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MaybeACoordinator

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Posts posted by MaybeACoordinator

  1. Graveside ceremony is today. There would be drama if any of were going, but we are not, and not out of disrespect for our matriarch....Just reasons. I think there will be three people plus the priest, unless one of "those bitches" cheats on the no grandkids rule. 

  2. My writings on social media have attracted some long-lost cousins. The BMT wing remarried into Cajuns so these two sisters have extremely coonass names. (The Eve on our line was another coonass). Anyway it was so cool to find these long lost cousins. One of them is a yoga instructor up in Long Island, another is an attorney who used to work for JIM ADLER THE TEXAS HAMMER, and a third was yet another Sabine River pilot (and an in-law)....Only it turns out, as I learned over the course of the day, after I'd friended him, and he volunteered to send me a box of Sabine River Pilots' Association swag, that he routinely cheated on and/or beat the stuffing out of Texas Hammer cousin...So I quickly blocked his sorry ass and probably won't be getting my swag, lol.

    There seems to have been a feud between these branches of our family dating back to about 1940...One of that branch was mayor of Beaumont and I NEVER heard about him in spite of the fact that my grandmother and her aunt loved to tout their illustrious relatives...But not a word about this mayor.

    So I told new Cousin Co about all this and she just said that's the way we are now and have always been. Lifelong grudges and neverending feuds. 

     

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  3. 7 hours ago, Rimbo said:

    Heh. If my Mom had ever caught me like that, she'd be singing hallelujahs that I'd finally figured myself out. She'd be concerned about protection, naturally, but hell, she'd probably invite the girls to dinner with us.

    Wayyyyy before HS, like kindergarten, these two sisters and me were in my mom's bedroom jumping on the bed. One of the girls had the idea to unbutton our pants while we jumped, and in the course of time, gravity did its work. And then we took off our underwear too, and then my mom and their mom came in and there we were, jumping on the bed with nothing covering our "wedding tackle" (as the Brits say). 

    My mom was a hippie / hellion and thought it was hilarious. 

    I later had a real threesome with two strippers I knew and wound up with crabs. Mama found that hilarious too. 

     

     

    Screen Shot 2023-01-19 at 11.12.52 PM.png

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  4. 47 minutes ago, fattyflattie said:

    Correct.  Surfside, Bryan, and the Armadillo were my haunts.  We had the same two TABC fucks the entirety of my high school drinking career. One tall muscular in shape guy, and his 300+ pound fat fuckboi partner.  They used to binocular you from way down the beach, then descend in on you like you were a capital murder suspect.  Somehow I never got in any real trouble.  First MIP was in college station, which pretty much reaffirmed what I already knew.  Please God let my kids be smarter than I was. 

    Kind of a dick move on my part (or was it?) but I refused to chip in to the price of the ticket because:

    1. I had no money.

    2. None of those other dudes could conceivably have kicked my ass

    3. And most importantly, and as I said at the time, it was the principle of the thing: driver dude needed to suck it up, tell his parents we had beer in Galveston (shocker!), and have them fight the ticket, so that TABC would think twice before pulling that kind of bullshit again

  5. Meet the kid who would grow up to become Captain Howard (X), my grandmother's dad. He's about 16 in this pic -- he lied about his age to join the Navy in time for World War I. (In World War 2, he commanded a minesweeper that hit one off Anzio and sank. He survived along with most of the crew.)

    Anyway, also around this time, probably with his navy money, he hit up a whorehouse near the port of Beaumont and tapped some ass. He liked one of them so much, he hauled her up into the Big Thicket and married her. Some town up there -- I think Kountze -- was notorious at the time for giving marriage licenses to anyone with the cash.

    Their domestic bliss was short-lived. His parents extracted him from the whore's clutches and had the marriage annulled and he went off to war. He was from a fourth-gen sailor and from Sabine Pass, a town so sorry (after numerous hurricanes) it's been annexed by Port Arthur.

    I think he's worthy of Surly Hero status. @NeverMarryAStripper might agree.

     

    CaptHowardYoung.jpeg

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  6. I never got to meet my grandfather's drunk brother, the father of the Bogata Girls and the grandfather (through his first wife) of two hot sisters. If only it had been one of them at Aunt Li's wedding instead of Cousinish J....dang.

    Anyway, my grandmother put the kibosh on visits to "Uncle" (as. we called him) forevermore after this incident:

    Some time in the late 60s, my grandparents and all their kids were visiting him as he was on his deep, dark death spiral. The kids were all runnnig around the house while the adults were in the living room, Uncle, as ever, nipping on an ice tea tumbler full of whiskey. So the story goes, a rat was bold enough to come in the room while they were all in there. My grandmother screamed. Uncle shrugged, leaned over to a little table next to his easy chair, opened a drawer, and pulled out a 22 pistol. CRACK. No more rat. Those WWII vets did not play.

    He thought it was hilarious, but my grandmother did not, not with all her kids running around. And so Uncle was persona au gratin* forevermore.

     

    *Yes, I know it's "non grata."

     

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  7. A mild bust, the story told just to say fuck the motherfucking TABC forever....

    Also in Galveston, I think during Dickens on the Strand. There were about four of us in this dude's Bronco and we pulled up to a Circle K on the Seawall and bought potato chips and other junk food, and these two plainclothes assholes then demanded to search the Bronco. They claimed the junk food gave them probable cause, I guess as some kind of beer accessory or something. We did have the remnants of a six-pack aboard, so the driver was ticketed for MIP. 

    End of story, but I will say it again: Fuck the TABC forever. They should have been sundowned years ago.

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  8. 31 minutes ago, Clintonaldo said:

    What if this guy that is definitely not Clarence looked at all of this child porn just to get access to see how deplorable the county jails are? Like a more retarded Serpico? Pedico just doesn’t have the same feel to it. 

    Maybe he is on Pete Townshend's research team.

  9. 23 minutes ago, Celery Man said:

    We had made a little boat. In retrospect, pretty fucking rad - fit four of us and a cooler, it managed to stay afloat for several excursions. And there we are in the middle of Lake Woodlands late at night drinking in this little boat because it seemed like the thing to do, and all of a sudden a big bright light is trained on us and a cop is shouting "row over to me!"

    ComfortableVigorousBanteng-max-1mb.gif

    we went the opposite direction as fast as we could, and apparently that was either fast enough or he didn't really try.

     

    Saltwater version: Spring Break way out west beach in Galveston. The beach was packed. For some weird reason, probably just laziness, I decided to go piss between the dunes and some rando's car (instead of in the fucking ocean) when this fat Galveston cop -- the notorious Beach Patrol -- rolls up in a golf cart. He totally fabricated a case against me on the spot -- "I saw you urinating on this vehicle," he said, in spite of the fact that there was not a drop of piss on that car. So he asked for my license and whipped out his ticket pad when some idiot came tearing down the beach, spinning out in every direction.

    The cop sees that and puts away his ticket pad. "Wait right here, son," he says, and goes off to pursue the car.

    Um, yeah, officer, I'll get right on that. I tore off into the water and swam out to about the third sandbar and waited for the coast to clear, literally..

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  10. 37 minutes ago, mchookem said:

    never busted by the cops, too careful/paranoid, altho my girlfriends and i did plenty of stupid shit, ironically most of which involved...sneaking out the window and getting picked up by boys in cars 😄

    and while i was not on this particular trip with MAC...i did sneak out for a rendezvous with a SJ junior in 1985...and holy shit what a small world, i bet you knew him! 😮😆

    Almost certainly so! What year and where did you graduate from?

     

    10 minutes ago, TwiceHorn said:

    Went to an away game at one of the Garland schools and had a cooler full of beer.  Cop accosted us in the parking lot of what I recall to be Homer Johnson stadium and made us pour out the beer.  No arrest or anything.

    Some other dick friends witnessed this and laughed at us from afar.  And also left their car unlocked with their cooler of beer, which we promptly appropriated and drank.

     

    At the same HS party spot -- Shotgun, a road through a field near the as-yet-unfinished Beltway 8 -- we were occasionally hunted for sport by the rednecks then endemic at Sharpstown HS. They would descend on us like a fucking Mongol horde, beat the shit out of us, and then split. They were all roided out and we were always outnumbered. (I think one of them was Barrett Robbins, the future Oakland Raider who infamously flaked on the fucking Super Bowl.)

    One time that happened to Tony and Steve and a few of my other friends. I arrived a few minutes after it was all over. They were gone but the Sharpstown Horde was still there, and the encircled me. Discretion was the better part of valor -- I told them I was already a freshman at UT and for some reason that defused the situation and I was able to get out unscathed.

    Tony was of Sicilian heritage. And this unfair fight did not sit well with him. And he recognized one of the dudes in the party who kicked his ass. A few days later he and a buddy went to that dude's house and lay in wait. When the kid came home with his GF, Tony then proceeded to beat the shit out of him in front of his girlfriend while his buddy laughed and took pictures. (Which was very very rare in those days.) @Brisketexan knows this guy; he can tell his story if he wants. It's a good 'un.

    Another time we were at , our late friend Sam decided to down a flaming shot of 151 which of course set his whole face on fire. I smacked him around, calling him a dumbshit and putting out the fire at the same time. Come Monday at school he had obvious burn wounds on his face and the late Brother Casey, the legendary campus cop (a former soldier in the Tampa mob), asked him what the fuck happened. Sam said the Sharpstown assholes tossed a Molotov cocktail at him. I am pretty sure there was an inter-school investigation which of course went nowhere because at least this time they had nothing to do with it. 

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  11. On 1/17/2023 at 9:59 AM, ztejas said:

    I like the part where the military vet was taken aback and traumatized by county jail. 

    Oh - right - had to go back to the first page. He was apparently DEFUSING BOMBS. Lmfao. 

    GMAFB. Most of the stories about county I've heard range from "yeah it kind of sucks" to "honestly it's pretty fun".

    Ain't no self-respecting vet pissing his pants in county. Unless he managed to get sent to the worst one in the country. 

    I know of one exception: OPP -- Orleans Parish Prison. I've got a coonass friend who did time there and later in Texas lockups and prison, and he said OPP was just off the charts horrible. From the warden on down it's got a culture of downright sadism, he said. (He's a druggy and not a chomo so it wasn't directed at him because of what he did.) He did have some actual pleasant memories of his time in Texas prisons.

  12. One reason I believe ol' cumface Cousin Sh might have been lying about whose cum was on her face: one time when were all at Mass she let rip a tremendous fart and when everyone turned around, she pointed right straight at the very same Aunt Li who years later was fool enough to take her in post-carnie interlude. Like I said, Aunt Li is loyal to a fault, especially regarding family.

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  13.  

    I had another cousin whose name was Zachary Zachary. Your read that right. (He died young, and I think changed one of his names.)

    Anyway, he stayed with is for about a week one summer about 1981 at the same time the Bogata girls were in town. 

    He was from Brownsville and had really good taste in music. He was way into the B-52s years before it was cool.

    He also was kind of a stoner. And he'd call back down to the Valley often, and we'd listen in. (Rotary phones -- you removed the mouthpiece so the other party couldn't hear you were tapping their calls)

    He never knew he had an audience of about eight of us in another part of the house as he told his party-hearty buds he couldn't get along with us because we were too much "the executive type." (None of us was older than about 18 at the time.) Nevertheless, we were the "executive type."

    And he went on to spin a tale about how he'd walked down to the nearest U-Tote-M and scored some psychedelics.

    "Y'all know what I mean," he told his Brownsville buddy. "Ell. Ess. Dee. Acid, man."

    We were in stitches, listening in, and all of poor Zachary Zachary's private moments became inside jokes we told for decades, and, in fact still do. To this day, "the executive type" and "ell. ess. dee." can make us laugh.

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  14. 15 minutes ago, gernblansten said:

    The Bogata girls, they wear them cut-off britches
    And then skinny little halters and they're second cousins to me
    Man, I dont care, I want to get between them
    With a great big 'ol hard-on
    Like an ol' Bodark fencepost
    That you can hang a pipe rail gate from
    Do some sister twisters till the cows come home
    And we'll be having us a time

    Oh and out that bunch, Cousin R is yet another lesbian in the family. At one time I wouldn't have minded getting between Cousin P and Cousinish J though. 

  15. 21 minutes ago, RDCanecutter said:

    I think we are distracted by the innate Southern US-ness of the OP... this all hits me as more northern, as in Northern Colombia, as in 100 Years of Solitude.

    I haven't even told the story about how my grandmother's grandfather and great-uncle roped a dying sperm by the fluke, dragged it into Port Arthur behind their tugboat, and put it on exhibition. "COME SEE THE PORT ARTHUR LEVIATHAN". Special trains were put on all the way to Tennessee. They made a fortune at a quarter a pop. Nature took its course and the whale died, and then turned. The stench was unbearable so the show closed, but the uncles had a new plan -- they called in a taxidermist from Houston. They then planned to take the stuffed whale all through America via the river system. The tour was a massive flop and they lost all the money they'd made from the exhibit and the sale of whale oil.

    Reminds me of a John Prine song ("Sabu Visits the Twin Cities Alone"): 

    Sabu was sad, the whole tour stunk
    The airlines lost the elephant's trunk
    The roadie got the rabies and the scabies and the flu
    They was low on morale, but they was high on glue

    To cut their losses, they sold what was left of the Port Arthur Leviathan to a carnival in Memphis. The operator kept only the head, which was repurposed as an ice cream parlor. Then the whole carnival was swept away in a fire. 

    But I think our family still has the record for biggest "fish" in Gulf of Mexico history. Sucker was 60-80 tons. 

    I heard that story from my grandmother as a small child and years later thought I'd dreamed the whole thing, or that she'd just made it up, but you can read all about it. 

    Spoiler

    Reprinted from Beaumont Enterprise, Saturday March 6, 1999.

    NEDERLAND—On March 10, 1910, the strangest sight ever to be witnessed in the ship channel arrived in Port Arthur. The steam tugboat Florida towed a sperm whale, 63 feet long and 65 tons of weight, to town to be put on display.

    Two days earlier, Capts. Cott and Fred Plummer had found "Moby Dick" ensnared in the ‘oil pond,’ and after a difficult struggle, they succeeded in looping an 8-inch hawser around the whale’s giant fluke.

    News of the whale’s capture, the biggest fish story ever hatched in Texas, spread like wildfire across the nation, as telegraph keys spread the story to newspapers everywhere. One newspaper reported that "Jonah was found at the wheel and had been ticketed for not having a valid pilot’s license."

    Port Arthur’s Board of Trade realized the whale could become a financial bonanza. They purchased huge amounts of food and supplies from Houston; they also encouraged five railroads to promote excursion trains to Port Arthur from all points within 300 miles.

    The Board of Trade tugged the whale carcass out of the water so all of it would be on display. They installed electric lights, pumped tons of preservatives into the whale, and after its vital organs had been removed, filled the whale’s interior with tons of ice to retard putrefaction.

    Trains began arriving the next day, and on Sunday, 14 trains arrived, carrying 11,000 people. Thousands more arrived by boat or any wheeled conveyance, pushing the daily total beyond 20,000.

    Finally the number of long excursion trains reached 20 daily, and still a quarter-million would-be passengers were left stranded in depots everywhere. On Monday, pastors complained because one whale had emptied the churches throughout the Southwest.

    Every train had standing room only, and Port Arthur was able to accommodate the crowds only minimally.

    By Friday, "Moby Dick" was becoming quite smelly. A newspaper reported that the crowds still flocked to Port Arthur despite the smell, and that "everybody had a stinking good time" by holding handkerchiefs over noses.

    After ten days, "Moby Dick" was declared a public health hazard, and the odorous whale was tugged back aboard a barge to remove it from town. About 300 barrels of whale oil and 26 barrels of sperm oil were rendered from its blubber.

    "Moby Dick" provided a $1,000,000 gratuity for the people of Port Arthur, and added an equal amount to the coffers of the railroads. A 300-mile rail trip often meant 36 hours of standing in a rail car, and if lucky, a few bites to eat.

    Eventually the Plummer Brothers stuffed "Moby Dick’s" hide with hay and displayed the whale and barge in several coastal cities. A year later the whale display caught fire in Memphis and was destroyed.

    Later a friend questioned whether 36 hours of utter discomfort while standing on a train was worth it. He added though, that in those days, one could visit the big tent of Ringling Brothers circus every year in Beaumont, whereas "Moby Dick" only came once to Port Arthur.

     

    7 minutes ago, gernblansten said:

    The Bogata girls, they wear them cut-off britches
    And then skinny little halters and they're second cousins to me
    Man, I dont care, I want to get between them
    With a great big 'ol hard-on
    Like an ol' Bodark fencepost
    That you can hang a pipe rail gate from
    Do some sister twisters till the cows come home
    And we'll be having us a time

    Yes on that excursion that song was played more than once. 

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  16. About 15 years ago, a gas well finally came in on our family property in the Piney Woods and my grandmother was independently wealthy for the first time in her life. She went out and bought herself a Mini Cooper -- her dream car. 

    Meanwhile she was running this sewing circle of Beaumont ladies of her age who lived in her nursing home. One of these ladies slighted that Mini Cooper and my grandmother blackballed her from the sewing circle.

    A couple of years later I went on a pub crawl in Houston with an old HS friend of mine and some dudes he knew. Somehow that story came up while we were in my old friend's car between bars, and the dude riding shotgun, who I just met that night, said "Yeah, that was my grandmother your grandmother blackballed."

    Before all of that, I had been concerned that she wasn't making a whole lot of friends at that home, and I was worried that she was being picked on, like Paulie Walnuts' mom/aunt in the Sopranos. Aunt C, the responsible daughter, assured me that she was far more like Livia Soprano in there,

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  17. She was a product of her times. I got busted smoking pot in HS (by parents not cops, though it was close -- long story) and she summoned me to her bedside for a chewing-out. She was up there on her throne, one of our dogs by her side, her knitting in her lap, and she said "When I was your age the only people who messed with that stuff were Mexicans and jazzmen." 

    She loved Mexicans -- in college she tried really hard to land a San Antonio Canarian-descended aristocrat, any San Antonio Canarian-descended aristocrat, but she couldn't quite win one over. In an epic case of sour grapes, she told me they were the most arrogant people in Texas. For his part my grandfather would bristle whenever she would talk about them, or the Cubans she fancied during her one year at LSU -- back in those days Beaumont girls went there as often as UT because it was more convenient. And well-off Cubans sent their sons to Baton Rouge to study sugar science -- it was the aggy of that particular crop for the whole Caribbean basin at the time.

    She attended bilingual mariachi mass at St Joseph's in Houston off and on for 50 years....But I guess she was just speaking her truth there.

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