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Post by joew on May 21, 2007 9:53:22 GMT -5
Interesting piece.
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Post by gailkate on May 22, 2007 9:07:43 GMT -5
I didn't know about the old religions. I guess I thought the Caribbean had been so European-ized that little of the old ways remained. Many American Indians blend traditional beliefs and rituals with Christianity (mostly Catholicism, I think). Is that how it is for these people?
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Post by slb2 on May 22, 2007 13:39:33 GMT -5
The guardians I mentioned in the article were given names of saints (Catholic) because the Africans wanted to continue to practice their beliefs, but needed to conform, in appearance at least, to Christianity.
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Post by michael on Dec 15, 2007 4:45:31 GMT -5
Coming soon, the story of Raymond and his father Gaylord. Takes place in Charleston, where Raymond is a good little boy that is physically abused by his white trash father.
Stay tuned!
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Post by michael on Dec 15, 2007 5:01:00 GMT -5
One more sneak preview... Gaylord always made Raymond lace up his boots before he left the house in the morning and made him unlace them at the end of the day. Raymond despises his father.
This is a story that will make one feel real bad! The stuff that southern novels are made of.
Stay tuned.
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Post by michael on Dec 15, 2007 5:29:39 GMT -5
So, here's another clue for you all--Hot damn!, I always wanted to include the Beatles in a bit of southern Americana literature... anyway, for the record, Raymond looks like an albino catfish with a suntan and black eyes. He has a gap between his two front teeth and his heart is cold... colder than the river trout in the bottom of grandpa Kendall's chest freezer.
I can say no more : And, what Beatle said that?
Mike
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Post by michael on Dec 15, 2007 5:45:21 GMT -5
I'd be remiss if I left out the fact that Gaylord's second wife (Charlotte) was a gold-diggin' hussy that had no room in her plans for Raymond. Furthermore, she was not a nice person; she wore far to much lavender for most everyones taste. Looked a little like Bernadette Peterson's dim-witted half sister (if you know what I mean?).
With parents like these (and that's being polite!), it's no surprise that Raymond's pet bunnies were found...
Stay tuned!
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Post by michael on Dec 15, 2007 5:55:33 GMT -5
Raymond had few pleasures in life; his pet bunnies were one, his antique Gatling gun was another. Nobody ever knew what Raymond was thinking... except his Aunt Jackie. Jackie had a special way with disturbed children. She could settle the nerves of the most spastic hyperactive child. Of course, Raymond was so close to being still born, Jackie took special delight in talking with him.
Alas, we must continue tomorrow. Unless, someone else wants to add a page or two to this story.
Mike
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Post by rogesgallery on Dec 15, 2007 7:07:22 GMT -5
Hitchhiking on Hwy 95 south of Santee S. Carolina. This was far short of their intended destination, Hilton Head. Actually they were planning to stay with their innumerable cousins at the Pickney Island Wildlife Refuge and hop over to Hilton Head for a Tee and some Greens.
Raymond's Mother was having none of it though. "It just would not do to have the hop spilling pellets of the families private affairs on the rough at Hilton Head."
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Post by michael on Dec 15, 2007 7:14:32 GMT -5
Wha ... the bunnies disappeared We don't talk about the bunnies until later in the story. Raymond's brother, Collin (who was not previously mentioned) had a problem with feeding the bunnies. Collin also had a problem with alcohol, social obligations and he didn't like music. The bunnies didn't like Collin.
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Post by michael on Dec 15, 2007 7:27:13 GMT -5
I feel a little despicable holding back about the bunnies, damn it, but it's what it is.
There were six bunnies -- all boys:
Paul Newman Cool Hand Luke Minnesota Fats Roy Bean Butch and Eddie Felson
They were bad Bunnie wabbits.
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Post by rogesgallery on Dec 15, 2007 7:47:51 GMT -5
Well don't ever ask for MY HELP AGAIN. Talk about difuntional FAMNILIES.!!!
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Post by michael on Dec 15, 2007 8:00:00 GMT -5
Well don't ever ask for MY HELP AGAIN. Talk about difuntional FAMNILIES.!!! As I had feared, the bad bunnies scared off the good guys... again!
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Post by rogesgallery on Dec 15, 2007 8:15:29 GMT -5
"Bummies this and bunnies that. It's all about the bunnies isn't it Raymond. Just remember it wasn't one of those bunnies that bore you into this world" Mother ranted
Raymond wondered once again if his Father really was his Father...
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Post by booklady on Dec 15, 2007 8:18:55 GMT -5
In New England, bummies are different than (or from; I always get criticized for choosing the wrong one) bunnies. Though bunnies do have bummies.
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Post by michael on Dec 15, 2007 8:33:57 GMT -5
In New England, bummies are different than (or from; I always get criticized for choosing the wrong one) bunnies. Though bunnies do have bummies. Booky! Have you no thoughts on the evil step mother?
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Post by michael on Dec 15, 2007 9:24:37 GMT -5
Hitchhiking on Hwy 95 south of Santee S. Carolina. This was far short of their intended destination, Hilton Head. Actually they were planning to stay with their innumerable cousins at the Pickney Island Wildlife Refuge and hop over to Hilton Head for a Tee and some Greens. Raymond's Mother was having none of it though. "It just would not do to have the hop spilling pellets of the families private affairs on the rough at Hilton Head." And, we (sorry roges) should pick up from here.
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Post by booklady on Dec 15, 2007 9:47:58 GMT -5
In New England, bummies are different than (or from; I always get criticized for choosing the wrong one) bunnies. Though bunnies do have bummies. Booky! Have you no thoughts on the evil step mother? I do, yes. I keep thinking it's just an act. She's hiding something, like a soft, marshmallow heart.
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Post by rogesgallery on Dec 15, 2007 10:21:29 GMT -5
Drama BOOKY This is DRAMA1 Your mallowy conjecture, no matter how reputable is merely the embryonic precursor of cotton candy without Drama!!
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Post by booklady on Dec 15, 2007 10:47:02 GMT -5
This is why I am best at writing non-fiction. I don't have to try to imagine anything dramatic!! And with that, I am off to interview the 100-year old lady and write a NON-FICTION article about her.
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Post by michael on Dec 16, 2007 5:29:40 GMT -5
Hitchhiking on Hwy 95 south of Santee S. Carolina. This was far short of their intended destination, Hilton Head. Actually they were planning to stay with their innumerable cousins at the Pickney Island Wildlife Refuge and hop over to Hilton Head for a Tee and some Greens.
Raymond's Mother was having none of it though. "It just would not do to have the hop spilling pellets of the families private affairs on the rough at Hilton Head."
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And, so right you are. Raymond's evil (but profoundly attractive in a physical sort of way [she has big you-know-whats]) step mother, Charlotte, was doing everything she could to ruin the trip. She even faked a case of diarrhea to try and spoil the fun for everyone.
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Post by rogesgallery on Dec 16, 2007 7:54:05 GMT -5
This is why I am best at writing non-fiction. I don't have to try to imagine anything dramatic!! And with that, I am off to interview the 100-year old lady and write a NON-FICTION article about her. And this is why I am single. I have a seemingly unalterable talent for saying the wrong thing, to the wrong lady, at the wrong time? My profuse apology . I would love to read your article!!
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Post by rogesgallery on Dec 16, 2007 8:09:28 GMT -5
Yikes I guess I did come of a little confrontational yesterday...last night ...er that morning. I don't sleep well when I'm not working in the winter. I don't sleep well when I'm working in the summer either, but I'm too tired to be stupid.
Ya think I should play the part of Collin?
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Post by booklady on Dec 16, 2007 8:28:47 GMT -5
No worries, roges. I take the truth being told to me very well. If someone wants to weave in a sub-topic about a "mature" woman confronted with a dead mouse on a basement stair landing and how to dispose of it without actually looking at it or touching it, I'd be obliged.
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Post by slb2 on Dec 16, 2007 10:30:12 GMT -5
But bookie, who here could possibly play a "mature" woman?? I don't see anyone who fits the part.
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Post by booklady on Dec 16, 2007 10:42:24 GMT -5
Well, of course she is a "dramatic" invention. Just tell me how to deal with the friggin' mouse!
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Post by slb2 on Dec 16, 2007 10:46:58 GMT -5
It's dead. Put on some heavy work gloves, two pair if you don't have buckskin gloves, and just go quickly to the steps, scoop it up, drop it in the paper bag you are carrying, rush to the garbage can outdoors and throw it in. Then scream because you need to get rid of that negative revulsion and fear before returning to your mouse-less house.
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Post by booklady on Dec 16, 2007 10:50:20 GMT -5
Yes. I've been trying to get up the nerve to do that for several hours now. Not having to deal with mouse traps was always a major motivation for me to stay married. What have I done?!
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Post by slb2 on Dec 16, 2007 10:59:55 GMT -5
so tell me, books. Which would you rather have? A dead mouse or.....
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Post by booklady on Dec 16, 2007 11:03:32 GMT -5
Hmmmmmm. Let me think.
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