Thanks, rayray… for reminding us how the guy has touched all our lives and hearts.
Is why he will always have a spot in my heart, literally and figuratively, by the pond, where this sunrise is available when the sun is shining.
[And, the view ain’t bad when it is not, either.]
“If we can’t find God … what if it’s because He’s not far away, but because He is so close? What if He is like our own eyes, which can see everything. but never sees itself except in a reflection? What if the Divine is so close, so intimate, and the very essence of our intimate self that we’ve been looking for Him in all the wrong places? What if He is not out there but, rather, in here?”
I imagine Stucky wrote that during his anguished hours watching his father pass from this earth. It was so poignant to me, I could not read it without crying, having recently lost my own father.
Thank you, rayray, for the reminder.
Day 30 of 54. ‘Nuf said.
Awe…that’s nice, Mags…will he be in tent city with your friend’s Remnant Jews or will he be on tribal lands with me?
He will be in a class all his own!
When I first started visiting here, Stucky was a semi-coherent ragehead, often shaking his fist at the sky, or at least at other TBPers. While it’s bittersweet when personal tragedies bring a man closer to God, let’s not pretend Stucky wasn’t the in-house prick at TBP.
But, he was (and will be again) outrageous on purpose, so was an equal-opportunity prickster.
He only plays favorites with a few of us and, even so, he has been a real jerk at times to the best of us as well as to the rest of us.
Who can’t appreciate that sort of raw honesty and fair distribution of bawdy humor?
For fuck sakes Neuday…. you are implying that he is the only prick round here….
That is Horseshit and you should know it…
Good one, Nova Scotia.
In case Stucky peeks in later, I want to show him the bridge over troubled water!
Are we now addressing people by location, Oklahoma?
Technically, I was born, raised and raised hell less than thirty miles from Old Black Water, there. I’m more a Missouri Swamp Thing than an Oklahoma Redneck.
Get this… it is FUNNY. My Nick calls Conservation to register the buck and he gives them one of our landowner tags. Haha… he gives them ONE OF MINE.
So, when we got back from the processing business that operates 7 days a week this time of year, a Conservation Agent was at our house. Nice, rational guy who straightened us out on deer tags and marriage.
Apparently, landowner doesn’t mean who owns the land: It is a person. So, when Nick filed the landowner tag which has my name on it and put down that he shot the deer with that number, it triggered the County Agent. Picture Hank Kimball of Green Acres, but rational and nice.
So, when I explained to him that half of what Nick owns is mine and his half is mine if I want it also, so in a way, ALL the landowner tags were mine, even if Nick’s name is on them, he thought it was funny enough to let me show him that Nick indeed has a landowner tag with his name on it.
So, we straightened out the potential poaching on our own land charge with no problem. However, I would like to point out that Nick’s landowner tag is also mine.
Gold digger.
Wait for it…
(good tune, btw… was hoping it would show up)
I will call this one
Basics of Basic Training
The first day of basic training sucks, as you probably sort of remember. I remember mine very clearly because just about everything that COULD freak me out did.
I was savvy to the pack of black hats coming in and had stationed myself at the far left corner on the side of the door, figuring they would fan out across the 50-something other recruits and I could escape and evade into the crowd an act as if I had already been yelled at enough.
It did not work. I was riveted by the big black TI hollering at the rich bitch from Easton, Maryland, and thanking God in Heaven I was a dumb hick from the backwoods of Missouri. Then, they came for me.
Somehow, I stood there while three or four of them yelled at me about various things I either said or had in my possessions and then, they abruptly moved on. My knees literally turned into jello and I fell onto the floor. I took a couple of deep breaths and managed to get back up, unnoticed.
So, the next day was inspection of all the stuff we weren’t smart enough to put into storage.
Holy shit! Who put that pack of rolling papers in my wallet? I literally shoved a pack of zigzags I found in my wallet behind one of those lockers on the wall. I wonder if they ever renovated BMTS Squadron 3002 and found that pack of papers. I almost tossed it onto the bed beside me. Fortunately, the locker wasn’t that heavy.
So, after we laid all our stuff out, they sent us into the dayroom to be quiet and worry while they all laughed at our pathetic belongings. Or whatever. Pretty soon, I get the yell! Squad Two Leader (that’s me… because he said I was ugly enough to be one) and I hopped up and trotted in.
Turns out that lovely crocheted hanger my grandmother gave me to help keep wrinkles out of my uniform shirts were NOT ALLOWED. That was relatively minor.
Less than two minutes later, a girl in my squad got the call… and we all heard while he grilled her about the GIANT box of Kotex sitting beside her locker. She was about 18 years old, had lived with her grandmother since being orphaned and literally was out of granny’s house for the first time. She was mortified that Mean Man in the Black Hat (Curious George’s Vader) was asking her if she planned to bleed to death at basic training or what? All the rest of us recruits were trying not to laugh and/or cry. Poor girl. She really was a dolt. I had to inspect her locker almost daily, just in case.
So, after she got back from the bathroom (eventually, she burst into tears and got sent to the restroom to calm down), she explained to us that her grandmother knew that stressful situations always made HER have very heavy periods and she wanted her baby to come prepared for the worst.
I can still remember her standing beside that locker with that huge box of Kotex pads. The 40 was exxed out because it was a BONUS pack of 44!
She was beside the national guard gal from Guam whose hair was to her ankles and we all HATED having to comb that barracks on our hands and knees looking for long black hair all the time. She asked me one day what she should do about being constipated for a week. I told her she was going to have to report to the Mean Man in the black hat and tell him she needed to see a doctor. She asked me to do it.
So I did. That asshole reamed my ass for coming to him about somebody else’s bowel movements. Then, he reamed hers and sent her to the infirmary. A week is a long time to hold it.
I did not cry. Big girls don’t.
Ha ha, this is a repeat and just as funny the second time around. If you added the previous comment about red ropes IQ and the story about the snake plus whatever else you recall, you have a nice article.
Should I include the time the Mean Man in the black hat publicly and pubicly humiliated me because three of my squad members had the crabs? The three who did laundry for the flight? Seriously, how did they ALL come down with pubic lice on day 11?
Yes, of course. I want to hear how you failed to supervise your squad. Guess you weren’t ugly enough to fill those squad leader shoes. What would HR say?
This piece is called “How TBP got stuck on Stucky”, like he’s some kind of angel, beloved by all. I’m simply throwing the Bullshit flag.
Mags be sure to submit an article; How TBP got nude with Nuedy so we can all throw the bullshit flag.
Just beloved by some. Others? not so much.
And, I really was simply pointing out that in the midst of all that you say about Stucky is truth: He’s an arrogant blowhard who knows a hell of a lot about a hell of a lot, but he doesn’t know everything and didn’t I just describe every single one of us?
What’s it to you if I think the guy deserves an extra shout out because rayray quoted that lovely observation? Really? Go read the one about Civil War or something cheerful.
You must be thinking of Smokey. Stucky has always been a cool cat around here. If he ever got mean or nasty, it was usually towards insufferable cocksucking pricks.
…. like Neuday!
Another good one, RiNS.
Here’s a favorite from the private MST3K collection…
When I got here, Stucky warned me about masturbating in public. He pulled pranks like doppling Kill Bill to harass me lightly but he also defended my right to speak on several occasions. He was this guy to me and several others:
Don’t say cocksucking on the post I made of that wonderful spiritual message from Stucky rayray quoted.
LOL… oh, rayray? Have you gotten shy?
I’m loading the horned Viking doll picture as my moniker. To make the lumberjack smile.
Which one is more “Me?”
It’s a tossup between the Formula One race car and the Old red car to the right… I’ll go with the race car…..You know, shiny, fast and not as old…
Just kidding…
Perhaps I need more choices… this was the whole shebang Huckleberry Finn brought to me from my son’s closet. And, the dolls were added by me this past summer, from an old guy who runs a pawn shop even though he’s a freaking millionaire!
So, since I am obviously not the Horned Warrior Vixen there and there’s no way that weird little blond is me (or Paula!)… I will remain faceless for a bit…
EDIT: added for backstory purpose.
It really is almost like a movie sometimes.
My little cousin Huck’s father died of drug addiction, melancholy and bad choices. Huck will probably never be Huck again after this year, when he starts “real” school and teachers use his new name until the childhood nickname fades away. But, his father handed me a box of photos a few months before he took a bottle of pills and told me that someone in the “family” ought to have them.
I finally opened the box of photos. They are of my father and his siblings when they were children. Rare old photos taken while on train rides to St. Louis, to the fair and playing on that same farm that was my playpen. Uncle Tyree was Huckleberry Finn and my father, the trickster, was Tom.
Perhaps, someday, I will tell those stories told to me to a young man we used to call Huck.
Did I mention Huck was born on my son’s birthday, 20 years later?
In itself, sharing birthdays is not uncommon… there are only 366 dates to pick from (if you include February 29.) Interesting, but not odd. But, when it happens again and again and again… maybe, just maybe, it could be a sign.
Just the sort of things I notice and keep track of. Human authors call them “spinning plates.” I wonder what the Author and Finisher calls them.
Almost like a movie.
Both of my grandchilden have the same birth date – two years apart.
I think it is really interesting when that happens in families. I’m a post-Christmas baby, so birthdays are a bit of a letdown for me.
Some cultures put a lot of stock in Astrology and Calendar dates. Not mine, not really.
Have I gotten shy? Me dear Mags, you have no idea…
I’m pretty sure I’m one of the most introverted hermits who has ever lived. I’ve been alone with my thoughts for so long that I think I’ve forgotten how to successfully articulate into words my thoughts for others to understand what I mean.
Like I’ve said in another place, I’m no writer, and I’m not so good at communicating in such a way with the correct words so that others can understand correctly just what I’m trying to say. I’m quite taken aback about being called out (I know called out is wrong but can’t think of what would be right at the moment) publicly from what I’ve said eslewhere, so I think I’m going now to crawl back under my rock.
This is a TBP tradition from long ago and far away… elevating someone’s innocent comment, well worded, to post and “calling them out.”
Welcome to TBP, rayray…
Neuday,
Some people just have “it” and Stuck is one of those people. Even people who dislike him like him.
He has contributed mightily and I doubt you’ll find more than 0 people who will outright badmouth him. Saint? Bwahahababa, hell no.
“It makes me so mad I’m getting older I’m getting reckless.”
One of the last lines of the song. It was indeed, just like a movie, maybe one that is roughcut, like any work in progress?
How’s that for subtlety?
I don’t Adele.
Normally I don’t either but that is ONE PRETTY song.
Ever heard this? I have the sheet music and was supposed to perform it for my mother but my singing partner is one of the people who died.
I wouldn’t go up against him in a foul mouth contest. (although… I would be a good outside bet some days.)
Blessings Stucky… for you and Mo.