always looking like he’s got the blues

Posted on by
Reply

~ OLD TIMER CHRONICLE ~
What About The Oil?
reported by Cloyd Campfire
Febuary 2008
  
I got a message from Martha Morningstarofthevalley a few hours after dawn. She couldn’t get Davy Crockett Reincarnated out of bed. He had one last thing to do for the January issue of the Old Timer Chronicle ~ he had to write an editorial about oil. What about oil? Beats me. He was supposed to be writing it ~ not me.
.
Martha had tried a bucket of water in the face ~ a kick in the ribs ~ everything. But Davy wouldn’t wake up. So I hopped on my donkey & clippity-clopped over there to see if I could do anything. I tried a hammer to the skull but the hammer shattered. I grimaced with exasperation. “Hell, I don’t know what’s going on here, Martha.”
.
“We have to do something.” She pouted in her provacative captivating every-day manner. “The Old Timer is due at the printers today!”
.
Then, suddenly, our illustrious editor began talking and, at the same time, levitating above the bed. He seemed to be, with his eyes closed, in some kind of trance.
.
Davy said to God knows who, “Why do we allow the cruel privatization of the commons by greedy capitalists, you ask? Because we’re damned fools! What this nation must maintain is a strong socialist net to impede the falling of poor folks through the underlying cracks of cannabilistic capitalism. If those ass-holes in the White House & their money grubbing & brainless backers want merciless class-warfare, they got it, by gum! They got it!”
.
“Oh no, Cloyd!” Tears welled up in Martha’s eyes. “Davy’s talking to space aliens again.”
.
“But what about the oil?” said I.
.
“Fuck the oil,” said Martha…
.

give him a great big kiss

Posted on by
Reply

.
~ OLD TIMER CHRONICLE ~
Mr. Cutie Pie Comes To Town
reported by Cloyd Campfire
March 2008
 
 
“Nice landing!”
 
The midget space alien wobbled momentarily. He looked around. He had touched ground-zero in Prescott, a thriving town located somewhere around the Mogollon Rim, in Arizona.
 
He discovered himself standing right in the middle of the sidewalk. Traffic chortled by. His gaze eventually locked onto a pair of outlandish high heels, inside of which were two beautifully sculptured feet. He could have leaned forward and kissed the big toe of the left one if it weren’t for the transparent bubble around his head. The little alien’s gaze slowly moved up up up a pair of long note-worthy legs, a black skirt a swirl in the wind, an exposed tummy curvaceous & yummy, a flimsy red blouse under which delicately heaved two bilingual boom-booms, and finally the depthless dark eyes of fabulous Jesusita. It was this entity that had complimented him on his landing.
 
The raven-haired beauty picked-up the midget extraterrestrial and held him at eye level in the palm of her hand, which sent a whirlwind of emotions through the little guy.
 
“You’re a cutie pie,” announced Jesusita.
 
“Please take me to Davy Crockett Reincarnated, the editor of the Old Timer Chronicle,” squeaked the earth woman’s new toy. “I have an urgent message for Mr. Crockett Reincarnated from the ancient astronaut, Merlo 7.”
 
“Oh no, don’t tell me that foolish old left-winger is communicating with extraterrestrials now,” scoffed Jesusita.
 
“Please. It’s urgent,” said Merlo 7’s midget intergalactic messenger.
 
“Do you have a name?” inquired Jesusita.
 
“Call me Mr. Cutie Pie.” The half-pint in her hand winked at her and did a slow-motion mid-air somersault.
 
Jesusita blinked & was smitten. She smiled. “Call me Jesusita. Let’s go.”
 
She dropped him ‘tween her warm operatic orbitations in such a way that his head peeked out just above her low neck-line, and he too was smitten.
 
Jesusita clickity-clickity-ed her high heels across the concrete to her car & hopped-in. They dashed out of town in the late-model Volkswagen convertable with the top up and the heater on ‘cuz it wasn’t quite spring time. Which makes us wonder, does it not? Why was Jesusita attired in such gratuitis attire this winterlude? Wouldn’t she catch pneumonia? Well, let’s remember, she’s one tough right-wing bitch. She’d also deserted the military, in which she had served as a submarine captain. Now, for the time being, she was a belly-dance instructor.
 
At Hidden Stables she rented a mule. She & Mr. Cutie Pie hit the labyrinthine trail atop this beast of burden for 3 days, ‘til they found themselves precariously up the side of a deep chasm lost somewhere in the Mogollon Rim. Here they wearily rode up to an ancient cliff dwelling only a few mortals know about and dismounted.
 
The mule snorted.
 
And I came out and greeted them. I found it quite difficult to take my eyes off the frog-face in a space helmet peeking-out from Jesusita’s valley of no return. “What’re you doing here, Jesusita? And who’s that?”
 
“This is Mr. Cutie Pie. Where’s Davy?”
 
“Why do you wanna know?”
 
“Mr. Cutie Pie has a message for him from Merlo 7”
 
“The ancient astronaut!” I exclaimed ~ and my mouth fell open.
 
Jesusita put her hand on her hip & gave me her devastating Chicano-girl look.
 
I led them inside to where the illustrious editor of the Old Timer was still levitating above his cot with his eyes shut in a trance. He also was spouting-off about class warfare to Merlo 7 ~ in some strange one-way-street radio-wave way.
 
“Go ahead, Mr. Cutie Pie. Do your best,” said I.
 
The little space alien’s eyes glowed brightly ~ and he squeeked, “Mr. Crockett Reincarnated, Mr. Crockett Reincarnated?”
 
The floating man quieted down.
 
Mr. Cutie Pie piped, “Colonel Crockett, you’ve been chosen to drive home this message to the population of America: When Barack Obama is elected president, he’ll end the Iraq Occupation, so then you Americans won’t be so distracted from the extraterrestrial phenomena all around you. That’s it. That’s the message.”
 
Davy’s eyes popped wide open!
 
Then he fell out of the air onto the cot, which collapsed under him onto the floor, broken to pieces.
 

“Amen!” cried Davy.

~

from

The Davy Crockett Reincarnated Almanac 2001-2008

no longer available on the internet

~

indicted

Posted on by
Reply

Read the full 2nd indictment here.

~

And Another Child Is Born

by

Sp4 Clyde Collins

Caducean Newspaper

Tripler Army Medical Center

early 1980’s

~

     Old Tyrone’s wife wanted him to have the operation.  The operation might prolong his life another year or two or three ~ or it might not.

     Pvt. Donald Duty, inspiration specialist, Poetics Lab, had even stood at the foot of Tyrone’s bed at TAMC and sung him an original lyric to encourage the aged feller to have a go at it.

     And the doctors were ready.

     But the brittle bones and shrinking belly of 101 year old Tyrone were playing another kind of tune on his interior banjo.  Also in one of his recent dreams an angel had winked at Tyrone.

     So he refused the operation, checked out of the hospital.

     Without informing a soul, the antiquated patriot managed to grip his walking cane and hobble fragilely onto a jet airliner headed for the mainland.

     In Los Angeles, assisted by two younger passengers, Tyrone boarded a bus.  Helped by the driver, Tyrone disembarked the bus in the middle of the desert and in the midst of a flagrant sunrise.

     Pale as a communion host, the waning veteran plodded into the desolate scenery that reminded him of a picture post card.

     Two miles later he collapsed.  Tyrone stretched his spindly legs across the sandy earth, leaned back against a boulder, took a long look at the sky and bowed his head.  “All I ask of dying is to go naturally,” he muttered.

     A ragged vulture, perched atop a tall cactus plant nearby, turned his head.

     And at the same moment that Tyrone’s last breath of life dissipated in the desert heat, back on Oahu at Tripler’s Labor and Delievery another child was born.

~

DUTY WORLD

1980-1984

~

make her happy

Posted on by
Reply

~

Going Before The Board

by

Sp4 Clyde Collins

Caducean Newspaper

Tripler Army Medical Center

early 1980’s

~

    Sp4 Donald Duty, inspiration specialist, Poetics Lab, waited with a small group of potential leaders for his turn to go before the Promotion Board.

     His heart had climbed up into his head and was ca-booming like a rapidly firing artillery piece.  As a matter of fact it was beating so loudly between his ears that he could not hear what the others were saying about their own nervousness ~ and the entire left side of Duty’s body began to twitch with each hearty ca-boom.

     The others could not help but notice this ~ and watching Duty’s twitch they grew silent as a polar landscape ~ until one of them broke the ice, “What’s wrong with him?”

     Another potential leader in the small group of soldiers said, “Duty, you okay?”

     But Duty could not hear ~ and that included most of the briefing they all received a moment later.

     Then it was his turn.

     Somebody pushed the catatonic inspiration specialist forward.  His dizzy head bounced three or four times against the closed door of the inner chamber.  From within a grainy voice said, “Come in.”

     Duty automatically opened the door and entered.  Standing at attention in front of the five-member Promotion Board he said, “Specialist, Specialist, uh, Specialist I-Don’t-Know reporting to the President of the Board.”

     He had actually forgotten his own name!

     He was told to be seated.  Duty blinked and sat down.  Preliminaries were taken care of ~ and then came the questions.  The only reply that Duty could make to each question was, “I don’t know, Sergeant,” until finally he could not even talk.

     And when he was dismissed he could not move.

     That’s right, he just sat there as all immediate possibilities of his being put on the E-5 promotion list ~ took flight and thoroughly disappeared.  The shame and humiliation of not having prepared adequately for his board appearance ~ had ambushed him.  The board members stared at him, anticipating his next move.

     Alas, a tear stumbled down his cheek as if it were a defeated ball-player unable to find the bus back home.

     Ninety days hence Duty will be able to go before the board again.  He had better get his act together if he wants a promotion ~ and it could be even a tougher challenge come November when stricter requirements for promotion to E-5 (and E-6) are expected to go into effect.  The new requirements will be outlined to soldiers in September, according to a front page article in the May 23 issue of the Army Times.

     Until then Duty can compete for Soldier of the Month as many times as SSgt. Rocky Ride, his NCOIC, would like him to unless Duty wins it.  Thusly Duty will be able to practice remembering his name while under the duress of being scrutinized by critical eyes in a board type situation.  He can also learn via this opportunity to wear his Class A uniform correctly (and thus proudly).  He will also be motivated to study various important subjects that a soldier ought to know but does not get acquainted with in the everyday working situations here at Tripler.

     In his pursuit of soldierly knowledge he can visit the Tripler Education Center (Building 102).  There he will find the MOS Library.  In this library Duty can sign up for Army correspondence courses, check out Army field manuals, even view video tapes on important topics like map reading.  By the way, a Basic Non-Commissioned Officers Course could very well possibly be a correspondence course for which he would want to send away.

     In order to familiarize himself with the correct answers to those questions asked by the Promotion Board concerning current events, various Army services and who is who in his Chain of Command, what can Duty do?  He can read articles in the daily paper that have an impact on the Army.  He can read the Army Times, Soldiers Magazine, the Caducean and the two post newspapers from our neighbors Fort Shafter and Schofield Barracks.  He can even study the Military Phone Directory for Hawaii ~ yes, it’s got more in it than just phone numbers.

     Having an instructor in a classroom situation can motivate Duty’s studies even further via college and Army orientated classes at Tripler’s, Fort Shafter’s and Schofield Barracks’ Education Centers.

     Duty can lean on his NCO to sign him up for the Primary Leadership Course.  Graduation from this is a major influence when it comes to getting the ol’ E-5 rank.

     A soldier’s first sergeant will set up a counseling session with that soldier if he fails the promotion board ~ to assist him in figuring out what his weak points are.  Duty can look forward to this also.

     Of course, several of these active pursuits to become a truly qualified soldier leads to more promotion points ~ which are imperative.

     Back at the Poetics Lab, after Duty’s catastrophic appearance before the board, his NCO, Ride, gently placed a Soldier’s Manual of Common Tasks ~ Skill Level 1 ~ on the still somewhat shaky specialist 4’s desk.  “You can begin preparing for your next moment of glory before the board by learning what’s inside this ~ instead of just looking at the cover.”  Ride added, “I’ll drill you every day on it,” for the staff sergeant had his responsibilities too.

     “Shucks, Sarge,” moaned Duty.  “I’m going to ETS in 15 months.  I don’t have to be a Spec-5 when I leave the Army.”

     “How do you know you won’t change your mind later and re-enlist?” said Ride.

     “Besides,” added Whip Doublemint, the civilian supervisor of the Poetics Lab, on his way to the trash can with a tray full of rejected word specimens in his hand, “You should be all you can be no matter what situation you’re in.  What you learn in the Army can help you later ~ even as a civilian.  You have a responsibility to yourself and to your country to be…”

     Duty, the target of another one of the supervisor’s lectures, cringed.

~

DUTY WORLD

1980-1984

~