Do Black Patent Leather Shoes Really Reflect Up

Do Black Patent Leather Shoes Really Reflect Up

The age-old question for every Catholic school boy in the 1960's was; Do black patent leather shoes reflect upwards? Wait a minute, you don't know what that means?

You see, in the 1960's at Catholic grade school, it was pretty difficult to get a little female action as there were a few obstacles in our way. First, the girls had to wear ugly ass uniforms with the hem having to touch the knee making them feel non-sexy.

Second, they were Catholic grade school girls. (Only the good die young) They were indoctrined early to stay chaste.

Third, there were approximately 100 Catholic nuns (I say approximately 100 nuns for they never let on to their exact number perhaps to keep us off guard) patrolling the halls and class rooms just waiting for a boy to make eye contact with a girl for more than three seconds. (Three seconds was the standard time frame) A mere second longer, and the nuns would administer blunt force trauma.

However, all hope wasn't lost. The boys did have a well-known secret kept among ourselves. We knew the secret that black patent leather shoes really did reflect up. You see, it was our only hope of stealing a glimpse of girls underwear as they were waiting in line at the drinking fountain, or lining up to go out on the playground for recess, or even marching into church. Since most of the girls wore black shoes, and if the lighting was just right, we were treated to a magnificent view. (Way better than the National Geographics)

There were many a sunny days on the playground that a small crowd of boys gathered around several select girls unwittingly displaying her underwear. Thinking back, I believe that perhaps many of the girls knew of this phenomenon as well and out of the goodness of their hearts offered us cheap thrills to get us through religion class. Perhaps they wanted our lunch and mass money, or both. Welcome to Catholic grade school, 1965.

Thank Christ the Nuns wore flat black (Non shiny) shoes. I would have been scarred for life.

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Nixon Covertly Meets With Extraterrestrial

Nixon Covertly Meets Extraterrtrials

As history depicts, Kennedy was gunned down in Dallas, Texas, November 22nd, 1963 in Dealey Plaza. Lee Harvey Oswald was the only suspect and was taken in to custody. Shortly thereafter, Jack Ruby silenced Oswald putting an end to any stream of information. The Warren commission took over and convoluted the facts of the assassination planting the seeds of a conspiracy that has lasted almost 50 years. That is the official record.

For decades the Grassy Knoll Institute has claimed that Richard Nixon was the mastermind behind the plot to assassinate President John F. Kennedy and used Oswald as a Patsy to take the fall. Before today, it was merely speculation, but the Grassy Knoll Institute investigators finally caught a break.

While researching the Richard Nixon Presidential Library, an old black and white photograph was found between the pages of the novel, Camelot. Scribbled on the back of the photograph was a date and place, (October 31st, 1963, Yorba Linda) and an informal agreement between Nixon and the extraterrestrial pictured.

*Yorba Linda is Nixon's home town.
*The meeting took place a mere three weeks before the assassination.
*No one could really explain the trajectory of the supposed "Magic bullet."
*Strip Clubs became an almost overnight sensation as many opened just weeks after the assassination.
*The photo was between the pages of Camelot, the term coined by the press of Kennedy's presidency.
* Nixon had the resources and contacts to place men and convolute facts.

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Shot Of Vodka At Age 6

Way back in the 1960's when I was a lad, my parents used to bring all the kids, (There were 7 of us, me being the youngest) to grandma's house for a visit. Actually, it was more of a drop-off now, Mom and Dad would stay for a minute and then off to go shopping or some other important business matters. (Like go and make more kids) (Not a lot of private time in a house full of 7 kids)

Anyway, my grandmother Veronica was from Ireland, (Both sets of grandparents were from Ireland but that's not the point here) and every Saturday she would prepare us traditional Irish meals for dinner. Now I'm sure grandma was an excellent cook, however, I was not accustomed to such cuisine. I was more of a meat and potatoes kind of kid. Blood pie (Yes, sounds exactly as terrible as you think) was not my cup of tea. Even her dog, Chrissy, wouldn't eat the food I attempted to sneak to him from the table without grandma looking. Forced, I would eat as much as I could and move on to playing in the basement of grandma Veronica's house.

The basement was my haven. Grandma had it decorated like an old-time Western saloon. Veronica called it a Pub, but I thought it was a saloon. Irish, American, Pub, Saloon, same thing. It had swinging doors, a full bar, counter, bar stools, and just about every kind of bottle of alcohol you could imagine. (Grandma Veronica was a heavy drinker and smoker)

The basement was also the place grandma read her magazines and made her phone calls to the local radio talk show host to set them right in their opinions. Veronica would always have a glass of something by her side all the time.

That one afternoon, after playing hard, I was sweaty and thirsty. I saw grandma's mini glasses (Shot glasses) on the bar counter filled and asked her if I could have some for I had a powerful thirst going on. I assumed the liquid was 7-Up or some other clear soda pop. Grandma looked up and sternly told me that I could not, that the drink was for adults, not children.

I pressed harder. (Pretty please grandma thirty times in a row usually did the trick) After the 30th time, Veronica acquiesced and told me I could have one with one condition. Being thirsty I immediately agreed. Veronica poured me a drink from a clear bottle and then told me to drink it all as fast as I could, all in one gulp. (That's how the grown up people drink it)

I grabbed the double shot glass and in one quick motion, gulped the drink down. Damn! It tasted like gasoline. Approximately three seconds later my tongue was on fire. The flames quickly spread to my mouth, teeth, throat, and then to my stomach. If it were possible, my ears would have been letting off steam from the heat my body was producing. I started running around in circles screaming and yelling hoping that somehow the flames would subside. They did not. (I seriously felt like my hair was on fire)

Veronica calmly walked over to where I was doing my little Indian dance and gave me a cookie and told me to eat it. I was skeptical of the cookie for the last thing grandma gave me set me on fire. However, Veronica insisted. I ate the cookie. Grandma then told me to get a drink from the water faucet. I think I had two gallons.

After I calmed down, Veronica told me about alcohol, and that only adults were allowed to drink it. She also told me that from that day forward, any time I had the urge to drink alcohol again, I would remember this day and how it tasted.

And grandma was right. I still recall that taste. That is one of the main reasons why I do not drink at all. There, you have now met an Irishman that doesn't drink.
Alas, if only Veronica would have taught me the same lesson with blood pie.

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Bring Me Solo And The Wookie

I was recently at the Ripley's Aquarium in the Smoky mountains in Gatlinburg, Tennessee. In the shark tank, this one particular sawfish kept circling and then finally settled right above to rest on the glass. As I was watching the fish, (That's what I do when I'm in aquariums) it started moving it's mouth. In that instant, the sawfish looked like Jabba The Hut. I started laughing. I pointed out Jabba to my wife Patty and of course I had to speak the obligatory line, "Bring me Solo and the Wookie!" Watch it again and listen to me state the classic line.

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