Aha, got your attention!  Y’all thought I was gonna talk about our society or our government or our relationships.  Dang it now, if ya knew me better then ya oughta know  that Gabby don’t always go deep with his thoughts.  No, I’m fixin to tell you about my broken leg a couple months ago.

Ain’t no point in telling how I broke it, but I’ll tell ya anyway.  Just let me give y’all a bit of Gabby advice.  Do not climb a ladder at midnight to cut off a tree branch on state park property that’s been blocking your view of the river.  Do not lean your ladder on the part of the tree branch that is gonna fall off when the  cutting is done.  ‘Nuff said ?  When my body hit the concrete bridge pier and then rolled into the river I at least had the presence of mind to keep the chain saw dry.  Folks don’t call me amazing Gabby fer no reason atall.

Tweren’t no fun hobbling around the house on one leg.  Getting dressed, cooking my meals, doing the outside chores took hours longer than they should of.  And any of you guys ever use the toilet standing on one leg trying to balance yourself? NosirreeBob, it was not a cake walk at my house.  I spent most of the day in a bath robe, ate them frozen microwave dinners, and read all four “Lone Dove” novels cover to cover three times.

YessirreeBob, and I spent a lot of time watching baseball on TV.  One afternoon, the bottom of the ninth, tie game, Rays had their power slugger at bat and the doorbell rang.  Aw hell, don’t they know I’m watching a baseball game.  I hop to the door in my bathrobe, try to keep stuff from popping out that should stay hid and open the door to the next door neighbor lady, Mrs. Fatass. She calls herself Mrs. FaTass, Margaret, if you like, with emphasis on the last syllable, but we all knew she was one of them there uppity white women with more ego than class.  Also, we knew a grade school chum of hers.  Yep she were definitely a Fatass and not a FaTass.

“Haven’t seen you outside lately, are you alright?” she says looking at my hairy legs and greasy hair and whatever else that might be where it ain’t supposed to be.

Pointing to my cast, I say, “Well, except for a broken leg, I’m just fine.”

Then squeezing her way through my front door she waddle wooshes past me rubbing her size 96 eee bra against my forearm surveying the mess called handicapped-bachelor housekeeping and plops her large presence onto my sofa.

“Here, I brought you some reading material,” handing me what turned out to be tracts from her church.

Then from her purse (why would she be carrying a purse just to visit next door you might ask. I don’t know, ask the fella writing this piece) she pulls out a Bible, opens it and starts reading a verse.

“You broke your leg for a reason, the good book says for all things there’s a season and a reason.”

Yeah, does the good book say anything about minding your own business?

“Do you know the people across the street, the Abads? They are Muslim.  I feel so sorry for them that they don’t know the only true God and Jesus Christ.  Eternity in hell.”


“They’re going to spend eternity in hell’s fire under unspeakable damnation.”

Now. folks, stay with me here.  In the morning on the day before the fat lady’s visit, Mrs. Abad from across the street brought over for me a bowl of steamy, delicious, curry meat.  It was even better than Granny’s stew and there was enough for several meals.   I don’t understand why a beautiful woman like her keeps her head covered, and frankly, it don’t matter.  Later that afternoon, her young boy wheeled the push mower across the street and cut my yard which could have passed for a hayfield.  That evening, Mr. Abad showed up at my front door with a pot of tea and an offer to drive me to my doctors’ appointments.  No religious tracts in my face, no talk about their God, no gossip about the neighbors.  ‘Nuff said?

So, there you have it folks.  My broken leg story.  Oh yeah, as for Mrs. Fatass, the thumper from next door, I helped her to waddle woosh out my front door, shoved her tracts into her bag along with her good book, and cheerfully warbled in her ear, “Know what sweetheart?  I’d rather spend eternity in hell with neighbors like the Abads than another minute with your verse-spitting, religious hypocrisy sitting on my sofa.”

I think I may have offended her.  Forgive me Lord fer being so trashy.  Stop by and visit, we’ll have some of Mrs. Abad’s curry chicken.


Y’all know what “fahooey” is?  Well, in my lil world, fahooey describes the bullshit that wanna-be intellectuals and pseudo-politicos spout to defend their take on world affairs.  So, let’s me and you for sake of clarity just call it plain ole bullshit.  Comes in all different forms, colors, and texture but it all stinks.

On my mind today is the way America’s controlling political powers lead us down the path of hatred for folks who ain’t exactly fitting into the WASP mindset that’s been running our country for the last 241 years.  Aw, c’mon now, you know dang well I’m right.  Proof of the puddin’ is this nincompoop and his cronies running the White House.  Would a country of people  dedicated to freedom , liberty, and justice put this kind of hog slop in control of our welfare?  NosirreeBob.  So, don’t tell me ’bout America, the beautiful and America, home of the free til y’all fess up to what some folks truly believe.

Now, this here thing with Muslims and terrorists is downright fahooey.  I sure as hell don’t condone the violence, but take a look at what America, France, Russia and England did to the area we now call the Middle East after World War 1.  Split up the people living there into countries that didn’t follow ancient tribal territories, set up governments and controls contrary to their traditions, made fun of ’em and their culture, and then exploited the hell out of ’em for the oil lying underground.  Wouldn’t y’all be pissed-off too if that happened to you?

Stay with me here.  It’s too bad that them folks, who’s now fighting back, is Muslim and some of ’em fight in the name of Allah, but the problem ain’t with their religion, it’s the way we’ve treated them.  Sad to say, us WASPs back here in the good ole US of A put a religious twist on everything when it needs a scapegoat.  Hell, look at the good ole boy we elected President.  Had hands laid on him at a gathering of religious folks in the Oval Office.  Sorry, Pres, y’all need a helluva lot more than prayers and hands laid on ya.

But, again I digress.  Ya wanna talk some fahooey, let’s dig up some genuine American fahooey.  Ever hear of the SPLC?  Stands for Southern Poverty Law Center.  Now, them folks got one helluva job to do.  They keep watch on hate groups in our country and monitor reports of hate crime.  Y’all need to go to their website and check it out: SPLC

917 hate groups in our country that somehow got onto the SPLC’s radar screen and it ain’t because they’ve been helping lil ole ladies cross the street or marching for the civil rights of minorities.  NosirreeBob, these folks is downright vicious.  A lot of ’em hating because of race, many because of religion, some of them hate gays, a few probably hate just because it seems to be the American way these days.  Y’all say “Well, not in my neighborhood this ain’t happening.”

Yeah, that’s what I said too.  Then I checked out the SPLC hate map.  Hell’s bells, there’s 3 of them groups less than 50 miles from my house.  Know what folks?  We all need to get off our fat, lazy, white-boy asses, give up that WASP attitude of privilege and start doing something about homespun terrorism right here in our own backyards.  Not saying them Middle East terrorists ain’t a threat, but we got plenty of hatred going on in these United States of America to keep us occupied for our lifetimes.

Well, that’s enough trashing around fer today.  I need a nap.



“Declare your jihad on thirteen enemies you cannot see – Egoism, Arrogance, Conceit, Selfishness, Greed, Lust, Intolerance, Anger, Lying, Cheating, Gossiping and Slandering. If you can master and destroy them, then you will be ready to fight the enemy you can see.”
Persian Muslim theologian, jurist, philosopher, and mystic.
Born in Mashhad, Iran
September 27, 1057
Died September 27, 1110





Tonight was one of those moments in life when existence takes on new meaning.  We labor under daily drudgery, shattered dreams, and worldly turmoil.  The moments which rekindle the fires that make life exciting and meaningful are to be cherished, embraced and remembered for future reference.

Tonight I participated in a prayer vigil for the Orlando victims, the 49 beautiful people who were gunned down while celebrating life and youth in a place which they considered to be a safe haven for the LGBT community.  They gathered at Pulse to dance, sing, and party with peers who came from all walks of life, all professions, all creeds.  They were murdered by a disturbed man who allegedly  shared their passion but could not reconcile his religious tradition to their lifestyle.

America’s response has been predictable.  There has been a great outpouring of sympathy and love for the friends, families and loved ones of the victims.  God bless America.  There has also been a response from radical Christian and Muslim sects cheering the deaths as the direct intervention of a vengeful God pouring his full wrath upon a sinful nation. And then there was Trump polarizing America, inciting even deeper Islamophobia among the voters.

But, tonight was a very personal directive in my life.  Those 49 victims will not have died in vain as long as I have breath in my body.  You see, almost 100 like-minded people were at that vigil.  100 people pledged to live life offering love, peace, honor, and respect to all races, all creeds, all ethnicities, all religions, and all sexual orientations.  It’s not too late; we can save mankind from self-destruction and I will be an instrument of that saving peace.  That is my personal promise to those who died too young in Orlando.  They have not died in vain.  They have inspired ordinary people at my vigil here in Smalltown, USA and vigils worldwide to stand up to the hate-mongers and the hatred they intend to spread. Our loving God of peace will prevail.  Amen.




John Lennon was an English musician who gained worldwide fame as one of the members of the Beatles, for his subsequent solo career, and for his political activism and pacifism. On 8 December 1980, Lennon was shot by Mark David Chapman in the archway of his residence in New York City.

“you may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one.”


excerpts from Martin Luther King speech,  August 28, 1963, steps of Lincoln Memorial

“I say to you today, my friends, so even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream. It is a dream deeply rooted in the American dream.

I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: ‘We hold these truths to be self-evident: that all men are created equal.’

This will be the day when all of God’s children will be able to sing with a new meaning, ‘My country, ’tis of thee, sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing. Land where my fathers died, land of the pilgrim’s pride, from every mountainside, let freedom ring.’

And when this happens, when we allow freedom to ring, when we let it ring from every village and every hamlet, from every state and every city, we will be able to speed up that day when all of God’s children, black men and white men, Jews and Gentiles, Protestants and Catholics, will be able to join hands and sing in the words of the old Negro spiritual, ‘Free at last! free at last! thank God Almighty, we are free at last!’

I have a dream that one day every valley shall be exalted, every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight, and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all flesh shall see it together.”Isaiah 40:3-5 New International Version (NIV)