An Open Penitentiary Plus Georgie and Donny

Being 91 ain't all bad. 

Besides just not being dead, I can fantasize about oral sex (certainly not with the Princess) without feeling guilty. It's plenty okay, at 91, to stare at the tight asses of young women, knowing that being an old reprobate is good for my soul. 

After all, staring is as much as I can do, knowing that my drooping, dripping faucet no longer knows from the straight and narrow.

The independent oil and gas business in the 70's and 80's was an open penitentiary and if you didn't  realize that paranoia improved your peripheral vision you would get fucked. Looking over your shoulder was crucial for survival.What the average business man would think dishonest, the average oil and gas guy would think that it was sharp trading. 

Some oil and gas towns and states were worse than some others. Mr. McGee of Kerr McGee once told me that he avoided Denver based acquisitions because of some real life, unhappy experiences.

Midland, Texas, Fort Worth were almost 'straight'. Oklahoma City and Tulsa were very dangerous.Calgary, Canada was truly the last of the Wild West, cowboy towns.Vancouver, B.C. was an absolute no, no. Salt Lake City had a stock exchange that specialized in mostly oil, gas and mineral penny stocks. Unless you had the Mormons on your side you were fucked.

The guys who ran the drilling funds, aka tax shelters, were really dangerous except for guys like George Bush who didn't know how to be totally dishonest. But the Georgies of the world were in very short supply in the Denver oil patch. Phil Anschutz was/is  pretty straight. 

Georgie and his buddy Donny Evans would show up at the Y at noon to work out and recover from one too many the night before. They were serious drinkers. They waited, generally, until evening to start having again, 'the hair of the dog that bit them'. They were some kind of pair to draw to until Donny went straight, quit drinking and with a great assist from Laura Bush, got Georgie to quit.

At least Georgie and Donny  were mostly honest.The last totally honest being was Jesus and it's been all down hill since.

And then we have some button hole patriots who think that wearing an American Flag pin on their lapel makes anything they do okay, no matter how borderline the action. Samuel Johnson famously observed that, 'Patriotism is the last refuge of scoundrels'. But even those button hole patriots, for the most part, pay no never mind to Pearl Harbor Day. Don't even pay lip service to Dec 7.

But even worse, young people hardly know what happened Dec.7,1941.

On Sunday, Dec.7,1941 I was at the movies with my best friend Buddy Goldfarb. Double feature for either 15 or 25 cents. Don't remember which.

Me & Buddy Goldfarb, Tinian, 1945

The Pearl Harbor attack was announced at the movie theatre. Everyone's reaction was disbelief and indignation. Monday everyone and anyone who could walk, talk and chew gum at the same time volunteered for a service. I went to a Navy recruiting office and was told that I needed a new set of eyes. Then I tried the Army who also told me to fuck off.

Then I started to pound the draft board to draft me which they finally did. Stamped my papers 'Not To Be Sent Overseas'. Orders which in the end were ignored, thanks to my insistence and to my ability as a dot-dash guy, aka radio operator.

My years in the service left me with a bum Okinawa leg and an enriched life with great memories.Very proud to be part of  the Greatest Generation. And still looking down at the grass.

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