Tag: beauty

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Ask A Texan: Did We Think This Would Not Happen? Welcome To Never..Never Land And Do You Want Peter Pan With Welches Jelly On That Sandwich?


Loosely Dispensed Common Sense Advice And Commentary Shot From The Well Armed Hip Of A Old Texan That’s Seen Too Much And Doesn’t Give A Rats Ass What Other Folks Think, Or Eat

The Texan

It took Forty-Eight Years for the Death to America and the Great Satan Party to take over the Middle East, like those morally depraved little shits took over Daytona Beach a few days ago and literally ruined the once nice state of Florida. Iran’s murdering demon-possessed regime robe-wearing ass is kicked so hard their butt is in their throat, but yet they keep issuing threats, shooting off those cute little Chinese and Russian missiles, and now claim they will nuke Israel, the UK, most of Europe, a good portion of the Middle East, and of course, America. I am anxiously awaiting what Elon Musk has in store for them. How many presidents in 48 years said they would be a problem to be dealt with, but kicked that Wolf Brand Chili can on down the dirt road for the next delegation of thieving, lying, scum-sucking politicians to deal with. FDR, the two Bushes, one fully grown to size of a Scotch Pine Christmas Tree, and the other a puny shrub planted in too much shade, gave a half baked attempt, Regan got a few things done, Carter made everything worse, Ross Perot ran scared and said screw it, Clinton took the white house to a new low in history, Nixon..nuff said about him, Obama gave his magic carpet riding bunch of cut -throat brethren billions in cash, and Biden tried to take most of it back.

Truman had the balls to use the big firecrackers, Churchill had the guts, and a country full of English, Scottish, Irish, and Celtic patriots behind him, and Margaret Thatcher was likely the toughest of them all. Now we have a president who clearly sees this must be dealt with, or Jesus will be coming within the next six weeks, and he will be plenty pissed off upon arrival.

Momo and I are not afraid of the nuke over downtown Fort Worth, we would sit in our backyard with a nice whiskey and put on the Solar sunglasses we purchased at 7-11 as our bodies are char-broiled to Texas BBQ perfection. I recently purchased some 6666 BBQ Rub from Taylor Sheridan’s Ranch in West Texas.

I’ve become testier in my old age. The IRS has been holding our 2024 tax refund for a year now because we overpaid them, and they can’t bring themselves to give it back to us, saying we committed fraud. Fraud against whom, ourselves? I hate every politician on all sides. You bet if I could pull it off, I would jump at a $185K a year job and leave a few years later having accomplished nothing and pull a wagon load of 30 Million to the bank, that’s the real reason these narcissistic bottom dwellers run for office and try and stay in as long as modern medicine can keep replacing their bodily parts. Greed and Power, once that rhinestone-encrusted crown is put upon their head, it’s almost impossible to relinquish it to another greedy bandit: one size fits all. God has a plan for them, and I hope I get to witness their time out and try to bullshit God, who my pastor says has a good sense of humor and won’t be afraid to use it.

The US has more oil than the Middle East times ten, so these high gas prices are driven by the stock market and speculators, denizens from the depths, and yes, Quint will need a bigger boat to land those bastards. Enjoy that PB&J sandwich and that glass of Jim Beam. Sorry about all the swear words in this post, I told you I was getting testier and meaner these days.

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In Remembrance: Mrs. Mister Makes A Killing


A Tall Texas Tale For Those With Wrinkles…

Pictured above is none other than my childhood neighbor, Mrs. Mister, pouring her revolutionary beauty concoction, “Mrs. Mister’s Transforming Beauty Soak And Wrinkle Eradicator,” into the swimming pool at Colonial Country Club in Fort Worth, Texas, circa 1956. After emptying the last magnum of this magical elixir into the pool, every female club member over the age of fifty plunged into the water and adamantly refused to emerge until they attained Mrs. Mister’s enviable wrinkle-free appearance. Admittedly, a few of them came close to the mark, but, alas, the majority remained, shall we say, in dire need of further miraculous intervention.

Being the shrewd entrepreneur she was, Mrs. Mister struck a deal with Avon and pocketed a tidy sum for her creation. The miracle potion was rebranded as “Avon Skin So Soft,” renowned not only for its beautifying properties but also for its ability to repel those pesky “no-see-um” gnats. After all, why not fend off insects and look fabulous while doing so?

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In Remembrance: Fort Worth Days


Captain Salt and the Lonely Beatnik Band

Pictured above is my late cousin’s band, Captain Salt And The Lonely Beatnik Band. They had a steady gig as the house band for the Hip Herford Coffee House in Fort Worth, Texas, in 1957. Junior Parker, my cousin, is the hip dude in the striped shirt. No one could play a stringed instrument, so everyone had a set of bongos. When a guest, such as Brother Dave Gardner, was on stage, the boys would provide a soft, cool beat, adding an aura of hipness to the poet’s reading. The band released a greatest hits album in 1958 that was a local hit within a four-block area. A young visitor from England, on vacation with his aunt, visited the coffee house, heard the band, and dug their stuff. It’s rumored he went back to England and formed his own band called the “Quarrymen,” and years later paid homage to the boys with a groundbreaking album, Sargent Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band. I guess you can say my cousin had “X-Ray Eyes and knew his groceries. ” Hit me, man, I’m ice cold.

born to be wild

I wasn’t satisfied with my ordinary peddle car; I craved excitement and wind in my flat-top haircut: Speed was my need. My neighbor, Mr. Mister, our local mentor, and mad scientist, helped me install a Briggs & Stratton 5 HP lawn mower motor in my Western Auto peddle car. We tested my machine on the runway at Carswell Air Force Base, and it reached a speed of 70 MPH. I was a speed demon… ready for Thunder Road, figure 8 stock car races, quarter-mile drags, cruising Berry Street, racing teenagers between traffic lights, which is what I did one Saturday night when my parents thought I was asleep and wound up in a jail cell after the fuzz arrested me and confiscated my hot rod.

Delinquent women on motorcycles

“The Shangri-La’s” motorcycle gang, Fort Worth, Texas, 1957. My late cousin, Marlene Brando, right front, on the bad-ass Harley, was the Leader Of The Pack.