I had a Toyota that lasted 12-years without a radio or a darn oil change.

There was no back window in the truck. A firewood log crashed through it, tossed by my son. And like you...who can afford a can of olive-oil?

I drive real slow and daydream on the Interstate thoroughfares.

One cold morning on the way to the V.A. I was hit in the rear as I was crossing the Potomac River bridge by a tractor trailer. The Trucker was hauling a load of Coors Beer.

I bought the pickup truck that had no radio or back window back after it was declared totalled by The Nationwide Insurance Company. They are 'on our side'...Ya's can sing that commercial tune...I believe sometimes it's true. Ocassionly.

A West Virginia unemployed vet banged the truck-dents that almost extended upward to the cab. I don't believe I survived. The Tracker Trailer jackknifed on the river bridge. The cops sited the poor beer hauler for excessive speed. I feel guilty for a 'turtle-crawler-poke' sleepy driver but, I was viewed as darn not at fault and innocent harmless.

For a few bucks-worth of grey spray paint.

The purchase price for a tootled Toyota was $300.00.

And that's the gospel honest to Nature's gospel truth.

The hospital 'EKG' said my neck was not broke!

The Coors Brewer driver business settled for $5,000.

That was a "strange" way the money came from Heaven to

finally build me afford a wood shop. In the summer I often sleep there for cricket sounds and peace. It's fun to read by candle light. Those white-moths crackle if they fly toward the flame Light. Seriously.

The local Mennonites help me to construct a Hemlock Siding Wood, pole-frame-building that would suite me as a permanent residence in lieu of the vile White House. Since the Texan thugs have invaded DC, my wood furniture skills have plummeted. Some day I hope to have art G-monkey teach me (he post here) how to twirl those wood salad bowls with sharp chisels. I thank him for the Persimmon hand-turned wood bowl he mailed me. Beautiful. He harvested the wood from a lightening strike dead Persimmon Tree in Florida. There are Beautiful people here...Yep.

You drive!

The last time Dirigo went with us hillbilly possums for a night out to visit the boarded and Closed Down store fronts in small towns across America to those square dance halls, Dirigo got us in too much trouble when he asked the base-player gal who chewed tobacco to slow dance. Remember?

The other cute gals thought the pint bottle of Wild Turkey in his front pants was something else? A bulgy. Who called the cops? huh.

Ah, well. Ondelette.

maybe you drive? or, Kitt?

If you take a throw away Kodak,

or a 35-millimeter black Cannon,

or a Nike Polaroid unidiomatic,

Please don't aim it at William.

He may think it's a loaded device.

Colt 45-gun?

Drink bud or.

Colt 45 malts.

Glenn can drive?

I am running real behind the times.

For fun. Pretend to use red lipstick.

Fill the computer-window with daily kisses.

Smack. Pow. Right in the big old fat kisser.

I do have a pawned Cannon 35-millimeter F-1 camera.

You drive anyway? I drive too slow. Drivers pass and give me the middle finger. I honk and scream, "Hello!" And to speed up is fun if you raise a Cheer with a cool-can of cheap-o beer.

Don't drive if bare. No date bears with pink hair curlers.

Drink and drink along with a happy face. Drive slow is safe. It's best to select the little pinkie-finger and Rio Grand ?

O, and no drive into a big whore's DC house ditch. huh.

Have a safe truck-drive tho...Hold the can of beer firmly while sticking outward the tiny pinko. out/over. gads. behave. No read my advice. Drink with a plastic Mcdonalds straw but, remain awake at the wheel and Mr. hazy 'A', no roll joints, drink beer, and be at the steering wheel at the same time. Don't drive in reverse. Often you think cool. Be careful on that Schwinn bicycle.

Don't drink and drive a mule team anywhere. Don't gamble.

Save pennies for a rain-day blind date.

I'm always on probation.

If blind read braille.

And don't read this or,

drive while too drunk.

Ruben Bolling is as clear as a pint-bottle,

of shop-lifted green Aqua Vulva shave lotion.

Gulp a few gallons of that owlishly delicious brew and 'it'

O, who knows? Nobody for sure.

IT~

might possibly come to you?

You'll maybe 'get it' then?

I'd say, burp cans of 7-up!

I need to express, for what it's worth, a personal thought.

Quite awhile back I read a Wa/Po article about Mr. Negroponte.

I'm somewhat familiar with all the 80's El Salvador, Contra, and Nicaragua scandals...

Mr. Negroponte twirls worry beads.

He really loves his adopted children.

There are 'safeguard' higher level human beings disbursed throughout the world?

If that's not believable,

We'd have been blown to smithereens,

a long time ago under the Bush maladministration.