It’s the country’s birthday – God Bless America! The freest place on earth. Free to come and go. Free to worship or not. Free to kill unborn infants. And free to say whatever we want to. These are just a fraction of our freedoms from both sides of the coin . . . good & evil.
I sit here thinking about this time, this place, and it occurs to me that you are probably thinking that you know where this is going. Well,good, because I don’t. Not quite, anyway.
As a salute to the enduring and unique country we are blessed to live in, the President of the United States has now openly admitted that he intends to legislate by executive order whenever he sees the need to do so. Correct me if I’m wrong, but for decades I believed that this democracy provided for checks and balances in the national government that prevent arbitrary actions by the three branches of government without due process provided for in the Constitution. Just because the Congress chooses to allow Mr.Obama to act like a dictator doesn’t make it right or legal. May I also point out that the Senate is controlled by Democrats (A legislative stonewall) and therefore they are complicit in the President’s behavior. They too, are engaged in gross violation of the United States Constitution -- the Law of the Land. Why in God’s name is everybody, but Allen West, standing still for this governmental charade? It’s time for each of us to write that letter and visit the local gun shop. You may need one soon.
Honda Motors has successfully built and is about to market a four passenger jet that will sell for over 4 million dollars.
GM will be capitalizing on their years of experience, and data gathering, to build and introduce the first car, ready-made, to compete in demolition derby and suicide racing. You can purchase this “car” with numerous options such as no steering wheel or airbags . . . Only in America.
Wages of Sin Paid for in Time
I had a Technicolor dream about my best friend, who I sometimes call Boudreaux, in tribute to our life together. He has had three heart attacks and two strokes. His body wants to kill him but the stubborn Huguenot’s constitution won’t give up.
In this sleepy tableau I went to see him in the hospital and he never opened his eyes. The nurse said he was unconscious. I could swear he had a barely discernable smile on his face. I would learn why later, if that was so.
I went to his house afterwards, to look for that last bottle of single malt. After searching through the quiet, vacant rooms, admiring prints and artwork that together we had voted on as our “type” of visual appreciation on a par with our shared love of women and class booze, I went into the garage through the kitchen.
A full sheet of plywood was tabled on two sawhorses. On the makeshift work surface was an enviable collection. A variety of premium scotch, many could only dream of, most of which I recognized from our years of concerted study of imbibing excellence . . . Oh No! They were all empty. Seventy five empty bottles of classic Scottish elixer!
It had been six months since I was able to come back to Charleston. During that time we hooted up memories, during hour long telephone calls, in lieu of personal visits. Now, I am looking dumbfounded at the evidence of a noble feat, one I missed out on.
I turned to re-enter the kitchen and on the cork board on the back of the door was thumbtacked a Hallmark sentiment with its envelope underneath. The card said, “Rednak, Wish You Here!” and signed with “Not Really,Luv Ya!”
Three bottles a week. Over five thousand dollars worth. This kind of jubilant sin is what makes my cherished buddy Larry Barrineau, a “Boudreaux” of the first order. When the time comes for him to cross, he won’t be missed. We had too much damn fun to ever forget. The two of us always said that we’d die broke and without a woman in the house. Women are like duck hunting. After so many quacks, you know when you’ve gotten more than your share.
Some Boudreaux Fun
Boudreaux took his wife, Clotile, to a dance down on the bayou, last weekend. There was a guy on the dance floor dancing like crazy – breakdancing, moonwalking, back flips, the whole works.
Clotile turns to Boudreaux and says “See dat guy? 25 years ago he propose to me and I turn him down. Boudreaux says “Looks like he still celebrating."
One day Thibodeaux went up to Boudreaux. "You know Boudreaux, I think somethin' wrong wit me." Boudreaux said, "Mais, Thibodeaux, tell me what's your problem.?" "Well, Boudreaux," Thibodeaux said. "My whole body is in pain. Everywhere I press on my body it hurts." "Thibodeaux, I think I know what's wrong with you." Boudreaux replied. "Tell me Boudreaux, what could it be?" "Thibodeaux, you need to see the doctor because your finger's broken."
Above from www.cajunlegacy.com
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Trahan only has a few days to live. On his deathbed, he tells his wife, "Make me a promise, Chere. Swear to me dat after I'm defain... dead and gone, you will marry Boudreaux."
"Boudreaux?" she exclaims. "Boudreaux? You always said you hate dat no-good fils-putin and you wish nuttin' but BAD on him!"
He answered, "Yeah... I still do."
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