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I was grilling out last week and my brother and his family were over to eat and enjoy the weather. While we were waiting for the steaks to be grilled to perfection, mooing in his case, medium in mine, he mentioned that he got a call that morning from his Jamaican neighbors.
He was asked to be on the lookout for a missing cow. His neighbor’s exact words were, “I bought a boy milk cow to eat, when I got up this morning I had no cow.”
There’s a couple of things wrong with that statement. Ya generally don’t buy milk cows to butcher, and there’s no such thing as a boy milk cow. Assuming his Jamaican neighbors had some difficulties with the language, and a lack of knowledge about cows, my brother just told him to look for his steer over at the neighbor’s place. A single cow will walk right through a barbed wire fence to get to a herd and the farm next door was well stocked with black and white face cows.
The steaks had reached perfection and the story of the solitary boy milk cow was forgotten. Right up until I pulled into Bubba’s driveway yesterday to be greeted by, what else, an Angus bull. Not a steer, not a heifer and it definitely wasn’t a milk cow. Munching away on a mineral block in my brother’s yard was a 2-year old Black Angus bull. My brother was out by the chicken coop filling up a water bucket and waiting for the Jamaicans to arrive. Sure ’nuff, about that time a white mini-van and a Chrysler LeBaron convertible pulled into his driveway.
Five Jamaicans got out, one carrying about a hundred feet of nylon rope, one with a machete and all of them with cell phones.
My immediate thought was, “What in the hell do they think they’re going to do with that rope?”
My brother wondered aloud, “What in the hell do they think they’re going to do with that machete”?
My son spoke last and loudest, “Where in the hell are they going to put the bull if they catch it?”
While we thought about all those questions, the Jamaicans spread out and started walking toward the bull, rope and machete in hand. All but one. He turned to my brother and asked if it was okay if he got a shotgun out of his car to shoot the bull with.
Now the bull was over a hundred yards away, happily munching on a mineral block left out for the deer, and the image of a wounded, buckshot bull ran through my mind. I just couldn’t comprehend the image of the machete and the bull, but I could imagine some seriously hurt Jamaicans.
Trying to minimize the risk to everyone involved, I shouted to my brother,”Get a rifle Bubba, all they brought was that rope, a machete and a shotgun”. Ignoring the look of astonishment on my brother’s face, I turned to watch them slowly walk toward the bull like the bull was blind. When they got about oh, say, 75 yards, the bull turned around and walked back into the woods. All five Jamaicans followed the bull into the woods.
My brother just sat down on the back step, laid the rifle in his lap and the rest of us pulled up chairs. First we heard a bunch of hollerin’ and the trees tops would shake a little. Then we’d hear a bunch of screamin’ fifty yards away and the tree tops would shake a little where the shouts were comin’ from. Then more shouts and more trees would shake another thirty yards away. This went on for quite some time.
After an hour or so, five sweaty, scratched up, shakin Jamaicans came out of the woods, covered up in ticks, burrs and bites. None of ‘em said a word while they piled into their vehicles. Finally, the guy in the convertible turned around in his seat and shouted, “If you see de damn boy milk cow, you shoot de damn cow, he’s your milk cow now”.
This is a gripe worthy of having a post all of its own. Thanks for the post Parker!
heres my gripes!!!
Try to have things like the United Caucasian College Fund, Cloud Magazine, White Entertainment Television, or Miss White America; and see what happens… Jesse Jackson will be knocking down your door.
I think that if you feel homosexuality is wrong, it is not a phobia, it is an opinion.
I have the right “NOT” to be tolerant of others because they are different, weird, or tick me off.
When 70% of the people who get arrested are black, in cities where 70% of the population is black, that is not racial profiling; it is the Law of Probability.
If you want to be an American citizen, you should have to speak English!
I think the police should have every right to shoot your sorry ass if you threaten them after they tell you to stop. If you can’t understand the word “freeze” or “stop” in English, see the above lines.
It doesn’t take a whole village to raise a child right, but it does take a parent to stand up to the kid; and smack their little behinds when necessary, and say “NO!”
And if you don’t like my point of view, tough…
I PLEDGE ALLEGIANCE TO THE FLAG, OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA , AND TO THE REPUBLIC, FOR WHICH IT STANDS, ONE NATION UNDER GOD, INDIVISIBLE, WITH LIBERTY AND JUSTICE FOR ALL! AMEN!
It is said that 86% of Americans believe in God.why is there is such a problem in having “In God We Trust” on our money and having “God” in the Pledge of Allegiance. Why don’t we just tell the 14% to Shut Up, lay down and BE QUIET!!!
My Mom is one of these people that would give you the shirt off her back, if you needed it. Well she has this sister, the youngest out of five, you know the baby of the family. Yeah, when I say baby, I mean baby. She thinks that the world should revolve around her. That she never does anything wrong and she is the greatest at anything and everything.
Well she suckered my Mom into opening a small restaurant in my hometown. Using the ploy that it would be something they could both due and retire from their other jobs and work for themselves. (My Mom didn’t know at the time that her little sister got fired from her bank job for fixing loans and getting kick backs on loans. But this is just my opinion and what I heard that happened.) My Mom said great sounds good and went for it heart and soul. Her sister was going through a rough time, so Mom put up the starting cash, more than half of her savings with the promise that it would be paid back.
Well they got it up and running. Everything was going well for about the first 6 – 7 months. My Mom called me and asked if I could come help out, because they were so busy. I said yeah sure. (Keep in mind that I was an hour and a half away, but my Mom asked.) That didn’t work out very well because, every time my Mom and I would start to talk about anything her sister would say that we were yelling at each other and we needed to stop. The place was loud, with all of the machines, exhaust fans and everything else running you had to raise your voice if the person on the grill was going to here you. My Mom’s sister was also getting mad because I was making more tips than her. Well I finally had enough of her constant criticizing of me, taking my tips, said that I was stealing, her baby-talking, lap dancing, and her constantly rubbing her tits on the old men that came in there. I told her to go fuck herself. I told my Mom I was sorry, but I could not work like that anymore. That if she wanted my help she would have to kick her sister out. Well I never went back.
About 3 months after I blew my lid in the parking lot of the place (which is in the middle of a very very small town) my Mom found out about all the lies that she was being told. My Mom took over the books and they were screwed. When my Mom got the books straightened out, they were in the red and not the black. My Mom could not figure out what happened, that’s when she found out that her sister bought a horse and some other shit with the money that was suppose to be in the bank for the restaurant. My Mom told her that she had had enough and that she could have the restaurant. My Mom told her little sister that she wanted paid back for all the money she put into the restaurant. My Mom told her that if she was going to keep the Chevy Tahoe that she was driving (the Tahoe is my Mom’s and in her name) she was going to make the payments and if she missed one, Mom would come and get it. My Mom was to be paid every month, no if’s ands or butts about it.
This is what started this rant. My Mom called and told me her sister had not made a payment to her in the last 4 months but she could fly to Chicago to see her daughter and buy more shit that she does not need. This has got me pissed off, more than the average everyday pissed off. I want to get my hands on the bitch. But Mom said, “NO”. The people that know me, know a lot more has happened than what I have mentioned here. But I had to give you a little background for you to understand why I’m so pissed off.
And this is just a little bit about my Mom. My Mom is widowed, has been for the last 11 years. She was married to my Dad for over 30 years. And what her little sister is doing to her is wrong. My Mom makes enough to support herself with a little left over, not much, but a little so she can go and do things with the grand-kids. She doesn’t deserve this.
This is from my nephew. They had been pinned down and couldn’t find the sniper. One of the guys saw the flash from the sniper’s gun and this is what happened to the sniper.
My nephew is in Iraq right now. He sent me some pics to let me know that he was OK and just how close he was to the fighting. Some of the pics are of the humve he was in. He is a gunner for his unit. He was in the turret when the bomb went off. All of the guys were OK.
