Creative Endeavors, The Home of BoxcarOkie.com

April 26, 2012

Driveway Queen

Filed under: Blogging,Bus Life,buses,humor,Life,Oklahoma,Recent,Silver Eagle Coach — ldsrr91 @ 4:56 AM
Tom Turner, our reader on the left-coast of America wanted some bus porn, so here is a little to whet his whistle.
Groom Texas is the site of the cross, largest cross on the North American Continent, or so it is said.

I wake up and my pillow is full of slobber, man, I hate that!  Forming a mental picture of my head on this pillow and my tongue hanging outside my mouth, sort of like those old blood hounds in the movie, Cool Hand Luke, and it just strikes me as revolting.

Deftly reaching up with my left hand, I wipe my face in a masculine manner (meaning with a bare hand because I do not have a handkerchief handy) and quickly look around (to see if anyone observes me doing this repulsive thing I have unconsciously done) and I quickly sit up in bed.  What is it that triggers a dream such as this?  Where you are prone to consume your own pillow.

Only in the mind of man, does something as bizarre as this occur.

Reaching out as if I almost in a state of disbelief, I touch the pillow and it is soaked to the bone as my grandmother used to exclaim.  What about the dream?  I am thinking hard, and I remember some people, a plate full of honey-covered brisket (if there is such a thing?) and vaguely, some off-color conversation, a handful of good-looking beautiful, robust, round shaped women.

I am mystified, “a plate full of honey-covered brisket?”

Coming from a long line of finger lickin’ chicken eaters kind of people (Donnie, don’t let the dawg get into them bones!), honey soaked brisket seems awfully foreign to me.  Meat and tators in our neck of the woods, flies in the butter, no brisket anything in this part of “Ameri-Kuh” as George Dubya used to say.

Same with touch football games and well manicured lawns, why I dream of these things, truly escapes me at the moment. I live in Oklahoma, where a large percentage of the population actually believes that wrestling on television is real, and in the southeastern corner of the state, the idea of gun control is to “hold it with both hands Earl.”  Where your first born child has three names … Billy Raye Littler.  Where people generally say, “Whadya mean you got a bus?  Did-ja mean a reel bus?  You mean like one of them Greyhound things, Oakridge Boys star buses, one of them?  Well, I’ll be.”


So you can readily understand why dreams of idyllic New England and front yards full of leaves of many colors, touch football just do not resonate with my country soul. Sweaters tied loosely around the neck and women with names like Buffy and Tiffany just do not register, nor induce slobber.

The absolute worst dream I ever had was the first night I spent in my Eagle in Alabama.  Our bus has an overhead mirrored ceiling that runs the entire length of the coach.  The first night I ever slept in it was in a rest area in Good Hope, Alabama (just a tad north of Birmingham) where I woke up abruptly and looked up for a moment “and actually thought I was being attacked by a naked skydiver!”

Now that … that … was a scary dream, but I digress, we are talking about this dream, sorry

In my latest dream, Big Jim lites up a cigarette and everyone in the waiting room at the tireshop is horrified, this must be a terrible thing, but I fail to see where it would induce slobber on the pillow.  Now if it were a beautifully painted up Detroit or Big Cam 600 Cummings, with chrome plated rocker covers and un-rusted exhaust pipes, steam cleaned and shining brightly, that would be a different story altogether.  Fresh paint on the body of the beast, new Armor-all on all the hoses, no grease … Ah, the dreams of man.  This would be enough to induce slobber or at best, provide that deer in the headlight look on most men.

Unfortunately most dreams are not of that pleasant nature.

Not that long ago, the wife, in the middle of the night, shook me awake rather violently.  I was, to say the least, rather startled and I might add, a bit confused.  I did not smell smoke, I did not hear the thunder, the wind was not howling, nor did I see any lightning.  In other words, all around me seemed, despite her apparent sense of urgency, rather normal for four in the morning.

I said to her, “What?  What?

What in the name of GOD ALMIGHTY is wrong woman!”

She said to me, “I have a dream.  We are in Wikiup, Arizona, in our bus, you drive off and leave me there!  Why do you do that?”  I sigh, a sigh I have learned to do almost habitually over the years, and I say to her, “This?  For this I am shook into a rather strange version of reality at this time of the morning?  You had a dream and I left you in Arizona?”

She looks at me, very much relieved and says, “Yes, yes that is it.  You drive off and leave me!”

At that point in time, I slowly lower my head onto my pillow (which has not been slobbered on here lately) and I mutter under my breath just loud enough to be heard, “go back to sleep woman, I will drive back and pick you up.”

“Life isn’t about how you survive the storm, but how you dance in the rain…”

You can travel east and west, but in the end, well, y’know the rest, dontcha?

(As my friend Bernice would put it … Life Is Good)

OOO

[#1235]

March 6, 2012

Pull The Trigger

I stopped by the Chevrolet Dealership yesterday, for a look at the new Government Motors Silverado 2012, 1500 pickup. Just for fun, I took it out for a test drive. I wanted to sense that new “feel” before they become extinct …

As we took a test drive the salesman (a well dressed black man wearing an Obama “change” lapel pin) sat in the passenger seat describing the truck and all its “wonderful” options.

The seats were of particular interest. He explained that the seats directed warm air to your butt in the winter and directed cool air to your butt in the summer heat.

Feeling like messing with him, I mentioned that this must be a Republican truck.  Looking a bit angry, he asked why I thought it was a Republican truck.

I explained that if it were a Democrat truck, the seats would blow smoke up your a** year-round. 

I had to walk back to the dealership …. Guess this guy just had no sense of humor.


Suppose we will just dig a hole and bury this sucker (make a storm cellar out of it) funeral details will be published in the near future.  Please bring your own shovel.

Thanks.

OOO

Cartoon courtesy of Center For American Progress

[#1195]

February 2, 2012

Everything And All

Filed under: Blogging,buses,humor,Life,random — ldsrr91 @ 6:19 AM

The U.S. Air Force has a fleet of infected drones, the computer virus will track every keystroke the pilot makes as it flies sensitive missions over war zones.  They keep wiping it off, and it keeps reappearing, and is proving to be a pretty nasty computer bug.  Now here is the rub.  The Air Force says that they are not sure whether the virus was introduced intentionally or accidentally.

Uh … how was that.  Did I read that right?

The Westboro Baptist Church is not having a good week after they made the statement that Steve Jobs was going to hell.  They put out the message or tweet “via Twitter for iPhone” and then later when called on it (the use of the iPhone) the church explained that “God created the iPhone” not Steve Jobs.  Here is another one while we are at it.  A Dallas Texas Baptist preacher sued the city for damage done to his foreign car that was damaged when a light pole fell on it while legally parked in that city.  The preacher filed his claim with the city council for some $1,800 in damages which was promptly declined.  Why?

The council ruled that “it was an act of God” and therefore the city was not responsible.

Bad day for a Super Hero in Seattle.  
An amateur superhero was arrested for assault after he allegedly pepper-sprayed a group of people outside a nightclub.  The self styled vigilante who goes by the name “Phoenix Jones” claims he was breaking up a fight, but Seattle police say he started the scuffle.

Phoenix Jones is one of many dues paying members of the Rain City Superhero Movement who patrol the streets of the city like comic book characters.  Police have asked the crusaders to dial 911 when they run across something illegal or unusual.  Evidently he did not receive the memo?  So, it appears that it is alright to dress up in a goofy costume and parade around one of the largest cities in the Northwest, it is the pepper-spraying of the citizens that is frowned upon.

You ever wonder which Superhero you might be?  You can take the test here.  Which Superhero am I?

Here is something else that is bugging me.  Why is it when two superhero’s are in a fight on the big screen, why is it that both of them are good fighters?  It always turns out that both of them are really good at that (fighting).  Just once, wouldn’t you like to see a fight between two superhero’s where one of them gets the complete crap kicked out of him in about eight seconds?  Especially the #1 hero, that would be cool.

From the Maybe-The-Batteries-Are-Dead Department:

When his .38 revolver failed to fire during a hold-up in Long Beach, California, would-be robber James Elliot did something which can only inspire wonder: He peered down the barrel and pulled the trigger again.  That time, the gun worked.

So stupid, it’s brilliant:

After stopping for drinks at a bar, a Zimbabwean bus driver found that the twenty mental patients he was transporting had escaped.  Not wanting to admit incompetence, the driver went on to the nearest crowded bus stop and offered a free ride to everyone waiting there.  He then delivered the passengers to the mental hospital, telling the staff there that the “patients” were very excitable, and prone to bizarre fantasies.

The deception was not discovered for three days.

Remember this the next time you find yourself sitting on the bench, leaning forward and looking down the road for old #13 to come pick you up and cart you downtown.

OOO

 

[1165]

December 21, 2011

This N That

Filed under: Blogging,buses,humor,Life,Oklahoma — ldsrr91 @ 8:45 AM
Tags: , ,

CHECK YOUR SHORTS.

Kind of incredible, I have been re-reading yesterday’s comments, and started laughing to myself.  What if you had never read this site before, and you were reading some of this?  Bet you would utilize some “gender recognition software” to ascertain whether or not this was really being written by a guy.  Now that is funny, I don’t care where it is you live.  While we are at it?  I did that once, used a gender software recognition on Helen & Margaret and it said it was most likely being written by a ….. Man.

I AM YOUR FATHER LUKE

I also have been musing around this poor slob at Toy’s R Us who evidently went bonkers with a battery operated Light Saber and they eventually called the cops where he did battle with them with his light saber and actually fended off two stun gun attacks in the parking lot.  “So how was your day honey?”

HEADS UP!

Some little town over in Great Britain had it rain apples the other day, and they are still humming over that one.  Sad and depressing news out of the la-la-land on the Left-Coast of America … Chaz Bono splits up with his girlfriend, guess she wanted a real man (Yawn?).  Now for something really funny …. Uh … Uh … How about a cat that has the ability to put a child to sleep, yeppers, saw that one this week too.  Now if they had one of a cat making toast and coffee in the morning, it seems to me, THAT would be noteworthy.  Anyway, for all you cat lovers, here it be:

THE BIG MEOW.

They now have a list of the top 30 cats in the country.  I am not making this up peeple, a list of cats that are important.  No one actually knows where Elvis is buried, but we have a list of cats that are important.  I am sorry, but I just don’t get it?

Snowed big time in Albq. New Mexico this week, and the temp’s are really dropping.  I love visiting the mountains of the southwest in the summer, but I sure don’t not want to live there.  It has been a wild kind of week and it is only half-way done.

WHERE DOES YOUR FRUIT COME FROM?

You ever wonder where it is your fruit comes from?  Elle Feeney does and mentions it here.  I never gave it too much thought, but now that she mentions it, the stuff does get some mileage on it before you take it home.  She may have inadvertently given birth to a new hobby, similar to stamp collecting too.  Now watch her go on to make a Million Bucks while I sit here and wither on the vine.  Luck of the draw I suppose.

DO YOU FEEL LUCKY?

Won $21 on the lottery over the weekend.  I think I know what the problem might be.  They roll the balls around and around and then zoom, pop ‘em out very quickly.  They are not giving me enough time to wish on them.  Would be nice to win the Big One (El Grande for our Los Angeles readers) I could buy a new home.

DESIGNATED DUMB CRAP

Closer we get to Christmas the stranger the commercials seem to get.  How about this one, Grey Goose Vodka …. “A toast to the nights you will never forget.”  Now where is the part where they say … I got really drunk and I don’t know what it is that I did?  Kind of reminds me of the old comic strip I read when I was a kid.

Consider this early strip from the 1960′s where two of the kids are arriving back home after attending a football game with their Dad.  One of the kids says to their mother:  “And we each had a bottle of soda.  Daddy brought his own in his pocket.”

No good huh?  Well, whadya expect for free?

JUST THE FACTS M’AM

A mature lady gets pulled over for speeding…
Is there a problem, Officer?
Yes ma’am, I’m afraid you were speeding.
Oh, I see.
Can I see your license please?
Well, I would give it to you but I don’t have one.
Don’t have one?
No. I lost it 4 years ago for drunk driving.
I see … Can I see your vehicle registration papers please.
I can’t do that.
Why not?
I stole this car.
Stole it?
Yes, and I killed and hacked up the owner.
You what!?
His body parts are in plastic bags in the trunk if you want to see.
The traffic cop looks at the woman and slowly backs away to his car while calling for back up.

Within minutes 5 police cars circle the car.

A senior officer slowly approaches the car, clasping his half drawn gun.
Ma’am, could you step out of your vehicle please.
The woman steps out of her vehicle.
Is there a problem sir?
My colleague here tells me that you have stolen this car and murdered the owner.
Murdered the owner? Are you serious?
Yes, could you please open the trunk of your car, please.
The woman opens the trunk, revealing nothing but an empty trunk.
Is this your car, ma’am?
Yes, here are the registration papers.

The traffic cop is quite stunned.
My colleague claims that you do not have a driving license.
The woman digs into her handbag and pulls out a clutch purse and hands it to the officer.
The officer examines the license quizzically.
Thank you ma’am, but I am puzzled, as I was told by my officer here that you didn’t have a license, that you stole this car, and that you murdered and hacked up the owner!
Bet he told you I was speeding, too.

If you are home, crank it up and let it wail!  If you are work, then keep it quiet and be ready to put the spreadsheet back up on the screen (Spreadsheet?  Hmmmmm, can’t wait for the comments to come in on that one.  I was lying on my spreadsheet in nothing but a Thong, and then the wife walked in … Oh well, whadya expect for free?)

That is it for Wednesday morning, hump day for a five day a week wage slave working for the man … Hang in there … You almost have it made.

OOO

November 16, 2011

It’s The Little Things

Filed under: Bus Life,buses,humor,Life,Oklahoma — ldsrr91 @ 7:00 AM
Tags: , , ,

The bus sat in the shop this past weekend, I had wanted to take it out and run it awhile, but that did not happen.  Not long ago, one of our heaters had stopped working, so we (we being me) took it apart and did some maint. on it and got it back in running order.  The on/off switch on the thermostat is kind of tricky, that is to say, it is hard to ascertain whether it is on or off on just about any given day.  At that point, I turned it off (or at least thought I had turned it off) and went about my business.  This was about sixty days ago, the last time we used it.

It now appears that it was in the “on position” and therefore, was coming on and running for who knows how long each night, when we were in bed.

Over the past few few weeks I had been experiencing problems starting the bus, it seemed like it had some kind of battery drain or reluctance to start on just about any occasion.  It also had been driving me nuts, or as my wife would say, “short trip” on several days trying to pinpoint the cause of the problem.

I pulled the dash and checked the ground on the starter switch, I pulled the drivers panel and checked the aux. start switch (helper).  Located the starter relay, crawled under over and all around the thing.  I jumped the starter, I hot wired in new switches, I tried every possible senario, even to the extent of pulling the batteries, a two hour job in itself.

I crawled on and over this thing like a monkey on a jungle gym without much success at all to put it bluntly.

Then one day, quite by accident, I am walking by the drivers side of the coach and as I pass the heater box I hear a click, the thermostat comes on and then whirr, the heater fires to life!  I turned and looked at it and then said, “What the —-?” and by pure luck (not reasoned deduction) the problem had been located.

This might be where the old adage, “even a blind hog can find an acorn every now and then” would apply.

I went inside the bus and checked some gauges on the inverter, and low and behold, the batteries were down to 10 volts.  So this weekend, it has sat with the battery charger.

A small thing, a little detail, but it shut me down and put me in the foot patrol.  It also chipped away at my fondness for my pig iron pony and kind of depressed me during my waking hours.

Here is another, this one cost me over a hundred bucks.

Wanting to charge up the batteries last week (before I had discovered the cause) I ran it out about 100 miles or so and then back to the shop.  During this trip, I also wanted to pull down the aux. fuel tank (65 gallons) to a smaller number of gallons (in order to reduce weight) and lower the gallons inside the tank.  Misreading the bus fuel gauge at 3/4 of a tank, I started the pump (the main tank it turns out was already full) and I begin transferring fuel.

Shortly thereafter, we started smelling diesel.  I thought two things at this point in time.  #1 was “Uh Oh?” and #2 was what my granddaughter is fond of saying …. “Uh Oh’s are never any good Grandpa.”

The smell of diesel now strongly permeates the interior of the coach.  This was because we were actually pumping it out the overflow and right onto the ground!  Yeah I know … At almost $4 per gallon.  (You will never hear me brag about how smart I are … No sir.).

Later on, over some cold beer and ribs, I try and explain to the little woman the nature of the beast and why it is taking so long to fix all of these “little things,” and she just nods her head, smiles in what I believed was total agreement, and then said to me in an understanding fashion …. “I hate my kitchen.”  She has heard it all before and frankly, there isn’t much here that she would consider news.

So after supper, I turn it around and drive it back home, later I slink out to the shop to once again, try and figure this out and I attack the problem.  They say Edison did over 10,000 experiments before he got the light bulb to work, and using that for a model, I am sure that I will find the root cause of my issues also (sadly it may take 9,000 attempts).  Late into the night, from the corner of the shop you can hear a small little voice saying over and over … You can do this, you can do this, you can do this …. dummy.

Later on, much later on, when most sane and reasonable people are tucked away for the night, I discover the problem and I fix it.  Once again, just a little thing, but it caused a lot of problems and expense.  That is often the way it goes …. first your money and then your clothes.

Earlier in this same week, I am wiring up our trailer and nothing, absolutely nothing, is working.  No matter how it is that I try to do this thing … this dawg isn’t going to hunt.  Over and over, day after day … one day … two … three days later I find it.  Once again, after applying the Edison principle to the problem (You can do this, you can do this, you can do this …. dummy.)  Stripping the wire covering on the trailer wiring harness, I find that the manufacturer of the trailer had apparently ran out of “blue wire” so in the middle of a run, he switches it over to “white.”

Which is as most of us already know, most always 90% of the time, a “ground” wire.

Dutifully after cursing his first born male child and implying that his parents were never married to begin with … I change out the wires (switch them around) and walla boys & girls … we now have trailer brakes!

Perhaps I am just doomed and do not know it?

One time in Utah, I missed the turn, when my bride said to me, “you missed the turn” I replied, “it’s no big deal.”  I then drove into a box canyon, thirty-seven miles in … and yes … thirty-seven miles out.

A little thing, but then again, it is always the little things in life that are going to get you.

OOO

October 17, 2011

Show Of Hands

Filed under: Bus Life,buses,Oklahoma — ldsrr91 @ 7:52 AM

When I sign up for a two year subscription to a magazine, I want the magazine, I don’t want empty promises or excuses or reasons why I should be thankful and life is so wonderful, and other non-related tripe.  I want what it is that I paid for … nothing more … nothing less.

Middle of the month, “Where is it?” (the Bus Conversions Magazine)  The last one I saw was so long ago, I cannot remember the month nor the date.  I guess I could have sent but another email to inquire where it might be?  But what is the use, the last one went unanswered, so screw it.  Anyway I am missing my hobby magazine and I am wondering what the excuse is going to be this time?

Every now and then, I will be watching television and the host will turn and look at the audience and inquire of them, “Let’s see a show of hands here, all of you who believe this or are in favor of it, raise your hand.”  And then the camera will quickly sweep the room and present a stunning representation of democracy at work, it will capture a sea of waving hands.

Some shows, with a much bigger budget (Oprah comes readily to mind here)will have hand-held digital counters and the audience member presses a button and you have an instant read-out … a statistical representation right there on the spot.

Raise your hands!  I always get a kick out of that, the way people quickly respond and register either their absolute awe or shock in the form of an upraised hand.

We are a story-telling folk, for as long as time has rolled by, we have sat around the campfire and told ourselves stories.  The ancient among us, would draw on the walls of caves to possibly entertain, enlighten, frighten or enthrall those who came along much later and stumbled upon it.

As a small child our grandparents would sit us down and tell us about “the good old days” as they remembered them and our parents would mystify us with stories of their youth.  My Dad and his brothers, used to sit at the kitchen table for hours and relive World War II and their exploits and/or adventures.

Lets face it … We like to tell stories.

BCM fulfills that to a certain extent, every now and then, it comes mostly unceremoniously or unannounced to our mailbox loaded with bus related stories.  They key word or phrase here being “every now and then.”

Then there is the bus board, where the stories are put up and then with almost disturbing regularity, they kind of morph into something that is not actually happening or have little resemblance to the original storyline.  On a slow day, it can actually be entertaining reading the quotes of a man who regales himself with a fantasy adventure or great knowledge about being a demigod in the bus community.  A man who see’s himself as someone who is beloved by all, when in fact, everything around him is going to hell and his friends and family have changed their home phone numbers and begun lighting prayer candles at night.

The poor slob who cannot find the off-ramp for the Cracker Barrel or the cheapest overnight parking spot in the lower forty-eight.  Interesting fodder such as where do I put my C.B. antenna and how do I chose a super-secret C.B. code name so truckers will talk to me?  Every time I run over a curb I blow a 12 year old tire, what can I do?

The enticing posts that spark a flame in those who are so unsure of themselves to begin with, they are already do not have a clue from the get-go.  You know, the subject topics that ask you to fill in the blank for why she/he doesn’t like me, love me, laugh at my jokes, return my e-mail or look me in the eye during missionary sex.  Those head turners like that.

No, wait a minute, that might be those mag’s next to the checkout counter at China World, I could be mistaken here.

Regardless of the type of story you find on the board, here are a few tips to close the book, if you will, on their psychic damage. First, look for extremity in your word choices. “Always,” “never,” “forever,” “hopeless” and “death” are usually tip-offs that you’re in a self-made fairy tale.  Quickly here are a few more … “Cheap,” “inexpensive,” “free to a good home,” “taking up space in my old tool box,” “looking for someone near _____ to drop this off,” are a few more.

Second, replace all these so-called mental legends of this electronic world, with manual labor. Roll up your sleeves and get busy, stop trying to pick everyone else’s head for the answers to YOUR problems.  There wasn’t anyone around to show the first caveman how to hunt food, he picked up a stick and killed something!  Same with you … try to solve it yourself first … if that don’t work, then go find a hammer and beat it too death.

In other words … at least make an effort to try and figure it out for cryin out loud.

Cleaning the engine compartment of the bus is often the best antidote for “My bus smells funny, (ergo I am patient zero of a weaponized bird flu devised by a secret arm of the Chinese government, and I believe it was given to me via the packing material in the box delivered to me from Cheap Taiwanese Tools LLC out of Pittsburgh) and I don’t know why.”

And finally, here is a novel idea for a burned out bus nut over-achiever.

Write your little horror stories down and sell them. Here’s the title and tag line from one I just optioned to an independent film maker:  “Using your bought at Home Depot Infrared Heat Gun for fun and profit at Bus Meets.”

Look for it this spring on ABC … Should be listed under “non-reality” programming or something along those lines.  Now let’s see a show of hands, “Everyone who plans to renew their subscription to BCM when it expires, raise them high!”

Yeah, thought so.

OOO

October 10, 2011

Be Patient

Filed under: Bus Life,buses,Uncategorized — ldsrr91 @ 7:55 PM

Be Patient     .. Yeah, that is a hoot.

We were all standing in line, waiting on the lift to start working, it was cold in Vail, Colorado.  The air was a sharp as a new razor blade and it cut you to the marrow of your bone.  When you are just standing there, doing nothing, the cold creeps up on you very quickly.  A regular “memory maker” for sure.

I looked at the guy that was acting like he was in charge and inquired of him, “Hey man, when is this lift going to start running?” and he said, “Be patient.”

So I said, “Yeah?  It has been an hour, and I bought a LIFT TICKET not an exercise in patience.”

So tonight, during a lull in ABC’s Dancin’ With The Stars (Shoot me, someone please, just shoot me!) I went cruising the net and I see where some poor slob is being chastised for wondering where his errant magazine might be?  His answer?  The old “it might be in the box and it might not be there gambit” is being played again.  Which frankly, is getting to be a bit lame and tired after all this time.

Having said that, I will now say this.  When I sign up for a two year subscription to a magazine, I want the magazine, I don’t want empty promises or excuses or reasons why I should be thankful and life is so wonderful, if you are not happy, go out and buy a puppy and other non-related tripe.

So for the record, I want the same thing this guy wants.  I want what it is that I paid for … nothing more … nothing less.

Here it is.  October, and we are sitting on the peg again … “Where is it?” (the magazine)  The last one I saw was so long ago, I cannot remember the month nor the date.  I guess I could have sent but another email to inquire where it might be?  But what is the use, the last one (email) went unanswered, so screw it.  Anyway I am missing my hobby magazine and I am wondering what the excuse is going to be this time?

For What It Is Worth: 

Mounting someone who asks where is it, is really not the answer to the problem, it solves nothing.

This is one primary reason I am no longer a dues paying member of bus boards, they are openly hostile and most of the time, non-tolerant of other peoples feelings and/or opinions.  Right here, is a prime example of it.  So in conclusion, I will throw this one out on the porch and see if the cat will lick it up?

I didn’t sign up for patience … I signed up for a magazine.

OOO

Little minds are tamed and subdued by misfortune; but great minds rise above them.

Washington Irving

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