Hobo Jungle
San, the laundry threat continues. Now I had to pony up the 120 for the new top-of-the-line steam iron. What make you ask? Bosch, of course. Everything must match. All I do now is drink beer and warch the washing machine. I think I almost understand the cycle. But who wants to understand magic completely. I'm addicted to the 1000 RPM spin. It's a jet engine.
Sorry. I've had a bit of a personal dilemma going on. It's just the kind of question that shows up in the back of your mind, and begs for an explanation. You try and reason with it , work it out in your way , but there it is , unanswered. Back to square one, nothing resolved. No man on the moon. No way to keep bumbers from falling off Buicks, it's just still there. Like Captain Kirk telling Scottie to give it warp 9, but he screams back saying , she's breakin up , Skipper. I hate sounding weak, but sometimes you just have to see if a friend can lend their advice. So with that being said, just what IS the Hokie-Pokie all about? 
Jon, I guessing it's the women with the white rock problem? Sorry, brother.
I called lots of friends today. Oddly, every one of them was fighting with the spouse. What's up with that? You got issues--hold them until the new year. Christmas is no time for dross.
I'll tell you the oddest Hokey-pokie story. I was once at the Blue Hill country club. I was there because I was with Kate, who was crested, breasted English nobility. Tom Guinness was there. We are talking the biggest fortunes in the country at that time. God, how they hated me, but the rich are always so polite. Well, they had the band play the Hokie, and they formed a circle, and one after another of them jumped into the center of the ring and stripped. Oh, man, was that weird for this NH poor boy.
I called lots of friends today. Oddly, every one of them was fighting with the spouse. What's up with that? You got issues--hold them until the new year. Christmas is no time for dross.
I'll tell you the oddest Hokey-pokie story. I was once at the Blue Hill country club. I was there because I was with Kate, who was crested, breasted English nobility. Tom Guinness was there. We are talking the biggest fortunes in the country at that time. God, how they hated me, but the rich are always so polite. Well, they had the band play the Hokie, and they formed a circle, and one after another of them jumped into the center of the ring and stripped. Oh, man, was that weird for this NH poor boy.
Jon, whatever the issues are, I know my buddy Popeye can handle them. Cheers!
When is your birthday?
"A truck drives through the night with something on board."
When is your birthday?
"A truck drives through the night with something on board."
Last edited by Tramp on Sun Dec 19, 2004 9:05 pm, edited 3 times in total.
The City of New Orleans
by Steve Goodman
Riding on the City of New Orleans,
Illinois Central Monday morning rail
Fifteen cars and fifteen restless riders,
Three conductors and twenty-five sacks of mail.
All along the southbound odyssey
The train pulls out at Kankakee
Rolls along past houses, farms and fields.
Passin' trains that have no names,
Freight yards full of old black men
And the graveyards of the rusted automobiles.
CHORUS:
Good morning America how are you?
Don't you know me I'm your native son,
I'm the train they call The City of New Orleans,
I'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done.
Dealin' card games with the old men in the club car.
Penny a point ain't no one keepin' score.
Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle
Feel the wheels rumblin' 'neath the floor.
And the sons of pullman porters
And the sons of engineers
Ride their father's magic carpets made of steel.
Mothers with their babes asleep,
Are rockin' to the gentle beat
And the rhythm of the rails is all they feel.
CHORUS
Nighttime on The City of New Orleans,
Changing cars in Memphis, Tennessee.
Half way home, we'll be there by morning
Through the Mississippi darkness
Rolling down to the sea.
And all the towns and people seem
To fade into a bad dream
And the steel rails still ain't heard the news.
The conductor sings his song again,
The passengers will please refrain
This train's got the disappearing railroad blues.
Good night, America, how are you?
Don't you know me I'm your native son,
I'm the train they call The City of New Orleans,
I'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done.
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