bigbonton

Our Euro-trash buds have it right in their
rhyme from eastern Bohemia about summer carefree-ness,
"no need to reason in cucumber season"

Photo taken at sunrise.
The light was coming through the windshield.
In a moving vehicle? . . . How did this torso get here? . . .
What went on the night before? . . . Is this inside the Willie Nelson tour bus?
Was this sunrise a new day or the wrap-up of the night before?
Tell us!
TELL!

"There's nothing to see here. Move along."

I ain't telling. And yes, I DO know everything. Anyone needing to jog her memory can just rummage through the titillating tattletale trove that became the lost & found bin. No tittle-tattle there, 100% smoking gun.
I got yer stuff… if you have the nerve to pipe up and come claim it…

Posted by bigbonton at 4:49 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

The episode in which we experience a Nashville afternoon.

Everyone looks, guys gaze at the girl, star-struck girls stare without shame at the black boots by the pool alongside everyone’s summer sweetheart of 2008.
Everyone wants her (if they can dream) or at least wants to experience her poolside manner. She relaxes while we get-down to the 6+ hour performance of a traveling German break-dance troop. Just kidding, the epic poolside performance was by my new mental mentor Jeffrey Steele, the 2007 BMI Songwriter of the Year.

You just can’t underestimate the amount of talent in this industry town of Nashville, Tennessee. Music City.

She’s no mess in a dress. She’s poised, perched with her man de jour. Is she prissy? Certains, un peu. Is she pristine? Elle ne l'est pas.
As for him, let’s just say that he’s such a capital “D” Dude that he is regarded as “most likely to cause a cat fight at his own funeral.” Mere mortal males can only aspire…

Ah youth! Wanting to be taken seriously. Such fervent feelings, running deep, as deep as their twenty or so years on planet earth can allow.
Black boots morph into flip-flops, even Croc-clogs. Luckily he can simply change shoes, but she’ll remain tagged as a Honky Tonk woman, inked for the life of her skin - which, thanks to poolside sunshine and gravity will retire and sag south. Explains the plethora of Nashville billboards for laser tattoo removal with taglines like “What Was I Thinking?” and “Things Change, So Can You.”

Before you rant back at me folks, you want ink? Get Inked!
While you’re reading, dig this: YOU KIDS! Stay off my Lawn! You call that music? And dress like you have some respect! Get a haircut! Or you with the buzz cut - let it grow out and part it on the side, be normal!

If anyone (any age) figures out what “normal” means, please advise because while in NashVegas I got clued in that “Things Change, So Can I,” and everyone wants so desperately to be normal... just a regular guy like the Songwriter of the Year and the Dude with the Tootsie with the Honky Tonkin’ ‘tude.
Don’t bury me ‘cause I ain’t dead yet.

Posted by bigbonton at 12:17 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Due to the 2008 salmonella outbreak and related fear mongering by the anti-veggie conspiracy and backseat-driving do-gooders, the Annual Sliced Tomato Rodeo is being posted a little late this year.

The Officials have an announcement: “It is now safe to eat a tomato.”
Well if the Officials say it’s safe then we’ll let our sheep and lemming traits kick in and do as we’re instructed.
Let’s eat a tomato! Or two! Wow, we’re crazy…
Life threateningly crazy, it seems.
Prompted by the warnings that “toms equal death by salmonella food poisoning,” we formed a tomato-eating underground. We’re rebels. Been eating vine ripe tomatoes since May.
Like so many other limitations that just don’t constrain us, the tomato ban didn’t apply to us because we planted ‘em, prayed over ‘em, picked ‘em, and then sliced-mayo’d-salted ‘em, then paused to state our gratefulness for our bounty.

Praise God from Whom all blessings flow.

This documentary photo was taken before Memorial Day ‘08
but is just now able to be released to the public.
Our official policy was that underground tomato eaters didn’t want to appear gauche by flaunting our access to so many things that are so delicious (and healthy).
The real motivation to take our subversive sandwiches underground was that we feared a jealous backlash from tomato fans that are without access to bacteria-free fields, which might lead to class warfare, resulting in a midnight raid on our pristine tomato fields. And you know the tomato-eating underground would be on guard with tomato knives and shakers of salt. We wanted a peaceful coexistence but were prepared to go militant on any poaching gourmands. Slice! Then salt the wounds! We meant it.

Now that Officials have freed the tomato-eating underground, we will show good faith by sharing our secret ingredients. We like sugarless tea - sweetened only with a dash of fruit juice (we prefer apple or OJ), and sourdough bread (the white bread un-Wonderbread of the 21st century).

Dive face first into the blessings of the season. Other boatloads of seasonal blessings include: shrimp by the net-full, figs and pears by the bucket-full, watermelons by the arm-full, saltwater soaks by the ocean-full, sun by the sky-full … and, and,
“Her cups runneth over” by the bikini-full!
Praise Jah for all tomatoes!
Ours, yours, and especially - HERS !
Dive face first into the blessings of the season.

Click here for a review of the Official 2007 Annual Sliced Tomato Rodeo

Is it me or is this post chock-full of hyphens and dashes?
Chock-full. See? There it goes – again.

Posted by bigbonton at 10:16 AM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)

Once I loved the road, got a charge out of road tripping, driving and singing with my elbow out the window, going elsewhere, driving around to see what's going on ...
but ...
Love Hurts!

OMG!
In case the glare is too much, yes, that reads $695.00 worth of fuel. Likely this isn’t even a fill-up since it got rounded to less than $700. “Hey honey, let’s sleep in the car tonight, it costs as much as the High Roller Suite at Hotel Swank."

Ok, I admit I still love her and I always will.
But gotta reevaluate and redefine the relationship with the two-lane blacktop, the white line, life between the ditches, the pedal to the metal.
It's our July 4th patriotic duty to streamline and become a leaner cleaner greener wienermobiler.

Check it out, we have a fine frankfurter of a tradition going, assuming duo years doth a tradition make:
2007 _wienermobile_summer_tour
This 2008 photo supplied by a fan o'bigbonton, Abby-Patty and her trusty Canon Digital Elf.
You go girl! You walk, look, and drive like an Ace.

Posted by bigbonton at 4:53 PM | Permalink | Comments (0) | TrackBacks (0)