Catchfence

Well loyal readers and other folks, I supposed I should spit out my 2 cents worth of writin’ wisdom on that event held at Talladega last Sunday. It eventually became a race for a few laps towards the end and climaxed with the typical “big un” Talladega is so well known for…the very thing NASCAR was tryin’ to avoid. Their decision about “visible space” between the cars led to a very borin’ race for the fans and drivers alike. Heck, I was so interested I had time to pickle a batch of corn and green beans, soak my feet, feed my duck and be back in front of my TV for every bit of REAL racin’ action. Know what I mean?

I guess some thinkin’ somebody in NASCAR decided they needed to try somethin’ to avoid the typical wreck fest, but, from nearly lap one, it was pitiful. It was follow the leader for lap after lap after lap. And fact is, had one car up front lost a tire or had to check up for one reason or another, the results could have been worse than anythin’ we have seen to date. So listen up here, whoever that thinkin’ NASCAR somebody was, this was a BAD IDEA! It didn’t work no way, no how, I can tell you that right now. Now I’m not wantin’ to hag on any of you big business Daytona moguls, but Mr. Mike, you good lookin’ big guy you…y’all need to go back to that thinkin’ room and sit awhile longer before you head to you know where in Feb ru air. Understand handsome big business man? You just don’t want to put your racin’ boys and us payin’ spectators through some costly foolishness like that again. Know what I mean? I’m just tryin to help a good lookin’, big powerful man like yourself Mr. Mike. You should give me a call and we can discuss it like intelligent race knowin’ folk. We can have a special sitdown here at my place and I will cook you up a meal like you have never had in your life! That, Mr. Mike I can guarantee you. Why, just thinkin’ about it warms my heart and tickles me pink, but, that is neither here nor there.

And boy howdy, was Ryan Newman one lucky buck? Why I was so worried I was pacin’ the floor and chewing on my picklin’ flavored finger nails. Seemed to take those emergency folks forever and then some to get him out of that car, but, I know they were doin’ just what they needed to do to make sure he was handled proper. Good for them and I am so glad that handsome young man was ok. I think he looks good these days. Thank goodness they let that boy’s hair grow out from that Gillette commercial. Why he got into so much trouble, he wound up with a Clarabell hairdo. Know what I mean? Well you would only know what I mean if you remember Buffalo Bob, Howdy Doody, Flub-A-Dub and Mr. Bluster. And I was a proud member of The Rootie Cazootie Club too, by golly. Remember that?

Oh those were the good ol’ days with wonderful wholesome and good sense TV shows like Kukla, Fran and Ollie, Captain Kangaroo and the Mickey Mouse Club! And how many of you remember Sky King and his niece Penny? Ah but I do know t that is neither here nor there if ya know what I mean.

And how about that amazin’ Mark Martin? Why that good lookin’ man with the million dollar smile went to rollin’ and wound up upright and as cute as ever. Of course we can’t say that about his car, but, at least he was unhurt, at least physically. His chance at this championship is slippin’ away. sadly. But, I will go on record as sayin’ if he stays put in the Hendrick deal, he will have an excellent chance at the Champ run next year, as well.

That’s about it for racin’ stuff for now. I did want to share a tidbit of information on my mysterious sporatic absences as of late. I have taken a night job. Yes indeedy! I just thought it would be good for me to pad my old age nest with a few extra feathers for when the time comes. Know what I mean? Well I ran in to the girlfriend of the head of the night shift security patrol company for the “downtown” section of our community. They needed someone to patrol the area from 1 in the mornin’ til whenever Big Bad Bill Brown (kind of reminds everyone who knows him of someone in particular if ya know who I mean) decides to wake up and haul his big bad self down there for his shift. No one is for sure what that time frame is truly supposed to be, but, I personally think no one would have confronted him even if they knew because he is so big and he is so bad. I wouldn’t have thought of doin’ it either until he just made me so mad I could have cussed out the cat without gettin’ a hair one in my mouth if that is what I had a mind to do. I mean to tell you I was all kinds of purely ol’ bent.

I mean, things were goin’ pretty good to my way of thinkin’ for the first couple of weeks. He seemed to show me a fair amount of respect and always showed up pert near to 6 in the mornin’. Then he gradually got a little later each day until I could barely hold my eyes open. I took a page from Ricky Rudd’s book and used scotch tape to hold them open on a couple of occasions thinkin’ if it’s good enough for that oh so very handsome retired Ricky Rudd then it’s plenty good enough for me and that Big Bad Bill Bonehead Brown cruelly laughed at me! Can you believe that? Well I took it the first time, but, that man is a rippin’ idiot. Everyone knows you don’t laugh at a tired as she can be granny for two days in a row. That’s an unwritten law or somethin’ somewhere. If you do that you risk all sorts of granny wrath. Well he did and then I did!

Now I didn’t get truly physical, or much of anything like that. I still have fines to pay from the last incident. Anyway, I just baked the man a special Granny Grump rhubarb pie and when he got a little on the goofy side, I used that opportunity to convince him that I may not be as big as he is, but I am definitely as bad or worse. Without wastin’ time or further space here, he now shows up at a prompt 5:30 every mornin’. That is excellent timin’ because it is just before the red haired bullfrogs flood the main road. I hate shooin’ them back to the field. They stink and they’re noisy and there are just so blasted many of them. Anyway with a few extra bucks buildin’ up in my secret hidin’ place, I just might see some of y’all at some race track or another sometime soon. I’ll keep you posted.

And as for my email…well it got so backlogged with lack of sleep I deleted it all except for Flora Lee’s. Now Flora, you know blamed well that that man is pure icky. And besides you can’t get near him without itchin’. No one can woman! Just make him shave all over or board him at the kennel and visit once in awhile. I just don’t care enough to care enough one way or the other. That’s fair, humane and cheaper than rent. Know what I mean?

Well, I’ve got to get ready for work loyal readers and other folks. I’m runnin’ just a little behind but I need to make sure my special gear is filled, primed, has fresh batteries, is properly holstered and the automatic lock is on. I sure don’t want a repeat of night before last, but, I assure y’all I have definitely been cleared of any purposeful wrong doin’ by the state’s Special Battery Operated Gear Squad. After all, I did attend and pass the required 15 minute class, and I am state Special Battery Operated Gear certified. Makes you feel safer somehow, doesn’t it?

Just stay at home after 9 and remember our curfew. Don’t make me get forceful and or ugly. 10-4? I’ll check in with y’all soon enough. Granny Grump is over and out.