you keep your license for 60 more days

It’s like a farewell tour for your drivers license where you can kill a couple of pedestrians and not worry about loosing points on your license with the added bonus that your insurance company, who has been sucking the money out of your for 50 years has to pay for it.

Just crank up Radar Love on the squawk box and tear up the Walmart parking lot as you zigzag around the shopping carts hitting shopper after shopper pushing them.

Last week my father went shopping with my mother's brother who is 87.

He lost "his" license 3 years ago when he stopped at a red light and fell asleep.

He did have his seat belt on though.

So my father and uncle are at the mall shopping then proceed to head out to the car but have a little trouble finding it when out of the corner of his eye my father spots it not to far away.

They head to it and my father gets in first and opens the door for my uncle.

As my uncle goes to put his stuff in the back with the other things they had earlier picked up he finds that all his things are gone.

My father looks back and yup, their stuff was stolen.

Looking around the car my father noticed some of his personal stuff was missing as well and to add insult to injury the thieves had stuffed a box of tampons in the middle console.

Sitting back in the car seat my father looked around the car some more and it dawned on him that this, wasn't his car.

My uncle said you never seen two old men move so fast.

They were scared they were going to be arrest for grand theft auto.

Not far off my father found his car with my uncle’s belongings still in the back.

My 85 year old mother sprained her hip so now she is having to use a cane.

She uses it to walk but mostly she uses it to knock things down she can’t reach up high in the cupboard.

According to her if she had known this little tit bit before she would have sprained her ass years ago.

I got two kittens a while back.

Salem and Vagina.

Inia made me change Vagina’s name because she didn't want to have to explain to her eight year old's teachers how he got his arms scratched up while playing with vagina over the weekend.

So now we call her Elvira.

This is just a bit of what I have been up too.

I know I don’t post here as much as I used to and I will try too but I am still around and always will even if i didn't have any readers.
Sitting here procrastinating until I do write something.

Have a nice day

Walker

Up In Smoke ©

So I am standing in the corner thinking no one’s around to see me so I spark one up and immediately start coughing and spewing whatever has been clinging to my lungs for the last five decades.

Just then from behind a curtain, a contingent of what looked like well dress Klu Klux Klan members emerged and passed through the thick cloud of smoke I had just puked out.

A couple of them staggered back against the wall.

I don’t know if it was from the smoke or that they thought they had just taken their last breaths because they were all that ancient.

As they recovered and proceeded to go down the hallway I began getting a little paranoid as some people do who are swimming in an ocean of THC.

I was thinking one of them might tell the local cops about the funny smelling incense.

I looked around and found a door that looked like the shutter of a window so I opened it to let the smoke out before I got pinched by the spear chucking jesters.

No sooner had I opened the shutter, a loud roar rose from outside and I could hear running footsteps coming towards me.

That was it, I knew I was busted.

Banned from another country.

The poster boy for Interpol.

Probably to be thrown in some deep underground prison cell with only the shroud of Turin to keep me warm.

Grabbing some clothes from a nearby closet to help disguise my escape, I stepped out only to be mobbed and carried off by those same well dressed Klu Klux Klan members.

I thought my ass was fucked for sure

It was worse.

Long story short.

Have a nice weekend

Pope Cheech AKA Walker

Tagged Again ©

Devilish Angel recently tagged with something I have already done at least twice before but I am still going to do it because I have noticed that as the years pass what I like changes as does life and mostly my aching body.

10 facts about me

1. I am “the quiet man” so don’t wake me up

2. I say things as they are

3. I have a “you get what you see attitude”

4. I hate technology, it makes me crazy

5. I am a computer tech

6. I became a father 20 years after my kids were born

7. I regret not becoming a politician

8. I studied to be an architect

9. Loved being a trucker

10. I love smell of car exhaust in the morning  

Questions for the nominated bloggers

1.Whats is your favorite sports?

My favorite sports, is that to to play or watch?

At my age with this battered body, the only sports I can play have to involve the bed or couch and within arm reach of the phone to be able to call 911 if something else was to arise than the normal culprits.

Sports I like to watch is football, grid iron that is and women’s figure skating.

2.How you face critical problems?

Hmmm, it depends on the problem.

My readers, when I had some would tell you I have a spotted past, and I don’t mean the measles but I have had those too.

Lets see, an example.

First I am rational

Three seconds later I become irrational.

This is where I call in a couple of friends and head off to the daycare where I have them throw someone out the basement window.

3.One thing about which you are proud about yourself

I went back to school in my late 30s to finish the education I had abandoned 20 years earlier

4.Most happiest moment in your life

When I finally got my foreskin unzipped from my pant’s zipper.

That and when my kids were born.

I guess they go hand and hand or is that zipper and skin, had to get free to make kids

5.The word which you hate to use

“Hate” but I do and I mean it.

6.What is your dream location that you want to visit?

I have a lot of dream locations.

Machu Picchu, Egypt, New Orleans, Antarctica, Fiji, Las Vegas but most of all, the Moon.

So I can look down on our beautiful planet, drop my pants and tell all the bastards fucking it up to kiss my ass.

7.How can you describe yourself?

Timid

8.Your favourite subject in school.

Recess and gym, it’s a tie

9.Tell about your first crush.

I was 8 she was 14 and had big boobs after I kissed her I walked into oncoming traffic which led me to a body cast and 12 months of learning how to walk.

My friend married her down the road and he’s still miserable.

10.Tell about one of your childhood adventure.

Wow, growing up on the street I didn’t really have a childhood, life was the adventure.

Tell you what, Here is something from an earlier post that might help out for this question.

Wasted Youth Revisited

11.Ambition in your life.

To be all I can be in what comes my way.

I guess that’s it.

I don’t normally tag people but it anyone feels like trying this by all means knock yourselves out.

Have a nice day

Walker

Unisex ©

It’s funny how time changes people.

The other day I am at the mall with a friend going to the electronics store to buy something we don’t need but will fill in some of the boredom.

Now for me, if it wasn’t for my aching bones I wouldn’t think I was older than 25. 

I don’t have a recent image of me in my brain, probably because I don’t spend as much time in front of the mirror as I did when I was twenty five so that’s who I see when I think of myself.

It might sound weird to some of you but hey, I never said I wasn’t.

I walk down the halls and have to keep telling myself that I am 53, but damn it’s hard when a chick walks by with big tits and clothes so tight she probably wore them when she was in grade six.

And buddy he’s no better he’s like “ I’d like to run that down and tear her apart”.

I think for a second then look at him. “Tear what apart, the other day you lost a fight with your zipper and shit your pants in Best Buy”.

“She shows you her tits and you’ll be coming from both ends just before you die of a heart attack or an aneurysm if not both at the same time”.

He looks at me then says he has to go to the washroom to fart.

How the fuck did we get from hot chicks to farting in the same breath and I am in shock.

He wants to go to the washroom to fart.

How freakin polite is that?

Who are you?

“Since when did you start caring about other people that you are going to go to the washroom to sneeze your ass”?

“Just go over in the corner and crack the marble floor or even better go into that bra store and see how many you can choke out of there topless”.

“No it’s not that he”.

“Getting older has done weird shit to me”.

“When I need to go for a dump all I do is fart but when I need to fart I end up crapping my pants so now when I need to fart I go for a crap instead”.

‘Wow, how old are you, two years older than me eh”.

Wow do I have lots to look forward too.

Eventually we ended up in the food court.

The place was warming with people.

Young, old, middle aged but mostly people in their twenties.

We sat there chopping down on our quarter pound of scorched flesh, washing it down with a glass of gold suds while everyone else around us ate salads yogurts stir fried vegetables.

I told buddy maybe we should be eating more vegetables and he said they would only make him fart more.

After eating we got into a heated discussion over a couple at one of the tables.

I said they were lesbians.

He insisted that one of them was a guy with girlish looks.

I told him no he was a she.

This went on for about ten minutes and got to the point where I was about to punch him in the head.

I had to settle this so I got up and went to their table and politely lied that my watch had stopped and was wondering if they had the time.

This way I could get a better look and hear their voices.

Thirty seconds later I walked back to the table and sat down.

“Well” buddy asked?

.”The guy you think is a guy with girlish looks, Is a girl so you are wrong and I am right”.

“How do I know you are not lying”.

“I’m not done”.

“The other one is not a girl like we both thought, it’s a guy”.

“FUCK OFF”.

Yup, times have changed.

Going to mall isn’t what it used to be.

Maybe I should spend more time looking into the mirror……or going to the mall more HA HA HA

Walker

Assault On The Garden Of Eden ©

In the wake of recent events in Newtown Connecticut I sit lost in thought.

The tragedy of it leaves me numb.

This is becoming such of a regular occurrence it’s scary to think of it as becoming a normal occurrence.

Am I wrong to think this way?

Is this a trend we have to accept or is there a cure for this insanity?

As a parent I am worried.

Yes I have children still in schools but it’s not only that, this can happen at a mall as it did in Oregon.

It doesn’t matter that I am in Canada, this could happen anywhere, it just been happening more in the United States lately and it’s more than gun control.

It only takes one nut with a weapon of any kind to commit such a heinous crime.

Personally I don’t see the need of assault weapons being sold to the general public or the need of having clips that hold more than ten rounds.

A string of firecrackers will give you the same bang for less if it’s the noise you like but like I said I don’t think this is more about gun control than it is about society.

We can limit the tools but if we can’t cure the problem we’ve done nothing but limit the damage in the future with gun control.

It doesn’t mean our kids are not in danger or you for that matter.

It doesn’t matter how much security we put up to stop this because the evil that exists always walks among us.

It’s your neighbor.

A family member.

It could be the paperboy you never tipped.

Every day millions of parents send off their most precious possessions to the care of someone else thinking they are safe and not knowing that it could be the last time they see their little angels.

Two people cuddled up together in the darkness of night deciding what would be for dinner the next day and who is driving to soccer practice …….there will be no more dinners together, no more soccer practice

That lump in your throat is your fear.

The heaviness in your chest is your soul bleeding

The look on your face is lost

Your brain numb

Until, you realize you’re left alone in a parking lot

No one else is coming

There is no one left to come

They’re gone

Why?

No it’s a mistake

No No No

No…

Only tears fill your palms

I write that to well because it’s one of my fears.

It became one when I let my kids out from under my protection.

It’s a fear many of us have and more so now with all of this crap.

Is this the evolution of our society?

If this is the direction its is going then gun control may not be the answer, we may need to strap on some heavy metal to gun down the paper boy before the lawn boy and him team up.

The wife’s got the postman covered.

There are people out there right now who are walking time bombs waiting to snap.

You know them.

You see them everyday

You just don’t know who they really are.

What’s the solution?

I don’t know.

Is this a trend we have to accept?

I hope not.

Will we all have to start wearing Kevlar clothes?

Do they make Kevlar diapers?

How will this effect our future and that of our offspring?

How far are we going to let this go?

200 years from now will we be sending off our sperm and eggs to a fertility clinic to conceive and raise so we can keep them safe.

There has to be a way to filter out these people who feel they need to attack innocence to be noticed.

There has to be a way to keep our children and loved ones safe without imprisoning ourselves.

There has to be a way to avoid the pain we all have to suffer especially the young ones who witness this and have to carry it around for the rest of their lives.

For parents whose lives will never be totally fulfilled with the void they will always carry within them when they lost the smiles that lit the sparkle in their eye.

With a heavy heart I sit in my dark corner embracing these parents in my thoughts and soul.

With my deepest sympathies

Walker

The Odyssey ©

Let’s see, it’s been a while since I posted on this blog.

Not that anything has really changed.

Everything here is still the same, more drama than any soap opera could handle in one episode.

So many things going on around here I don’t know which to pick to relive.

I don’t know if I want to relive any of it.

Oh I know, my latest Odyssey.

What, you think your name has to be Jason or Ulysses to have an Odyssey.

I’m Greek; we have them while sitting on the toilet going for a dump.

Especially after Mexican, oh mammasita.

My father has been without a driver’s license now for about six months.

Here in Ontario, I don’t know if it’s the same in every province but when you turn 80 you have to be retested to make sure you can still drive.

Now, I don’t see anything wrong with that knowing how stubborn these old cocksuckers can be and never admitting they have seeing, hearing or staying AWAKE issues.

I have an uncle who used to pass out at traffic lights.

I have another uncle who thinks that the “Yield” sign means you are supposed to yell loud at oncoming traffic announcing that you are cutting them off into the adjacent ravine.

My aunt drove her car through the garage and into her kitchen.

Complained to my uncle that it was the transition.

The next day she drove his car through the 7/11 front windows.

Damn if his tranny wasn’t fucked up to.

Don’t get me wrong, my father is not that bad, yet but sometimes I wonder.

“We just went through that stop sign”.

“What stop sign”?

“The one you have been stopping at for the last 50 years”.

So yes, people should be tested when they get to a certain age but do they have to make it that hard.

The first thing we had to do is the eye test.

So he looks into the visor and she is asking him what letters he sees and he got half of them wrong.

So they try again and it’s the same thing.

He fails.

How the fuck can he fail the eye exam, he just had his eyes fixed and doesn’t need glasses but he fails the test.

Not only does he fail it he now has to go to the hospital for a specific eye test before he can go for his license.

Later that day I tell him that I couldn’t believe he failed his eye exam.

I know he is 83 but his eyes are great for his age.

Me, I’m fucken blind, even with my glasses on.

He says to me it wasn’t his eyes, he didn’t know what letter of the alphabet they were and was to embarrassed to say anything.

Great, now we have to go get his eyes checked because he didn’t want to admit he doesn’t know the alphabet.

I make an appointment with his eye doctor and a week later his gets a thumbs up on the eyes to go along with a $68 bill.

How are those ABCs now kids?

Armed with the certificate from the doctor we head down to the department of motor vehicles to wait in line for hours.

There are 14 booths, 10 of which are occupied but doing nothing.

The receptionist has a line up of about 50 people.

What genius thought that system up deserves a smack in the head.

We went from one window to the seat to wait for our number to be called.

The booths are empty and no numbers are being called.

An hour later his number is called and we went to book his written test.

My father is illiterate in any language and his English is only passable if no one is listening.

He can’t even order a pizza; he walks to the place to order it.

So I had to find a translator because family members might cheat and give him the answers.

Now I find that a bit insulting, just a very tiny bit but the problem is where do you find a translator here.

So he decides to do the Greek translation of the written test, they have one in every language they said.

Two hour later I am kind of worried.

It’s be a little to long so I go in and find the person in charge and asked her what was going on.

She said he was having a hard time of it.

I could see him in the corner with a distorted look of pain on his face.

I felt sorry for him; I know his pain because I know the man.

Walking past the guard I told him to pack it in.

He got up and gave the papers to the lady who looked at them and said they were all wrong.

Leaning over I looked at the questions and found it hard to understand them myself and I read and write Greek.

She said I could book a verbal exam if I wanted and he said he wanted so off we went to the window again.

The verbal exam was a month away so we all took turns reading from the driver’s manual to him so he would be ready for the test.

The day of the test we went in and he failed.

Seems he couldn’t understand what she was saying and she is not allowed to explain any further of what the questions says.

It’s something new they have now.

We were both frustrated now.

He wanted his license and I wanted to get a break from being a chauffeur all the time

That weekend I get a call from one of my cousins saying she knows someone who is a licensed Greek translator and gives me her phone number.

I call up and we make arraignments for her to show up at the drive test place so she can help with the written test.

You know what happened next don’t you?

We had to go down there to book a date for him to go for his written test again, almost 3 hours later we had a date.

When the day arrives we meet the translator at the drive test place and I take her aside for a little chat.

I explained the situation and how much we all wanted him to get his license.

She said she understood and went in with my father to do the test.

30 minutes later they come out both smiling.

She says goodbye to my father and I walked her to her car.

We went back in to book his drivers test now.

We hadn’t said a word about the written test until we got into the car and started on our way home.

“Mafia” he said.

“What”?

“You know what, she gave me all the answers”.

“I guess she thought you were cute”.

“I’ll give you cute” he threw back at me.

A month went by before the day of the drivers test day came.

I was outside when the instructor came out and said hello.

It was hard understanding him through his heavy Jamaican accent and wondered how my father would do.

I watched him in the back where they first took people.

He botched the 3 point turn and turned left onto the street from the inside right lane then stopped traffic during rush hour so he could get to the other side.

He went 30 in a 50 and forgot to signal 3 times.

He failed.

This was the first time he ever failed a drivers test and it didn’t well with him.

He is a good driver but like all of us we have slacked off on how we drive and may not exactly drive like the law says.

I went inside and we booked another exam for a month away then told him I would be showing him what he was doing wrong and what he needed to do to pass his next test.

The day came and we went down to the center so he could do his test.

He passed, the Odyssey is over for another two years.

Today he got into an accident with a bicycle.

No one was seriously hurt.

He says it wasn’t his fault she hit him

The new Odyssey begins, sigh………..

See  all’s still the same

Have a nice day

Walker

Huh ©

I am sitting on the couch watching the Olympics when the phone starting singing.

It used to ring but these new phones sing now.

There’s progress for you.

The guy on the other end of the phone says his name is Dave MacAlister.

Dave MacAlister?

Must be from the Clan MacAlister from Scotland but there is a problem.

He has a Hindu accent.

Really, you think I am that stupid?

You think I can’t tell the different between a Scottish accent and a Indian accent.

Unless some of the clan got a little frisky back in the day when India was a British colony and came home with a little David Dilip MacAlister in tow.

How's the haggis I asked?

He said he wasn’t married.

I asked him where he was from and he said  Dublin Scotland.

These people make me nuts

Gunga Din's revenge

Have a nice day

Walker