Seperated at Birth

I have always been of the opinion that everyone has a “twin”. A brother, or sister, if you will, from another mother. Following are 14 examples I have come up with to provide proof positive of my theory.

 



My friend Craig Johnson, who I coached in high school and coached with, and comedian/actor Adam Sandler. Craig even acts like Sandler.

My longtime friend Brock Lanier and Chumlee from The History Channel's "Pawn Stars."

My longtime friend Danny Turner and my new friend Clyde Dunn. Both of these guys are huge Trojan athletic supporters.

My friend and fellow blogger Stephanie Bonner Smith aka The Giggling Grasshopper and actress Kellie Martin.

Barnesville’s beloved street  person Luther and Dumb Donald from “Fat Albert and the Cosby Kids.”     

          

Actor John Travolta and Aerosmith front man Steven Tyler. I never really thought these two looked alike until I came across this picture of a younger Tyler.

Former Madame Speaker of the House Nancy Peelucy and, well, a horse’s arse.                           

                                                                

Former Commodores front man, now solo artist Lionel Richie and Thin Lizzy front man the late Phil Lynott.

                                                        

U.S. President Barack Hussein Obama and former homeless man, now celebrated Cleveland, Ohio radio personality, Ted Williams.

                                                             

 

Rock icon Meatloaf and food icon meatloaf.

                                                

  

My longtime friend, now pastor of The First Baptist Church of Fitzgerald, Georgia, Dr. Mike Ruffin (who also blogs) and Atlanta Braves broadcaster Ernie Johnson, Jr.

Lamar County High School football and wrestling coach Jason Wicker and actor Robert Barone of “Everybody Loves Raymond.”

                                                    

                                                           

Barnesville city police officer Chris Sears and Paul Blart, Mall Cop.

And last but not least, ME and my friend John Davis. John is a former All-American football player at Georgia Tech who also played in the NFL with the Houston Oilers and Buffalo Bills. He played in four Super Bowls with the Bills. When I coached at Barnesville Academy, his sister-in-law mistook me for him.

There are plenty of other separated at birth twins out there and I plan to uncover more of them. I will, of course, share them with you.

Stay tuned…

                                        

Mustard Burgers and the Great Outdoors

I’ve never really been the outdoors type. That’s to say, I’m not an outdoor sportsman. Now I like the outdoors and could play football and baseball the live long day. But I’m talking about hunting, fishing and camping. Never really been my bag.

Hunting is more like ambushing. You hide in a tree and wait on whatever it is you're “hunting” to walk by and you shoot at it. I don’t really see any game in that. Even things up a bit. Get on the ground and give the animal a weapon too.

I’ve never really cared to own a gun for recreational purposes. Now when I was a young boy, I had an air rifle like every other young boy did and I shot at my share at birds and squirrels but never actually hit one. I was pretty good at terrorizing the neighborhood cats with it though.

We even got the great idea to have “gang wars” with them. Yes, we actually shot at each other. I got hit in the chest once and the BB lodged under my skin. Of course, after a trip to the doctor to have it removed, I never participated the wars again.

My friends in high school would get up on Saturday mornings at dark thirty and sit in a stand in wait for ambushing Bambi. I was invited to partake a few times but, after playing four quarters of football and going to the victory dance after the game on Friday night, I only wanted to sleep til noon Saturday.

My one and only experience with hunting was an afternoon I spent in the woods with two friends who were tracking deer. We were all armed with shotguns, my borrowed. We, unbeknown to us, ended up on someone else’s property and came across said property’s owner who was armed as well.

He was a crotchety ole coot and threatened to shoot us if we didn’t get off his land immediately. One of my companions, feeling bold behind his own gun, told the man he couldn’t shoot but one of us. Of course, I, being the largest of the three, was the best target and my heart sunk.

The ole man, who had more sense than we gave him credit for, thought better of shooting any of us and taking the chance of the other two returning fire and just escorted us off the property.

Now fishing. Fishing is waiting. Waiting takes patience. I have more patience now that I’m a father but when I was younger I had none. I lived by the old creed “hurry up and wait.”

Needless to say, with my lack of patience, I didn’t care too much for fishing either. I did go a few times but became bored with it very easily. The one time I did enjoy going was to a friend’s granddaddy’s farm where he fed the fish off the dock right before we cast our lines and the fish virtually jumped onto the dock with us.

Camping. Another activity I took part in a few times but never really enjoyed. Why does a person sleep in a tent on the hard ground with bugs biting them all night when they can stay in a nice, climate controlled room and sleep in a soft bed and not worry about bugs?

We used to sleep out in the backyard quite a bit when I was a boy. But I couldn’t wait for the sun to come up so I could get inside and bathe and get in my own bed.

The summer after I graduated from high school, I got talked into going on a camping/fishing trip with a couple of buddies. We loaded for bear with fishing gear, camping gear and coolers full of cold beverages and food, including a couple of pounds of ground beef from Tommy’s, a corner store which, until it switched over to a clothing store, had “The Best Meats In Town.”

We arrived at West Point Lake over in Troup County, secured a campsite and set up our gear for the weekend. A group next to us was water skiing and invited my friends to join in. I was told that, because of my size, the boat was probably not powerful enough to pull me out of the water.

It was just a small craft. I probably needed a tug boat.

Anywho, the boys, who had never water skied before, had a good time while I sat back at the camp wondering what in the heck I was doing there.

By nightfall, I had convinced my pals that this was not a good idea and they gave in to my pleas and we broke camp and went and found a motel room but pledged to at least come back the next morning to do some fishing.

At the hotel room, we began to get hungry and, since we had all that meat from Tommy’s, decided to break out the Coleman stove and cook up some burgers and, for some reason, I was chosen to be the chef. I can’t cook a lick. The best thing I make is reservations.

But I did my best impression of Emeril and whipped up a dish often imitated but never duplicated…the mustard burger. Gonzo’s greasy mustard burger to be exact.

My buddies who partook of this culinary delight so named it because, in high school, my nickname was Captain Gonzo and it was greasy and full of mustard.

I put the ground beef in a pan, doused it with Worcestershire sauce and French’s yellow mustard, and scrambled it in butter. It was kind of like a Sloppy Joe but loaded with mustard.

I thought it was pretty tasty. Not sure about the boys though. But they were hungry and ate it.

After a night of consuming the burgers as well as all the beverages we brought, we didn't make it back to the lake the next morning, opting instead to head home.

I was never invited to hunt, camp, fish or cook ever again.

The Rest of The Best of...

Well January is about over so I guess I better finish my “Best of” statuses from 2010. Here we go…

I’m a little teapot short and stout. Here is my handle and here is my handle…OH SNAP!!! I’m a sugar bowl!

Why is abbreviation such a long word?

Why isn’t PHONETIC spelled the way it sounds?

If you believe in telekinesis raise my hand.

A fine is a tax for doing wrong. A tax is a fine for doing well.

If nothing sticks to Teflon, how do they get it to stick to the pan?

I’m so old everything hurts. And what doesn’t hurt doesn’t work.

Why are there interstate highways in Hawaii?

I’m so old “getting a little action” means I don’t have to take any fiber today.

Don’t let good enough be good enough.

Just told a middle eastern sounding hospital bill collector to send mine to 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington, D.C. 20500 and Mr. Obama would take care of it.

Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose.

If you burn your neighbor’s house down it does not make your own house look any better.

I was watching NECKcar and a hockey fight broke out.

Having potential simply means you haven’t done it yet.

You have to have a party when you’re in a state like this.

I am human and I need to be loved, just like everybody else does.

What we want and what we need have been confused.

Of course men can multitask. We read on the toilet.

I don’t worry about what people think. They don’t do it very often.

When the power of love overcomes the love of power the world will know peace.

The trouble with life is there is no background music.

You never really learn to swear til you learn to drive.

If American mothers feed their infants with tiny spoons and forks, do Chinese mothers feed theirs with toothpicks?

Can you be a closet claustrophobic?

If you have a headache, do what the bottle says. Take two and Keep Away From Children.

I’m so old I went to the video to rent a porn movie and came home with Debbie Does Dialysis.

Shopping tip: you can get shoes at the bowling alley for 85 cents.

Do clowns taste funny to cannibals?

Why is there no mouse flavored cat food?

If you pamper a cow does it give spoiled milk?

My watch is three hours behind and I can’t get it fixed so I’m gonna move to L.A.

I’ve been doing some abstract painting. I mean REALLY abstract. No paint. No brush. No canvas. I just think about it.

Every now and then I like to look up in the sky and smile for a satellite picture.

The last time I went to the movie theater I was asked to leave for bringing my own food. My argument was that concessions were too expensive and it had been a while since I had fried rice and egg rolls.

It’s a good thing we have gravity because if we didn’t when birds die they’d just hang up there in the sky. Hunters would be all confused.

My kids were born by Cesarean section. Now when they leave the house they go out the window.

I dated a girl in college that read the entire dictionary. She thought it was a poem about everything.

Siamese twins are interesting. They are the only people who can write a biography and an autobiography at the same time.

This guy was waving at me and came right up and said, “I’m sorry, I thought you were someone else.” To which I replied, “Well I am.”

I used to play sports. Then I realized you can buy trophies. Now I’m good at everything.

Is it just me or does anyone else find it coincidental that “cologne” rhymes with “alone”?

I was making pancakes for the kids and there was this fly buzzing around. That’s when I realized that a spatula is a lot like a fly swatter. And the kids are a lot like fly eaters.

In my haste to get my gift wrapping over with, I didn’t realize I was using birthday paper until  it was too late. So, instead of starting over, I just got out a Sharpie and wrote “Jesus” on each package.

When I was a boy, my parents gave me a walkie-talkie for Christmas. They told me if I was good they’d give me the other one next year.

I was the next door neighbor’s kid’s imaginary friend.

Christmas is the season when you buy this year’s gifts with next year’s money.

I broke a mirror and got seven years bad luck. But my lawyer says he can get it down to three to five.

Do you know why there has never been a dog on a space mission? They are afraid it would stick its head out the window on the way home and burn its face off.

Why do people who know the least know it the loudest?

My mother got morning sickness AFTER I was born.

Kids loved to be tricked. I told mine once we were going to Disney World. I took them to an old, burned out warehouse and said, “Oh no! Disney World burned down.” They cried but deep down I think they thought it was a pretty good trick.

I’m a heroine addict. I need to be with women who have saved someone’s life.

I have a decaffeinated coffee table. You’d never know just to look at it.

I met a nice woman in the generic aisle at the grocery store. Her name was “woman”.

Why is there no expiration date on sour cream?

Did you know seahorses are the only species of animal that the male carries the babies? I’m a bit miffed by this. Why don’t they just call that one the female?

I wonder if when gym teachers were younger they thought, I want to teach but I don’t want to read…maybe I’ll just supervise kickball for the next forty years.”

I want to put a map of the world up in my house and put pins in all the locations I’ve visited. But first I have to travel to the top two corners so the map won’t fall down.

When I’m feeling sick but sociable I drink Nyquil on the rocks.

When I was a boy I laid in my twin bed and wondered where my brother was.

If you give extra kisses you’ll get extra hugs.

The measure of a man is not in his accomplishments but rather in how he responds to his own failures.

Th Th Th That’s all folks!

O DEATH, WHERE IS THEY STING?

It is with a heavy heart I write this.

Our little community has suffered two tragic losses this week. A nine year old girl and a 22 year old young lady were both taken from us much too soon in separate traffic accidents.

I knew the mother of the little girl. She suffered severe injuries in the wreck that claimed her daughter's life.

I did not know the young lady but my heart goes out to the families of both as I could not begin to imagine the pain and loss they are suffering.

But from the outpouring of prayers, love and support shown these two, I have no doubt they are both with our Heavenly Father now.

When I first heard of the little girl's accident, my first thoughts were of my own children. And when they came home from school safely that afternoon, I called them both to my room and hugged them and told them how much I loved them.

My first personal recollection of death was when my grandmother passed away when I was nine years old. My family lived with her and she was basically a second mother to me.

My mother, her daughter, found her one morning on her bedroom floor. She died ten days before Christmas and my ninth birthday. I was devastated and hoped I'd never have to have that feeling again.

But death rose its ugly head again when I was in the fifth grade and my best friend was killed in a horse riding accident. I had other friends but I, for a long time, was lost without my buddy.

A few years later, a teenager I went to church with and was close friends with his brother, was killed in an accident while joy riding with some friends. Once again, I felt the pain of the sting of death.

In high school, I lost several classmates to death. One girl, whose sister was in my class, was killed when she drove a mini-bike into the path of a semi. Another girl drowned while swimming in the ocean on family vacation to Florida. A classmate drowned in three feet of water on a school field trip. A football teammate, who could not swim, drowned trying to learn to swim in a creek.

At my recent 30th class reunion, we counted at least a dozen classmates who had passed away over the years. Almost a tenth of our class of 129 gone.

My freshman year in college, I came home one Friday and waited at the high school to pick up my girlfriend who was on a trip with the band to a football game. She came to me with tears in her eyes and told me that one of her classmates, the brother of one of my classmates, had been killed in a car wreck on the way to the game.

The summer before my junior year in college, a football teammate was killed in a gun related mishap.

And several years ago, my sister gave birth to a stillborn daughter. I visit her grave often and imagine her running around playing in the field behind where she is buried.

There are countless other friends, acquaintances and family members who have gone on to be with the Lord in my lifetime.

I know where death's sting is. It's in the hearts of the loved ones they left behind.

But I take solace in knowing that one day we will all meet again. Until then, I plan to let the people I love know how I feel about them and make the most of the short time we have together here on earth.

And to those who have suffered losses here this week or at any other time in their lives, may God bless and comfort you in your time of sorrow.



The Legend of Booger Hollow

Every town has its share of haunts. And everyone has their own version of the ghost stories of these haunts.

Following is an account of my personal dealings with a place in my hometown known as Booger Hollow.

Let me preface with some of the facts of Booger Hollow. Its real name is the Reeves-Askin Cemetery. It’s located off a rural road in southern Lamar County down, what appears to be, an old logging road.

There are 17 graves enclosed in a stone fence with wrought iron gate surrounding the final resting place of the Reeves and Askin families. The earliest legible stone in the graveyard is marked with a death date in 1850. The latest is 1947.

As a boy, I heard many tales from the locals of their trips out to Booger Hollow. The stories ranged from the appearance of a spectral woman in white to a hangman’s noose dangling from a tree limb dripping with blood.

My first trip to Booger Hollow came in the fall of my freshman year in high school. Three friends and football teammates and myself were going over to Jackson to see our next opponents, the hated Red Devils, play on our off Friday night.

It was mid-October and the conversation amongst us boys was about our unbeaten season so far and the upcoming Halloween. We were all just past trick-or-treat age but we still liked to hang out and would usually volunteer to take our younger siblings out so we could get first pick of their goods.

We talked of the carnivals and spook houses we’d visit and whether or not the local “witch” was really just that.

Finally we got around to Booger Hollow. None of us had ever been but we’d all heard the stories and we made it our mission to visit this place before we went home that night.

After the game, we headed back to town in anticipation of our pending journey to the hollow. None of us knew how to get there so we found a group of older guys hanging out and asked if they knew the way. Some of them did and told us but declined our invitation to go along with a resounding “No!”

So the four of us set out to see the hollow much like the four boys in the movie “Stand By Me” when they went on a quest to find the body of a dead boy. Except we had a car.

The night was cool and crisp with clear skies and a pre-harvest moon. Perfect for seeing an old cemetery in the middle of nowhere.

After a long ride down a winding country road, we came to the dirt logging road that we believed to be the one that led to our destiny.

We sat there a few minutes to see if any of us would chicken out and talk the others into just going home but we all seemed bound and determined to see this place and having our wits scared out of us.

Although none of us would admit it until later, we were all scared enough to soil ourselves as crept down this road to the hollow.

Finally we came to a clearing and saw the stone fence surrounding the old cemetery. We saw the eerie old tree next to the graveyard but no noose hung from it. We could make out the silhouettes of the tops of some of the grave markers with the headlights of the car.

Even though the moon was shining bright, it seemed pitch black dark in Booger Hollow.

We sat there silent for the longest time with windows cracked just listening. No one ever so much as even mentioned exiting the car to get a closer look.

We waited and waited for the woman in white or some other apparition to appear but nothing.

We finally started to head home as it was getting really late and most of us had parental curfew.

About a quarter of a mile down the road, we came upon a large limb in  the middle of the road. It was not there when we came in and we couldn’t drive over or around it. Someone had to move it.

Now remember, there were four high school varsity football players in that car and this should have been an easy task for us but no one wanted to get out of our safety zone.

It was finally decided that, since the car was a two-door and the guys in the back would impede progress if something happened and we had to quickly re-enter the vehicle, the two guys in the front seat would have to do the deed.

I just happened to be lucky enough to be riding shotgun.

So me and the driver reluctantly get out and approach the road block and give it a good heave. It was pretty heavy and not easy to move. The guys back in the car were cheering us on because they did not want to have to get out and help.

After a few minutes of pushing and pulling and lifting and cussing, we were just about ready to summon our compadres when, in the distance, we hear what sounds like a horse galloping.

The sound got closer and closer.

Now there were several farms in the area and this very well could have been a horse trotting along in a pasture, but to us it sounded like the headless horseman coming to get Ichabod Crane in Sleepy Hollow.

The fear of what we believed was about to happen to us kicked our adrenaline into high gear and we hoisted and heaved that tree limb out of the road way as if were just a toothpick.

We dove into the car and hauled it out of there, the driver having no regard for his beloved car or what damage the rough terrain of the old road might be doing to the undercarriage.

When we reached the main road, we all breathed a collective sigh of relief and began to talk about what we had just experienced. By the time we were being dropped off safely at home, we were all laughing about the whole ordeal and agreed that we couldn’t wait to go back.

We never did as a group. I’m not sure if any of them ever did or not.

I returned twice. Once at night with a different group of guys and once in the daylight to look at the grave markers. Both trips were uneventful.

I rode out there recently on my golf cart with my daughter to see if I could remember where it was. I found the road but it was gated and posted.

I hope to go back again someday soon with friends. Possibly the group that I went with that first time for a little reunion.

If any of you have any stories of Booger Hollow, feel free to share them in the comments section below. I'd love to read them.



Conspiracy Theories

Former pro wrestler and Minnesota Governor Jesse “The Body” Ventura has a show on TruTV where he and his team of crack investigators look into famous cases and incidents that were deemed solved but questions still lingered from skeptics who didn’t totally buy into the conclusions provided.

Cases looked into by this show range from the JFK assassination to Area 51.

Following I will give three cases based on actual events that were deemed solved and closed but that I still have questions about.

I am leaving out names purposefully for really no reason but some of you may be familiar with these cases and the people involved.

After I give the “facts” of each case, I will give my own conspiracy theories dealing with each of them.

CASE #1. A man is accused of having inappropriate contact with young girls at a daycare center owned by his daughter. He is indicted on ten counts of child molestation and goes to trial. The judge ruled one of the children incompetent to testify. The jury finds the man not guilty on one of the counts but could not reach a decision on the other eight charges. The judge declares a mistrial but tells the parents of the eight children who the jury could not reach a verdict on that he would recommend the man be re-tried on those counts. But 11 days later the man’s body was found outside of a large piece of farm equipment that he apparently had been pulled through. An investigation determined the death to be accidental.

CASE #2. A decomposing body is discovered inside of an old, abandoned house in the rural area of the county. Seven shell casings are found near the body which is so badly decomposed it can’t be determined to be black or white, male or female by just looking at it.

The body, which had no identification on it, is taken to the crime lab where it is determined to be that of a white male that had been dead at least a week inside that house in the sweltering, summer heat. Investigators still had no clue as to the identity of the man or any leads as to who killed him and put him there. The case grows cold and unsolved for over a decade until a former sheriff’s office radio operator and jailer comes forth with some chilling information. Terminally ill and dying, the ex-deputy is begged by the only other person who knows his dark secret to come clean before he leaves this world. The ex-deputy waivers at first but is threatened by his friend that if he doesn’t tell, she will. He agrees to meet with investigators at his hospice and confesses to the killing. He continued to work with the department for several years often asking investigators about the case. He is taken to jail and booked on murder charges and released back to the hospice where he later passes away without ever be tried in the case.

CASE #3. A part-time police officer of a small municipality is ending his shift and is at the station alone getting ready to go home. He radios dispatch for back-up and medical assistance. He has been shot and names his assailant. When other officers arrive on they scene they go and apprehend the suspect who has been considered by many to be the town nuisance. The suspect is taken to jail and booked on suspicion of shooting the officer who, by now, has been treated by medical personnel for a bullet wound through his hand and taken to the sheriff’s office where state detectives begin their investigation into the incident. The officer also took a round to the chest but was wearing his bullet-proof vest at the time and is saved from what might have been a fatal wound. It is later determined that the suspect has been falsely accused, is innocent of any wrong doing, and released. The officer is accused of shooting himself and blaming the man for it but no one knows why. He is tried for and convicted on charges of giving false statements, tampering with evidence, interference with government property, false swearing and theft by taking. He is sentenced and serves nearly four years in prison before being paroled.

My conspiracy theories concerning these three cases are as follows…

In CASE #1, a man accused of ten counts of child molestation is freed after a mistrial is declared and just over a week later is found dead outside a piece of farm equipment. His death is ruled accidental. My theory is that there were ten sets of angry parents out there. Could one or more of them have put the man in that farm machinery?

In CASE #2, a former sheriff’s employee gives a death bed confession in a 13 year old unsolved murder case of a man found decomposing in an abandoned house in a rural part of the county. My theory is that the ex-deputy went straight to the sheriff after committing this act and told him what happened hoping to get his support and have the killing to be determined self-defense. The sheriff, not needing or wanting this kind of attention, took and disposed of the gun and advised his employee and long time friend to keep quiet and no one would never know.

In CASE #3, a part-time police officer accuses the town vagrant of shooting him on duty one night but is later convicted of shooting himself and concocting the whole story and does time in the state pen for it. My theory is that the officer’s jealous wife suspected him of having an affair and confronted him at the station about it where a heated argument ensued and she shot him. Looking to cover up the embarrassing reality, the cop made up the story about the vagrant shooting him to protect his wife who moved out of town, and later divorced him, shortly after he was convicted.

Those are my theories and I’m sticking to them.