The Conservative Cave
Current Events => The DUmpster => Topic started by: franksolich on June 17, 2011, 08:31:53 PM
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http://www.democraticunderground.com/discuss/duboard.php?az=view_all&address=105x9712458
Oh my.
NNN0LHI (1000+ posts) Tue Jun-14-11 05:09 PM
Original message
Anyone here ever hang out in any rough bars?
Used to spend my evenings during the early 1970's in one called The Bucket Of Blood. I am not kidding, that was the name of it. And the name was appropriate.
Knifings, shootings, you name it were a regular occurrence. Just about every single night. It was a little mob operated place in the south suburbs of Chicago.
Mostly bikers and dope dealers hung out there. I was neither. But I still hung out there. The bartender/manager used to sell shots of prescription cough syrup over the bar. It was called Citre Forte. He used to have this shit by the gallon sitting behind the bar. I have no idea where he got the stuff. I think it took the World Health Organization to get Boyle to finally stop making the stuff it was so popular during that time.
At any given time there were more joints burning than cigarettes. They used to have a stereo with a reel to reel in there that would kick ass. The mob put a stop to that because they wanted their jukebox filling up with quarters every night.
People would openly snort coke, MDA and any other drug they could get their hands on right off the bar like it was perfectly alright.
Cops wouldn't even come into the place unless someone got killed outright and they had to do an investigation. But they didn't want to.
Weird place, eh?
Don
City of Mills (1000+ posts) Tue Jun-14-11 07:16 PM
Response to Original message
8. So, what the hell was the appeal of hanging out there?
Did it make you feel tough? Were you just into people watching? Not sure what the appeal would be, but it seems to go against common sense to spend time someplace where you have a high likelihood of catching a bullet or blade even as an innocent bystander. Was it an adrenaline rush or something? Maybe I need to get out more...
NNN0LHI (1000+ posts) Tue Jun-14-11 07:24 PM
Response to Reply #8
11. Pool player for money
grasswire (1000+ posts) Wed Jun-15-11 02:37 AM
Response to Original message
19. Tip: Don't order a frozen daquiri in Butte.
rbnyc (1000+ posts) Wed Jun-15-11 08:39 PM
Response to Original message
25. My rough bar story.
So about 20 years ago I was on this long road trip with a friend and we stopped in this bar somewhere in southern Louisiana. This place was so isolated and in such an impoverished community that they didn’t even have pricing for their drinks. Seriously, people would come in and drink and pay at the end of the week with a bag of skinned possums.
I ordered a Jack and Coke and the bartender was so confused by me. He asked me what I thought a fair price was. I told him 5 bucks. He said that was fine. He took out a water glass and filled it with warm Jack Daniels and gave me a can of coke. The jukebox played for free. There were about 6 people in the bar hanging out.
It was sometime in the early afternoon. My friend and I sat at the bar and talked to the bartender who told us that this was a very insular community, that folks took care of each other and didn’t ask questions. If you say your name is Nancy, your name is Nancy. Most folks here are on the run from something. We should be careful. Stuff like that.
After a while these 3 folks came in (1 man, 2 women) and started talking to us. I grew up in the Midwest and am really bad at understanding accents. These folks were Creole and I couldn’t freaking understand them at all, but I somehow managed to figure out that they were inviting me to smoke a joint with them in the bathroom.
My friend did not want to go, but I was up for it. So we’re all four crammed into this dingy dive bar bathroom smoking a joint and the man starts rolling up his sleeves and pant legs and unbuttoning his shirt and showing me all these really intense scars. He’s talking the whole time and I figure he’s telling me how he got each one of these scars but I can understand him even less now that I’m totally stoned.
Trouble is, I’m way more than totally stoned. I’ve smoked a lot of pot in my day and even some mighty fine pot but something else is clearly going on here. I am really disoriented and am pretty sure this joint was laced with PCP and I’m getting kind of scared.
I managde to excuse myself from the group and leave the bathroom. When I do, my girlfriend grabs my arm and says it’s time to go. She pretty much throws me into our truck and tells me while I was in the bathroom with those folks the bartender warned her that she should get me out of there. Those 3, he said, had just the night before rolled some tourists and had a history of raping, robbing and leaving for dead folks like us.
I really don’t know if the bartender was just playing a role with us, but it seemed pretty authentic to me.
Lil Missy (1000+ posts) Fri Jun-17-11 04:26 PM
Response to Original message
48. There's that lesbian bar in Omaha ......
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Knifings, shootings, you name it were a regular occurrence. Just about every single night. It was a little mob operated place in the south suburbs of Chicago.
Absolutely not! the mob bars are usually opened to fellow mob members and friends, no outsiders would be allowed, and if the mob did own a legitimate for money business they would never allow crime to go on because crime brings police. And the mob doesn't OPENLY associate with bikers and drug dealers.
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And my rough bar story? my date leaned over to grab my hand and my fake nail was glued on so tight but I guess he grabbed my hand so hard that the nail flew off and hit him in the face.
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Also the mob would never associate with people who hate America.
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First story MIGHT'VE happpened, but I call bullshit on the 2nd. Way too outlandish, buddy. Try again.
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Don's story is a bouncy crock of lies. He's still a boring DUmbass liar.
I'm waiting for a story about Bukowski's, and all the drunks Ty the bouncer has handled.
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Don's story is a bouncy crock of lies. He's still a boring DUmbass liar.
I'm waiting for a story about Bukowski's, and all the drunks Ty the bouncer has handled.
I was disappointed neither the Bostonian Drunkard nor the Taverner primitive showed up at this campfire.
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Liar's...everyone of them.If they were ever in a rough bar they would piss themselves. :bs: :bs: :bs: :bs: :bs: :bs: :bs: :bs:
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These people are full of sh!t. It has always been my experience that those who find trouble in bars generally deserve what they get. The seedy, grungy places where bad things tend to happen more often than not IMHO are the dives where the Deadheads and other assorted vagrants hang out.
This is my usual watering hole~
http://thevarysburghotel.com/home.html
Great food. Great people. Great memories.
I have never once witnessed a nefarious act take place here in 20 years. I have noticed though that when hippies do wander in from time to time that they tend not to stay. That's not because they are ever treated with anything but the proper hospitality but rather, I surmise, because the place is clean as are the patrons and they likely can't afford the menu. (very reasonable, BTW) Basically, it's not a sh!thole so they leave.
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Once I had someone put a date rape drug in my drink. I had taken maybe three sips of wine then went to the restroom. Went to stand up and it hit me. From feeling totally normal and not the least bit tipsy to immediately feeling dizzy and majorly drunk. I couldn't walk by myself.
My friend came looking for me and she told me she was worried because this guy that started talking to us was asking about me and offering to take me home before he should have even known I wasn't doing well. She got suspicious because it had been in the news that Dallas area bartenders were taking money under the table for dropping drugs in women's drinks. I had driven but she drove my car home and my husband drove her home after she drove me to my house. I passed out in the car, my husband had to come get me out of the car. I only drank THREE sips. What in the hell would have happened if I had drank the whole glass?
Edited to add: this was no dive, it was a trendy happenin' bar in Addison, Texas.
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Absolutely not! the mob bars are usually opened to fellow mob members and friends, no outsiders would be allowed, and if the mob did own a legitimate for money business they would never allow crime to go on because crime brings police. And the mob doesn't OPENLY associate with bikers and drug dealers.
I totally agree about Michelle Bachman.
I'm soft on Palin. She just turns me off with the TV stars in her eyes.
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Shooting pool for $ in a bar is a sure was to gain an ass woopin! I call BS!
I used to hang in a bar in the 60-70'S that Lee Marvin would frequent. How rough is that!
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rbnyc (1000+ posts) Wed Jun-15-11 08:39 PM
Response to Original message
25. My rough bar story.
So about 20 years ago I was on this long road trip with a friend and we stopped in this bar somewhere in southern Louisiana. This place was so isolated and in such an impoverished community that they didn’t even have pricing for their drinks. Seriously, people would come in and drink and pay at the end of the week with a bag of skinned possums.
I ordered a Jack and Coke and the bartender was so confused by me. He asked me what I thought a fair price was. I told him 5 bucks. He said that was fine. He took out a water glass and filled it with warm Jack Daniels and gave me a can of coke. The jukebox played for free. There were about 6 people in the bar hanging out.
It was sometime in the early afternoon. My friend and I sat at the bar and talked to the bartender who told us that this was a very insular community, that folks took care of each other and didn’t ask questions. If you say your name is Nancy, your name is Nancy. Most folks here are on the run from something. We should be careful. Stuff like that.
After a while these 3 folks came in (1 man, 2 women) and started talking to us. I grew up in the Midwest and am really bad at understanding accents. These folks were Creole and I couldn’t freaking understand them at all, but I somehow managed to figure out that they were inviting me to smoke a joint with them in the bathroom.
My friend did not want to go, but I was up for it. So we’re all four crammed into this dingy dive bar bathroom smoking a joint and the man starts rolling up his sleeves and pant legs and unbuttoning his shirt and showing me all these really intense scars. He’s talking the whole time and I figure he’s telling me how he got each one of these scars but I can understand him even less now that I’m totally stoned.
Trouble is, I’m way more than totally stoned. I’ve smoked a lot of pot in my day and even some mighty fine pot but something else is clearly going on here. I am really disoriented and am pretty sure this joint was laced with PCP and I’m getting kind of scared.
I managde to excuse myself from the group and leave the bathroom. When I do, my girlfriend grabs my arm and says it’s time to go. She pretty much throws me into our truck and tells me while I was in the bathroom with those folks the bartender warned her that she should get me out of there. Those 3, he said, had just the night before rolled some tourists and had a history of raping, robbing and leaving for dead folks like us.
I really don’t know if the bartender was just playing a role with us, but it seemed pretty authentic to me.
When did his girlfriend appear? What happened to his friend?
Why do I think this story is total bullshit?
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What the bouncy REALLY said...
NNN0LHI (1000+ posts) Tue Jun-14-11 05:09 PM
Blah Blah Blah
At any given time there were more joints burning than cigarettes.
Blah Blah Blah
People would openly snort coke, MDA and any other drug they could get their hands on right off the bar like it was perfectly alright.
Blah Blah Blah
Don
This was never a biker bar, or a mob bar...this place sold drugs. Thats the ONLY reason a DUmmy would go there. If the bar was rough, the only lure that would drag a DUmmy to it would be the sale fo drugs.
There are certain underlying themes in DUmmy threads you can identify. The recreational use of drugs one one constant theme.
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That Don is a real man of letters.
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Shooting pool for $ in a bar is a sure was to gain an ass woopin! I call BS!
I used to hang in a bar in the 60-70'S that Lee Marvin would frequent. How rough is that!
I use to play pool for money in biker bars. Biker bars aren't bad compared to honkytonks.
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I used to hang in a bar in the 60-70'S that Lee Marvin would frequent. How rough is that!
Well, I know a guy who crawls on the floor of a bar where Kevin Spacey hangs out. How rough is that?
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Well, I know a guy who crawls on the floor of a bar where Kevin Spacey hangs out. How rough is that?
Sounds like he's assuming the position.
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Weird.
I've run some pretty rough places while working with race horses and traveling since those days. Occasionally there would be a co-worker or friend with me. When they'd talk about what we'd seen and heard they used all sorts of exaggeration, IMO, and put motives behind what people did. Like they knew. I never mentioned the stuff figuring it was just normal life for some.
I agree with catsmtrods: Biker bars are often more peaceful and tolerant than honky tonks.
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The strip joints down south were the roughest places I've been in. I remember one in Columbus Ga. that we went into. It took about 5 minutes for an all out brawl to start. Of course we were drunk soldiers who had been in the field for 2 weeks and I took a taste of one of the strippers but hey was that reason enough to hit me with a bar stool?
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The strip joints down south were the roughest places I've been in. I remember one in Columbus Ga. that we went into. It took about 5 minutes for an all out brawl to start. Of course we were drunk soldiers who had been in the field for 2 weeks and I took a taste of one of the strippers but hey was that reason enough to hit me with a bar stool?
Obviously, someone thought so . . . :fuelfire: :tongue:
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Of course we were drunk soldiers who had been in the field for 2 weeks and I took a taste of one of the strippers but hey was that reason enough to hit me with a bar stool?
Should have been okay, unless it was Chippendales.
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The strip joints down south were the roughest places I've been in. I remember one in Columbus Ga. that we went into. It took about 5 minutes for an all out brawl to start. Of course we were drunk soldiers who had been in the field for 2 weeks and I took a taste of one of the strippers but hey was that reason enough to hit me with a bar stool?
I was in a strip/clip joint in Columbus a looooooooong time ago. 1970 to be exact. I was only in the area for a few weeks and never went back again.
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These people are full of sh!t. It has always been my experience that those who find trouble in bars generally deserve what they get. The seedy, grungy places where bad things tend to happen more often than not IMHO are the dives where the Deadheads and other assorted vagrants hang out.
This is my usual watering hole~
http://thevarysburghotel.com/home.html
Great food. Great people. Great memories.
I have never once witnessed a nefarious act take place here in 20 years. I have noticed though that when hippies do wander in from time to time that they tend not to stay. That's not because they are ever treated with anything but the proper hospitality but rather, I surmise, because the place is clean as are the patrons and they likely can't afford the menu. (very reasonable, BTW) Basically, it's not a sh!thole so they leave.
Jeez, is that a small limo parked there? Nope, that would indeed not qualify as a shithole. Wouldn't mind having a drink there myself. I hang at a place called "The Cottonwood" It's not a shithole, but it's only about one tier above it. I've never had any problems before, but the bar has once in a while. And if this one freaking asshole of a DJ doesn't lay the hell off of me, I'm HE'S certainly going to have problems. Already given him chance after chance, after chance. I also know the owner somewhat, so that may help.
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Once I had someone put a date rape drug in my drink. I had taken maybe three sips of wine then went to the restroom. Went to stand up and it hit me. From feeling totally normal and not the least bit tipsy to immediately feeling dizzy and majorly drunk. I couldn't walk by myself.
My friend came looking for me and she told me she was worried because this guy that started talking to us was asking about me and offering to take me home before he should have even known I wasn't doing well. She got suspicious because it had been in the news that Dallas area bartenders were taking money under the table for dropping drugs in women's drinks. I had driven but she drove my car home and my husband drove her home after she drove me to my house. I passed out in the car, my husband had to come get me out of the car. I only drank THREE sips. What in the hell would have happened if I had drank the whole glass?
Edited to add: this was no dive, it was a trendy happenin' bar in Addison, Texas.
I'd have went ballistic, and beat the hell out of whoever it was. There are some things you just don't do. I have a philosopy that I'll stay out of men's business in bars, but if anyone starts antagonizing women/the handicapped, I'll certainly interject.
I use to play pool for money in biker bars. Biker bars aren't bad compared to honkytonks
Never been to a Honky Tonk, but my curiosity has often been peaked. I've just never found one.
Biker bars? We've got about a half a biker bar in town here, but I've never been inside. I may go one of these days. I know rules, and shit about bikes, and their owners, but since I could never drive, they've always drawn me. Always loved bikes since I can remem ber. ESPECIALLY Hogs.
took a taste of one of the strippers
Uh-Oh. I've also heard that stripper rules are kinda like biker/owner rules. No touchy without permission. Never been in a strip club either though, so I haven't seen the rule in action Live.
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This thread brought this song to mind:
Uneasy Rider (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UZCytbDEtks)
I was takin' a trip out to L.A.
Toolin' along in my Cheverolet
Tokin' on a number and diggin' on the radio
Just as I crossed the Mississippi line
I heard that highway start to whine
And I knew that left rear tire was about to blow
Well the spare was flat and I got uptight
'Cause there wasn't a filling station in sight
So I just limped on down the shoulder on the rim
I went as far as I could and when I stopped the car
It was right in front of this little bar, a
Kind of a red-neck lookin' joint called the "Dew Drop Inn"
Well I stuffed my hair up under my hat
And told the bartender that I had a flat
And would he be kind enough to give me change for a one
Well there was one thing I was sure proud to see
There wasn't a soul in the place except for him and me and
He just looked disgusted and pointed toward the telephone
I called up the station down the road a ways and
He said he wasn't very busy today
And he could have somone out there in just about 10 minutes or so
He said," Now, you just stay right where yer at!"
And I didn't bother to tell the dern fool
That I sure as hell didn't have anyplace else to go
I ordered up a beer and sat down at the bar
When some guy walked in and said, "Who owns this car
With the peace sign, the mag wheels and the four on the floor?"
Well he looked at me and I damn near died
And I decided that I'd just wait outside
So I laid a dollar on the bar and headed for the door
Just when I thought I'd get outta there with my skin
These 5 big dudes come strollin' in
With this one old drunk chick and some fella with green teeth
Now I was almost to the door when the biggest one
Said, "You tip your hat to this lady, son!"
And when I did, all that hair fell out from underneath
Now the last thing I wanted was to get into a fight
In Jackson Mississippi on a Saturday night
Especially when there was three of them and only one of me
They all started laughin' and I felt kinda sick
And I knew I better think of something pretty quick
So I just reached out and kicked old green teeth right in the knee
Now he let out a yell that'd curl yer hair
But before he could move I grabbed me a chair
And said "Now watch him Folks cause he's a furly dangerous man!"
"Well you may not know it but this man is a spy.
He's a undercover agent for the FBI
And he's been sent down here to infiltrate the Ku Klux Klan!"
He was still bent over holdin' on to his knee
But everybody else was lookin' and listenin' to me
And I laid it on thicker and heavier as I went
I said "Would you believe this man has gone as far
As tearing Wallace stickers off the bumpers of cars
And he voted for George McGovern for President."
"Well he's a friend of them long haired, hippy-type, pinko fags!
I betchya he's even got a commie flag
Tacked up on the wall inside of his garage."
"He's a snake in the grass, I tell ya guys
He may look dumb but that's just a disguise
He's a mastermind in the ways of espionage"
They all started lookin' real suspicious at him and
He jumped up and said "Now just wait a minute Jim!
You know he's lyin' I been livin' here all of my life!"
"I'm a faithful follower of Brother John Birch
And I belong to the Antioch Baptist Church.
And I ain't even got a garage, you can call home and ask my wife!"
Then he started saying somethin' 'bout the way I was dressed
But I didn't wait around to hear the rest
I was too busy movin' and hopin' I didn't run outta luck
And when I hit the door I was makin' tracks
And they were just taking my car down off the jacks
So I threw the man a twenty and jumped in and fired that mother up
Mario Andretti woulda sure been proud
Of the way I was movin' when I passed that crowd
Comin' out the door and headed toward me at a trot
And I guess I shoulda gone ahead and run
But somehow I just couldn't resist the fun
Of chasin' them all just once around the parking lot
Well they're headed for their car but I hit the gas and
Spun around and headed 'em off at the pass
I was slingin' gavel and puttin' a ton o' dust in the air
Well I had them all out there steppin' and fetchin'
Like their heads was on fire and their asses was catchin'
but I figgered I'd better go ahead and split before the cops got there
When I hit the road I was really wheelin'
Had gravel flyin' and rubber squeelin'
And I didn't slow down till I was almost to Arkansas
Well I think I'm gonna reroute my trip
I wonder if anybody'd think I'd flipped
If I went to L.A., via Omaha
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Drink a beer in a nice safe place?
Go to a VFW.
Oh, I forget, that would be a "hostile environment" for a DUmmie.
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I have to wonder about people that would voluntarily go to such notoriously violent, dangerous places and then brag about how intelligent they are to everybody else on the internet.
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I have to wonder about people that would voluntarily go to such notoriously violent, dangerous places and then brag about how intelligent they are to everybody else on the internet.
DUmmie seems to fit the bill. :lmao:
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I have to wonder about people that would voluntarily go to such notoriously violent, dangerous places and then brag about how intelligent they are to everybody else on the internet.
You know, sir, because of a, uh, certain condition of mine, I never know if I'm in a rough place or not, given that I don't hear anything.
I've been the only white guy in black bars--this was some years ago--oh, three or four times, North Omaha.
Alone; I just wandered in out of curiosity.
And about this time, there was that one bar near the waterfront of New York City; I forget exactly where, but it was near where the great ocean-liners used to load and unload passengers during the heyday of the big ships--full of nothing but men who acted, uh, rather odd.
Alone; I just wandered in out of curiosity.
Some years after all those experiences, after I'd returned from the socialist paradises of the workers and peasants, in Chicago I walked into a bar that had nothing but women wearing motorcyle-cop gear.
Alone; I just wandered in out of curiosity.
The latest experience was three years ago, down in Kansas City, where I walked into a bar that had leather straps and chains for rent (I have no idea why).
Alone; I just wandered in out of curiosity.
And because I'd given up drinking back in 1987, I didn't go into those places for a beer; I just ordered Diet Dr. Pepper, and was served. I generally sat there for about forty-five minutes, after which I then went to look for other things unusual to me.
Nothing ever happened; the service was always first-class, and the other customers treated me with courtesy and respect, answering my questions if I had any.
I dunno; these might, or might not, have been "tough" bars, but I'll never know.
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Strangely enough, when you become an "old fart". the young pups take care of you.
The type of bar, doesn't matter.
Unless of course, you prove to be an ass.
The young guys will have your measure within a few minutes.
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One never knows when a bar is safe or not.
I went out one night out with some woman from work to a most safe bar, it was in a Hotel that was super safe.
We drank and ate and danced with each other for a couple hours, all find and dandy. I had to Pee, you know how that is and headed for the Lady's room when a man came up to me and began to talk. I had to pee right now and ignored him as I rushed into the Lady's room.
When I came out there he was and when we walked by an exit door he put his hand on the back of my neck. Darn but I found I could not cry out or do anything but move out the door. Very awful feeling, I have no idea what nerves he was pressing on but the pain was causing me to loose my eyesight.
All I remember after that was I finally awoke on the floor, my friends and the police were bending over me, everyone talking at once, I had no idea what what was going on.
Seems I learned later that one of my coworkers a good sized lady noticed me going out the door. She knew I was married and wondered about the man behind me. She for some reason barreled into the man knocking him off me, she told me later that she had no choice, she knew something was very wrong.---She saved my life.
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vesta, madam, dear.
Whoa.
Wait.
What?
.....danced with each other.....
You were dancing with another woman?
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This thread brought this song to mind:
Uneasy Rider (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UZCytbDEtks)
I was takin' a trip out to L.A.
Toolin' along in my Cheverolet
Tokin' on a number and diggin' on the radio
Just as I crossed the Mississippi line
I heard that highway start to whine
And I knew that left rear tire was about to blow
Almost hard to believe that Charlie Daniels is a God fearing, American loving patriot.
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One never knows when a bar is safe or not.
>snip<
As odd as it seem, yes you can.
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Almost hard to believe that Charlie Daniels is a God fearing, American loving patriot.
Maybe it was phase of his. After all, he is an entertainer and this was sometimes in the seventies. What's the old saying about being young and liberal you have a heart, etc.
Charlie Daniels is one hell of a musician. I don't care what his politics are. I like great music. The man can play a violin.
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Maybe it was phase of his. After all, he is an entertainer and this was sometimes in the seventies. What's the old saying about being young and liberal you have a heart, etc.
Charlie Daniels is one hell of a musician. I don't care what his politics are. I like great music. The man can play a violin.
That would be a fiddle.
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That would be a fiddle.
He can play it both ways and quite well.
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He can play it both ways and quite well.
Under his chin or on his knee.
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Maybe it was phase of his. After all, he is an entertainer and this was sometimes in the seventies. What's the old saying about being young and liberal you have a heart, etc.
Charlie Daniels is one hell of a musician. I don't care what his politics are. I like great music. The man can play a violin.
I believe he gave Mt. Juliet, TN a city park out of his own pocket. He's pretty highly thought of up there.
Of course, as the DUmmies would say, he probably took a tax deduction for that.
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That would be a fiddle.
LOL. Don't know much about musical instruments I see.
Let me help you: Stringed musical instruments (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fiddle)
Sorry... but this is the same thing as calling a Timpani a drum. :fuelfire:
:-) :-)
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LOL. Don't know much about musical instruments I see.
Let me help you: Stringed musical instruments (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fiddle)
Sorry... but this is the same thing as calling a Timpani a drum.
If you're gonna play in Texas,
You gotta have a fiddle in the band.
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Or a steel gui-tar. :-)
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One never knows when a bar is safe or not.
I went out one night out with some woman from work to a most safe bar, it was in a Hotel that was super safe.
We drank and ate and danced with each other for a couple hours, all find and dandy. I had to Pee, you know how that is and headed for the Lady's room when a man came up to me and began to talk. I had to pee right now and ignored him as I rushed into the Lady's room.
When I came out there he was and when we walked by an exit door he put his hand on the back of my neck. Darn but I found I could not cry out or do anything but move out the door. Very awful feeling, I have no idea what nerves he was pressing on but the pain was causing me to loose my eyesight.
All I remember after that was I finally awoke on the floor, my friends and the police were bending over me, everyone talking at once, I had no idea what what was going on.
Seems I learned later that one of my coworkers a good sized lady noticed me going out the door. She knew I was married and wondered about the man behind me. She for some reason barreled into the man knocking him off me, she told me later that she had no choice, she knew something was very wrong.---She saved my life.
Ok then, Vesta, thanks for playing....................:naughty: :loser: :???: :popcorn: :lmao: :banghead: :tongue: :lol:
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Ok then, Vesta, thanks for playing....................:naughty: :loser: :???: :popcorn: :lmao: :banghead: :tongue: :lol:
Maybe we could hook up Vesta with Monty Hall as a consolation prize?
(http://www.letsmakeadeal.com/lmad-curtain.GIF)
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What's the big deal with hanging out in rough bars? Are they expecting street cred from it? No freaking way would there be a bar like like UNNNHOLI or whatever the heck his name is described. Word would get out. It would be busted. If it was as bad as he says they'd do a little more than send in a couple of patrol cars.
Cindie
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What's the big deal with hanging out in rough bars? Are they expecting street cred from it? No freaking way would there be a bar like like UNNNHOLI or whatever the heck his name is described. Word would get out. It would be busted. If it was as bad as he says they'd do a little more than send in a couple of patrol cars.
Cindie
They would stand out by their pink attire. Their women would be a little harder to spot, with their butch haircuts and tattoos.
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vesta, madam, dear.
Whoa.
Wait.
What?
You were dancing with another woman?
Not slow dancing silly man, ----Times have changed -----People now dance alone [line dancing ], some
men never leave their chair [ lap dancing ]-----2 woman 1 man, 2 men one woman ,or 20 people just jumping about to the music, don't need a partner to jump up and down. The rage of one time was the Chicken Dance, not to be confused with the Funky Chicken.
Tribal drum beats that cause people to tap their foot, sway back and forth, don't forget the Shaker Comunity of the 1800 or the black Baptist Churches that when the chorus gets into Gospel mode it is almost impossible to sit still.
Strange as I think about it there are TOYS on the market that when attached to a stereo will flash lights in sinc with the notes played. Different color light for different notes. When Grandma was in a nursing home someone brought one in to the Rec. room and it was a huge hit with the patients that were deaf or very hard of hearing. After 4 times playing the same song, the residents were keeping time with their fingers on the wheel chairs. They were, strange as it sounds, keeping time and hearing with their eyes. A form of self hypnoses perhaps. The weird part is that some of the patients had favorite songs,
same as in the world of the hearing, the elderly woman seemed to prefer the heavy fast beats while the elderly gentlemen leaned toward ballads. The one form of music that was not enjoyed was Dixieland Jazz.
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I'm with Vesta on just getting out on the dance floor and having fun.
Line dancing is a good excuse to get up and move. Some of my co-workers and I will meet up at a club just to laugh and dance. I'm older, so not looking for a permanent dance partner, and not likely to get looked at anyway. Am I going to sit home and crochet? Or get TV and watch animal planet? Not likely.
I do get some younger fellows asking, which seemed odd until one told me that they know us older gals rarely turn them down (and never in the catty way a young lady in a group of friends does), and we will not stalk them later. Just dance well and have fun.
The guys my age seem to be intent on perfecting their technique of one handed, 12 oz curls, or holding the bar down by leaning on it as if it might spook and run any moment. Yee Haw! lol
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All I remember after that was I finally awoke on the floor, my friends and the police were bending over me, everyone talking at once, I had no idea what what was going on.
Most of vesta's nights on the town end this way.
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Most of vesta's nights on the town end this way.
Nights,??? Hell GO, most of my days end this way, by the time Glen Beck is off the air, I am not sure if I can safely sleep on top of the bed or should crawl under it. :censored:
TIME is the Enemy, sneaks up on us, causes changes and life styles one never expected to come so SOON. The future was all ways in the Future until you find the Future started yesterday.
It gets to the point where all the insane younger years are just memory's and one knows those days are gone, forever, new things happen in life but on a more sedate pace.
The things one does in younger days horrify you when the kids or worse grandkids do them-----Yikes those idiots will come to a bad end we say but forget we may have done much worse at their age.
Were I today to walk into a club and find my granddaughter dancing on top of the bar with a lamp shade on her head, I would pull the kid out and ask them " What are you thinking doing that" ????
Thing I dread is for the granddaughter asking why it was OK for me to do this 40 years ago but not her today. What makes me think she will have a bad life, I survived the wild days why not her???
So Grandma pulls up her thong and has to admit, that finally she understands why she scarred the hell out of her parents and grandparents at that age.
Bigest thing I have tried to instill in my kids is the fact------it is not the things we do in life that causes regret is the things we did not do. All the chances to make a difference in others lives, the times we could have visited Grandpa and showed up 20 minutes late for a cook out with so called friends. Times we were bored and hit the bars when a 10 minute call to an Aunt or Uncle would have meant the world to them to know you have not forgotten them.
I digress here, sorry for that, by now you know how I wander from subject to subject----flight of Ideas.