Category: random

The siren wailed each time the ambulance approached a cross street. He could hear Barney in the back talking to medical control on the two way radio.

“We’re in route with a thirty-eight year old male who appears to have suffered sudden death,” said Barney. He stopped and pressed the head set closer to his ears. “Negative, there appears to be no cause.”

Doc blasted the siren again and grabbed the ambulances microphone and laid it in his lap. Then he thought to him self, “What a rotten time to going onto base-it’s quitting, time there.” Then he pulled the microphone up to his mouth and began to speak “Warren Hospital, this is medic four.”

The radio cracked alive, “This is Warren, go ahead four.”

“This is four,” Doc began, “we are enroute to you with a thirty eight year old male with sudden death, request clearance at front gate. Our ETA is less than five minutes.”

“Thirty eight year old male sudden death, ETA front gate less than five request clearance,” repeated the voice from the radio “Ten-four, Warren Hospital, clear.”

Doc reached over and hung the microphone back in its holder. Three minutes later he flipped on the siren again. He could see the top of Interstate 80 just ahead. Beyond that lay the Front gate to Warren AFB and Doc wanted the gate guards to know they were coming.

Less than a minute later the ambulance passed under the interstate. Doc could see the front gate entrance now. He started to cuss.

“What’s the matter, “Barney asked from the back.

“Looks like the gates blocked,” Doc yelled back over his right shoulder and over the siren.

Barney poked his head through the cubby hole that separated the two airmen. “What?!” he said in alarm.

“It’s blocked,” Doc repeated “Looks like they’ve got K-9’s working a car in the emergency lane.”

“Oh crap,” Barney replied.

He pulled his head out from the cubby hole and re attached his seat belt. Doc immediately pulled the ambulance into the left lane without slowing down. He had made a decision to run the gate.

He picked up the radio and said “Warren Hospital this is Medic Four. The front gate is blocked. Our ETA is less than half a minute. We are code three.” He dropped the microphone in his lap and took a stronger grip on the steering wheel.

The siren was still wailing as the ambulance nose passed beneath the overhang of the gate. Doc could see the guard in the shack ducking back inside and behind the wall. His eyes showed disbelief.

Crash! Crunch! Grind!

Those were the noises made as the siren suddenly stopped in mid cry and the red and blue flashing lights arched white. Doc looked in his mirror and knew that the over hang was too low for his lights and siren and now they were laying in scattered pieces behind him. He turned his attention to getting to the hospital.

Later the following day, Doc was summoned to the commanding officer’s office. He knew that he was in trouble from the moment that he arrived at the hospital and had unloaded his patient into the waiting care of the emergency room Doctors. Doc knocked three times on the Colonel’s door and entered, he closed the door behind himself.

He saluted and announced himself as ordered. He held the salute until the Colonel returned it. Then the Colonel cleared his throat and began I understand you had a split second decision to make yesterday.”

“Yes-sir,” Doc replied

“Why don’t you tell me about it,” the Colonel requested.

Doc complied, trying to not leaving out a single detail. The Colonel stood up when Doc was finished telling his story and walked around to in front of his desk. He stood only a couple feet from Doc. Then he asked the frightened young man, “Would you do anything differently, if it were to happen again today?”

Doc thought for a moment and replied “No sir.”

The Colonel sighed and walked back around his desk “I was afraid of that,” he said.

He sat down and picking up a pen he signed his name to a piece of type written paper.

He looked up at Doc and said, “I am revoking your military driving license by direct order of the Base Commander.”

The Colonel paused momentarily as if choosing his next words carefully, “Son, if it were me in your place I would have done the same thing. However the Base Commander believes you endangered his people by crashing the gate like you did. Let me have that license, now.”

Doc reached back and into his left rear pocket and pulled out his wallet. He removed the license and handed it over to the Colonel.

The Colonel took it as Doc saluted. Once the Colonel returned his salute, Doc was dismissed and he left the same way he entered.

Two or three things are going on today. One is that I’m trying to get some sleep before I have to be at work before midnight.

So far, it’s not happening.

The second is that Roxy puked under the big bed. I thought that Kyle had passed gas at first.

He accused Yaeger of doing it, but then Roxy got up on the bed and burped. We both knew she had gotten sick from eating dog poop from the backyard.

Kay is in the process of cleaning things up. Kyle and I had to pull the bed out from the wall before she could start.

This not only includes wiping up the before mentioned mess, but vacuuming up the dust. Damned dog!

Finally, I’ve decided that Kyle no longer requires my fatherly advice, since he doesn’t much care for it anyway. From now on I’ll only give him advice if he should ask for it.

However he never does ask because I’m always offering it before he can get the question formulated in his head.

Perhaps this is much like a New Year resolution. This is one something Kyle asked me about early this morning; did I have one? As usual, I told him I don’t as I do not believe in them.

It’s what I always say to anyone who asks me such a thing.

 

AT&T fired President John Walter after nine months, saying he lacked intellectual leadership. He received a $26 million severance package. Perhaps it’s not Walter who’s lacking intelligence.

Police in Oakland, California spent two hours attempting to subdue a gunman who had barricaded himself inside his home. After firing ten tear gas canisters, officers discovered that the man was standing beside them in the police line, shouting , ‘Please come out and give yourself up.’

An Illinois man, pretending to have a gun, kidnapped a motorist and forced him to drive to two different automated teller machines, wherein the kidnapper proceeded to withdraw money from his own bank accounts.

A man walked into a Topeka, Kansas Kwik Stop and asked for all the money in the cash drawer. Apparently, the take was too small, so he tied up the store clerk and worked the counter himself for three hours until police showed up and grabbed him.

Police in Los Angeles had good luck with a robbery suspect who just couldn’t control himself during a lineup. When detectives asked each man in the lineup to repeat the words: ‘Give me all your money or I’ll shoot’, the man shouted, ‘That’s not what I said!’

A man spoke frantically into the phone: ‘My wife is pregnant and her contractions are only two minutes apart’.
‘Is this her first child?’ the doctor asked.’
No!’ the man shouted, ‘This is her husband!’

In Modesto, California, Steven King was arrested for trying to hold up a Bank of America branch without a weapon. King used a thumb and a finger to simulate a gun.
Unfortunately, he failed to keep his hand in his pocket.

On Lake Isabella, an hour east of Bakersfield, California, some folks, new to boating, were having a problem. No matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t get their brand new 22 foot boat, going.
It was very sluggish in almost every maneuver, no matter how much power they applied. After about an hour of trying to make it go, they putted into a nearby marina, thinking someone there may be able to tell them what was wrong.
A thorough topside check revealed everything in perfect working condition The engine ran fine, the out-drive went up and down, and the propeller was the correct size and pitch.
So, one of the marina guys jumped in the water to check underneath. He came up choking on water, he was laughing so hard.
Under the boat, still strapped securely in place, was the trailer.

Father God, this ain’t my church
This isn’t even my town, Lord,
Yet here I find myself, my search
Looking for you and Your Holy Word.

Father God, I am at the well,
I am that lone Samaritan woman,
Listening, hearing, running to tell
Everyone about Your loving plan.

Father God, I am Peter the Rock,
Climbing from the boat, in me
My faith more than mere talk,
My feet in the waters’ stormy sea.

Father God, I am Paul your Servant,
Who came to persecute Your name,
Then in Your name came to plant
Your church, spreading Your acclaim.

Father God, this ain’t my church,
This isn’t even my town, Lord,
But here I stand in my search
Knowing you and Your Holy Word.

The DJ speaks into the mic
As the phone starts to blink,
A listener calling in their likes.
Phone hangs up with a ‘clink.’

Of course the record now playing
Has a scratch that makes it skip,
Over and over the needle dragging,
Causing the DJ to bite panicked lip.

More than once a cart is mis-cued,
A record shuck has now disappeared,
But still the DJ keeps the mood
Of one that is hysterically absurd.

Only the DJ knows all that is wrong.
Others hear nothing but control,
As shakey hands cue the next song.
Fluid words from tongue does roll.

Oh, the all night DJ’s lament…
What a radio talent must put up with
Just to pay another month of rent,
Get rich overnight, really is a myth!

Uncle shook his head sideways and asked, “Any idea where the hell they could be?” Then he clucked his tongue and his young gelding moved forward onto the trail.

Tommy followed along behind him and said nothing. He had long come to realize that his Uncle was asking himself more than anyone else a question. The way Tommy figured it, talking aloud and asking questions was one of Uncle’s many ways of thinking.

They had been in the saddle before sunup having passed under the shadow of Irish Mountain of the South Fork Range. It was spring roundup and the hunt for the final few beeves in the redwoods and surrounding hills was on.

Tommy was tickled and slightly afraid when his Uncle looked directly and said “Saddle Cracker up. You’re coming with me.” They were moving south through Uncles grazing rights. The fine grass showed its tender shoots as they paused to give their horses a breather just beyond Lemonade Springs.

“I got a feeling they cut across the Mad on us,” Uncle commented. “There isn’t a sign to cut anywhere over here.” Tommy said nothing while lying stretched out beneath the shade of a madrone tree.

A few later minutes they were back in the saddle, cutting west towards the Mad River. “Best get set to cross,” Uncle ordered.

Both riders paused long enough to pull off their boots and tie them around their necks using their bandanas. As they continued toward the river Tommy loosened his pistol belt and pulled it off. He draped it over his neck as well making certain to double-check the thumb loop.

The rush of the Mad River could be heard long before it could be seen. The creaking of saddle leather and horses hooves in the soft earth mixed with the activity of the mountain stream made Tommy’s’ heart race with anticipation.

River crossing had always been a dangerous part of the range hands occupation. No cowboy ever wanted to cross a swollen, fast moving, deep and cold river.

“Remember to hang on,” Uncle shouted back as he urged his mount into the brisk waters.

Tommy reached back and grabbed a handful of Crackers tail hair. The old mare’s ears laid down momentarily as if she realized what she were about to be asked to do.

Uncle had explained once that Oklahoma and Texas cowboys always grabbed onto their horse’s tails as they crossed a river. That way if the rider became unseated from the ‘hurricane deck’, the horse would drag him to the bank. And if the unthinkable happened and the horse should drown, then the cowhand would have a ready-made flotation device because horses never sink directly.

Neither event occurred as both horse and rider climbed the river bank further north than where they started. Uncle stopped to put his boots on and so did Tommy. If Uncle were cold, he certainly didn’t show it and Tommy knew he best not say anything either though his body shivered involuntarily and violently.

It was a little before noon and the midday sun soon dried both range-riders. They stopped at Cherry Glade Creek to stretch, eat and rest the horses. They were determined to ride until after sundown if necessary.

The coffee was strong and hot as Tommy lifted it to his lips. It warmed him and gave him energy. He swallowed the last of the cold biscuits and honey then downed the last bit of coffee.

“We ought to get a move on, Uncle,” Tommy said without realizing. His felt his heart sink into his stomach because it sounded as if he had just given his Uncle a command.

Uncle looked up and smiled then chuckled a little bit. “Okay, buckaroo, let’s get saddled up.” Uncle laughed aloud once again.

They turned their mounts in a northwesterly direction, riding for half an hour. That when Uncle stopped and leaned way over to look at the ground. Tommy moved closer to have a look. He could see very little, other than where the ground was chewed up.

“At least five of them,” Uncle said. Then he pointed up into the hills, “This way.”

Leaving the banks of the Mad River behind them, they pushed their horses deeper and deeper into the woods. This was dangerous for both man and beast as this is where people tended to live on the edge of civility. A good saddle horse could easily be mistaken for a mule deer and its rider as a jumper onto a mining claim or trespasser into a marijuana field. For this reason both riders pulled out their bright red wild rags, tied them loosely around their necks, to make certain they could be seen.

The tracks led deeper and higher into the hills. Many of the trails were dim as Tommy’s Grandpa was fond of saying. In more than one case, they had to make their own path up a grassy or moss covered slope.

Uncle leaned over and followed the tracks as the two pushed on. The tracks led into a small stand of timber.

There in a clearing stood a man and a woman. They had built a make shift corral and had rounded up seven strays. They were also working on field dressing one of the steers.

The woman saw them first as they rode into the clearing. She looked frightened as she pointed at the man with a bloodied arm and said, “It was his idea.” The man looked up and stepped straight for his rifle.

Tommy saw his action and already had his pistol in hand. The double click of the hammer caused the man to pause in his reach. Uncle rode up and picked the riffle up from the fence post and proceeded to empty the shells from its chamber. He flung the brass cartridges a far away as he could.

“Son of a…” the man said in a barely audible voice.

Then Uncle spoke, “I’d jus’ stand right there, both of ya or my young Ramrod will punch holes in both your souls.” Neither one moved.

Tommy was momentarily distracted by the term ‘Ramrod.’ That meant ‘Boss’ and that his Uncle viewed him as an equal in this ugly affair.

The man looked up at Uncle and stated, “I didn’t think anybody would be up here looking for these cows.”

“Well, you thought wrong,” Uncle replied. Then he said, “Now, ma’am if you’d be kind enough to open that gate and light a shuck under them cattle, I’d much appreciate it.”

She did as she was asked. Then she moved quickly over to a wad of blankets that appeared to be tossed on the ground. Tommy trained his pistol on her until she pulled out a baby that began to cry. He holstered his gun, feeling ashamed of himself.

Uncle raised his right hand to the brim of his hat and said, “Ma’am” as he nodded his head. Then he looked at the man then the half butchered cow and the nearly starved cow still tied to the far side of the make shift corral, “Keep the darn thing and that one too. It seems you need it more than me.”

Then taking no chances, he tosses the once loaded rifle into the brush, beyond the corral. Without another word he clicked his tongue and dashed off into the woods the way he had come, his young Ramrod hard at his side.

During a usual visit to the Trees of Mystery’s in Klamath, California, ‘Babe the Blue Ox,’ greets everyone who stops in. But for the time being, a blue tarp is replacing the usual sight of the 35-foot tall statue’s head.

A leak in the top of the Babe’s neck allowed water to seep into the blue, stucco and chicken wire structure and compromise the wood. The head dropped straight on its nose, crumbling the stout and breaking off a tip of one of its horns.

The original Babe from the 1940s, moved and bellowed loud moos. The head should be back on the statue by the first week of January 2008.

 

During Seminary I did my best to avoid the “Book of Revelations,” in the Holy Bible. It has always left me frightened, with its imagery and such.

But today, I am seeing it differently – realizing God had me stuck in that book for months on end so I could better understand what He wanted me to know. This isn’t the first time, nor will it be the last more than likely, that I’ve dragged my feet on something, only to discover how much I needed to know it, so I could share it.

God has created the orders of community; marriage, family, economic activity, government and the state. Satan, unable to create anything, tempts others into distorting and misusing what God has created.

Christ-followers must discern whether government is functioning under divine authority or merely as a divine authority. When the latter is the case, Christ-followers must pray courageously endure and accept the consequences.

Behind the appearance of the pomp and power of the world, there is an absolute sovereignty which will ultimately doom evil. That is God, who is utilizing all the forces of evil to accomplish his own purposes.

Christ-followers undergoing persecution need to know their sufferings are not meaningless and that they will be vindicated. The mainspring of all hope and courage is the enemy will be defeated and followers are not fighting a lost cause.

The U.S., as a whole has moved away from God — and to use His wording — it’s time for retribution.

1971

Here I am, a bird, a gull. Yes!
That’s what I’ll be. Upon rocks I
shall sit or fly the oceans, free.

Oh, but free. What is free?
How far is free? I am not free.
I wish to fly to the end of free!

A gull, that is me, I am a gull.
I see the ocean white with foam.
So,is the oceam or the foam free?

I am not a gull and the oceans are
Not free and the foam is not free
And I am not free. I just am…

That cowboy hat looked handy,
Solid brim and fancy trim, a dandy.
It surely was the very best
Handcrafting in all the West,
But the tag said “Made by a Pakistani.”