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LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL
Showing posts with label entertainment. Show all posts
Showing posts with label entertainment. Show all posts
4/01/2016
8/27/2008
Tale Of The Tape
Geo's Gym.
The gym was open to all of our friends who wanted to lift weights. There were approximately 20 members who frequently came over several times per week. Most were just regular lifters, but a few were serious body builders.
One of the members was Phil, a school mate and friend for many years. He wanted to be the next Mr. Universe and started his training with a vengeance. Phil was dedicated and had a complete plan mapped out. He had wall graphs charting his weight gain and also his vital body measurements. Biceps, chest, waist, legs, and about 25 other body measurements.
George took notice of this and also of the tape measure Phil used and the frequency he measured. (Once a week, every Monday) George, being the prankster, had an idea and brought me and Hoover (Geo's Gym member) into the plan.
On Sunday, George took Phil's measuring tape and soaked it in hot water for an hour. Then he hung it over one of the pull up bars in the ceiling and tied several weight plates to it which would stretch the tape by about a half inch.
On Monday before Phil would arrive, George placed the tape back where Phil kept it. He and Hoover would then wait for Phil to measure his progress.
Phil began with his biceps and stopped and measured it again. In fact, he measured it three times. He had lost a half inch on his biceps. He then went to each body part measurement checking each several times.
When he was finished charting all the results, George asked how he did. Phil said he couldn't figure it out but he lost almost a half inch. George played along and asked to borrow Phil's tape to check his own measurements. He took the tape, flexed his arms and measured his bicep. Lying, He said he gained an 1/8th of an inch from last week. Hoover also said the same.
For about a month, George repeated the routine and Phil couldn't figure out what he was doing wrong. And then George changed directions. Instead of soaking the tape in hot water and hanging weights on it, George would soak the tape in cold water and then toss it in the clothes dryer for 20 minutes creating a shorter tape measure. About a half an inch. George then put the tape back and waited for Phil.
Come Monday, Phil began his measurement ritual. After the first measurement, he got all excited as he noticed a big jump in his bicep. When he was finished he told George that he had a break through in his training and that the results were significant. George continued this sequence for about a month.
George kept this up for more than six months, changing the tape making it shorter or longer on a whim all awhile Phil was oblivious to what was really happening.
Alas, all good gags come to an end. One Monday, Phil brought a new measuring tape and tossed out the old one. After he completed his measurements, Phil knew something was wrong. His chart zigzagged up and down each month and now his measurements were again completely different from last weeks. George decided to inform Phil what was happening and that he was being pranked.
George, Hoover, and myself were laughing hysterically as George explained how he would stretch the tape one week and shorten it the next and how Phil would get mad when the measurements were short and excited when they would get big. Phil took the news pretty good. Of course he had to. George was a beast and it was his gym.
Good times, good times.
R.I.P. Big G.
LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL
7/17/2008
Blond Ambition Logo
Please have a look at the above picture. I have hidden the LOTGK logo somewhere in the photo. Only highly trained picture glyph specialists will be able to spot it.
Take your time. Study the picture. Get up close and personal with it. Stare at the photo. Ask yourself questions like, "Does this model work at Hooters?" and "Where did she get her piercings?" and "Why the orange hat?" Perhaps these questions will help you find the hidden logo.
Good luck!
LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL
7/14/2008
My First Holy Communion
I had just endured and survived my first holy Confession on Saturday: (Walk in single line into church on Saturday, sit in pews, wait for red light to go out, watch kid with freshly cleansed soul walk out, walk in confessional box, sit down, wait for priest, tell your sins, lie about a few of them, wait for absolution, get lecture, get absolution, finally, get penance, leave confessional, kneel in pews, say penance, leave church.) leaving me with a clean slate on my soul but not on My Permanent Record. Dare I say I was ready for the next phase of my catholic faith, my first holy communion.
Damn, (Say two Our Fathers and two Hail Mary's) I thought I was ready, but I found out there was actually a class for holy communion. And I had to study and there would be tests. Jesus Christ! (Say another 5 Our fathers and Five Hail Mary's for taking the Lord's name in vain) Seriously, how hard could it be. I have been dragged to church for several years and I did watch what the adults did when it was time for holy communion.
Stand up when it was your row's turn, fold your hands in prayer, get in line, walk up to the priest at the altar, open your mouth, stick your tongue out at the priest, (That was the great part) exchange some secret words, take the host on your tongue, close your mouth, say Amen, turn and walk back in line to your pew, kneel, and say a prayer. I had this down, I didn't need to take any stinking tests or read any books on first communion. I was ready dammit. (Close profanity word, just in case, say three Our Fathers and a sincere Act of Contrition)
Alas, the Nuns had other plans for us. For weeks, we practiced the above ritual. Getting in line, (Like we never had to get in line at school before, lines were our goddamn lives, (Yes, more Hail Mary's) we knew how to get in a line) walking up to the altar, simulating taking the host, and returning to our pews. We practiced day in and day out, took test after written test until we were ready. We even learned new church songs for this festive occasion. Let There Be Peace On Earth is the only song I can remember. Even back then, in second grade, the Nuns told me to sing the hymns very quietly so as to not take the rest of the class out of tune. (Fucking bitch nuns!) (Ten Hail Mary's, Ten Our Fathers)
That Sunday morning, I prepared for church, and being that it was my first communion, I wasn't allowed to eat anything an hour before church. Damn, (Two Hail Mary's, Two Our Fathers) I was screwed. I didn't have time to get dressed and eat breakfast. I went hungry. Instead of eating, I had to put on my new shoes, new dark blue navy pants, white shirt, and clip on blur navy tie. Even for church, I had to wear a goddamn uniform. (Just keep saying the Rosary for penance)
When we arrived at church, the nuns herded all the first communion kids into the back hall of the church. We were ready to demonstrate that after two months of practice, we could walk down the aisle in a single file line. (Very impressive. But you are not a Jedi Knight yet!)
A few minutes before the show got on the road, the nuns opened a small canister that contained the thin white wafer hosts. The nuns said these were un-blessed and were to be used as practice hosts. WTF! (A solid Act of Contrition please) Apparently, as the story went from the nuns, several years back, a first holy communion kid almost choked to death when he received his host from the priest because it stuck to the roof of his mouth and he panicked causing him to spit the body of Christ out of his mouth. Luckily, the altar boy caught the host with his paten (Plate) before the blessed host hit the ground.
Anyway, the nuns said we were to practice with these ones before we went live. Of course mine got caught on the roof of my mouth. I didn't spit it out though. I used my tongue to slowly move it and un-stick it from the roof of my mouth. (All you Catholics know exactly what I mean.)
A minute later, the main event was on. All of us slowly began our march up the church aisle hands folded in (Steeple prayer mode) and promptly took our place at the front of the church.
Thirty minutes later, it was our time. Ready to accept the body and blood of Christ for the first time. As I approached the altar and kneeled I made sure I didn't stumble or fall off the kneeler as I stayed perfectly still. The priest made his way down the altar like an assembly line worker. I could hear him saying over and over again, "The body of Christ," as if he were asking us a question not making a statement.
About two kids away, I thought about the body and blood of Christ and a moment of terror filled my mind. I forgot all about the "Blood" part. The bible story about Jesus changing water into wine popped into my head and I wondered if the practice water based host I had earlier would taste the same as the blood version. I was about to find out.
My turn was here. The priest approached me, whispered, "The body of Christ" and I correctly answered "Amen," opened my mouth, stuck out my tongue and received the host. I got up, returned to my pew, kneeled and said said my communion prayer.
I was now a full fledged Catholic. A member of the gang. I was wondering if I got to vote now on church hymns and Gospel passages. (I wasn't) Instead, I was treated to a first communion breakfast and afterward, I had a small family party, sort of like my birthday.
The next week, when communion time came, I strolled up with the rest of the adults, kneeled down and waited for the priest to come my way. Being the old pro I performed the ritual without a glitch. However, I was stuck at the kneeler. My right knee had slipped between the dividers and I was stuck. Damn! (Three Hail Mary's and three Our Fathers)
Using the railing I pushed with all my might and in doing so lost my balance and although I didn't hit the ground I looked like I was drunk doing the humpty dance trying to regain my balance. I got several snickers from the congregation and a death stare from my mother. Several nuns on the side also gave me the evil eye. Even out of school I was getting in trouble with the god damn nuns. (Five Hail Marys)
Next Sunday would be better. I swear!
LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL
Damn, (Say two Our Fathers and two Hail Mary's) I thought I was ready, but I found out there was actually a class for holy communion. And I had to study and there would be tests. Jesus Christ! (Say another 5 Our fathers and Five Hail Mary's for taking the Lord's name in vain) Seriously, how hard could it be. I have been dragged to church for several years and I did watch what the adults did when it was time for holy communion.
Stand up when it was your row's turn, fold your hands in prayer, get in line, walk up to the priest at the altar, open your mouth, stick your tongue out at the priest, (That was the great part) exchange some secret words, take the host on your tongue, close your mouth, say Amen, turn and walk back in line to your pew, kneel, and say a prayer. I had this down, I didn't need to take any stinking tests or read any books on first communion. I was ready dammit. (Close profanity word, just in case, say three Our Fathers and a sincere Act of Contrition)
Alas, the Nuns had other plans for us. For weeks, we practiced the above ritual. Getting in line, (Like we never had to get in line at school before, lines were our goddamn lives, (Yes, more Hail Mary's) we knew how to get in a line) walking up to the altar, simulating taking the host, and returning to our pews. We practiced day in and day out, took test after written test until we were ready. We even learned new church songs for this festive occasion. Let There Be Peace On Earth is the only song I can remember. Even back then, in second grade, the Nuns told me to sing the hymns very quietly so as to not take the rest of the class out of tune. (Fucking bitch nuns!) (Ten Hail Mary's, Ten Our Fathers)
That Sunday morning, I prepared for church, and being that it was my first communion, I wasn't allowed to eat anything an hour before church. Damn, (Two Hail Mary's, Two Our Fathers) I was screwed. I didn't have time to get dressed and eat breakfast. I went hungry. Instead of eating, I had to put on my new shoes, new dark blue navy pants, white shirt, and clip on blur navy tie. Even for church, I had to wear a goddamn uniform. (Just keep saying the Rosary for penance)
When we arrived at church, the nuns herded all the first communion kids into the back hall of the church. We were ready to demonstrate that after two months of practice, we could walk down the aisle in a single file line. (Very impressive. But you are not a Jedi Knight yet!)
A few minutes before the show got on the road, the nuns opened a small canister that contained the thin white wafer hosts. The nuns said these were un-blessed and were to be used as practice hosts. WTF! (A solid Act of Contrition please) Apparently, as the story went from the nuns, several years back, a first holy communion kid almost choked to death when he received his host from the priest because it stuck to the roof of his mouth and he panicked causing him to spit the body of Christ out of his mouth. Luckily, the altar boy caught the host with his paten (Plate) before the blessed host hit the ground.
Anyway, the nuns said we were to practice with these ones before we went live. Of course mine got caught on the roof of my mouth. I didn't spit it out though. I used my tongue to slowly move it and un-stick it from the roof of my mouth. (All you Catholics know exactly what I mean.)
A minute later, the main event was on. All of us slowly began our march up the church aisle hands folded in (Steeple prayer mode) and promptly took our place at the front of the church.
Thirty minutes later, it was our time. Ready to accept the body and blood of Christ for the first time. As I approached the altar and kneeled I made sure I didn't stumble or fall off the kneeler as I stayed perfectly still. The priest made his way down the altar like an assembly line worker. I could hear him saying over and over again, "The body of Christ," as if he were asking us a question not making a statement.
About two kids away, I thought about the body and blood of Christ and a moment of terror filled my mind. I forgot all about the "Blood" part. The bible story about Jesus changing water into wine popped into my head and I wondered if the practice water based host I had earlier would taste the same as the blood version. I was about to find out.
My turn was here. The priest approached me, whispered, "The body of Christ" and I correctly answered "Amen," opened my mouth, stuck out my tongue and received the host. I got up, returned to my pew, kneeled and said said my communion prayer.
I was now a full fledged Catholic. A member of the gang. I was wondering if I got to vote now on church hymns and Gospel passages. (I wasn't) Instead, I was treated to a first communion breakfast and afterward, I had a small family party, sort of like my birthday.
The next week, when communion time came, I strolled up with the rest of the adults, kneeled down and waited for the priest to come my way. Being the old pro I performed the ritual without a glitch. However, I was stuck at the kneeler. My right knee had slipped between the dividers and I was stuck. Damn! (Three Hail Mary's and three Our Fathers)
Using the railing I pushed with all my might and in doing so lost my balance and although I didn't hit the ground I looked like I was drunk doing the humpty dance trying to regain my balance. I got several snickers from the congregation and a death stare from my mother. Several nuns on the side also gave me the evil eye. Even out of school I was getting in trouble with the god damn nuns. (Five Hail Marys)
Next Sunday would be better. I swear!
LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL
7/12/2008
The School Yard
Over the past several years, I received numerous requests to post photo's of where I grew up. The pictures below are from my old neighborhood, the school yard, the birth of the Dare Devil's Club, many a fires, explosions, and other riotously funny antics. I grew up in the 60's and 70's and the lay of the land has changed over the past 40 years, but the key elements are still there. Enjoy the pictures. Make sure to click the thumb nail for a much larger picture.
01 The school yard. The old neighborhood. This is the drive way that led to the school. Plenty of black top for skate boards, bike riding, baskekball, tennis. This was a well traveled road as all the neighborhood kids knew this was the meeting place.
02 The hill. Way back when, the hill and the rest of the grass area was jungle like. Weeds and tree's 8-10 feet high with brush enough to hide. We had at least several forts at any given time. A perfect setting for kick the can, capture the flag, and cowboys and indians.
03 The school yard. As you can see, the school yard was huge. It housed 5 full sized baseball fields, a football field, and plenty of open space. It was also advantageous when running from the police. We knew they wouldn't chase us. All we had to do was run into the field. We never got caught.
04 This is the playground field right after it was cut by the tractor. It would only be cut several times a year. If you pile the dead dry grass into a huge pile, and light it on fire, airplanes can see it from the air. Not that I know this as first hand knowledge.
05 The black top walkway that went fence to playground. I used to ride my mini-bike like a bat out of hell down that path into the playground to let it wind out on a long straight away. I can still feel the wind in my hair. (Which wasn't gray at that time contrary to popular belief)
06 This three sided enclosed porch was the place we we used to climb onto the roof. It was one of the easier access points to the roof. Once on the roof, there wasn't much to really do but to climb higher onto the gym roof. But it was there, so we did it.
07 One of the ditches behind the school. We used to climb down the three ditches and then light Sound Colorful Birds and wait for them to fly. (Sound Colorful Birds were small projectile firework items.) They hurt when they hit you and there was no escape.
08 The second ditch. This one had a window and a gas or water pipe running through it. The pipe made this ditch the easiest to climb in and out of. We used to walk across the red pipe as a test. We were not allowed to use our hands to steady ourselves. We fell in a lot.
09 The third ditch. This ditch had a side wall and window ledge that we used to climb in and out of. It's amazing that we never broke a single pane of glass while climbing in or out. We never knew what the ditches were actually used for. Still don't to this day.
10 These steps lead to the basement of the school. There were about forty steps. We used to ride our bikes down them to see if we could hang on and get to the bottom. Sometimes we didn't. And when we did, we would smash into the blue door at the bottom.
11 The back of the school showing the porch, the three ditches, and the basement steps. This was a well secluded area visible to very few. Only one access road that was off to the side. There was also a basketball court with a spotlight for night games.
12 Right up against the fence was where the Dare Devils Club apple tree stood. To be a member, you had to climb to the first branch, which was about 10 feet in the air, and jump. It was simple. Jump and you were in. Break a leg and you became the leader for the month.
13 The playground. These rides are more than 50 years old. We used to wax the sliding boards and watch unsuspecting kids smack their heads unprepared at the speed of the waxed up slide. You would actually hear the sound (Zing!) as the kids went down the slide.
14 Home Plate. There were 5 baseball fields complete with dirt infields and lined bases and several were always in use. I'm talking lined fields, clay infields, back stops, and a couple fields had home run fences. This beat up buried home plate is all that's left.
15 Long range view of the playground. At any given summer day, there would be at least 10-15 kids doing something at the playground. usually we were up to no good, but we were there. Nowadays, the playground is almost always empty.
16 The jungle gym. I had a dream once that the devil was chasing me around the jungle gym. He never caught me thank God.
17 My best friend Mark's old house. It's the one with the American flag painted on the garage.
18 Another view of the garage. Rocketeers forever Mark.
19 Meadowbrook Avenue entrance. There were several entrances to the school. This one was from the back and not visible from the main highway, Market street. So of course it was the most used entrance when we were up to no good.
20 Full view of the back of the school. This is the view from Meadowbrook street. The back of the school. Out of sight from the neighbors and Market street.
21 Raised blocks we used to climb on and try to knock the other kids off. We had some strong hands back in those days. We could hang on for a long time.
22 The school side view from a distance. Market street, the main road is in the distance. When I was a young lad, the grass area was covered with a thick brush of weeds, tree's, and jungle like greenery. Perfect for hiding.
23 The backside of the school. one complete lap was 3 tenths of a mile. We used to race our bikes around three times, or one mile. Sometimes we would have 30-40 bikes in the race. A lot of accidents on the corners, but that's racing. Admit it, you only watch NASCAR to see the crashes.
24 The many hiding places for bike ditch. The school provided many nooks and crannies, (Just like an English muffin) to hide in. There were plenty around the school.
25 Another view of the school yard. Again, all the grass land was covered in weeds back in the day. A jungle in our own back yard.
26 The race track. We used this strech of black top for bike racing. We would start at the top and pedal our bikes for all we we worth. We had speedometers on our bikes back then, and we exceeded 40 miles per hour. That was cooking.
27 Kindergarten class. This was my Kindergarten class. Mrs. Fisher was my teacher. The next year I was shipped off to Catholic school for eight years of mean old nuns hurling erasers at my head. Catholic education my ass!
28 The flag pole. I can still hear the sound the rope made as it swung in the way hitting against the side of the pole. Just last week they replaced the flag pole that was standing for over 50 years.
29 The grate. This was another ditch in the front of the school that had a covering. A loose flimsy covering. When you walked on it, it would creak and shake and shimmy. We used the grate as a test to show allegiance to the Dare Devil's club. Sort of like walking the plank to swear your loyalty. No one fell in, but it did cave in once when we tossed a building block in the center.
30 Side view of the school. This is the ledge we used to walk from one end to the next just to see if we could. Sometimes we made it, sometimes not. It would take an hour or two to complete the task.
31 Another view of the window ledge we walked as kids. In walking the ledge, we tried to knock each other off. It took a long time, but hell, we were kids, and we had nothing but time in the summer.
32 Basketball courts. There used to be two back boards and a lined court. There was almost always a game going on at one of the courts. Now, not even a back board remains.
33 The view to the street. Back in the day, the entire area was covered with heavy brush, almost jungle like where forts and numerous hiding places were made.
34 The black top. This is where we played kick ball and a form of soccer. This was also the site of many a bot made bike ramps and broken bones.
35 This is the school drive entrance. When we were little kids, when it rained really hard, the street would flood from water running down the drive. The water was running so fast, we were able to surf. We got our winter sleds, the round metal spinning plate ones, and used them as surf boards. We would start at the black sewer and surf as far as we could down the drive. Being from Ohio, none of us were very good at surfing so we rarely made it to the bottom but it was fun as hell.
LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL
01 The school yard. The old neighborhood. This is the drive way that led to the school. Plenty of black top for skate boards, bike riding, baskekball, tennis. This was a well traveled road as all the neighborhood kids knew this was the meeting place.
02 The hill. Way back when, the hill and the rest of the grass area was jungle like. Weeds and tree's 8-10 feet high with brush enough to hide. We had at least several forts at any given time. A perfect setting for kick the can, capture the flag, and cowboys and indians.
03 The school yard. As you can see, the school yard was huge. It housed 5 full sized baseball fields, a football field, and plenty of open space. It was also advantageous when running from the police. We knew they wouldn't chase us. All we had to do was run into the field. We never got caught.
04 This is the playground field right after it was cut by the tractor. It would only be cut several times a year. If you pile the dead dry grass into a huge pile, and light it on fire, airplanes can see it from the air. Not that I know this as first hand knowledge.
05 The black top walkway that went fence to playground. I used to ride my mini-bike like a bat out of hell down that path into the playground to let it wind out on a long straight away. I can still feel the wind in my hair. (Which wasn't gray at that time contrary to popular belief)
06 This three sided enclosed porch was the place we we used to climb onto the roof. It was one of the easier access points to the roof. Once on the roof, there wasn't much to really do but to climb higher onto the gym roof. But it was there, so we did it.
07 One of the ditches behind the school. We used to climb down the three ditches and then light Sound Colorful Birds and wait for them to fly. (Sound Colorful Birds were small projectile firework items.) They hurt when they hit you and there was no escape.
08 The second ditch. This one had a window and a gas or water pipe running through it. The pipe made this ditch the easiest to climb in and out of. We used to walk across the red pipe as a test. We were not allowed to use our hands to steady ourselves. We fell in a lot.
09 The third ditch. This ditch had a side wall and window ledge that we used to climb in and out of. It's amazing that we never broke a single pane of glass while climbing in or out. We never knew what the ditches were actually used for. Still don't to this day.
10 These steps lead to the basement of the school. There were about forty steps. We used to ride our bikes down them to see if we could hang on and get to the bottom. Sometimes we didn't. And when we did, we would smash into the blue door at the bottom.
11 The back of the school showing the porch, the three ditches, and the basement steps. This was a well secluded area visible to very few. Only one access road that was off to the side. There was also a basketball court with a spotlight for night games.
12 Right up against the fence was where the Dare Devils Club apple tree stood. To be a member, you had to climb to the first branch, which was about 10 feet in the air, and jump. It was simple. Jump and you were in. Break a leg and you became the leader for the month.
13 The playground. These rides are more than 50 years old. We used to wax the sliding boards and watch unsuspecting kids smack their heads unprepared at the speed of the waxed up slide. You would actually hear the sound (Zing!) as the kids went down the slide.
14 Home Plate. There were 5 baseball fields complete with dirt infields and lined bases and several were always in use. I'm talking lined fields, clay infields, back stops, and a couple fields had home run fences. This beat up buried home plate is all that's left.
15 Long range view of the playground. At any given summer day, there would be at least 10-15 kids doing something at the playground. usually we were up to no good, but we were there. Nowadays, the playground is almost always empty.
16 The jungle gym. I had a dream once that the devil was chasing me around the jungle gym. He never caught me thank God.
17 My best friend Mark's old house. It's the one with the American flag painted on the garage.
18 Another view of the garage. Rocketeers forever Mark.
19 Meadowbrook Avenue entrance. There were several entrances to the school. This one was from the back and not visible from the main highway, Market street. So of course it was the most used entrance when we were up to no good.
20 Full view of the back of the school. This is the view from Meadowbrook street. The back of the school. Out of sight from the neighbors and Market street.
21 Raised blocks we used to climb on and try to knock the other kids off. We had some strong hands back in those days. We could hang on for a long time.
22 The school side view from a distance. Market street, the main road is in the distance. When I was a young lad, the grass area was covered with a thick brush of weeds, tree's, and jungle like greenery. Perfect for hiding.
23 The backside of the school. one complete lap was 3 tenths of a mile. We used to race our bikes around three times, or one mile. Sometimes we would have 30-40 bikes in the race. A lot of accidents on the corners, but that's racing. Admit it, you only watch NASCAR to see the crashes.
24 The many hiding places for bike ditch. The school provided many nooks and crannies, (Just like an English muffin) to hide in. There were plenty around the school.
25 Another view of the school yard. Again, all the grass land was covered in weeds back in the day. A jungle in our own back yard.
26 The race track. We used this strech of black top for bike racing. We would start at the top and pedal our bikes for all we we worth. We had speedometers on our bikes back then, and we exceeded 40 miles per hour. That was cooking.
27 Kindergarten class. This was my Kindergarten class. Mrs. Fisher was my teacher. The next year I was shipped off to Catholic school for eight years of mean old nuns hurling erasers at my head. Catholic education my ass!
28 The flag pole. I can still hear the sound the rope made as it swung in the way hitting against the side of the pole. Just last week they replaced the flag pole that was standing for over 50 years.
29 The grate. This was another ditch in the front of the school that had a covering. A loose flimsy covering. When you walked on it, it would creak and shake and shimmy. We used the grate as a test to show allegiance to the Dare Devil's club. Sort of like walking the plank to swear your loyalty. No one fell in, but it did cave in once when we tossed a building block in the center.
30 Side view of the school. This is the ledge we used to walk from one end to the next just to see if we could. Sometimes we made it, sometimes not. It would take an hour or two to complete the task.
31 Another view of the window ledge we walked as kids. In walking the ledge, we tried to knock each other off. It took a long time, but hell, we were kids, and we had nothing but time in the summer.
32 Basketball courts. There used to be two back boards and a lined court. There was almost always a game going on at one of the courts. Now, not even a back board remains.
33 The view to the street. Back in the day, the entire area was covered with heavy brush, almost jungle like where forts and numerous hiding places were made.
34 The black top. This is where we played kick ball and a form of soccer. This was also the site of many a bot made bike ramps and broken bones.
35 This is the school drive entrance. When we were little kids, when it rained really hard, the street would flood from water running down the drive. The water was running so fast, we were able to surf. We got our winter sleds, the round metal spinning plate ones, and used them as surf boards. We would start at the black sewer and surf as far as we could down the drive. Being from Ohio, none of us were very good at surfing so we rarely made it to the bottom but it was fun as hell.
This post dedicated to my best friend, Hippy Mark. Rocketeers for life my friend.
LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL
7/04/2008
Today We Celebrate Our Independence
As the twilight of Independence Day rapidly approaches, it is our solemn duty and privilege to pay homage to all men and women who have given their lives paying the ultimate sacrifice defending our country and our freedom.
Tonight as we celebrate the Fourth of July remember the words so elegantly penned by Francis Scott Key during the defense of Fort Henry September 20th, 1814 .
“And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.”
Before you begin to illuminate the skies this evening by launching volley after volley of pyrotechnic patriotism, pause a moment and reflect on the sacrifices incurred by our forefathers 228 years ago. Gaze upon the heavens in wonder as fireworks brilliantly and brashly shout out loud and clear that we the people stand united as a nation declaring in unison that America is the best damn nation the world has known.
Hug you wife, husband, son, and daughter. Yell out a hearty hello to your neighbors that have come forth from their homes this evening to watch the fireworks shows and to celebrate as an entire nation.
“O’er the land of the free, and the home of the brave.”
God Bless America .
LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL
Tonight as we celebrate the Fourth of July remember the words so elegantly penned by Francis Scott Key during the defense of Fort Henry September 20th, 1814 .
“And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air,
Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there.”
Before you begin to illuminate the skies this evening by launching volley after volley of pyrotechnic patriotism, pause a moment and reflect on the sacrifices incurred by our forefathers 228 years ago. Gaze upon the heavens in wonder as fireworks brilliantly and brashly shout out loud and clear that we the people stand united as a nation declaring in unison that America is the best damn nation the world has known.
Hug you wife, husband, son, and daughter. Yell out a hearty hello to your neighbors that have come forth from their homes this evening to watch the fireworks shows and to celebrate as an entire nation.
“O’er the land of the free, and the home of the brave.”
God Bless America .
LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL
6/07/2008
Lorna Doone Cookie Conspiracy
 |
| Lorna Doone Cookie Conspiracy |
 |
| Lorna Doone Cookie Box Not Full |
It appears that cookie maker Nabisco has already created their own less is more attitude for their famous Lorna Doone brand cookies. Upon inspection of the Lorna Doone contents, you can clearly see that the cookie wraps do not reach the top of the box. Not even close. And, to make matters even muddy, one of the wrappers had two cookies less than the other. Nabisco cannot blame content settling when one wrapper has less than the other.
Expecting a lower price? Hardly! The cost was ironically $3.89 per box. I wonder if Nabisco will be selling half boxes for $1.99 anytime soon?
LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL
6/04/2008
Thirty Years Ago Today
Click Photo For Larger Image
School's out for summer
School's out forever
School's been blown to pieces
Well we got no choice,
All the girls and boys,
Makin' all that noise,
Cause they found new toys.
Well we can't salute ya,
Can't find a flag,
If that don't suit ya,
That's a drag.
School's out for summer,
School's out forever,
School's been blown to pieces.
No more pencils,
No more books
No more teacher's dirty looks
Well we got no class
And we got no principals
And we got no innocence
We can't even think of a word that rhymes
School's out for summer
School's out forever
School's been blown to pieces
No more pencils
nNo more books
No more teacher's dirty looks
Out for summer
Out till fall
We might not come back at all
School's out forever
School's out for summer
School's out with fever
School's out completely
School's out forever
School's been blown to pieces
Yes, tis me, (Center) the curator of the Grassy Knoll Institute, circa June 4th, 1978, high school graduation. I know you can dig the round over sized hippie shaded glasses. And I even got my hair cut for graduation day. Yes, I had long hair in high school. Alas, it was also that same year my hair started to turn gray.
To my right is one of my good friends Jim, (in the mustache) who moved to Kokomo, Indiana shortly after this day. By chance, we connected via the Internet, and it was good talking to one of my old friends that I haven't seen or spoken to for almost 30 years.
I'll leave you with an Alice Cooper tune that I blared on the last day of school over and over and over again on my 8-Track tape player in my car. Good times, good times.
Well we got no choice,
All the girls and boys,
Makin' all that noise,
Cause they found new toys.
Well we can't salute ya,
Can't find a flag,
If that don't suit ya,
That's a drag.
School's out for summer,
School's out forever,
School's been blown to pieces.
No more pencils,
No more books
No more teacher's dirty looks
Well we got no class
And we got no principals
And we got no innocence
We can't even think of a word that rhymes
School's out for summer
School's out forever
School's been blown to pieces
No more pencils
nNo more books
No more teacher's dirty looks
Out for summer
Out till fall
We might not come back at all
School's out forever
School's out for summer
School's out with fever
School's out completely
LURKING, GREAT IN 78, ON THE GRASSY KNOLL
5/27/2008
On The Run From Nuns
 |
| Nuns Are Following Me |
I think my identity has been found out by the Catholic Nun order. Spying several nuns in Gatlinburg, Tennessee, I boarded the Ski Lift on the Parkway to the top of the Smoky Mountains to avoid detection.
Assuming I was safe I glanced back to see if I was followed....
Out of reflex, I immediately said 10 Hail Marys and 10 Our Fathers and one really good Act Of Contrition.
LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL
4/26/2008
Are We Not Men?
 |
| Whipped Em Good |
Photographic evidence that aliens controled humankind in the 1980's. The new wave rock band Devo knew of the thought control and attempted to sever the telepathic link to the alien race by donning self made thought screen helmets made from flower pots. Devo had assumed (And we all know what happens when you assume) the lead based paint and pottery would somehow block out the telepathic rays from the aliens freeing them to write and perform their own music.
If only they were aware of velostat, the magical material needed to effectively eliminate aliens from controlling your thoughts.
As we learn from history, Devo's experiment failed. Alas, they were only men.
Duty now for the future.
LURKING, WHIPPING IT GOOD, ON THE GRASSY KNOLL
4/23/2008
Bikini Thong Logo
Shameless Brand Recognition
Sometimes people call me an ass.
LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL
4/19/2008
Shannon Elizabeth - Sci-Fi Sexy Siren
Shannon Elizabeth - Dancing With The Stars Leggy Contestant
Shannon Elizabeth, veteran of dozens of movies and presently competing in the television program, Dancing With The Stars, is best known for playing Nadia, the foreign exchange bombshell in the movie American Pie. Shannon's nude bedroom scene rivals Phoebe Cates red bikini from Fast Times At Ridgemont High swimming pool fantasy scene.
Shannon makes the Sci-Fi Sexy Sirens page for her roles in the movies:
Cursed, a modern day werewolf flick.
The Twilight Zone, the 2002 series, Dream Lover.
Thirteen Ghosts, a horror flick that raises more than just the dead.
And of course, as Buffy Gilmore in the horror movie, Scary movie, a spoof of Sci-Fi and horror movies.
Enjoy her beauty and vote for her on Dancing With The Stars.
Sci-Fi Sexy Sirens brought to you by the Grassy Knoll Institute marketing team to boost readership and placement on search engines.
Lurking On The Grassy Knoll
4/17/2008
The Post After 999
(Would You Mind Telling Me who's Brain I Did Put In)
According to the Blogspot dashboard, (Which everyone loves so much) I noticed I have 999 posts here at the Grassy Knoll Institute. When I press the publish button, this post will be #1000. Yea baby yea!
I have not really thought about what I should post about for this milestone high water mark entry. Perhaps I should plead for world peace. For lower oil prices. For Simon Cowell of American Idol fame to wear a goddamn bra. Throwing the tea back into the harbor. For politicians that do not lie. Dealing with an honest used car salesman. (One in the same perhaps) Finding empirical proof that aliens really do exist. And God for that matter, (That's for you Cyn) or how many licks it does take to get to the center of a tootsie roll pop.
My son, Lead Scientist of the Grassy Knoll Institute suggested I post about the times I almost burned down our secret headquarters, or electrocuted myself, not once, but thrice while doing some wiring work, or blowing up the bee hive buried in the ground in our back yard, or my balancing act on the ladder, (Or lack of balance) or what it really took to be a member of the Daredevils club, or my real theory pertaining to ABC's Lost.
My wife Patty, the bank, brains, and beauty behind the blog, suggested dinner at her favorite restaurant without me taking my damn camera and photographing the meal I order.
Instead, I think I will simply say thank you to everyone that reads my quirky little blog. And to everyone who comments. And to those that have me linked and blogrolled on their own respective blogs and websites. And to General George S. Patton, for his genius in warfare and being a ruthless but fair bastard.
And for the others, I guess there is no pleasing you then.
LURKING, 1000 TIMES OVER, ON THE GRASSY KNOLL
4/15/2008
I Am Free From Thought Screen Helmet Aliens
A Small Price To Pay
Although this particular model of thought screen helmet has several drawbacks, (The inability to see oncoming traffic, difficulty entering doorways, and a target for ridicule) it is highly effective at keeping the evil race of aliens attempting to control mankind through telepathy at bay.
Although, perhaps this is the plan of the evil race of aliens. To make us all wear funny hats, get run over by cars, stuck in doorways, and get laughed at causing fights and riots.
Ingenious.
LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL
4/13/2008
First Confession
I have been asked by many non-Catholic friends just what goes on inside the wooden stalls (Confessionals) in the back of the church. Breaking Vatican II protocol rules and regulations, (Section 3:13, Verse 8, line 5 that clearly state all Catholics must never reveal the ritual of one on one confession to non believers) I am here to expose the exact secret ritual of confession and what a Catholic child went through in those torture chambers (Confessionals) in the 1960's.
On the first day of second grade, 1966, the Nuns gleefully announced that this year would be an exciting year for all us Catholic school kids for we were all going to be introduced to the holy sacraments of confession and holy communion. of course, there would be plenty of studying, quizzes, tests, and eraser zingers (Nuns zipping hidden erasers at children who were talking or being bad) before we would realize these goals.
Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months as our First Confession lessons dragged on. We learned about the different levels of sin, (Venial and Mortal) and how sin affected our souls and the ability to enter the kingdom of heaven when we died. However, these lessons were redundant for all Catholics, for since birth, we are taught in tedious repetition on all aspects of the Catholic faith. We know what sins we can safely commit to keep us out of Hell. We've all been around the block.
After months of intense study, I was ready for my first confession.
But certainly not my last...
The week before our first confession, we had several practices, (Simulations) to make sure we all had our opening line, prayer, and kneeling technique down. I was suspicious of this for the nuns played the part of the priest and there was no way in hell I was ever going to tell the nuns my sins. (Hell, they have been keeping a permanent record of all my sins since birth anyway, why give them any more ammo to use against me?)
It was now Saturday morning which I learned was confession day which really sucked for now I had to go to church two days out of the week. I wasn't liking that at all. I asked my older brother George for any tips or advice before I stepped into the confessional box "Live" for the first time. George told me to disguise my voice when I told him my sins so the priest wouldn't recognize it the next in class. He also said never to give the priest your name. If he asked, give him someone else's name.
I asked if that was a sin, lying to the priest while in the confessional wondering if perhaps the space time continuum vortex would somehow converse at my exact coordinates but i was put at ease when George said the priest would rarely ask a kids name. Only if you did something really bad like murder, rob a bank, or pull a nuns habit off.
We arrived at church and all the second graders filed into the back of the church, (Quietly of course) and took our assigned seats in the pews waiting our turn to confess our sins. I noticed we were sitting alphabetically. Damn, the nuns had set us all up. All the priest would have to do to find the identity of a particular bad kid is ask the nuns who was 8th in line and the nuns cold match it up with their seating chart.
The priests on call for the day walked into the back of the church, told us all good morning, said a little prayer, and with bible in hand proceeded to their side of the confessional. The priests opened the confessional doors and a little white light turned on signaling to all us sinners that he was ready. I noticed that the priest was in the middle and could take two sinners at a time, one on each side. The 1960's was certainly showing signs of progress.
A moment later, a nod from the nuns signaled the first sinner, (Second grader) to enter. Like lambs to a slaughter, the girl slowly moved toward the confessional, slowly opened it, walked in and closed the door behind her. A few seconds later, a little red light appeared on the confessional door. That signaled that the sinner had activated the kneeler and was occupied.
The sinner was only in there for a few minutes, and I timed her by repeating the Act of Contrition (A prayer to be said after the priest heard your sins) in my head over and over. Saying it slowly, the average time was 5 AOC's (Acts Of Contritions) per kid. Some kids took longer, and we all knew that meant they had plenty of sins to confess. And so did the anxious parents watching their children.
At last, it was my turn. Remembering my lessons drilled into me for 8 months I was confident as I walked toward the confessional. I opened the door and sat down activating the red light. (It was dark in the confessional as the only light source was from the screen where the priest talked to you from) A minute or two passed by as the priest was finishing up with the other sinner on the left and then I heard the screen slide open and I was up.
Every Catholic knows what comes next, the BMF prayer. (Bless Me Father prayer) It is the prayer the sinner begins every confession with. For you non-Catholics, here is the prayer. Bless me father for I have sinned, this is my first confession. (The next time you went to confession, you would simply change up this line to, Bless me Father for I have sinned, it has been one week since my last confession)
At this time, you were required to confess your sins. I remembered to speak in a whisper so as not to announce to those outside my sins. However, I forgot to disguise my voice as my brother George told me to. For my sins, I started with, I lied to my parents. I lied to my brothers and sisters. I was mean to people. I skipped church. I threw some dinner food away. i swore. I used the Lord's name in vain. I looked at smut. (Playboy Magazines) Then I fell silent as I awaited for the priest to deliver my penance.
Being it my first confession, I believe the priest went easy on me. He told me that I should reflect on my sins and avoid them by praying more and helping out more at the church. He then told me to say 3 Our Fathers and 3 Hail Mary's for penance. He finished with Go in peace.
It was time for my very first "Live" Act Of Contrition. The prayer we practiced all year just for this day.
Act Of Contrition (1966 Version)
O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee.
And I detest all my sins, because I dread the loss of heaven,
and the pains of hell;
But most of all because they offend Thee, my God,
Who are all good and deserving of all my love.
I firmly resolve, with the help of Thy grace,
to confess my sins, to do penance, and to amend my life.
Amen.
I had done it. Survived my first confession. The walls of the church did not crack as my parents had told me they would. Nor did the priest gasp with hearing hearing me confess such hideous sins. I walked out of the confessional all smug, with a clean slate, no sins on my soul. If I were to die that exact instant, I would go straight to Heaven. I admit, it was a good feeling. However, a feeling that wouldn't last long. I walked back to my assigned seat, kneeled, and said my penance and then sat down.
The entire process took about two hours. After the last child finished his penance, the nuns gave us the signal to stand, and we filed out single file and joined up with our parents.
In the car ride home, I had questions as my paranoia set in. What if I forgot to confess a sin or not explain my sins correctly to the priest? Would I still go to hell because of a technicality? Or would my permanent record simply add this omission as another sin, the sin of lying, and to a priest to boot? The good feeling I had leaving the confessional had now turned sour as I hoped that Dad wouldn't crash the car on the way home and kill me and with a sin on my soul. Damn, I was damned. And damn, I just sinned by thinking damn. I started seeing a pattern here.
Once in confession, after a pretty good week, I told the priest that
I had been pretty good and didn't have any sins to confess. The priest said, Vanity was my sin for believing I was good. My penance was to say 10 Our Fathers and 1o Hail Marys and of course a sincere Act Of Contrition.
After that, I felt I had to make some sins up, to insure the priest didn't think I was to vain. But of course, that was the sin of lying, in a confessional no less, and had no way of breaking this vicious cycle because we had to go to confession every Saturday whether we needed to or not.
Hence, since we had to go to confession on Saturday, all us smart Catholic kids would do our sinning on Friday so we would only carry the sins for one day. It was the risk we dared to take.
And now that the sacrament of confession was completed, First Holy Communion was next. I was ready!
LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL
On the first day of second grade, 1966, the Nuns gleefully announced that this year would be an exciting year for all us Catholic school kids for we were all going to be introduced to the holy sacraments of confession and holy communion. of course, there would be plenty of studying, quizzes, tests, and eraser zingers (Nuns zipping hidden erasers at children who were talking or being bad) before we would realize these goals.
Days turned into weeks and weeks turned into months as our First Confession lessons dragged on. We learned about the different levels of sin, (Venial and Mortal) and how sin affected our souls and the ability to enter the kingdom of heaven when we died. However, these lessons were redundant for all Catholics, for since birth, we are taught in tedious repetition on all aspects of the Catholic faith. We know what sins we can safely commit to keep us out of Hell. We've all been around the block.
After months of intense study, I was ready for my first confession.
But certainly not my last...
The week before our first confession, we had several practices, (Simulations) to make sure we all had our opening line, prayer, and kneeling technique down. I was suspicious of this for the nuns played the part of the priest and there was no way in hell I was ever going to tell the nuns my sins. (Hell, they have been keeping a permanent record of all my sins since birth anyway, why give them any more ammo to use against me?)
It was now Saturday morning which I learned was confession day which really sucked for now I had to go to church two days out of the week. I wasn't liking that at all. I asked my older brother George for any tips or advice before I stepped into the confessional box "Live" for the first time. George told me to disguise my voice when I told him my sins so the priest wouldn't recognize it the next in class. He also said never to give the priest your name. If he asked, give him someone else's name.
I asked if that was a sin, lying to the priest while in the confessional wondering if perhaps the space time continuum vortex would somehow converse at my exact coordinates but i was put at ease when George said the priest would rarely ask a kids name. Only if you did something really bad like murder, rob a bank, or pull a nuns habit off.
We arrived at church and all the second graders filed into the back of the church, (Quietly of course) and took our assigned seats in the pews waiting our turn to confess our sins. I noticed we were sitting alphabetically. Damn, the nuns had set us all up. All the priest would have to do to find the identity of a particular bad kid is ask the nuns who was 8th in line and the nuns cold match it up with their seating chart.
The priests on call for the day walked into the back of the church, told us all good morning, said a little prayer, and with bible in hand proceeded to their side of the confessional. The priests opened the confessional doors and a little white light turned on signaling to all us sinners that he was ready. I noticed that the priest was in the middle and could take two sinners at a time, one on each side. The 1960's was certainly showing signs of progress.
A moment later, a nod from the nuns signaled the first sinner, (Second grader) to enter. Like lambs to a slaughter, the girl slowly moved toward the confessional, slowly opened it, walked in and closed the door behind her. A few seconds later, a little red light appeared on the confessional door. That signaled that the sinner had activated the kneeler and was occupied.
The sinner was only in there for a few minutes, and I timed her by repeating the Act of Contrition (A prayer to be said after the priest heard your sins) in my head over and over. Saying it slowly, the average time was 5 AOC's (Acts Of Contritions) per kid. Some kids took longer, and we all knew that meant they had plenty of sins to confess. And so did the anxious parents watching their children.
At last, it was my turn. Remembering my lessons drilled into me for 8 months I was confident as I walked toward the confessional. I opened the door and sat down activating the red light. (It was dark in the confessional as the only light source was from the screen where the priest talked to you from) A minute or two passed by as the priest was finishing up with the other sinner on the left and then I heard the screen slide open and I was up.
Every Catholic knows what comes next, the BMF prayer. (Bless Me Father prayer) It is the prayer the sinner begins every confession with. For you non-Catholics, here is the prayer. Bless me father for I have sinned, this is my first confession. (The next time you went to confession, you would simply change up this line to, Bless me Father for I have sinned, it has been one week since my last confession)
At this time, you were required to confess your sins. I remembered to speak in a whisper so as not to announce to those outside my sins. However, I forgot to disguise my voice as my brother George told me to. For my sins, I started with, I lied to my parents. I lied to my brothers and sisters. I was mean to people. I skipped church. I threw some dinner food away. i swore. I used the Lord's name in vain. I looked at smut. (Playboy Magazines) Then I fell silent as I awaited for the priest to deliver my penance.
Being it my first confession, I believe the priest went easy on me. He told me that I should reflect on my sins and avoid them by praying more and helping out more at the church. He then told me to say 3 Our Fathers and 3 Hail Mary's for penance. He finished with Go in peace.
It was time for my very first "Live" Act Of Contrition. The prayer we practiced all year just for this day.
Act Of Contrition (1966 Version)
O my God, I am heartily sorry for having offended Thee.
And I detest all my sins, because I dread the loss of heaven,
and the pains of hell;
But most of all because they offend Thee, my God,
Who are all good and deserving of all my love.
I firmly resolve, with the help of Thy grace,
to confess my sins, to do penance, and to amend my life.
Amen.
I had done it. Survived my first confession. The walls of the church did not crack as my parents had told me they would. Nor did the priest gasp with hearing hearing me confess such hideous sins. I walked out of the confessional all smug, with a clean slate, no sins on my soul. If I were to die that exact instant, I would go straight to Heaven. I admit, it was a good feeling. However, a feeling that wouldn't last long. I walked back to my assigned seat, kneeled, and said my penance and then sat down.
The entire process took about two hours. After the last child finished his penance, the nuns gave us the signal to stand, and we filed out single file and joined up with our parents.
In the car ride home, I had questions as my paranoia set in. What if I forgot to confess a sin or not explain my sins correctly to the priest? Would I still go to hell because of a technicality? Or would my permanent record simply add this omission as another sin, the sin of lying, and to a priest to boot? The good feeling I had leaving the confessional had now turned sour as I hoped that Dad wouldn't crash the car on the way home and kill me and with a sin on my soul. Damn, I was damned. And damn, I just sinned by thinking damn. I started seeing a pattern here.
Once in confession, after a pretty good week, I told the priest that
I had been pretty good and didn't have any sins to confess. The priest said, Vanity was my sin for believing I was good. My penance was to say 10 Our Fathers and 1o Hail Marys and of course a sincere Act Of Contrition.
After that, I felt I had to make some sins up, to insure the priest didn't think I was to vain. But of course, that was the sin of lying, in a confessional no less, and had no way of breaking this vicious cycle because we had to go to confession every Saturday whether we needed to or not.
Hence, since we had to go to confession on Saturday, all us smart Catholic kids would do our sinning on Friday so we would only carry the sins for one day. It was the risk we dared to take.
And now that the sacrament of confession was completed, First Holy Communion was next. I was ready!
LURKING ON THE GRASSY KNOLL
3/31/2008
Putting On My Jester Hat
Tomorrow is April 1st. And that means it's also April Fools Day which just happens to be the Grassy Knoll Institutes "Feast Day!" It is the one day out of the year that we get serious with current events and news stories.
I have already pulled out my Jester hat, (My wife Patty says its the same hat I wear every day) (I think in a way she is calling me a fool) and I am ready to deliver the news as only the Curator can. Some of you have made the news. Some I have had mercy on. And some I tread ever so lightly with.
Either way, the updates begin at midnight EST, and will continue until midnight tomorrow. (Thats 24 hours for those keeping score at home)
It is in your best interest to click here:
April Fools Day Archives to keep abreast of all the breaking news as this site will be updating at least once an hour beginning at 8am (I need some sleep people, I am not an animal, I am a human being) with at least 20 updates. Twenty one if you are in Vegas.
And remember, I am only the Curator. If you have a complaint, please email the (Lead Scientist) and let him have it with both barrels.
I have already pulled out my Jester hat, (My wife Patty says its the same hat I wear every day) (I think in a way she is calling me a fool) and I am ready to deliver the news as only the Curator can. Some of you have made the news. Some I have had mercy on. And some I tread ever so lightly with.
Either way, the updates begin at midnight EST, and will continue until midnight tomorrow. (Thats 24 hours for those keeping score at home)
It is in your best interest to click here:
April Fools Day Archives to keep abreast of all the breaking news as this site will be updating at least once an hour beginning at 8am (I need some sleep people, I am not an animal, I am a human being) with at least 20 updates. Twenty one if you are in Vegas.
And remember, I am only the Curator. If you have a complaint, please email the (Lead Scientist) and let him have it with both barrels.
3/19/2008
Welcome To Fabulous Las Vegas
Welcome back Curator of the Grassy Knoll Institute
I'm on my way once again to fabulous Las Vegas for yet another business trip. While the lead scientist is finishing up his business in Florida, I am heading West to the neon desert.
And look, Las Vegas knows I'm coming....
LURKING, GAMBLING, ON THE GRASSY KNOLL
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