Fast Eddie Friday... House cat with picture of Jesus in it's fur saves family of crack heads from house fire. I feel better already.

Ted Williams, the  homeless guy/ alky/ crack head, with the golden voice captured the hearts of Americans. People bought the bull shit the media sold them. When it comes to feel good stories we lap em up like cats to cream. For about one week Williams was the media sweetheart. Here's this shaggy guy with a mediocre 1980's style radio voice, claiming he has been sober for 2 years, and people bought it. Like a trout rising to take the fly (no Seacrest), folks bought the story, hook,line, and sinker.Williams hit the lottery. Kraft foods paid him 30 grand to pimp some cheese.  30 K will buy a whole lotta crack and Thunderbird. Williams story would have ended right there with the 30 k pay day, except for leeches like Oprah spawn Doctor Phil.  Some of Williams 13 kids, or whatever the ridiculous head count is, came out of the woodwork to get their 15 minutes. They ratted him out, told Dr. Phil and the rest of America that the absentee Daddy was still hittin the bottle and the pipe.

Prediction time........Williams comes out of rehab and is back to the bottle and glass dick quicker than you can say " Brother can you spare some change for the bus?" You don't have to be Nostradamus to figure out how the Williams story ends. The guy was shitting in peoples hedges just a few weeks ago, higher than Cooter Brown, beggin for change. He stumbled over a stack of money. His life changed. But Williams hasn't changed, couldn't have changed, not over night. Six months, a year from now, he will be king of the Cleveland hobos, or posing for pictures with Asian tourists on Hollywood Blvd.  At the end of the day, America didn't embrace Williams. We embraced the story. We made ourselves feel good because we cheered for some random homeless guy, while avoiding eye contact with the never ending stream of random homeless guys holding cardboard signs at virtually every corner in America.  The television screen softens the reality. You don't have to avert your gaze  when watching a Youtube video, and the smell of stale booze and ripe B.O. can't offend your senses through the computer screen. That's why most of us cheered for Williams. It was safe, made us feel good.


We live in a cynical real world, with good reason. In a world where 13 year old children will kill you for a 15 year old car, you learn to keep your eyes scanning your surroundings, careful not to let that gaze rest too long lest someone take offense and turn you in to a slab of cold meat. Whack jobs take a break from writing Manifestos in their own poop, to go out and dump a couple dozen rounds in to whoever happens to piss them off. Some guy with 6 goats in the middle of some Godforsaken dust bowl is wiping his ass with his left hand one day, flying planes in to buildings the next.  You never know where the next batch of buzz kill will come from. So we take a little comfort in fluffy stories about the cat that saved a family from a house fire, or some mediocre radio voice that happens to come from some shaggy homeless guy who is looking for his next hit. Never mind that the cat was just trying to get outside so the neighborhood Tom could crack her cat panties. Forget that Williams left a pack of kids behind for someone else to foot their bill.

In a few minutes we will move on from the Williams saga if we haven't already.  We will forget all about him until he pops up on TMZ or turns up in an E R after trying to cheek a hot crack pipe because the "Tree People" were after him.  Next week we will become enamored with a milk cow that has Jesus face on it's  ass, or some crazy character that goes viral on Youtube.  Then we will fall in love all over again.  We know it won't last, but for a minute we get to feel warm and fuzzy. Unicorns will dance. Midgets will cry Gummi Bear tears of joy.

Yep, it's a cynical world we live in, but we keep trying to believe.

Three fingers of Makers.

I have penned  some beautiful stuff. I don't say that with an ounce of ego or a hint of self aggrandizing. It's just a fact. Those stories are sprinkled throughout this blog. Scattered like ashes. Hidden between impotent rants and pointless diatribes. I've made more than a few of you tear up. Even when the subject matter has been dark, unbearably sad, there was always a thread of redemption or at least a few bright moments running through. This isn't one of those times. This isn't one of those stories. Usually when I write something really good, it is of a personal nature. There is almost always a trigger, something I saw on the news for example. This time it was the Ted Williams saga. Not the ball player. I'm talking about the homeless guy with the  voice who was begging on a street corner and pissing in parking lots. The only common link between this story and Ted's is booze. Any similarities begin and end at the bottle. I'll write about Ted tomorrow, maybe. Right now, this moment, this story needs told.


 I've mentioned this before, just not in great detail.  Booze turned me in to a first rate prick. Having a short fuse to begin with, booze was just lighter fluid on the fire. I haven't had a drink in 20 years or there about. Every now and again I long for a couple of fingers of Makers Mark, a cold beer to chase it with, sitting in a haze of smoke in some dark seedy bar, watching it unfold around me. Those days are long gone as are the days of seedy smoke filled bars. When I was 20, too young to drink legally, not that being legal ever stopped me, I was stabbed by a pissed off husband in the entryway of the Club 95.  He got me in the chest, the neck and the gut. I had been running around with the guys wife for months. Hey, I was a criminal, if stealing didn't bother me, adultery didn't even merit hesitation. I keep telling you rubes that "good guy crooks" are a Hollywood myth. Bullshit fabricated by men and women who lack the balls to see themselves in the mirror as they truly are. Robin Hood is a fairy tale.Honor among thieves is a fabrication.  Anyway,  it all came to a head the night he hemmed me up in that little entryway. I was drunk, his wife was evil, and the dude was nuttier than a Pepperidge Farms fruitcake. I'd been sitting at the bar, his 35 year old wife kept the liquor flowing, as he sat in a dark corner booth watching it all unfold. She knew what she was doing, no doubt in my mind. I was young, invincible, and naive when it came to just how twisted and  fucked up people can be.

They were separated, she had him put out of his own house , wouldn't let him see his kids very often,  made sure she kept her hand elbow deep in his pocket.  I was an idiot who didn't have a clue. When I got up to leave, her hanging off my neck and rubbing against me like a cat, I didn't notice that he made an exit for the door ahead of me. I stepped out the first set of doors and there he stood. He was a big guy, but he wasn't intimidating, at least in my boozed up eyes. We stood there for a few seconds. He was rambling on about his house and his kids. Big guy, crying. I said something smart, don't recall exactly what, and as I brushed by him, he hit me in the chest.  Except he didn't hit me. He stabbed me, in the upper left side of my chest just beneath the collarbone.  Then he cut my neck, then he got me in the gut. She screamed, I was still trying to figure out what had happened. He turned around and left. He drove his car into a bridge pillar on 71 highway about 20 minutes later.

I went to the emergency room, got out the same night, had a drink and nailed his wife, in his house, just out of spite. I was a real piece of work back then. He was in the hospital for 3 weeks. The day he got out, he walked in his old home, walked past his wife and kids without uttering a word. Of course he knew she would follow him, probably yelling at him to get the fuck out of there. She did just as he knew she would. He stepped in to the bathroom, stood in the shower, and just as she stepped through the door, he stuck the pistol he had on him in his own mouth, and blew his brains out. 


She came by my place that same night. The. Same. Night. Told me all about it. Just as calm as if she was telling me about some mundane daily occurrence. At one point she reaches into her purse, pulls out one of those blue Crown Royal bags. She dumped the contents out on my kitchen table. A gold bracelet, a wedding band, a diamond pinky ring and a mans wallet spilled out on the table. " Can you sell this jewelry for me"? I gave her a look.  I scooped the shit up, put it in the bag, put it back in her purse, and threw her out of my house. Physically. I got blinding drunk that night. I never saw her again. Don't get shit twisted, I wasn't suddenly overcome with guilt and shame for having an indirect hand in the guys death. I wasn't capable of that type of remorse back in those days. The regrets wouldn't come for another 20 years or so. I put her out because she  spooked me. She was ruthless.She was far colder than I was ever capable of being, and that's saying something.

I continued to drink through my 20's. I continued to do stupid shit when I was hammered. I finally gave it up when I was in my early 30's. I was never  a stereotypical  alcoholic, but I know now as I knew when I finally gave it up, booze clouded my judgment, changed my personality,  and it never chased away whatever personal demons and problems I battled. In the end it started to affect my hustle, and I wasn't having any of that shit. I went to a single AA meeting and never went back. I didn't need it, and I didn't need to listen to a bunch of ex drunks talk about booze. I just quit.


  I like to think that I wouldn't have helped torment that poor sap had I not been drinking. I know for a fact I wouldn't have let myself get caught in that entryway had I been sober. I knew it then and I know it now. Booze didn't ruin my life, but it probably contributed to ruining the lives of those two kids that were caught between a weak minded father and an evil mother. When I was 20, in that moment, I never gave any thought to those two kids, never cared if I was helping drive their father crazy. I did plenty of stupid shit in those drinking years. Here's the rub, I knew every time before I took a drink that things could turn out bad.  Still I drank.


Tomorrow we'll take a look at the Ted Williams farce.

Don't piss down my neck then tell me it's raining......... Ferrets, Fanatics, and Fucked uppedness.

I probably should have saved this title and text for a Fast Eddie Friday installment, but I'm about to bust a vein in my forehead if I don't spit this shit out.  If any one thing will keep me hanging on to this blog, it will be my need to vent to someone other than my Girl, my dogs, and the TV screen. You long time sufferers of this blog have by now formed an image of me and how you think I probably spend my time, how I react to certain things, how much dope I smoke, shit like that. If you imagine that I sit in my recliner in a haze of ciggarette and weed smoke, yelling at the talking heads on the news, while Max the Yorkie bogarts the footrest of said recliner, then sadly you are spot on. If you imagine that I blew a cerebral gasket over the story of the finger munching ferret out of Grain Valley, again you hit a bullseye. If you haven't heard about the latest case of extreme Hillbilliness to come out of the great state of Missouri, then allow me to enlighten you.


The short version. A couple of mouth breathing breeders spit out 3 or 4 kids. They decide that a Ferret would be a great addition to the Family. Their youngest, a four month old boy is turned into a buffet for the ferret. As mom sleeps in the living room alongside the baby, and dear old dad snoozes in the bedroom, the ferret casually eats all of the infants fingers, save both thumbs and a pinky. The baby according to the parents screamed but not before being turned into lobster boy. That's right, these shit weasels were supposedly right there in the house, even in the same room, as the Ferret, also a weasel, ate the baby's fingers off like they were those little pickled ears of corn that come in Chinese food. I don't think most people actually eat those baby ears of corn, I know I don't. Sadly Ferrets don't have that same aversion to baby fingers. Apparently baby fingers are to Ferrets what Gates ribs are to humans. The Grain Valley Police are investigating the matter.

Are you fuckin kiddin me?

No, I am not....

Look, I lost just partial bits of two fingers in a motorcycle related incident. Chains, sprockets, copious amounts of weed, and moving parts are a bad combination and I've got the nubs to prove it.  Doesn't take a major brain to figure this shit out. Same goes for this Ferret incident. Expect the parents to be charged, and hopefully anything living and breathing in their home will be removed for it's own safety.  Strangely the actual incident isn't what has me wound up. The incident speaks for itself, so you don't need me to tell you how fucked up it is. 


Now here's the rub. The Ferret rescue lady. "I was just devastated for the baby. I was devastated for the ferret. I was just, I'm shocked, quite honestly. Because that is not normal ferret behavior," said Sharon Cannon, director of the Kansas City Ferret Hotline, a rescue and adoption group for the animal. She continues. Cannon said it's wrong to assume the animal just snapped. She said it needs motivation to do something and it often times responds in the manner in which it's being treated.
"The ferret became an animal, because they were forced into that situation, absolutely. The ferret didn't go crazy," Cannon said.

Ms. Cannon spit this bullshit out on channel 5, which makes her fair game. Kind of like baby fingers to a Ferret. This whack job and defender of Ferrets is a prime example of why we are all doomed.  The money line,
"The ferret became an animal, because they were forced into that situation, absolutely. The ferret didn't go crazy," Cannon said.

I guess I missed the part about what the Ferret was prior to it becoming an Animal. You can catch the video here.  Call me crazy, but I always assumed Ferrets were animals from the git go. What with the Fur, pissy smell, and mouthful of needle teeth. Somewhere buried in this blog is my tale of the Ferret I once owned.  I can't find it because the search function is all fucked the fuck up. My experience with the Ferret was not good, it bit my feet when I'd walk across the living room in the mornings, it even bit my junk (no Liberace) when I woke up with a pup tent one morning.  I ended up trading it for a bag O weed. Ferrets are wild animals that have been domesticated to some extent, and I'm sure some of you rubes will enlighten me on how warm and cuddly they are. Having been bit on the dick by one , unprovoked, I'm gonna beg to differ on how cuddly they are.

But back to the crazy Ferret Lady.  Nobody forced that Ferret to be a Ferret. It already was a Ferret. The problem is people. When that Tiger tried to date rape Sigfried or Roy, it was just a Tiger doing what tigers do. When that chimp ripped that woman's face off, it was just being a chimp. When that ferret ate the baby's fingers, it was being a ferret.  Nobody turned it into an animal. The problem is irresponsible retards turning animals in to people, then acting all surprised when they do animal type shit. Maybe if the crazy Ferret lady had suggested that people shouldn't have a ferret running wild around an infant, I'd have given her a pass.

Disclaimer ** 4 pound Yorkies don't fall under the animals are not people rule.***

Fast Eddie Friday..... Hate Crimes in black and white..........

By now most of you locals are aware of the woman who ran over another woman  after words were exchanged in an Indy Ave grocery store. A mixed couple, one white, one black vs. another woman in the store aisle. Words were exchanged, who knows why. Around 30 minutes after the spat, the couple leaves the store. The other woman runs over the female. One is white, one is black. The driver of the vehicle according to the husband of the victim made at least two racial comments. " That's why I hate blank people".  I'm being a little vague and ambiguous here, but stick with me, we'll get there.  If the woman who was driving the lethal weapon, in this case a P T Cruiser, was white, having made a racially tinged comment prior to running over the other lady, who let's say was black, is there any doubt that this case would already be turned over to the Feds to be prosecuted as a hate crime? As it should have been.  Well as of this writing, it has not been picked up by the feds.  Probably won't be either.


As most of you already know the woman who was turned in to a human speed bump was a white woman, her husband is black, her alleged assailant is black. According to the husband the woman made 2 references about hating white bitches, waited in the parking lot for 30 minutes, then ran the other woman down with her car. They were able to track the driver down  because she used her EBT card in the store.  Most of you are probably thinking this sounds like a hate crime.  Pretty cut and dried. Right?  I mean, if you say "I hate white bitches" then run over a white woman, one would figure that statement and the criminal act that follows constitutes a hate crime. I thought so until I saw the following report on Fox 4. The family of the accused straightened this shit out for me. 

See, nothing to be alarmed over. The woman behind the wheel of the PT Cruiser was going to be a social worker. A wonderful woman, with a slight anger control issue.

Let's cut through the horse shit here, if this situation were reversed and the perp was white, the vic black, the hate crime guantlet would have been laid down before the engine of that PT Cruiser was cooled off. Rightfully so, in my not remotely humble opinion.  The usual suspects on our local interwebs would have been writing in giant cap letters.  You can't have it both ways. When the  scumbags in Texas dragged a black man behind their truck, when the knuckle draggers in Wyoming hung the young gay man from a fence, those were hate crimes. Only an idiot would believe otherwise.  So someone explain to me how this case is any different as far as the main motivator being  racial hatred. The only difference is the victim in this case was white. If you downplay the racial aspect of one crime over another, you taint all instances of racially motivated crimes. So this isn't a case of white folks trying to extract a pound of flesh as payback.

On a more positive note, bondsman don't accept EBT cards so unless she can raise 100 grand our budding social worker and hater of white bitches is off the road.