In my youth, I played football, first in high school and then in back yard games and pick-up games.
Tennis and raquet ball were obsessions of mine, as was fishing and hunting with bow and arrows.
During my Youth Director years, I taught backpacking, riflery, canoeing, and other outdoor sports. I have led kids backpacking along the entire length of the Florida Trail (though not all at once), including the Ocala National Forrest and the Withlacoochie National Forrest.
But my greatest love was alligators.
I used to "fish" for alligators.
"How do you do that?" you ask.
Well, thank you for asking.
You mess around in the Florida Everglades until you find a small island with a bunch of gators on it, each competing with the others for his place in the sun.
Then you cast a plug near the island.
The gators, thinking it might be food, race each other to the plug. One of them gets there first and grabs it to keep the others from getting his morsel.
Now a gator's mouth is too big and too tough to be hooked by a mere fishing plug, but he will hold on to it for several minutes, death-rolling and thrashing around until he decides that it is not good to eat and lets it go...if he is lucky enough not to get it caught between his teeth.
It's great fun, doesn't hurt the gator (unless you count his being embarrassed at thinking it was good to eat), and gave me and my fishing buddy a good work out.
One day I was driving along Fla. St. Rd 82 headed for Immokalee. I saw a man walking on the side of the road. Behind him, sneaking up on him stealthily was this alligator, surely wanting to eat him for dinner.
I quickly lept from my car, fell on the gator's back, pressed his snout to the ground, whipped out my black tape, which I always carried with me, and taped his mouth shut, thus saving the man's life, for which he thanked me.
Above is the picture of me holding my captured gator.
Some of the above is true, some of it is just made up.
I'll leave it to you to figure out which parts are true and which parts are not.
The all-wise Ducky and XO should have no trouble at all separating truth from fiction.
11 comments:
Joe, I believe every word of your story except this,
In my youth
I'll bet you were born a crotchety, cantankerous Mature American.
Joe - And here is the
Truth of it:
I believed every word of your story until you said otherwise.
And thanks for the well written story - exciting and enjoyable.
And a nice change from the cr*p
we get here on a daily basis.
:)
And Joe - I encourage you to keep up the good work on the blog that so many turn to when they want really good b*llsh*t to read and debate.
An alligator stalking a man on land? Are you telling a tall one?
Message and some advice to Xavier Onassis, no one will ever know that you've had a lobotomy, if you wear a wig to hide to the scars and learn to control the slobbering. And don't stop commenting, maybe someday you'll say something intelligent!
Craig: Wrong! I was actually not ever born.
There is absolutely no credible evidence to support the theory that I was born, only a picture in the Miami Herald about war babies, as one of which I was presented, obviously written by some right-wing nut job. Plus the fact that I am here...but I'm not certain that's sufficient, coming from a right winger.
I would quote Descartes and say, "I think, therefore I am," but lefties would not consider that proof of anything, since they don't think I think, I think.
Well, I DO have a VALID birth certificate, if that means anything.
By the way, those pitiful euphomisms (Mature American) don't impress me. I'm a crotchety, cantankerous Old Man.
Ducky: Not bad! Not complete, but not bad.
The actual answers are coming after anybody who cares to has had a chance to figure it out and leave a comment.
By the way, there is a political point to this...can anybody guess?
The question man: At first I thought your comment was not relevant to this post. Then I got to thinking about it.
In a sense, its what the post is about.
Well, I DO have a VALID birth certificate, if that means anything.
It looks Photoshopped.
Well, here's the thing. I don't really care whether your stories about your personal life are tur, untrue or a mix thereof.
Because the details of your biography have no bearing on public policy.
It's only when people spread lies and misinformation whose purpose is to forward an agenda that I believe is more damaging to America than any terrorist attack could ever be that I protest.
So I don't know if your biography is true and I don't care because it is of no consequence to anyone.
Wow!! I am seriously impressed.
Craig, get with it. The new thing is that he doesn't have a valid Social Security number.
By the way, those pitiful euphomisms (Mature American) don't impress me.
Honestly, Joe, I'm not trying to impress you. My delightfully wry humor is lost on you or lost in transmission.
I will never make the mistake of calling you mature again. Ever.
Craig, get with it. The new thing is that he doesn't have a valid Social Security number.
Keeping up is hard work.
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