First time on this blog?

Who are Freedon, Sarah, Macky Rae, and Reba? They are my little dogs!
If you are new to this blog, click here to read the introduction.


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Regarding any typos you may find in this blog:
Currently, I am using the computer at the library to write and publish this blog. In addition to the spellcheck on their computer, there is a spell checker on the blog-host's server - and the two programs are arguing with each other, and sometimes one or both corrects my typing, even when it doesn't need to be corrected.

Tuesday, July 15, 2014

Gambling, Hunting, Guns and Nudity (Part 3)

Me and my dogs had an enjoyable 4th of July. A neighbor decided to have a barbecue, to which we were invited.
We accepted the invitation. As fans of this blog are no doubt aware:

my dogs barbecue.
I had a burger and a variety of tasty potato and macaroni salads (and Mt. Dew), and the dogs ate wieners (and whatever else they were able to mooch of the other attendees of the cookout).

As the afternoon became evening, me and my dogs thanked our gracious hosts, and returned to our humble abode, as the sun had gone below the horizon and as the darkness increased, so did the bottle rockets.
Ever year, the media warns all to keep their pets inside during the 4th, as fear of the fireworks may cause them to run off. My dogs are fairly brave souls, and the have never shown fear of the fireworks, but the continual boom! boom! agitates them a bit, so we go inside, turn on the radio and listen to some music.
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As the evening grew later, the dogs went to their accustom evening spots to go to sleep. However, some of our neighbors (not the nice ones who invited us to barbecue) returned from where ever and began to set of some firecrackers.

Sarah (my female who had, up until that point, been asleep) woke up at the pop! pop! pop! going on outside. She got up, climbed onto the back of the sofa, and looked out the window in order to investigate.

As she investigated, the neighbors lit another pack of firecrackers, which cause Sarah to start barking. But it was not a bark of fear, it was a bark of anger, as if to say Will you people knock it off? We're trying to sleep in here!

What does this have to do with the subject of todays blog entry? Nothing. I just wanted to share that story with everyone.


Warning: This blog entry contains a light hearted discussion of nudity, a subject that many people find offensive. If you are offended by nudity, discussions of guns, nudity, gambling, hunting, or free speech, you may not want to continue reading.

However, if you like nudity(or guns), or at least discussions of nudity (or guns), or just want to find out what bizarre and off the wall things I have to say, then by all means continue reading.



If you missed the story of Keith, slot
machines, and the Indians, it can be
found at Gambling (part 1)


If you want information on how to
play Roulette, go to wikipedia.org
My friend Keith and I went to a casino awhile back.
Yes, the same Keith I taught to gamble.
And yes, the same casino with Pocahontas and the advance surveillance system.
By this time, the casino had been completed completely, and had a full range of games that weren't there when I (with Keith) originally visited the casino about a year prior.
One of the games was roulette.
Roulette is kind of an interesting game, mainly because of the little marble that goes around and around making the clickity-clickity noise that is beckons to people "come play! come play!"
As we were playing, a rather attractive young woman came up to the table, opened her purse and remove five 100-dollar bills, which were quickly exchanged for chips by the croupier. She requested all black, and was give five $100 black chips.
"Can I bet all of them on the same spot?"
"I'm sorry, ma'am," the pit boss said "but the table limit is $100."
"Where can I place a $500 bet?" she asked
"All the tables in this casino have a $100 limit, unless special permission is granted."
"Who can grant that?"
"The floor manager."
The floor manager was called, and it was explained to him that the woman wanted to pace a single numbers bet with $500. He glanced over at the women, then agreed to allow the $500 bet.
"Place your bets!" the croupier called out.
"I have one more request" the woman said. "May I play naked?"
You could feel the silence descend upon the table.
"Seriously?" the floor manager asked.
"Yeah" she answered "I have better luck when I wear less clothing"
All eyes fell on the manager, who appeared to be either contemplating the request, or trying to determine if the woman was serious.
"Are you talking completely naked?" he asked.
"Nothing but what I was born with" she replied.
A moment passed. Two, then three. Finally he spoke again.
"Oh, what the hell."
The woman, having been given the go-ahead, proceeded to remove every stitch of clothing she had on. You could feel the silence descend on the entire casino floor.

Finally, when she had reached the state of full nakedness, she leaned over the table, chips in hand, and contemplated the layout.
All eyes fell on her... Well, you know where.
She finally selected a number by placing the chips on the appropriate number.
"Betting is closed!" the manager said before anyone else could place a bet, not that anyone at the table was planning to.
All eyes fell on the croupier, who looked confused, momentarily unaware of why everyone was staring at him until he suddenly remembered it was his job to spin the wheel. He started the wheel, then released the ball. The ball zipped around the bowl, bouncing from slot to slot (to slot) until it finally settled into one of the slots.
"Woo Hoo!" the woman yelled, jumping up and down (female parts jiggling with her). "I won! I won! I won!"
The croupier shook off his daze and began to count out 175 black $100 chips, which was an amazing feat of concentration considering the woman (and her parts) were bouncing the entire time, but he accomplished the task quickly and accurately, then slide the chips across the table next to her original $500 bet.

The woman then gathered her chips, blew everyone a kiss, then gathered her clothing and was escorted by a casino security guard to the cashier's cage. It was there, while the cashier counted out $18,000, that she finally began to redress (much to our disappointment), collected her money, and after blowing everyone kisses again headed out of the casino (still under escort), presumably to her car.

It wasn't until she had vanished from sight that anyone spoke or gaming resumed.
"That was unusual" the manager commented.
"I'll say" croupier confirmed.
"I can't wait to start telling this story" the manager said. "By the way, what number did she bet on?"
The croupier suddenly looked somewhat nervous.
"I thought you were watching that." 
Now that I told a nudity story, I need to tell a gun story. Since the name of this blog entry is "Guns and nudity (part 3)," if I don't tell a gun story I would only be able to call this blog entry "and Nudity (part 3)," which wouldn't make as much sense.
I don't hunt.
I realize that in our culture there was, at one time, a need to hunt in order to provide food for one's family. But that was before grocery stores.

I don't see hunting as a sport. Maybe I should say that I don't see hunting as "sporting."
How many points do the deer get?
The dictionary definition of sporting, as in a sporting chance is defined as "an even or fair opportunity for a favorable outcome in an enterprise, as winning in a game of chance or in any kind of contest." When the deer are armed, and a few hunter's heads are mounted on the wall of Bambi's den, then we will call hunting a sport.



Speaking of Bambi, ever heard about Hunting for Bambi? The premise is that (male) hunters pay $5000-10,000 for the privilege of hunting "Bambis" (semi-naked women wearing nothing but a thong and tennis shoes) in the deserts of Las Vegas by picking them off with paintballs powerful enough to draw blood. The Bambis are paid $2,500 if they avoid getting hit and $1,000 even if they do get hit.

But I digress

Theodore J. Barnes
This story was told to me by my Uncle Theo.
The story takes place when My Uncle was courting Aunt Helen, which means it took place somewhere between 1953 (when Uncle Theo returned from Korea) and 1957 (when he finally married Aunt Helen).

Theo and his friend, Wilbur, decided to do a little hunting up around Moose Lake. There was talk of a grizzly around there, and neither of them had ever shot a bear.

Uncle Theo and Wilbur asked their girlfriends/fiancées if they wanted to spend a weekend hunting bear, and the agreed
Being country girls, they actually did want to go hunting.
The drove up to the cabin on Moose lake, and spent the evening doing redneck stuff - like drinking beer and telling stories. It got late, so everyone decided to go to bed.
There own bed. This was the 1950s, people didn't do immoral stuff back then.
They all got up at the crack of dawn (and dawn cracks early in the mountains). Uncle Theo and Wilbur were up and dressed first, which meant they had to start the fire in the stove, and make the coffee. Later, when Aunt Helen and Lorraine emerged from there rooms, they cooked breakfast.
Now, a lot of you are thinking that it was sexist for My Uncle and his friend to expect the women to cook. Keep in mind, this was the 1950s - that's the way it worked back then.
And if you ever tasted Uncle Theo's cooking, you would wanted Aunt Helen to do the cooking.
After breakfast was eaten, everyone went to put on there coats, hats, and other hunting apparel, and then everyone met out in front of the cabin. Uncle Theo and Wilbur were out first.
To this day, scientists are baffled as to why it always takes women longer to get ready.
Aunt Helen emerge after the boys. And the three of them waited on Lorraine.
And waited.
And waited.
And waited.
Finally Lorraine emerged from the cabin, and Uncle Theo, Aunt Helen, and Wilbur gasped
Lorraine had come out of the cabin wearing only a pair of hunting boots, holding her 30-06 Winchester in her arms.
And a hunting hat. Aunt Helen remembers the plaid hunting hat with the big ear flaps.
Nobody spoke at first. Everyone was speechless. I mean, what do you say to a naked ladies with a 30-06 Winchester?


"You know, I can't think of nothing finer than a fine naked woman holding a gun. You know you're just all kinds of fine, don't you?"
~ Frankie Figs (Micheal Clark Duncan),
The Whole Nine Yards (2000)


"Lorraine!" Wilbur hollered. "Where are you clothes?"
A logical question.
"There in the cabin." She answered.

"Why aren't you wearing them?"
Also a good question.
"You said we were coming up here to hunt bare."
Aunt Helen mentioned at this point in the story that she now knew for sure that Lorraine was indeed a natural blond, because of.. well, you know, down there.
The carpet matched the curtains.
"She never had the sense the Good Lord gave a goose" my Aunt said. "She still doesn't."
When Aunt Helen said this, I realized that Lorraine in the story had to be Mrs. Breckenridge (and Wilbur was the late Mr. Breckenridge) which was something that I did not want to know.

And the reason I did not want to know this was because Mrs. Breckenridge taught Sunday School at the local church, and the one image that you do not want is one of your Sunday school teacher buck naked carrying a Winchester 30-06!
My Aunt said "I can't think of anyone dumber than Lorraine."
I can.

What about the Genius that gave her the 30-06 in the first place?

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