View Full Version : OT: going to write a book. Things that don't happen to normal people.

11-05-2009, 07:24 AM
The scope and concept of this book will be to first interest people, the direct them away from the family violence that has consumed our nation.
As I was, I am no longer. I am at peace.

His old 49 harley.. it had a cam type rear brake.. he broke that cam.. had no brakes.. but continued to ride it.. Like a boat.. coasting in for a stop.. and when he'd slow down enough? he'd stick them big 14 size boots down and stop the motorcycle like a bicycle.. I remember having leather dust and dirt all in my eyes and all over me.. I saw him lift the front wheel once pushing down with his feet.

That old crappy Harley? well he had crappy wiring on it.. kept blowing out generators.. had the cover off the regulator and would PUSH In the relay to turn it on.. He didn't have a switch, he twisted the wires together to start it. When we'd go over railroad tracks the wires would come untwisted and it'd die.. we'd see a spark, then he'd coast over to kick for ten minutes.
OKAY.. The ride around Chattanooga with Feets, we had been out drinking, closed one bar, went to another, closed it, was riding back to the clubhouse. Feets had a old panhead with a original springer front end. It had no shock on the front, wore out rockers on the bottom and would bounce and go in different directions.. It was quite funny to see him ride, like riding a pogo stick on wheels.
Coming around Chattanooga Tn on the interstate, the freeway strips got the old panhead to bouncing, we were running about 100mph or so, he started bouncing toward me and pushing me against the guard rail.. I nailed it and got ahead of him and swapped sides.. Looking over, he was riding along, a few feet from the guard rail.. Kicking the guard rail at near 100mph.. kick, gain a foot off the rail.. bounce bounce bounce.. and kick.. bounce bounce bounce.. kick.. I was thinking in my drunken mind.. he is going to miss that rail and stick his foot behind a post and rip his leg off.. but no.. GOD looks out for drunks and fools..

Quite the character.. last time I saw him, he had a black child by the hand, a bible in the other hand.. this was after living through four or five shoot outs with police and the prison terms relating to them. He had swastikas tattooed all over him.. not the nice ones you see today, but real violent ones.. A real race hater. He had on long sleeves that last time I saw him.

11-05-2009, 08:02 AM
Dave, that would be an interesting book, there were a lot of real characters running around back then. Your story reminds me of one of the guys I used to run with. He had a big German eagle with a swastika tattooed across his chest and spent four years in prison. He's a Mormon now, still calls to say hi about once a year.

11-05-2009, 08:03 AM
Go for it,prolly be a bestseller.Do I get an autographed copy?

11-05-2009, 08:58 AM
Hey, keep writing, I'll buy the book. Should be very interesting.

11-05-2009, 10:47 AM
You're a remarkable writer. It shows in your posts here. Go For It!

11-05-2009, 11:40 AM
Another part, working on here and there.. all out of sequence of course.. Heck, my brain cells rarely every hook up.. Pat, talking about that springer in my shop triggered The Felix memory.. a chrome pogo stick. It ain't the age, it's the mileage.

My old harley was pretty junky to look back on it now, a old 49 rigid frame, panhead. Painted three colors. put together with junk and bailing wire, but it had a brand new engine, and I had went through the transmission.. so it ran well. Just was ugly, and would not stop worth spit.. but I just wanted to go.. ride.. not stop.. the head light was tie wired in cause the screw had vibrated out.. the hi-lo beam switch had went bad, so I just tied one beam in, and when it burned out I tied the other beam in till it burned out and left me in the dark.. IT was a death machine now to look back.

THE engine, it had a Joe Hunt Magneto.. a magneto like they put on tractors in the 50's ya know? Instead of a key switch, I had a cut off hack saw blade on the terminal.. Just kick it, it started. Like a lawnmower, push it in and it shorted out and stopped the engine.. no kill switch..

Once that coil went out up in Indiana? I forget.. corn.. nothing but corn.. It was sunday, I pushed and pushed and pushed.. looked over, there close to the road, no houses anywhere.. was a old Farmall tractor.. As I was pushing, I saw the fairbanks Morse magneto sticking out the side. I swapped with him, left a $20 under the cap of MY shiny new magneto coil.. $20 was a lot of money back then. It was either that, or sleep in a cornfield?

I was taught to ride fast enough to overcome traffic, pass when you can. Don't let someone run up your shirt collar. Went to California where they taught me to ride up the white line, just as fast as you dared. The faster you passed up the middle the less time the driver has to react and run you over.

Well.. coming back from Atlanta, I had been running over 100, had the bike geared in a way where it lost some accelleration but ran well on top end. A light rigid framed bike. I stopped there in Ringgold, where my buddy worked, opened his car up, stuck my Pistole in the seat of his car.. he had a tear in the seat.. I shoved it way up in the tear across the middle. (I had been caught in Tenn carrying a gun, and they taught me not to come back with one).. Anyways.. shot off back onto the interstate.. running 100+.. pipes glowing red..

Ran up on some traffic passed them up the middle.. ran up on some more.. passed them.. ran up behind a tanker truck.. suddenly, as I was overtaking him at 100, smoke started coming off the rear wheels.. I went into emergency braking, and turning the bike for all I was worth.. I almost made it.. hit that lil bar across behind the tank down low.. flew up, dented the side of the tank with my shoulder, flipped off that, landed on the dualie rear wheels.. the instant they started rolling again? they flipped me off on the road.. As I was skidding down the road on my hands and knees I was aware of cars sliding around me.. I ran on all fours like a rat for the median.. then.. once traffic stopped, ran back the sixty or more feet back to my bike. Picked it up, and rolled it to the center.. traffic started flowing real slow
Rubber neckers.. my arm and knees were ground flat like someone took a knife and filleted a steak off them.. A old man, who I thought I knew slowed in a old chevy stepside.. I hollered, HEY.. you stop for me..

He pulled up.. when I loaded that old Harley by myself, My elbow slid up under my shoulder muscles.. broken in the impact or cracked, but picking up that harley messed it up good.

We ended back at the house, where there was a line of people awaiting my return.. Topless dancers, old friends.. a few ladies of the night.. well.. As I dragged the harley off the truck with one arm, I had help.. I suggested they give the old man a beer, and anything else he desired.. He thanked me, got redfaced and left.. They put pins and wired me back together, as I went under, they had gave me sodium phenothal, and I remember seeing a badge. I guess what I was mumbling was not too bad?

Later in the hospital, I told Mike about the gun.. he had been driving, him, his wife sitting on it for days.. no idea it was there.

This new motorcycle I got? a 1997 Roadking, it's the cat's knees.. electric start, air ride.. ohh.. and sparkly too.

That old 49 pan? frame was broke in two places, engine broken up, motor mounts shoved back, carburetor knocked off the heads. Oil tank twisted, and front end twisted.. I never got to ride it again. From then on, it was PARTS.. I see a bit of it now and again at swap meets.

11-05-2009, 12:05 PM
Heck contact TLC gawd they put those idiot Tuttles on from OCC and the twits with all the kids :rolleyes:. Not saying you fall into either cat. :p

Hell you'd be a breather of fresh air... pitch as a cross between Junkyard Wars, Battle Bots and Biker Builder. In other words Life as We know it. :D

Good read... If nothing else put you history (Stories) down so your kin in the future can read about it.

Weston Bye
11-05-2009, 12:30 PM
“Writing a book is an adventure. To begin with, it is a toy and an amusement; then it becomes a mistress, and then it becomes a master, and then a tyrant. The last phase is that just as you are about to be reconciled to your servitude, you kill the monster, and fling him out to the public.” –Winston Churchill

Go for it, David! Take comfort and amusement from your writing, dally with the mistress, work for the master, labor under the tyrant, then slay the monster and cast it out to us. We’ll eat it up! And you will be a hero.

11-05-2009, 01:31 PM
I consider mysef to be very normal but my wife begs to differ.
She said she knew this nearly fifty years ago when we first were married.
She asked me if I could remember coming home from the pub the previous evening I said I can remember it clearly I said it was snowing lightly.
She said can you remember the carol singers in the street. I told I was sound asleep with the best nights sleep I've had in along time.
She asked if I could remember going ito the front street completely naked and P*ssing in the snow. I told her not to be stupid but she took me by the hand and led me to the place where she said this event took place and there in the snow was my name written in gold. She said do you consider this normal, half the street and the carol singers saw you.
I said it was very abnormal.
I told her every man I know writes their name in the snow but that was not my handwriting.

Alistair Hosie
11-05-2009, 02:48 PM
That you David?????:D:D like it man you got it marked out pretty clear.chill out brother.Alistair

11-05-2009, 03:40 PM
I consider mysef to be very normal but my wife begs to differ.
She said she knew this nearly fifty years ago when we first were married.
She asked me if I could remember coming home from the pub the previous evening I said I can remember it clearly I said it was snowing lightly.
She said can you remember the carol singers in the street. I told I was sound asleep with the best nights sleep I've had in along time.
She asked if I could remember going ito the front street completely naked and P*ssing in the snow. I told her not to be stupid but she took me by the hand and led me to the place where she said this event took place and there in the snow was my name written in gold. She said do you consider this normal, half the street and the carol singers saw you.
I said it was very abnormal.
I told her every man I know writes their name in the snow but that was not my handwriting.

Whenever I used to write my name in the snow in the manner you described, I would intentionally alter my normal cursive handwriting. This was so that I could later maintain at least some appearance of plausible deniability with my wife.


11-05-2009, 03:50 PM
HI Alistair.. Changed the name so all the google searches would not bring up my life history.. I been hacked and almost am ready to go underground I think. Turn all this crap off. NO PROBLEMS WITH ANYONE HERE.. OK?

I remember your dark flowing hair like it was yesterday. Had to call Atlanta to see if I could go out with you...

Almost dropped a tear.. From 1978... I was shaped like a wedge.. 56" chest, 32" waist..

I begged her to write down her memories from then, they are much more pleasant than mine. I've shaved my head since the 80s.. still on that pair of $14 clippers.. thou my wife promises me a haircut tonight from a pro..

Anyways, I have to aske her permission to post the part where she rode to the restaurant with me and the fender collapsed on the tire and burned her bum.. She had to lay around naked for a week. Not a bad thing, she was gorgeous.

11-05-2009, 03:57 PM
quote by gnm
[Whenever I used to write my name in the snow in the manner you described, I would intentionally alter my normal cursive handwriting. This was so that I could later maintain at least some appearance of plausible deniability with my wife.]

Whilst the writing in the snow was unlike mine it was very much like my wifes writing. Do you think I was setup?

11-05-2009, 04:40 PM
Keep your chin up, Dawai.

Everytime I think how humdrum and boring my life is, I stumble onto one of your misadventures... Thank God for a relatively boring life!

Anyway, here's hoping for a less stressful future!;)

Ever thought of riding nawth? Be an interesting trip for a southern boy. I'd advise waiting for about 8 months, if you can stand it that long, May is the start of real good biking weather up here and even then can be a bit unpredictable. Suffice it to say that there's a reason some cruisers up here are sold with heated handle bars:rolleyes: There's a couple rides up here that will compete with any scenery on the continent... Icefields parkway comes to mind. Bring yer longjohns.

There's a few up here that'd probly spot you a brew or two if you get up this way... we've got a local brew that I think will hold its' own against Newcastle Brown...

11-05-2009, 06:17 PM
I'd cough up some refreshments and a berth for man (legend) and bike.......

11-05-2009, 06:19 PM
.. this was after living through four or five shoot outs with police and the prison terms relating to them. He had swastikas tattooed all over him.. not the nice ones you see today, but real violent ones.. .

curious as to what a 'nice' swastikas is

11-05-2009, 06:48 PM
I worked with a guy we called Dan, the Friendly Nazi. Dude was a trip, was a guy that recently became a father and was wondering if what he was into was what he wanted to be into.

Had the 88's and swastikas tattooed all over. Got the job interviewing with long sleeves.

He went to an Obama rally once in Grand Rapids, said he had his own contingent of secret service types wondering why he was there. He told them that he was an Obama supporter.

Eventually he got fired. Sounds like he came to work with a beer on. Don't know what he said to management but we had rent a cops checking id's for a month.


John Stevenson
11-05-2009, 06:58 PM
Whilst the writing in the snow was unlike mine it was very much like my wifes writing. Do you think I was setup?

Dunno but i can't get away with that, Gerts got cold hands.


11-05-2009, 07:02 PM
Dunno but i can't get away with that, Gerts got cold hands.


So cold hands = warm heart???

I can be convinced it'd be difficult to do cursive writing with a "pencil" too short to hang onto...

11-05-2009, 07:19 PM
You know, there has been a woodpecker annoying me here at the house for about a year now. He'll fly down, ratt a taattt ttat on the house and I will go out and run him off..

I got to thinking, it was some kinda insane bird.. he flew down in front of the living room window, cocked his head and made the woody woodpecker sound.. like the cartoon..

I was stringing camera cables through the attic, then I found his nest.. about two feet tall and looked like a pile of straw..

DavidE there.. he kept saying you gotta block the holes up.. that rascal has pecked access holes all in my plastic siding.. HOW the heck to block up on a wooden house to keep a pecker from poking holes in it?

Insanity.. why pick on me? online it says they like to drum to attract a mate..

Barb and I decided it was a POOKA, kinda like the six foot white rabbit Jimmy Stewart had in the movie Harvey.. a mischevious spirit that likes to hang around rum pots and crack pots..

brian Rupnow
11-05-2009, 08:19 PM
David---I like what I have just read. I would buy your book. Sounds like you and I might have shared past lives -----Kinda sounds like "Easy Rider Reminisces". I write a bit myself, but different stuff than what you have. ---Brian

11-06-2009, 05:38 AM

Sir: I can tell you, looking back and thinking on the things of my youth, it is a good thing my mother is no longer alive, her love for excitement, her love of “dangerous abusive” men? She was insane in a manner I have saw nowhere else. I would preach to her in a manner to redden her ears but She is deceased now and too late to change her life direction. Those of us still living must not live by her wrongful example.

All us children turned out to have abnormal high Iq's and possibly have partially risen above the terrible circumstances in which we were raised. I feel so bad for others I see out in society that are living Terrible violent lives because they know nothing else. People who protest and loudly proclaim their sanity but commit acts of insanity with regular fashion. Be this for thrills and excitement? I suggest they buy a hotrod, or a motorcycle.. but then the dangerous acts are still threatening others.

We all should live by the rule book, there is only one rule book I know of, written by man of antiquity concerning the treatment of others and morals and respect.



Questions recently that came up?

Do you remember any shootings in the Cofer household, like the time that Johnny shot Ulysess in the head that us children witnessed? Ulysess was fixing to punch our mother, In the kitchen, while we were sitting in the living room? Charles took the pistol from Johnny Cofer and stuck it in his belt afterwards.. Jean, Charles, Myself but I can't remember if Don (the baby) was there or not. Johnny shot Ulysess with the very same gun Johnny died by on 10-18-71 under suspicious circumstances. THE bullet richocheted off the thick part of his Ulsess's skull was was embedded in the wall, the Police were never called.

This was a possible revenge motive, as I see no motive in other family members, other than normal household Domestic violence.

The story told by the 84 year old neighbor concerning my elder brother killing Johnny has no way to be proven. I see no way to prove this revenge motive or acts either by Ulysess, (I shall not call him Mr in respect)
Ulyssess was a violent boyfriend of my mother, he, like the others was a alcoholic. He lived in Rossville Georgia and his whole family was known to be violent and drug dealers, Perhaps you remember the elder abuse that was on television in the 70s? My mother had dated him while they were in their youth, and possibly might have been made to keep her mouth quiet by threats against herself and other children.

================================================== =======================
I am keeping the majority of this insanity and musings private till the book is published or denied and made public. I am getting old, sicker, I see the world being more violent. There is a reason people act so, no morals or rules they live by.

11-06-2009, 07:29 AM
After reading Dawais last post I realise what an easy sheltered life I've had. Thank God

11-06-2009, 07:49 AM
Yes, that is the moral of the storyline.

When two egotistical, violently raised people collide in life, one is hurt, the other dies. The hurt one, if caught by society pays for his deed by lethal injection or a jury of his peers.

Best to avoid the whole Domestic violence insanity, train to purify the body with martial arts. Train your soul by reading the scripture.

Imagine the Hijackers surprise to find out the Judo master, a quiet unassuming man, there upon the aircraft during the 9/11 event. Thou he died, he was a great hero as big to me as Paul Revere or any other. To meet insane violence and stop countless hundreds from meeting a timely demise.
He gave up his life, attempting to take the plane back and stopped it from crashing into another crowded building.

I, Sir, am no hero. I have walked away from countless confrontations and felt good about it. I have nothing to prove, I will defend myself,family and my home. I have not fought nor served for my country, I do respect those that do.

11-06-2009, 08:26 AM
Quote by Dawia-
[I have not fought nor served for my country, I do respect those that do.]

Very poignant considering Remembrance Day is less than a week away.

11-06-2009, 04:40 PM
please write the book,i will buy it fosho.
i would also like to know how to build one of them fatso engines that uses the evo lowend and twinkie topend(100ci.?).i got a set of polished sputhe cases that would be great for that project,twincam topends are cheap and i got a softail frame that was titled and tagged in 98 and been setting ever since.i might ride that instead of just parking it in the diningroom like my shovel and dads knuckle,keep us posted.
be well,

leon holmes

Alistair Hosie
11-06-2009, 06:54 PM
Good for you brother the last thing you need is computer hassle I've been lucky to date just the usual spam.best of luck and keep in touch.Alistair

11-06-2009, 07:06 PM
Well... the evening news just made me cry, I had to go into the other room where the wife would not see me.

Damn.. what is wrong with people? It ain't just my family, raised on squirrels and bugs in the flour.

I may have to turn the computer and the news off more.

(the topless dancer from the later seventies? ) we have emailed back and forth, I think she was called to cause trouble, but being myself and being nice to her, she has reminded me of much happier times that I forgot. It seems like the mean, terrible things stick in my head like stones in the mud. She talked of me teaching her to drive in the Vega, going places, things other than the insanity in between bottles of booze that I remember.

I guarantee she has a story.. she started out young, danced topless in Atlanta, then Chattanooga, then Las Vegas showgirl. My nose was broke 13 times, I wonder how many times hers has been? It's a cruel world out there. She says her internet connection is down, lack of money. Nobody wants a old race horse do they? I get reminded of that each electrical job I get turned away on.

11-06-2009, 07:42 PM
Unfortunately, we won't see the last of it....I expect with unemployment going over 10% and everything in the toilet, we'll see more of these shootings, beatings, kidnappings, and home invasions.

I make a point to buy another box of shotgun shells every time I visit Wal-Mart, these days. You can never have enough ammunition.

Old people in trouble? Yes, and there will be more and more of them as time goes on. One of my ex wifes called to tell me she's homeless and destitute...way across the states. I told her she should have thought of that before she ran off with that crack dealer with the new Mustang. What goes around comes around.

I might not be exciting, but I've got a roof over my head......

11-06-2009, 08:33 PM
I will buy your book, I respect you bro.

11-06-2009, 09:58 PM
David....me and you...have a very mirrored upbringing.
Now I know why you always felt like a brother to me.
Funny...how gut feelings are so reliable....

11-07-2009, 08:20 AM
Just read some more of your "clips"...lol!
I'd seriously like to see you do this.
I tried to write a book once....whew! Lotta work that I wasn't ready for at the time.

Alistair Hosie
11-07-2009, 08:41 AM
Dave try not too dwell too much on bad things. Although maybe writing it all down maybe therapeutic for you .You have indeed a tallent for stringing words to gether. Bron my wife has written a number of books and is now working on one about the life of Robert Burns for the shoolchildren to encourage them to read more keep well and don't get too down.kindest regards pal Alistair

11-07-2009, 09:23 AM
Here's a tiny bit of history you missed out on Alistair.. Yes, quite good therapy I suppose.. I am on about the twelfth page. Terrible things to remember.. I like the girls memories much better.

The racial intergration laws of the 70s.. well now.. ain't it so fine I was able to participate in that action..
Looking back, I see.. I was in a white school, Osburn elementry, all white.. we had a token black boy, a jehovah's witness fellow, Marius Bogus.. who was great fun to play with, energetic, fun.. He was later found murdered, seems there was other family members in the car with him.. too nice in a violent society back then..
Anyways, the great white principle decided he had to comply with the law, he picked the ones who would go to the BLACK school there in Wallaceville jr high.. My mother was one of them Jehovah's witnesses who had taught us all that we are all equal.. so.. here I went.. a sacrificial lamb to the slaughter.. On the first day, the school bus went around picked up all the black children, then drove about a hour to pick me up.. all the kids were hateful, upset.. probably had to get up earlier to make the trip over to get me.. My mom walked me out to the bus.. I got on, my Beatles length long hair almost touched my shoulder.. the bus has not moved from in front of my home before the abuse began.
Pulled my hair.. looked around, nobody took credit for it.. I was skinny, always hungry.. small build frame.. about a block from the house, one black boy came to me and started a fight.. when I went to return, it seemed a hundred arms and hands came out of the crowd to hold me, he beat me all over except where it would show.. arms, legs, chest, groin.. This happened about daily.
I hated school, my grades suffered, I told my mom later, she said..”you'll just have to learn to get along”.. so I tried.. the more I tried, give a bully something to appease them, they increase the hatred and wrath upon you.. it got worse.. and worse.. I was trained at that age to hate black people.. not just the mean ones but anything with a dark skin..
I skipped school, when I saw the bus coming, I'd run for the woods, my mother chasing me. She would then hold me in the house and beat me all the way to the bus, where the abuse would continue all the way to school. I snuck off way before everyone got up in the mornings.. then would come home looking for something to eat.. Soon a truant officer was showing up at the house for breakfast. I quit school at sixteen, went to work in a carpet mill.. It was the late 80s before I got over the hostility I felt every time I saw or heard a black person.
They, black people, most are raised just as I was, a carbon copy of home-domestic violence and hatred, except they are focused in the opposite direction, toward WHITEY.. and not DARKIE..

This abuse, hatred continued into the high school years, not only black people at that point, but everyone.. I carried a knife to school because I was skinny could not fight worth spit, and was scared. I felt it would have been better to be killed with my own knife than beat up anymore. I remember the one occasion a girl showed me attention, she sat in my lap, there, the long rigid hunting knife in behind my belt.. she thought it was something else, till she grabbed it.. ohh was she surprised..

When Martin Luther King JR was shot? My mom, the paranoid, she went on for a full ten hours about them throwing a <*quote>“nigga-FAR-BUM”<end quote*> into our home.. I was scared.. I sat on the porch with a 22 rifle waiting on the mob to make it's way to our home.. Imagine that? I saw no mob.. I shot nobody.. thank god..

True race equality, people are color blind.. do not call each other by a skin tone, or enjoy cruel jokes to either race. Now, it seems we are all mutts.. irish, german, cherokee, indian, negro? All mixed up.. Our president, he is as confused as the rest of us, just trying to get along in the world.
__________________________________________________ ______________________

11-07-2009, 09:59 AM

I hope you get your camera fixed when you get around to inserting photgraphs into this tome.

Best of luck on the endeavor.

11-07-2009, 10:18 AM
I was born in East St.Louis. I spent most of my early years playing and going to school with black kids. We didn't know we were white, until my Dad died.
After his passing, we had to move, and I soon had to put my childhood on hold to help raise my four younger brothers. My Mom went from a stay-at-home housewife to a working single mother, with five boys. I still don't know how she managed it. Along with the responsibility of caring for my brothers, I was tasked with most of the housework, too. Cooking and cleaning, changing diapers, tending the garden and feeding the chickens....a lot of work for a ten-year-old kid....The new school we attended was vastly different than East St.Louis....The blacks and the whites kept to themselves, frequently fights broke out. I recall being in several....It was a long, painful, growing up period. Somehow, we managed....My Mom remarried, and I soon found myself kicked out of the house....a stint in the Army hardened my resolve, when I got out, I went crazy. Drugs and alcohol. Party time....every day and night.
Dozens of minimum wage jobs and dozens of old cars came and went. Eventually, I found myself in jail, looking at a long sentence. When I got out, I went to stay with my next youngest brother's family. I think it was then that I realized life was about more than drinking and taking drugs....

11-07-2009, 12:55 PM
Never been to prison. By luck.
Have been to jail a couple of times, once for speeding way too fast to be sane. I deserved to be arrested, but when he saw the large around of cash in my wallet (instrument tech working too much overtime) he "ASSUMED" I was a dope dealer. I got seven tickets. That was 91?? I forget.

Northern people get along better than southern ones with people of opposite colors, I think, after the civil war, there was a lot of black people put into public office here in the south, I "read" this, that the soldiers returning from the war were still considered criminals and could not hold public office or vote.
That, started the Klan.. if no legal justice, than illegal justice. so I read.

I was of course not there and depend on others to record history.. It has been changed a few times to suite public opinion.

Something funny? Cherokee indians? well being indian in the early 1900s, it was akin to being black in the early 40s.. so.. each grandmother made up a lie, they did not have "indian" blood, but were descendants of "INDIAN PRINCESSES"... Ha.. I've heard that so many times I choke when I hear it now.

I have not been a perfect citizen. The bible teachings in my youth have led me to stay out the places where others I know have been, drug addiction and prison. Everyone messes up at times I think.. makes mistakes..

The loudest preachers were probably the worst drunks. The quiet people living by "example" are the ones you must pay close attention to. (not me..)

11-07-2009, 03:08 PM
I don't have a problem with people who are of African descent, in fact I have many friends "of color".
The ones I don't like are the entitlist, "whitey owes me a living" arseholes.
I don't feel sorry for these idiots. If anybody should apologize, it's them.
True, our ancestors captured their ancestors and brought them to the USA, to be slaves....Shame on my ancestors....But truth be known, less than 5% of the African natives that were captured and sold as slaves came to America. 85% of the Africans were captured by Muslim slave traders, and marched, overland, to the middle East, where they were sold into slavery.
During these forced marches, only 20% of the slaves survived. Those that did survive were castrated...women who were "with child" had their babies killed as soon as they were born. As many as 14 million Africans were believed to have been sold as slaves. The Muslims had been slave traders since 800 BC....a lot of Africans went unaccounted for.
On the other hand, slaves brought here, to the USA, were well treated in comparison. They worked on plantations and their masters saw to it that they had lodgings and clothes. Most were well fed. Many learned to read and write, some getting educations. If anything, the Afro-American people of today should be grateful to our ancestors for bringing their ancestors to these shores, instead of acting so "uppity" and self-righteous about their poor, abused ancestors. Most of them wouldn't be here had their distant relatives been taken to Iraq instead of Virginia....think about it...

11-07-2009, 06:00 PM
22 pages of recollections now. geeze.. the things the human brain retains.

My edm, built to hsm langlois plans got moved from the house dining room table to the shop.

Well the transformers and other parts are mostly the same, the appearance? not exactly.. huh? I got them capacitors stuffed into the bottom today and fixed so they would not move about.

11-07-2009, 06:39 PM
Jeez David, the part about sitting on the front porch with a .22 rifle after MLK was killed struck a weird note, because that is EXACTLY what I did. At the time I lived in Alexandria, VA and my mom worked in Washington, DC. I sat on the step with my rifle waiting for her to get home, the entire sky to the north completely black with smoke as the city burned. 6x6s full of Marines and soldiers from Quantico and Ft. Belvoir raced toward the city. During my high school years I was involved in several racial mob fights, one of which was large enough there were TV news crews on hand. When that's what you grew up with as a kid, it's hard stuff to put behind you.