I'm Trying

It was one year ago this very morning that my dad died. He died right here in our house. The house we shared with him. He died surrounded by family, some of the people who loved him the most. It still hurts. There is not a day that has gone by that I haven't thought about him. Missed him. Wished with everything in me that he was still here. I never expected his death to be so brutally hard. It was. It is. Oh well.

The morning my dad died, I wrote. I'm sure this seemed and still seems odd to some people, that my father dies so I run to the laptop to blog about it. That wouldn't come anywhere near the truth, though. The truth is, I wrote about it because I was near meltdown. The kind of meltdown that felt like it would last forever and I might never find my way back to sanity. The kind of meltdown that screams, "Somebody do something before I die too!" So I did what I have always done since I was a kid when I hit imminent implosion. I wrote. This is my post from that morning.




My father died this morning. As I type these words, I choose to not believe them and yet they remain the truth. This has been a surreal day. One minute I am crying hysterically as I stand in my dad’s closet trying to hide my pain among his things. An hour later I am laughing like a fool as I tell my sisters we are going to have a difficult time finding someone to adopt three middle aged orphans. I am pretty sure my condition is close to what a normal person would call psychotic today. The truth is, I am broken.



Love is patient ~



Thank you, Dad, for loving me when I was unlovable, which was more often than I wish were true. Even when I rejected you, you never turned your back on me. You waited patiently for God to change my icy heart and He did.



Love is kind ~

Thank you, Dad, for teaching me what it means to be kind. Not the fake kind but the real deal kind. The kind that loves other people even when they don’t look like you, think like you or smell like you. The kind that remembers to treat others better than they might think they deserve and really mean it.


Love is not rude ~


Thank you, Dad, for showing me how to negotiate my way through this world without being a bully.


Love is not easily angered ~


Thank you, Dad, for being the cool head of reason more often than not throughout my life. You made the worst situations seem so much easier to walk through because you kept your cool, which always helped to calm the hot-head in me.


Love keeps no records of wrongs ~


Thank you, Dad, for forgiving me …. over and over and over again.


Love always protects ~


…. for saving me from myself so many times.


Love always trusts ~


…. for trusting me when I didn’t deserve it.


Love always hopes ~


…. For believing I would do great things someday.


Love never fails ~


…. For never failing to love me.


I'm not quite sure how I am going to face this life without you but I know God is not done with me yet. I love you ~ Marla


So here I am, one year later. I'm still not sure how to face life without him but I'm trying.

Charles F. Casas, my dad

Monkey Business

I have always liked monkeys. Don’t ask me why, I just do. To tell you the truth, I have always wanted to have my very own pet monkey. My cousin had one when I was a kid and from that point on, I was hooked. Her name was Willa Mae. The monkey, not my cousin. Anyway, Willa Mae wore diapers and dresses and smelled funny. Well, she smelled funny to me but I am pretty sure she smelled normal to other monkeys. Not that there were any other monkeys in the family. Not that I know of anyway. I wish there had been other monkeys in the family because maybe then my constant request to have my very own monkey would have been granted instead of ridiculed and mocked with, “Have you lost your mind?”

This is just one of the many fears my sisters have where I am concerned:

That I will end up on People of Wal Mart looking like this lady. So, what's wrong with this picture, anyway?

Speaking of losing your mind, Monkey Man has given me an award. Way back when, I think I gave him one. It was a syrupy sweet girlie type thing and I am pretty sure I did it hoping to annoy and harass him. That’s what I tend to do to the people I like. Annoy and harass. Harass and annoy. It’s a gift. Anyway, the Monkey gave me an award and I have this niggling feeling that he did it just to harass and annoy me. Since I have learned to trust my gut anytime it is being niggled, I have just one thing to say. Thank you, Monkey Man. I like you, too.

 Actual Photo of Monkey Man

The rules if there are such things as rules where awards are concerned are as follows: I have to list ten things I like then pass the award on to ten blogs I like. Sounds easy, right? Well, we shall see, grasshopper. We shall see.

Ten Things I Like by Marla Hansen

1. Butterflies

2. Babies

3. Rainbows

4. Kittens

Oh please! You people are so gullible. Here’s the real list.

1. Practical Jokes ~ I love to plan them, play them out to the end and then run like a girl. So far, I have only had one played on me that succeeded. After all, it’s pretty hard to beat the Joker unless your Batman. Speaking of practical jokes, I have yet to beat the ultimate Butts and Ashes one I pulled on my sisters a few years ago. Oh, but I am working on it, believe you me.


2. Horse Poop ~ Ok, not the actual poop itself but the smell of it. I know, I know, I am disgusting and need serious therapy. I still love the smell. Cow poop, too. I know it has something to do with spending every free moment of my life on my Aunt Meta’s ranch. Those were the best times ever and one of the things that stands out in my memory is the smell. Of horse poop. The end.



3. Making Bob Laugh ~ I love to hear my husband laugh. There is something so completely satisfying to me in saying or doing something that makes him laugh. Even when I write, I make him sit and read every word just so I can watch his face and see him laugh. It absolutely makes my stomach do twirly whirlies when I have the power to make him laugh.



4. Making Bob Cry ~ Sorry, but I do love to make the guy cry. Not like, “What was I thinking marrying this demented creature?,” kind of crying. I’m talking about when I write something from my gut, my soul, my core. Then I make him sit and read every word just so I can sit and watch him cry. When he cries, I know I’ve hit a homerun. I just read what I wrote and I am thinking this makes me sound a bit scary in a psycho kind of way so to quote, “She just goes a little mad sometimes.” Norman Bates


5. My Sisters ~ Please, don’t ever tell them I said this, but I seriously love spending time with my sisters. I rarely laugh as much as when I am with them. Other than when they are being really mean to me and making me cry. Or trying to make me lose weight. Or burning my clothes as they dance around the fire chanting, “Spirit of Wal Mart, come out of her!”



6. My Kids/Grandkids ~ It’s a love-hate relationship with every single one of them. I love to drive them crazy and they hate it. Which brings me great joy and deep satisfaction. Life is good.



7. Writing ~ I cannot begin to put into words how much I love to write. If I had tons of money, I would sit and write all day. Maybe if I sat and wrote all day, I might have tons of money. Then again, maybe if I sat and wrote all day, I would end up living in a bus station with only a sleeping bag to my name, begging for change and sharing sips of Boones Farm from a bottle with a toothless gal named Rosie.



8. Reading ~ I read all the time. I love to read. The only thing I love more than reading is writing. Maybe I should write a story about a toothless woman named Rosie who lives in the bus station sipping Boones Farm from a bottle. Then people could read it and I could stay home all day and write and read.



9. Pretending to Be Julia Child ~ I am openly confessing that I tend to think at times, not always just most of the time, that I am Julia Child. I love to cook and entertain so I am constantly cooking and inviting hungry hordes to our house to be wined and dined. I find it very satisfying to clean the house, prepare what I think is a really fabulous meal, then eat, drink and be merry with my house full of people for hours on end. This is definitely up there with making Bob cry.



10. Public Speaking ~ You think I jest however I am so completely serious. Speech was one of my favorite college courses. I have given well thought out work presentations and last minute party roasts. I have presented my ramblings at funerals and weddings, birthdays and anniversaries. When called upon to lead a women’s study or teach a class on marriage, I jumped at the opportunity. Like Grandma Mary once said, “Some people just like to hear themselves talk.” Enough said.

And now, ten bloggers I like and am passing this award to:

A Beautiful Mess

A Vintage Mom

Enchanted Oak

Far Side Of Fifty

Finding Joy

Fine, How Are You?

Glen’s Life

Matty Thoughts

TechnoBabe’s Adventures

The Middlest Sister

Each of these bloggers brings something important to my life. A view from another set of eyes. Check them out and thank me later.



Winner, Winner, Chicken Dinner

Please accept my apology for the delay in posting the winner to Butts and Ashes first, and possibly last, GIVEAWAY.  I had a seven day work week last week, a storm blew through Oklahoma, I couldn't do anything with my hair and a million other excuses. Anyway, without further ado, drum roll please. The winner of the CSN $45 gift certificate is....

tammigirl

 

Congratulations tammigirl! It's not everyday you can tell people a pooping chicken brought you such luck.

To keep this all legal, above board and copastetic, look it up youngsters, here are the pictures of that miserable, I mean, amazing day.

Brian Miller had a great idea to print each entry's Blogger picture to be pooped on. I, of course, thought this was a brilliant idea. I also, of course, waited until the last minute to print said pictures. No ink in the printer. So we did this instead.

Then we taped them all together like this. Classy, huh?

When I opened the front door to head to the barn, this is what I saw.

"A few drops of rain, no worries," thought I.

Seconds later, it turned into this.

There was no way I was running to the barn carrying paper so I loaded up the car with grandkids and dogs and off we went for our long journey to the barn.

I had to drive all the way down the driveway,

 

turn left at the gate,

finally arriving at the barn. It was harrowing.

 

After carrying kids, dogs, the pooping papers and moving chickens into the barn, I looked like this

and the grid looked like this.

We finally got the chickens to go to the inside coop so we layed the grid down, ready for the pooping to commence.

As chicken fate would have it,

they all ran to the corners refusing to go anywhere near the terrifying foreign object.

At this point, we realized the gate had not been secured behind us when, before we could say Colonel Sanders, Seamus grabbed a chick and headed out the door. Feeling madder than a wet hen at this point, I grabbed the marauding Seamus, lifted the chick from his drooly grip and proceeded to curse all of you for not stopping me from deciding to have a chicken poop on your name to pick a winner for Butts and Ashes first and probably last GIVEAWAY.

Seamus, the Wicked

Curse, curse, curse, get this dirty straw off my face, curse, look at my hair, curse, curse

Hannah, my three year old granddaughter started throwing chicken feed on the grid, singing "Here chickie, chickie," as I sat on the dirt floor of the coop with my head in my hands wondering if I should just start a new blog under an alias.

Suddenly, there was interest

and eating

and more interest

 with a winner finally chosen.

 

I have three final things to say.

One, if I EVER get another great idea like this, please, somebody stop me.

Two, did anybody notice there was no longer an attacking rooster in the coop? Can you say, "Chicken dinner?"

Three, Please somebody, anybody, call the fashion police. This woman needs to be arrested. Immediately.



The Madness Continues

I have been working frantically to finish answering your questions and dares when who should pop up at the last minute but Kfred. If you have never met him, beware. He blogs over at Flatline Thinking which I believe has something to do with lobotomized convicts or some such thing. I still haven't quite figured it all out. Anyway, he left this comment:


With no disrespect intended to your other readers, I note that a number of the actual questions posted earlier are a bit "lightweight". I actually devised some dares, but, after a cursory review of Oklahoma state law, discovered 2 were outlawed, 1 was classified as a misdemeanor, and the other would subject you to being cast to Hell.


Therefore, I dare you to answer these 2 questions:


1) Have you EVER run with scissors?


2) Have you ever attempted to swim sooner than one hour after eating?


My dear Kfred, first I would like to address your concerns about Oklahoma law breaking here at Hansen Farm. We laugh in the face of misdemeanors. Just ask my son, I won't name which one, or what actual misdemeanors were laughed at. That would just be wrong to point the finger at our youngest boy. I mean, what would his new wife say if we were to blog for all the world to see that he had a laughing problem when it came to Oklahoma laws regarding misdemeanors? I mean, seriously, what kind of a mother would I be to do such a thing? As for the two possible dares that were outlawed: How do you think they became outlawed? Again, I am not saying anything directly about anyone in this family although I am very happy "someone" hightailed it out of the state and is now holed up somewhere in California. Isn't that where you live, Kfred? You might want to ask any Hansens you come across if they are the youngest son of anyone in Oklahoma. Protect yourself. That's all I'm saying. The being cast to Hell dare? How do you think I ended up in Oklahoma?


1) Have you EVER run with scissors?

I may have once or twice. It's hard to remember since having those scissors removed from my head.

2) Have you ever attempted to swim sooner than one hour after eating?

No, never. Bob always takes my measurements before I swim, making sure I have completely digested all food and it has been properly applied to my thighs before diving in.



The End Is Near

We are just days away from Butts and Ashes GIVEAWAY winner being announced. The grid is being worked on, the pooping chicken is practicing her pooping, the camera is ready for pictures to be taken and the post will be posted by the end of this week, so look for the winner to be announced then. Winning a $45 gift certificate which is good for use on any of CSN Stores 200+ websites is worth having your name pooped on by a chicken, so keep your fingers crossed and think fowl thoughts.


The contest ended today so no more entries will be accepted however I will continue to answer the questions and meet the dares each entry has sent in this last week. By the way, some of you people scare me.


Mommy Lisa came up with this disgusting question:


How long have you gone without showering - purposely.


I have seven kids and a husband. I have six grandkids. I live on a farm in Oklahoma. I wipe the butts of the elderly and infirmed. On purpose. Put these all together and you would guess I could go quite a stretch a stinkin. You’d be wrong. Ha! I cannot stand to be dirty for more than a few hours. I can clean a barn, rake a pasture, bathe dogs and kids, help the vet trim hog hooves and wipe the backsides of young and old but by the end of the day I can guarantee I will have showered at least twice. Take me camping, there better be showers and flushing toilets. Even when my babies were born, I had no medication and went home within six hours after the births. I am from hardy Swiss stock. I did however shower as soon as my womb was baby free. I barely knew if it was a boy or a girl and I was asking for clean towels and shampoo. I may have no style. I may not be a girly girl. I may barely know how to brush my hair or put on makeup but one thing is for sure. I smell good.

Sundays In My City

This Sunday In My City, I am watching two of my grandchildren while their parents frolick in Greece. The frolicking parents keep calling every single day. They act like they are worried. Like we may have forgotten how to watch small children. Please!

We know where they are every minute. Most of the time anyway.

It's not like we let the baby play on the stairs. Well, not on purpose, anyway.

Do you think nobody is watching while the baby sticks his hand in the dog's mouth?

Per your instructions, Hannah is bathed, dressed and properly fed. Most days, anyway.

Relax already.

We all send our kisses.

So enjoy your time together. The kids are fine. Now our house, well, that's another story.

Be sure to stop by Unknown Mami's place to check out
Sundays In My City.

Inconceivable!

It's inconceivable to think you haven't heard about Butts and Ashes GIVEAWAY. You can enter to win a $45 gift certificate which is good for use on any of CSN Stores 200+ websites. Yes, even you can enter. All you have to do is play Truth or Dare with me. How easy is that? So what are you waiting for? Get over here and enter because the contest ends on Monday.


I'll be answering your questions and dares every day so here are the next three comments I randomly chose.



TechnoBabe thought she had me with this trick question:


Can I have a rain check for after the move so sometime next month I can think of a question that isn't lame?


Oh, Techno, you thought you had me fooled with this trick question about not having a question but I saw right through it. It was all so simple. All I had to do was divine from what I know of you: are you the sort of girl who would put the question in a trick form because of your great wit? Now, a clever girl would put the question into her own trick form, because she would know that only a great fool would miss what she was given. I am not a great fool, so I can clearly not choose the question in front of you. But you must have known I was not a great fool, you would have counted on it, so I can clearly not choose the question in front of me.


My apologies, Techno. I seriously need to stop watching Princess Bride every Friday night.

Brian got personal with his question:

blog your first kiss

Ok, Brian, remember you asked for it. I was in 8th grade and a group of kids came over to my house on a Friday night to hang out. We had all gone to the same Catholic school since 1st grade so it wasn’t unusual for us to be together on the weekends. We were like our own little family. Maybe we were actually more like our own little gang. Yeah, we were Catholic Crips. Anyway, this particular night, we all sat in my parents living room and some lame brain and I’m not saying who, got the idea to play Truth or Dare. SHUTTY BRIAN! Anyway, one of my friends dared John T. to kiss me. John T. had bright red hair and was one of the most popular boys ever. He was sitting right next to me and when he heard the dare, he looked at me with this smirk on his face as if to say, “That’s right, I’m cool, you’re not and I will now bestow upon you the greatest gift known to womankind.” I, in turn, looked at him like a deer in headlights and turned beet red. He then leaned in, laid one on me and the next thing I knew, I was chewing his gum. Of course, once he realized he had lost his gum, he went in for round two of the swap and who should walk in at that very moment but my mother. Yeah, my mother who should have been a nun or a prison warden. That mother. She abruptly ended my journey towards total debauchery by turning all the lights on, announcing her living room was not a house of ill repute and booting everyone out the door. Parents were called. Kids were mortified. It was awesome!

 
 
Blasé asked me this:
 
 
If you had to choose to be a female Celebrity, who would it be, and why?
 
 
Let’s see, there are so many bad choices that finding a good choice seems almost impossible. I guess if I had to choose to be a female celebrity, I would choose Sandra Bullock. She is an unconventional beauty with that girl-next-door smile. Known for her bubbling personality and talent as a comedienne, Ms Bullock has also shown her motherly side with the adoption of her darling little fat baby. Actually, now that I write down the reasons I would choose to be her, I am astonished to find how similar we are. Since I am much older than she is, I almost wonder if she wasn’t maybe hoping to be me someday. Hey, I am just pointing out the obvious. Compare for yourself and decide. That’s all I’m saying.
 
 
 

I rest my case.





Confession Is Good For The Soul, Right?

In case you haven't heard, Butts and Ashes is having a GIVEAWAY and you can enter to win a $45 gift certificate which is good for use on any of CSN Stores 200+ websites? Yes, even you can enter. All you have to do is play Truth or Dare with me. How easy is that? So what are you waiting for? Get over here and enter!


I'll be answering your questions and dares every day so here are the next six comments I randomly chose.


Unknown Mami wondered:


What is the most disgusting thing you have ever put in your mouth?


This is a hard one to answer because I seem to have a long list of disgusting things I am willing to place inside my rather large mouth. There was the dog bone incident. Hey, they dared me and who am I to turn down a dare? Of course, I didn’t realize that actually eating the thing was optional until after I ate it. I received coupons for dog food from an anonymous source for weeks after. I also went through my pickled pigs feet phase. The weird part about that is it was way before I moved to Oklahoma. Where did I even find those things in California? I have no clue any more. Anyway, I no longer eat them because we have had pet pigs for years now and well, it just doesn’t seem right. It would be like eating one of my dog’s feet which, now that I think about it, doesn’t seem that much more disgusting.

Alice In Wonderland stopped in to inquire:


What one song could you listen to, non-stop, all day?


Neil Young singing Harvest Moon. I could listen to it until my ears fall off. It makes me feel all mushy and squishy and young and free. Also, I think I love that song so much because…now, please don’t repeat this…I have been madly and forever in love with Neil since I was about twelve. I am almost positive he wrote this song about me. I often wonder if I should have married him but I just couldn’t. Neil, if you would have just brushed your teeth and showered once in a while, well, I am just so sure we could have been happy. I guess some things just aren’t meant to be.

My apologies to any of my readers resembling Neil Young in appearance or hygiene.



Glen, being from a superior country and all, lowered himself to my level to ask this question:


How many times a week do you blame your own farts on your man/child/grandchild/dog/chicken or Martian?


Glen, Glen, Glen, have you learned nothing about women? We don’t fart. It is a physiological impossibility. Therefore, I have no need to blame such boyish behavior on anyone since he who smelt it, dealt it.

Liz asked me to:


Describe any illegal things you have ever done.


Liz, what makes you assume I would ever do anything illegal? Read my lips…I did not inhale.

Debbie asked this question:


Which celebrity would you give it up for?


I use to think I would give it all up for Neil Young. I would dream of giving up the cooking, cleaning, grocery shopping, gardening, the whole housewife thing for Neil. Then he wrote A Man Needs A Maid. Sometimes you just can’t win.

 

Delirious wanted to know:


If you could swim in any kind of food, which kind would you pick, and why?


Seriously, there is only one answer and that is Guacamole. It is the perfect food. I could swim in that stuff all day long and come out all the better for it. My skin would be healthier. My heart would be healthier. My hair would be silky and shiny. Forget the life preserver. Throw me a bag of chips and a cerveza and put on the Mariachi music.

Signs Of Old Age: Repeating Yourself

Have I mentioned, Butts and Ashes is having a GIVEAWAY and you can enter to win a $45 gift certificate which is good for use on any of CSN Stores 200+ websites? Yes, even you can enter. All you have to do is play Truth or Dare with me. How easy is that? So what are you waiting for? Get over here and enter!


I'll be answering your questions and dares every day so without further ado, here are the next three comments I randomly chose.


Parsley wants to know:


If you could play this game of 'truth' with *insert political leader name here*, what would you ask?


Well, Parsley, I would ask George Washington, Thomas Jefferson and Benjamin Franklin if it hurts to roll over in their graves. The end.

SquirrelQueen said:

My question is how did you come up with this idea to choose a giveaway winner?

It just seemed like such an obvious choice to me, which says more about me than most people probably care to know. I remember watching a similar contest as a kid. Only that time it involved a cow in a portable pen, with the grid painted on the very pavement the poor, pooping cow was penned up on. Say that ten times really fast. Anyway, that memory made me wonder where this whole nonsense of winning by poop proxy came about so I turned to the Internet. Imagine my surprise when I found this news item: Cow Poop Bingo in Switzerland. I didn’t even read the story because my brain figured it all out on the spot. My grandparents came from Switzerland. This whole manure fascination must be a genetic thing with me. Either that or I just have way too much free time on my hands.

luckydame had a very interesting and thought-provoking question:

Your house is being attacked my Martians....what 3 things do you grab as you are fleeing their laser beams?


Well, my first thought was, “Do I really want to flee their laser beams?” Think about it lucky dame. We are talking free laser surgery if you run in the right pattern. I could have a few pounds whacked off the backend as I am running south, then do an about face for my facial peel. Just a thought.


Ok, so if I had to pick three things to grab before fleeing the Martians, those items would be:


The love letters my parents wrote to one another during World War II. Those puppies are full of incriminating stuff I could never dare to part with. We’re talking possible book material here. The second item would be our photo albums. I have a bazillion of them and must hang on to them forever. Why? Because they prove I was thin once and that my sisters don’t always look good. Oh, I have pictures, believe me. Finally, I would grab my husband because after all, if Martians are attacking we may end up the last two people on earth and it would be our responsibility to see that life continues. There is that missing uterus thing but I may have a new one lasered in while I’m on the run.

Shake, Rattle and Roll

So, I was sitting here writing this post when all of a sudden I felt a jolt. I thought it was my muse for a second until I realized the earth was actually moving. That’s right, we had a 4.5 earthquake here in Oklahoma and for the first time in 16 years of living here, I can say, I felt this one from my head to my toes to my rapidly thumping heart. Being a Californian, the little nothing quakes we have here go by unnoticed by me. Not this one. I heard the deep rumble and thought, “No way”, then it hit and seemed to go on for quite a few long, drawn out seconds. Not being a big fan of earthquakes, I am seriously hoping that is the last one I experience for at least another 16 years.

We now return to our regularly scheduled programming.


Butts and Ashes is having a GIVEAWAY and you can enter. Yes, you. All you have to do is play Truth or Dare with me. How easy is that? So what are you waiting for? Get over here and enter!


I'll be answering your questions and dares every day so without further ado, here are the next three I randomly chose.

JJ In L.A. wants to know:

Did you ever have "the (sex) talk" with your kids and, if so, how horrified were they?

Well, JJ, as a matter of fact we did, with all seven of them. The thing about The Talk, as we call it, is this: It’s not a one time deal. It’s more of an ongoing, teach them the truth when they are young, annoy the snot out of them when they are a bit older, embarrass them to death when they are adults, kind of thing. As soon as the kids started to ask questions, we gave them honest answers. We kept the answers brief and to the point because, well, they were young and on a need to know basis. Then, as young teens, we had an actual sit down, face to face, here’s the rest of the story, fill in the blanks kind of meeting. It usually involved a lot of eye rolling, head shaking, staring at the ceiling kind of stuff. Now, as adults, it’s more about grossing them out.


For instance, when I go on a girls night out with all my girls, they find it perfectly normal to talk about their husbands in a bit of an intimate way. Nothing inappropriate, mind you, just huggy bear kissy face kind of stuff. But let me say just one little thing like, “I know what you mean,. And the older they get the worse it gets with the huggy bear, kissy face kind of stuff,” and they all give me a look of complete horror followed by moaning, wailing and gnashing of teeth. You would think they would be happy to know their parents are still in love and interested in huggy bear, kissy face. Did I mention my kids read this? Did I mention we still huggy bear, kissy face on a regular basis. Are those teeth I hear gnashing? My job here is finished.


Tammigirl asked:

Do you have a favorite child today?

Yes, Tammi, I do. I have always said this phrase to my kids and grandkids, “You are my favorite (insert name) in the entire world.” I can say that to each of them and mean it with all my heart because there is not another one by their name like them. They truly are my favorite by that name and that’s the truth. In all fairness however, I do prefer my chickens to all children some days. I’m just saying…

Monkey Man being a Monkey and a Man queried this jewel of a query:

If you could do one immoral or illegal deed and get away with it, what would that deed be?

Easy question, Monkey Man. I would be Cat Ballou and set all things right in the world using my six-shooter hanging from my hip holster. Think I’m kidding? Well, I’m not. When the bad guys, even the ones posing as good guys, are in the midst of doing their bad guy deeds, I’d ride in on my steed and send them straight to Boot Hill. It makes me crazy when bad guys are caught red-handed and then go through our criminal system for years only to get out and do the same things again and again. Hang em high!


Ok, maybe this is a totally unloving approach but it’s not my fault. I grew up on a diet of John Wayne with heavy side orders of Bonanza, Gunsmoke and The Rifleman. Blame my dad for my Wild West Justice approach to life. Now, if I could only look like Cat Ballou.