Monday, December 18, 2017

Despair

     Son of a bitch!  Here I go down to the pit of despair again.  It took sixty six years to escape from here.  I thought the war was over, but no.  A year later I am attacked again.  I got too close to the edge and the enemy sucked me right back in.  I knew better, but confidence can be a cruel mistress.  Knew better than to get within a mile of this pit, but I walked up to the edge and peered over.  No way was the dark one going to pass up an opportunity like that.  He reached up and with his bony stinking hand, knocked my feet out from under me.  Did I mention that he was that quick and that I was that slow?  I fell on my butt and slid down the slippery slope.  I rung the hole of the pit and fell for what seemed an eternity.
     The only reason that I did not shatter when I hit bottom, was that the floor of the dark stinking hole was covered in wet crap several feet deep.  I gathered my wits about me and figured which way was up and climbed my way up out of the crap.  I was covered in it with it being in my ears, nose and mouth.  Over against the slimy rock wall was a ladder reaching almost to the top.  If I could get to the top of the ladder, I could get a firm grip and climb the rest of the way out.  I waded through the waist deep crap and was exhausted when I reached the ladder.  It was a foot out of reach.  At my age jumping is a chore in the best of conditions.  On top of being exhausted, how can you jump out of crap that is almost as deep as you are tall?  I tried, tried and tried, but it was impossible.  Exhausted, I sat down to rest, no lay down and wallowed in the shit.  I was covered in it anyway, might as well revel in it.
     After resting for a while, I got the bright idea of stacking the slick stinking crap.  It was like stacking mud, but after a long while some of it began to stick.  I got enough of it together to raise me up.  I stretched out and grabbed the bottom of the ladder.  I was so tired I could barely climb, but I knew this was my only chance.  If I did not make it this time, I was stuck here forever.  I sucked it up, gave it my all and away I went to the top.  As my hands grabbed the dry land outside, the rung  under my feet broke.  No way in my condition, could I hold on and down I went into the dark pit again.
     As I lay there in deep despair I cried and cried.  I could hear others around me, there was weeping and gnashing of teeth.  I heard a low guttural moan that increased in loudness and sadness, it engulfed me before I realized it was me.  Not only was my body exhausted, my mind was totally spent.  Nothing but gloom and despair was in this pit with no hope of ever escaping again.  The only way of escape was to commit suicide, but what if the outcome was worse than this?  It is a hard thing for a man to be without family or friends.  It seems that everyone has turned their back.
     I fell on my knees and begged God to send His Son to rescue me out of this terrible place.  At that moment I felt a quiet, calm peace envelope me.  I heard a gentle reassuring voice, "I have been wanting to help you for years.  I will be your daughters, your brother and your friend.  I will never leave you, now come on and let's clean you up."

Wednesday, December 13, 2017

Stackpole Pine

When Starbuck and I go to the stackpole pine to discuss life's problems, we never expect to be overheard.  However this long eared rabbit will probably spread rumors about this conversation.  He looked as if he might be trouble.

Tuesday, December 12, 2017

Friday, November 17, 2017

Maw

Maw, Katie Bell and Betty.  Where in the world is Paul?
16x20 inch oil on canvas.

Monday, October 30, 2017

Just an Old 2x4

As I walked into the barn a couple of days ago, just as I have many times for the last twenty five years, something captured my attention.  I looked up into the rafters near the loft where I have stored several 2x4 pine studs for the last few years.  There was one there that seemed to want to be a Headland High School ram.  Well the danger of being an almost hermit is that I just had to comply and make it come true for the old stud.  I took the board and hand carved the 2x4 to make the walking stick/staff.  The ram and letters are 23 karat gold leaf and the rest is polished with brown shoe polish.  That seems to leave a soft finish on the pine.  There are more of the boards, that can accommodate many more school mascots


Tuesday, October 10, 2017

Who's with Maxine

I named the one on the right Maxine, but the one on the left is hard, there's so many that will fit.

Thursday, September 28, 2017

Staff








Walking stick (staff) that I just carved out of a cedar limb from my front yard.  It is light enough that I can use it for a while and not tire, but strong enough to knock moccasins out of the way.

Wednesday, September 6, 2017

Down by the Riverside

oil on canvas
I have seen the time I was ready for this.  That old bag gets pretty heavy oftentimes.
 

Thursday, August 31, 2017

Corner

20x16" oil on canvas.  Corner of my property.

Friday, August 4, 2017

Sancho

   Sancho tells how, while he slept, a thief put stakes under the four corners of  the pack saddle and stole his ass out from under him.     This 20x16" oil painting, I did,
 is based on a drawing by Gustave  Dore', for the book about Don Quixote.  Sancho was his sidekick.
     In an earlier post, I thought it was hilarious that while Hillary rode the democratic donkey, Donald stole her ass out from under her.  Wouldn't it be sweet justice if Barack, Hillary, Harry, Nancy, Chuck and Al woke up in the morning and their asses had been stolen out from under them?

Wednesday, July 26, 2017

Cotton Scales

I have been looking for some cotton scales for a while.  I finally found these last week at the antique place on Cottonwood road.  Laney's was the name, I believe.  I hung them up on the side of the tack room in the barn.

Tuesday, July 18, 2017

Then there were four

No political commentary on this one.  Just 16x20" oil on canvas.

Monday, July 10, 2017

Hanging Out With the Coon Brothers

Jack, Jill and I were on the creek bank, trying to catch fish.  We all knew who were coming by the sound the raucous trio were making.  This was not our first time these three.  We knew and liked them, but sometimes they were a bit too much to handle.  That was the case this time.  We could tell as soon as they hit the light of the lantern that they had been partaking of the mushroom stump water.  The effect was deeper on Barrack than Harry or Chuck.  They were bad enough, but Barrack had been especially deep into the stump.  We had all been in this spot before and knew that it would soon be contentious.
     First they would flatter us by telling us how great citizens we were by trying to feed ourselves.  Then if we were successful in fishing we should give them sixty percent for "administrative" costs, then give 30 percent to the ones who did not have an opportunity to fish for themselves.  If we were not too greedy  we should keep the other ten percent for ourselves.  They failed to mention that there were miles of creek bank to fish in, but they did not want to quit partying to take advantage of the opportunity.  Being good citizens, we just smiled and continued to fish.
     The mushroom water was working on Barrack pretty good and he decided to push it a bit farther.  Echoing his cousin, Maxine, he shouted  "Impeach 4 5". 
     "Why would you want to do that?" I asked.
     "He's' crazy, he's stupid, he's un-American, He did not get the majority vote."
     "Do you know anything about the constitution?"
     "Well yes, I am a constitutional lawyer."
     "I'm just a dumb sign painter, but I do have a copy in my pocket, let's see what it says."
     "You are a dumb ass."  he replied.
     Knowing that  arguing was useless and being pissed that he called me a dumbass, I pulled the copy out of my wallet.  Picking up a big limb, I wrapped my copy around it and proceeded to beat the crap out of the three.  At the best of times a coon is hard to handle, but these three were under the influence of stump water and limber as hell.  However I was full of anger and cracked the stick up against their skulls, knocking them out.  I grabbed up Barrack and hung him in the tree by his hind feet.  Most coons, when they stay in power too long, have a condition known as brain drop.  The brain begins to drop into their digestive tract and the crap obstructs their thinking process.  I thought with him upside down, I would give him a few whacks on the butt to jar his brain back to where it belongs.  However by the hollow sound, I could tell that it was too late.  He had excreted his brain long ago.  Knowing that, I also knew that Harry and Chuck had already unloaded theirs also.
     If the average person walks the halls of congress, they are amazed at the dodo brains lying in the hallways.  Some are red, but the majority are a sickening blue.  The stench and sight of these piles are disgusting, however the mainstream media walks through and in them everyday and are oblivious to the effects.  It is contagious just to be near that crap, for if you touch it, it will corrupt you also.  The effect is that your brain will move to your ass and if you don't get help soon, you will excrete your brain as well.
     So if you are going to beat the crap out of coons with a stick, make sure that you don't get any crap on your person.
     

Tuesday, June 27, 2017

Wednesday, June 21, 2017

Next year
this year
will be
last year.

Monday, June 19, 2017

For almost a year I just lay around, sleeping most of the day and raising hell at night.  I was completely useless and wouldn't even try to help myself. All the while crying for someone to bring me a bottle and crapping in my drawers.  Never was a mother so glad to see a son begin to walk and learn to use the potty.

Friday, June 2, 2017

This getting old is gonna be hard. Poor Sheila has a lot to put up with. I came down stairs this morning and she asked "What do you have in your back pocket?" A handkerchief, I replied. she laughed and told me to look. When I had reached for a handkerchief, I mistakenly picked up a pair of drawers instead. Her new job is to check me out before I leave the house.

Tuesday, May 16, 2017

Block Head

My first carving on cedar, using the poor man's woodcarving vise.





Wednesday, May 10, 2017

BrackinMural

This is a mural in the town of Slocomb, Alabama, that I painted years ago.  It is on a 4'x10' mdo board.

Thursday, May 4, 2017

Walter

I grew up in a small town with a war memorial on the town square.  I don't know if Walter ever did this, but had it crossed his mind he would have.

Monday, May 1, 2017

Crip Walker

This is a quick pencil study for a project I am beginning.  This is Crip Walker, a black man that helped raise my brothers and me back in the early fifties.  Lost my only photo of him, so this is from memory.

Wednesday, April 26, 2017

Poor Man's Wood Carving Vise

I saw this on you tube and wanted to try it.  It works well and frees up both hands.  To keep it from slipping you will need to groove the end of the tee with a grinder.



Thursday, April 6, 2017

OLD ME

     The middle of last month I reached the ripe old age of sixty seven.  It had sneaked up on me as my health had been pretty good.  I am blessed to have reached this age.  I used to wonder how someone in their thirties could even get around.  As forty came and went I laugh at that silly notion now.  Now at sixty seven I wonder where the time has gone.
     My body is in disrepair, there is no cartilage in any of my joints.  The bone ends are inflamed and even the slightest movement is painful.  I looked around to see if I could find where my youth had gone.  Out of the corner of my eye I could see the skinny insolent seventeen year old.  There he was all full of piss, vinegar and testosterone moving around all erect and proud.  He had a beer in one hand, scratching his butt and chewing on a tobacco leaf.
     The sight of the young me pissed me off.  "Have a little class, dumbass!" old me yelled at young me.  True to form his response was "F### you old man."
     I already did not feel good and that inflamed me even more.  When you look back fifty years it is right there.  If you look forward fifty years it is a lifetime away.  Even though he was younger and faster than old me, I knew I had a shot at whipping his ass, besides it was my dream.  "Come on you stupid little shit." old me exclaimed.  Old me shuffled toward him as fast as I could.  Young me looked at old me and laughed.  Just as old me got to him, young me tripped over his forgotten six-pack.  When he did, I whacked him up side his young head and the blood spurted out of his nose.  When young me hit the dirt, old me started kicking him.
     That didn't satisfy old me and I got down over him as far as my old knees would allow.  I pummelled his young butt good.  Old me knew I couldn't kill him for here I am.  But I took great delight in his pain.  When I tired, I tried to get up but I couldn't.  When young me came to his senses, he graciously helped me up.  By then my anger was over and we had a good  laugh at our expense.  The next time I wake up and think someone needs a good butt whipping, I am going to turn off the clock, pull the covers over my head and wait until that stupid feeling subsides.
   

Tuesday, March 21, 2017

Transition:Life From Death

16x20 inches, oil on stretched canvas.  Death is not the end, it is the beginning.

Wednesday, March 1, 2017

Demoncrat Party

Just an observation of the democratic party at the congressional meeting yesterday.

Monday, February 20, 2017

Short Road

The road of life is short.  We start out as energetic youngsters and wind up as people so worn out they need help walking.  All that happens between the beginning and the end gets lost in the daily hustle and bustle.  The only constant is our faith in our Lord and Savior.  Thank God He stays with us throughout the journey.

Friday, January 27, 2017

Stidio Shed

I just wanted to post some of these photos of my shed I purchased from Randal Rathel.  In the near future I am going to try and carve an alligator with a chainsaw to go on the deck.  The inside corner is for Indian Crossing, some of my artifacts and a few good Indians.  That is my security system, Starbuck.  He wouldn't harm a fly unless it was to protect me or Sheila Miller Sims.  Then his fury would come out.  The toilet paper on the easel is for wiping brushes, some of you thought it might be for...  I digress, maybe I should hold that for five more minutes.  Sheila and I insulated the walls and ceilings, wired electrical and installed the windows on the back.  I at one time painted in the house, but it was a strain to keep from making a mess.  Now I can relax, listen to gospel 91.3 at full blare










and carve with wood chips up to my ankles.  Then just sweep.  Also Starbuck could not go upstairs to be with me in the room there.  Now he can go in and out, bark at coyotes and then fall asleep on his bed.
     Bob is waiting for his peppermint and his feed.  He is like me, on the upper edge of age and hard to get around.