Me & The Outlaw Trucker - Steamboat '09

Me & The Outlaw Trucker - Steamboat '09

Holiday on a  Monday – few things in life are as cherished to the same degree as a mandated holiday on the nastiest day of the week. And yes, I realize that many of us out there still have to pay homage to the grind, despite the holiday; so before you complain too much about unions and organized labor (yeah, you, Dirtbag!), it’s only a matter of time before the shift calendar mandates my working the next holiday.  I thought I’d run the ol’ Mud Labor-Day style: kicked back, a little late and full of relaxation. Now, I’m off to hydrate with a Guinness and I leave you with the winners and losers for the week. Have a good one, my friends


1. The Outlaw Trucker. I signed on for a small welding job this week, and it was Outlaw who came to my shop and supervised my actions over a frosty PBR or three. At eight in the morning. The Outlaw can weld like nobody’s business, so when he offers to impart some of his knowledge in the arena of fusing metals, you best listen. I raise my early morning pint glass to you, sir, and thank you for all the help.

2. Firefighters Local 152. This is Labor Day weekend, and I salute my fellow laborers in the Local for all of their efforts to put forth professional service, even when it seems some citizens and politicians feel the need to kick us in the teeth for a mess they created. Tough times are here, but you guys are consummate pros. A pint for the fir na tine, barkeep.

3. Dr. Ellen Ratcliff, DVM. When one of the fighting felines from the compound came home looking as though she’d tangled with an rabid wolverine, our first call was to Ellen. She’s working on the holiday, which sucks, but there’s none better to entrust with the care of one of our brawlers. Thanks, doc, I raise this cold and bold Guinness to you.


1. Quack Docs on the internet. The Wife is in a blind rage because her mom keeps believing the utter horse squeeze that comes off of the lines, passing itself off as “medical advice”. It’s easy to spot these shysters for who they are, but then, I’m a fan of the human condition and generally trust nobody; d-bags who claim you need to rub three stones on your gut to cure cancer are as loony as Obama “Birthers” and the Black Helicopter Believers. A karate chop to you…’re no better than my Nigerian Prince friends who are so eager to send me my well deserved fortune. Thwack!

2. Poop Slingers. When the family went to a park today, The Heathens went on a mission to find things according to color. Something red, something orange, etc. etc. Very creative planning by The Wife. Well, when Heathen 2 was looking for something brown, guess what he pointed to – yes……a  heaping, steamy pile of dog shit left lying on the ground. If you’re gonna bring your hound to a public park, clean up after it, you thoughtless morons. Chop to your throats, you turd tossers.

3. Weird Girl in Saturn. I pulled up at the aforementioned park with the family and you were just sitting there in your car. Not on the phone. No music. Just darting your eyes back and forth as though some script were being teleprompted onto your front windshield. It was creepy, and even the vague hotness accented by the nose ring couldn’t overcome the heebie-jeebies you were exuding. What made it weirder? An hour later, you were still there, lost in your world. Maybe someone just broke your heart, and that’s a damn shame, but there’s no need for you to skeeze out in a public parking area. You set off my creep-o-meter. And I am overcome with the urge to pre-emptively chop you in the throat.