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Bummer's Monthly Musings

Bummer, who's an ABATE institution, writes one of the most widely read articles in the Outspokin' each month. Now he's also right here on the web! Welcome to the Computer Age, Bummer! ~ Enjoy!

 

 

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Shootin’ the Breeze 

 March 2003 

by Bummer

Email: bummer@abate.com

        I’m not tellin’ her!”

     “Well I’m certainly not gonna do it!  She’s your wife!”

     “Well she’s your sister!”

     “That’s right, and I know I’m not tellin her!”

     I just leaned against the bike smilin’ while Joe and Clancy argued over who was gonna break the news to Judy.

     Ya see, Joe and Clancy had a card party at Joe and Judy’s house while Judy was visitin’ her mom and it kinda got out of hand.  One of the guys playin’ cards that night took it upon himself to bring a dancin’ girl for entertainment and as the night progressed the house got trashed, the neighbors called the police and someone ran over Judy’s cat with his bike.

     Now I’ve known Judy for a long time and I knew she wouldn’t mind the dancer, the house could be fixed up good as new, and who the hell cares about the neighbors?  The problem is that damned cat!

     I don’t hate cats, in fact I’ve eaten Chinese often.  Sweet and sour cat is one of my favorites.  When I used to live out in the sticks I had a number of cats and was thrilled to see what they’d bring home.  Actually, cats usually make more sense to own then most pets because they do catch mice and any other critters ya might find in yer house or garage.

     The thing that gets me though is people think cats are so cuddly and sweet when in reality they’re the most vicious animals on earth.  It goes without saying that if we were smaller than that snuggly cat on yer lap, you’d be the afternoon’s entertainment as the cat tortured and played with ya until it got bored, then it would finally kill and eat you, your kids and every other living thing it could catch and torment....In a word they’re evil.

     And they’re so snotty!  A dog greets ya at the door and acts like the stupid animal he is, lickin’ yer hand and beggin’ ya to take him out to throw a stick or a ball.  Then he fetches it and begs ya to do it again!  Talk about obsessive behavior!  But a cat?  They just look at ya like yer something less than a jerk and roll over to go back to sleep.

     I live surrounded by cornfields and every winter the mice from the fields decide to move in and investigate my cupboards.  I buy traps and attempt rodent genocide every year, but the little suckers drive me nuts.  I often wonder whether I win the battle, or they just decide to move back out for the spring.

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Bummer's Shootin' the Breeze Page!
 

 After climbing all over the the barn, the barn’s hayloft and going through all the outbuildings we found the cat under a tractor, but couldn’t get near it.  Being a farm cat, it wasn’t used to people, in fact I doubt anyone has ever held it in it’s life.  Mr. Cat spent his days chasin’ mice, drinking fresh [and I do mean fresh] milk and abusing the farmer’s dog.  Now a bunch of bikers wanna take him away from all that and he wanted no part of it.

     Eventually with numerous cuts and scratches we finally got the beast stuffed into Joe’s saddlebags and headed for home.  I could actually hear it screamin’ over the sound of the bikes!  The cat was not a happy camper!

Using his leather as protection he got the animal in the house and decided to give it a bath before Judy got home.  A few band aids and lotsa peroxide later Joe released him and the cat immediately climbed behind the stove and started crying.....what a racket!  I went into the living room and put “Cat Scratch Fever” by Ted Nugent on the stereo as Joe freaked out.

     Soon Judy came home and asked, “What’s wrong with Sheba?”

     I asked Joe in a whisper, “Is this supposed to be a girl cat?” and Joe replied, “I never paid attention.”

     “Sheba is a girl cat’s name you jackass!”, then to Judy, “I think yer cat is a boy Judy.”

     “Sheesh!  I always thought it was a girl!  I just asssumed since I didn’t see any...you know......Isn’t that funny?”

     “Don’t feel bad, I used to have a rooster I thought was a chicken!  Ask Clancy about it sometime.” 

     After lots of laughs we pried the boy cat named Sheba from behind the stove and Joe ended up takin’ it to the vet.  Judy thought the thing had distemper or something ‘cause it tore up the furniture and never did get used to a litterbox.  As far as I know she never found out.

    I know ya get tired of hearin’ this but don’t forget to watch out for chuckholes in the roads and loose, fine gravel especailly on the corners.  Snowplows often leave a triangle of the stuff right in the middle of yer turns.   Spring is probably the most dangerous time of year for us for many reasons; the main one bein’ car drivers who have to get used to seein’ bikes again.  Please don’t be a statistic for the damned insurance companies.

         That's me, dammit!~Watch here for next month's installment!

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     One winter I found a chipmunk nest in my saddlebags in the garage and the little bastards chewed a hole through the leather!  At times like these I consider gettin’ a cat.  A big old mean tomcat to guard my home from vermin.  Then I remember the scratched up furniture, the faint but unmistakable smell of feline urine and that time during the 60’s when I sorta imagined being chased around by a six foot pussy cat.

     Joe and Clancy were arguin’  like crazy when I softly told ‘em I had the solution to the problem.

     “Get her another cat.”

     Joe just looked at me like I was stupid and said, “She loves that cat!  Another wouldn’t be the same.”

     “Get her one that looks just like it.  It was all black..There’s plenty of black cats out there.  She’ll never know the difference.  All cats act like cats”

     Clancy agreed but Joe was still kinda doubtful.  “I’ve been married to her for ten years and I’ve never been able to put anything over on her before.”

     “Oh yeah?  What about that time at Chillicothe when you...”

     “Ok OK!!  But I still think this is a bad idea!”

     “Well, you can always tell her the truth.”

     Next thing ya know we’re on the phone calling every shelter and pound in the area lookin’ for black cats.  They seemed to be like cops.  Ya see ‘em everywhere but when ya need one they’re at the Donut House or somethin’.  We did find a few, but they either weren’t entirely black or were too old or young.  Finally we called a farmer I know and was referred to someone who probably had one.  We got hold of ‘em and went to go look at it.

     We rolled into a farm about twenty miles away and tried to convince a little old lady that we had honorable intentions regarding the cat.

     “Yer not gonna use it in some devil worship are ya?”

     “No!  It’s for my wife.”

     “I’ve heard about how some people sacrifice cats and do all kinds of things....especially black cats.”

     The woman made us say the Lord’s Prayer before she’d even let us look at it.  When Clancy screwed up a few of the words I had a hard time convincing her he wasn’t a godless heathen savage.  Finally she accepted the fact that he was just a common idiot and let us look at the cat.

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