tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515829.post3593240246406125443..comments2024-03-28T22:44:04.754-07:00Comments on Irons in the Fire: Miley Cyrus proves herself another dumbass celebrituteFirehandhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/04562365951182027709noreply@blogger.comBlogger1125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8515829.post-60816916211969530412011-11-30T12:36:48.588-08:002011-11-30T12:36:48.588-08:00When I was a wee sprog living on the rolling plain...When I was a wee sprog living on the rolling plains of S. Western So. Dak., we learned about David Killing Goliath in Sunday school. My cousin Melvin and I, a week apart in age were fascinated by the prospect of having a lethal weapon by simply stealing our respective Dad's bootlaces and liberating the tongues of the now laceless boots. Seven year olds seldom look too far forward. That procurement procedure cost us each a damn good licking, but we were allowed to keep our ill gotten materials, having cut the laces too short to use. For years, Dad said he should have traded me for a mangy dog, and shot the dog.<br /><br />Over the period leading into Spring, Mel got very good with his sling, and I got to where I could let my stone fly in a general forwardly direction. Mel actually hit prairie chickens and the occaisional cottontail. We got .22 rifles shortly after so lost interest in slings, I haven't messed with a sling for nearly 55 years. Mel's dad, my Uncle Elmer, showed us how to make rubber slingshots out of willow crotches and red truck innertubes, those too, were quite effedtive especially when loaded with 1/4" or 3/8" ball bearings we got from the workmen in the County Shop, down the road. Hanging around there and being polite got us all manner of benefits, free crappy coffee, free welding and brazing services, learning all manner of words which earned us the good ol' Fels Naptha mouthwash treatment at home. And pocketfuls of steel balls salvaged from defunct bearings. Wonderful sling and slingshot ammo, and free into the bargain. Being a kid on the very edge of a very small rural town in a much more permissive age was, in retrospect, about the best learning environment I could have had. At the age of seven, we went camping far from the stifling influence of Mom and Grandma, built fires, killed, cleaned, cooked and ate critters too stupid or unlucky to avoid us, went swimming and fishing, smoked whatever foliage we could pack into home made corncob pipes, stole and drank alcoholic beverages, rode bicycles many miles from home, and with all this, were considered "normal". Nowadays we'd be institutionalized and sedated.Gerry N.noreply@blogger.com