Sunday, February 24, 2013

More people that can't count

There are a lot of people out there that simply do not know how to count.

I have a scar on my side from a surgical proceedure and once whaile I was shooting a summer match in 100+ degree weather I peeled off my outer clothes consisting of a heavy quilted shooter's jacket, and a hooded sweatshirt.

The sweatshirt lifted my T-shirt with it and exposed the scar to the guy on my right that happened to be a history teacher. He asked me about the scar and I told him it was from when I had caught a Jap bayonet at Tarawa.

Now I was born in 1951 and Tarawa was fought in 1943 which means that I would 26 years older than I am to have been there. It went over the teacher's head and he asked me if I would like to tell his history class about fighting the Japanese Empire.

I simply suggested he take a remedial course in math and he blushed but I realized that maybe the next time anyone asked I ought to back things up a bit.

It is now a scar from a Spanish bayonet I got in Cuba when I served with Colonel Roosevelt.



I showed this picture to someone and they asked me, "Is that really you?"

"Aboslutely," I replied.


Actually one time I was wearing my grubby old flight jacket and some kid asked me if I was a pilot. I replied that I had flown for Colonel Roosevelt in Cuba, figuring the kid to be a box of rocks.

He surprised me when he said I must have been a hot air balloon pilot because that was 5 years before the airplane had been invented. He also said I must be at least 130 years old.

I told him that I was only 128 because I sneaked in with my big brother's birth certificate.

There was an old WW2 Marine behind me listening trying not to wet his pants laughing as I was giving the kid my line of BS. He looked like a real character and in his mid 80s.

The kid asked me why I didn't look 128 years old so I told him it was because I don't drink any cheap booze. "I drink good whiskey off the top shelf, and plenty of it," I said to the kid.

The kid was just about ready to call me on my BS when the old guy stuck his nose into the fray.

"Listen to him, Sonny. He's telling you the truth! Look what rotgut whiskey done to me! I'm going to be 24 years old next week and look at me!"

To find out why the blog is pink just cut and paste this:


  1. Next week, the scar will be where Eve got her rib from?

  2. Nah. I have drawn the line at being 132 years old.

    Let's not be ridiculous