Where’s the F—ing Chicken?!!!

Posted on May 7, 2017 by Ben Gannon

Coeur d’alene, Idaho isn’t an easy geographical region to spell. Googling it or describing its location when using a GPS system or a local phone book may drive one crazy. One day, in this unfair city, no one required a map or GPS to locate my sister, Mary. She made it loud and clear where she could be spotted, not only in the State of Idaho, but, additionally, the Pacific Northwest. It wasn’t “Where’s Waldo?” It was, rather, “We know exactly where Mary is.”

I truly believe she made the F word almost Biblical one sunny afternoon. (I don’t really remember, but I hope it was a Sunday after we had just completed our weekly term of duty…Catholic Mass.)

My mother made a hell of a fried chicken, and some of our family members, including me, were vacationing forty five minutes away to have a picnic in a city in Idaho I’m tired of spelling. Seven months pregnant with her third child, my sister, Mary, was aboard the station wagon. She was also hungry, or as I’ve learned with my urban dictionary wisdom, hangry.

With mom’s potato salad on ice, and an angry, pregnant mother (Mary) looking as if she was a shark with chum in the cab, we found a parking space ten minutes away from a picnic table. Knowing she was settled in a proper space and spying the table, everyone, including Mary, felt at ease. That’s a terrific feeling when you are afraid of your sister.

Upon sitting on the picnic table stools, Mary recognized Mom forgot the chicken, and all Hell broke Mary loose. She began calmly. “F–K!” Embarrassing our mother as the brothers decided to take a dip in the lake, we heard Mary scream, from a little less than a mile away, and to everyones’ terror, “Where’s the F—ing Chicken?!! Even the ants scattered.

I’ve never been pregnant, and I don’t wish to be. Men are blessed by God in certain ways. There were times when Mary should have been blessed in the same way.

The memory didn’t scar me. It merely etched, or branded a memory I won’t forget. When we returned from the beach at a safe time, we were blessed with some grocery store fried chicken along with mom’s potato salad. We were additionally blessed with a sister returning from fried chicken hell to Fried Chicken bliss.

God Bless her.

Tools and T-Ball

Posted on April 23, 2017 by Ben Gannon

On God’s Seventh Inning Stretch, he created T-Ball. It was one of his many mistakes. Actually, that’s not entirely true. He probably was just messing with us when he gave us the gift of the Tee, but, as usual, we abused it.

Never having played in the rough and tumble, hard knocks world of T-ball, I still know a thing or two about it. Watching it was penance for many of the sins I’ve committed.

A tee was meant to be used as a training tool, increasing the chances that an inexperienced batter could hit a line drive. This is when God said, “Hey, baseball ain’t that easy. Don’t hit the tee, my son, hit the ball.”

This created controversy amongst the players’ mothers and fathers when their children weren’t successful. Some of the mothers and fathers were logical. “It’s sitting right on top of the tee. Just hit it.” Others made certain their child would never be competitive again. “Great Job. You didn’t hit the ball or the three foot tall tee, but you did hit air, so run…..run…..run… (to a base you didn’t earn)!”

Trying to create an organized, or engaging event out of T-Ball is simply a crime for those who are in attendance and fantastically ridiculous if you think your five year old will learn something about the true form of baseball from this “S–t” show.

This is when parents began sacredly believing this gift was delivered by Him so youngsters could be humiliated in front of their mothers and fathers wishing they could actually hit a ball off of that tee. If you know anything about baseball, or the Bible, the tee is punished along with the child, yet the ball is set free, dropping majestically into the dirt in front of the batter’s 400 dollar nike cleats.

As Tom Hanks stated in “A League of Their Own”, there is no crying in baseball, but, according to God, I guess there is crying in T-Ball.

These Aren’t Gold?

Posted on April 19, 2017 by Ben Gannon

At the ages between five and 18, when you win wrestling tournaments, you receive a medal. It may look like gold, but isn’t genuine gold. As a youngster, around nine or ten years of age, I won a few myself, but they weren’t even worth a copper penny. They weren’t worth zinc. Then, I began taking second and third place, thus receiving silver and bronze medals. Those medals were made of aluminum foil and caramel apples. The gold ran out for me just like it did for those after the rush.

In Alaska, they refer to those gold medals as fool’s gold. Evidently, nobody can fool one of my great nephews. His name is Rocco, and with that name, you better live up to that name. As a wrestler, so far, he has. He additionally is trying to maintain a sense of reality. With the help of his father, after winning a few of these “gold” medals himself, his father, Pat, had to break the news to his young son. “Rocco, you know those aren’t made out of genuine gold, right?”

“These aren’t really made of Gold?”

“No.”

Wildly disappointed, and with maniacal curiosity, Rocco asked, “How do I get REAL gold?”

Pat made an attempt to explain to his son what real gold was, then proceeded to tell him how he could obtain this precious medal. “You mine for it in California, or Alaska or win it in the Olympics.”

This didn’t sit well with Rocco at all. Quite sure his goal is not to be a miner when he grows up, I guess we’ll see how much sweat, blood and tears he have will to suffer through to obtain gold at the Olympics.

Honestly, I think a smaller, yet worthy and more obtainable goal, would be striving for becoming, I don’t know, a doctor or an astronaut.

I’ll write the conclusion to this blog in about twenty years.

March

Posted on March 14, 2017 by Ben Gannon

It’s time for March Madness, and more importantly, gambling.

My wife wants my advice regarding the NCAA tournament brackets. She believes I know more about gambling than the professionals in Las Vegas making a living off of people like me. I am currently paying off some of their mortgages.

It should be simple, but it is also fun and unpredictable. The weather in Seattle or the East Coast is far more predictable.

Aces are Wild

Posted on February 27, 2017 by Ben Gannon

Have you ever split two aces while playing Black Jack? Chances are you get a divorce, and, at best, enough money left over for the buffet.

Overrated

Posted on January 17, 2017 by Ben Gannon

Without disclosing how I voted, I find certain observations by the person who will hold the highest position in the world relatively overrated. That doesn’t mean I necessarily agree with some people, places and things he believes to be overrated or fake. I just think some of his true comments are funny. So, let’s laugh for the next four years before I run for President…….of some undisclosed or, “fake” nation.

“Midwestern ice storms are overrated.”

“Christmas is way overrated. Who is this Jesus guy?”

“Carrots are overrated. They don’t improve your eyesight. Just ask Bugs Bunny.”

“Chess is overrated.”

“Gandhi should have eaten more.”

“Cassius Clay was clearly overrated.”

“I’ve never heard of Babe Ruth, but I bet he was overrated.”

“Lou Gehrig was a phony. That disease is overrated.”

“Great White Sharks are overrated. Jaws was fake. Just look at the footage. It’s comical.”

“Rocky is real.”

“The Moon doesn’t exist ……respectfully, for those who thought they walked on it.”

“Hacking, unless properly utilized, is overrated.”

“Bigfoot does exist, just in case you were wondering. I can’t prove it. I can’t prove anything.”

” And lastly, and most critical, Cheetos are overrated. The mascot is not Tony the Tiger.”

Only because he will destroy our country, or make it better, as an American voter, I will root for him, but I won’t kiss his lucky tower.

This puny world can exist without Barnum and Bailey’s elephants, but we can also exist without this clown.

The Revolution

Posted on January 8, 2017 by Ben Gannon

Just to let everyone in cyberspace know, the New Year doesn’t officially begin until the college football National Champion is proved to be worth the wait. Therefore, don’t worry about your phony resolutions until Tuesday, the ninth of January. Wipe that sweat off your brow, and live it up for two more days. I’m making stew.

Our Favorite Holiday (7) Moods

Posted on November 2, 2016 by Ben Gannon

Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, Jewish rituals. All respected and appreciated by my father, but no holiday compared to game seven of the World Series. As a man of faith, he attended church more than regularly, but he appreciated both the love of baseball and the fact game seven of the World Series wasn’t deemed as a Holy Day. Rather, he left us believe it would be a hope, or future treasure chest filled with nostalgia which we could open years later and say, “We watched that game with our dad.” We didn’t have to go to church on these days.

Rather than inviting people over, he’d only allow pedestrians in if they were interested in the game. Following the game, you must stay off the phone, because one of his great friends, annually, would call him after the final out. If you stayed off the phone, and watched the game with popcorn wedged in your teeth, game seven was more than just a good mood.

Side Orders (I’ll take the sausage gravy)

Posted on October 20, 2016 by Ben Gannon

A good friend of mine may or may not have cancer. After multiple tests, most of them have come back negative. After the fourth test resulting in, once again, negative, the doctor wished for a fifth test. My friend, responded, with terrific grace, “Whose side are you on?”

No Debate

Posted on October 19, 2016 by Ben Gannon

I can’t believe I’m watching the Presidential Debates tonight as opposed to watching the NLCS between the Cubs and the Dodgers. Both candidates in baseball may be worthy of competing for the World Series. Ooops! I just changed the channel.

Swing Like a Wild Man

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