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SPARKY's blog: "I LOVE YOU!"

created on 06/22/2007  |  http://fubar.com/i-love-you/b94252
Red Marbles I was at the corner grocery store buying some early potatoes. I noticed a small boy, delicate of bone and feature, ragged but clean, hungrily apprizing a basket of freshly picked green peas. I paid for my potatoes, but was also drawn to the display of fresh green peas. I am a pushover for creamed peas and new potatoes. Pondering the peas, I couldn't help overhearing the conversation between Mr. Miller (the store owner) and the ragged boy next to me. 'Hello Barry, how are you today?' 'H'lo, Mr. Miller. Fine, thank ya. Jus' admirin' them peas. They sure look good.' 'They are good, Barry. How's your Ma?' 'Fine. Gittin' stronger alla' time.' 'Good. Anything I can help you with?' 'No, Sir. Jus' admirin' them peas.' 'Would you like take some home?' asked Mr. Miller. 'No, Sir . Got nuthin' to pay for 'em with.' 'Well, what have you to trade me for some of those peas?' 'All I got's my prize marble here.' 'Is that right? Let me see it' said Miller. 'Here 'tis. She's a dandy.' 'I can see that. Hmmmmm, only thing is this one is blue and I sort of go for red. Do you have a red one like this at home?' the store owner asked. 'Not zackley but almost.' 'Tell you what. Take this sack of peas home with you and next trip this way let me look at that red marble', Mr. Miller told the boy. 'Sure will. Thanks Mr. Miller.' Mrs. Miller, who had been standing nearby, came over to help me. With a smile said, 'There are two other boys like him in our community, all three are in very poor circumstances. Jim just loves to bargain with them for peas, apples, tomatoes, or whatever. When they come back with their red marbles, and they always do, he decides he doesn't l ike red after all and he sends them home with a bag of produce for a green marble or an orange one, when they come on their next trip to the store.' I left the store smiling to myself, impressed with this man. A short time later I moved to Colorado , but I never forgot the story of this man, the boys, and their bartering for marbles. Several years went by, each more rapid than the previous one. Just recently I had occasion to visit some old friends in that Idaho community and while I was there learned that Mr. Miller had died. They were having his visitation that evening and knowing my friends wanted to go, I agreed to accompany them. Upon arrival at the mortuary we fell into line to meet the relatives of the deceased and to offer whatever words of comfort we could. Ahead of us in line were three young men. One was in an army uniform and the other two wore nice haircuts, dark suits and white shirts...all very professional looking. They approached Mrs. Miller, standing composed and smiling by her husband's casket. Each of the young men hugged her, kissed her on the cheek, spoke briefly with her and moved on to the casket. Her misty light blue eyes followed them as, one by one, each young man stopped briefly and placed his own warm hand over the cold pale hand in the casket. Each left the mortuary awkwardly, wiping his eyes. Our turn came to meet Mrs. Miller. I told her who I was and reminded her of the story from those many years ago and what she had told me about her husband's bartering for marbles. With her eyes glistening, she took my hand and led me to the casket. 'Those three young men who just left were the boys I told you about. They just told me how they appreciated the things Jim 'traded' them. Now, at last, when Jim could not change his mind about color or size ... .they came to pay their debt.' 'We've never had a great deal of the wealth of this world,' she confided, 'but right now, Jim would consider himself the richest man in Idaho '. With loving gentleness she lifted the lifeless fingers of her deceased husband. Resting underneath were three exquisitely shined red marbles. The Moral : We will not be remembered by our words, but by our kind deeds. Life is not measured by the breaths we take, but by the moments that take our breath. Today I wish you a day of ordinary miracles ~ A fresh pot of coffee you didn't make yourself. An unexpected phone call from an old friend. Green stoplights on your way to work. The fastest line at the grocery store. A good sing-along song on the radio. Your keys found right where you left them. Send this to the people you'll never forget. I just did... If you don't send it to anyone, it means you a re in way too much of a hurry to even notice the ordinary miracles when they occur. It's not what you gather, but what you scatter that tells what kind of life you have lived!
February 27, 2008, 7:11 pm Boyd Coddington, Hot Rod Hero, Dies at 63 By Jerry Garrett Tags: Boyd Coddington, customization, hot rods Your king is dead, hot-rodders. Long live the king. Boyd Coddington died today in Whittier, Calif., a few miles from his shop where the cable TV reality show “American Hot Rod” was produced, and where he spent much of his adult life. Mr. Coddington lived a life as highly stressed as any of his high-octane creations. On one hand, his vision left a legacy of elevating hot rod design and the use of chrome to high art. On the other, his hard-driving business practices created problems for himself, his employees and even clients. Though Coddington was a Hot Rod Hall of Fame inductee, he also suffered through bankruptcy and a fraud conviction. He had a keen eye for design, as well as talents who could compete at his lofty, prolific level. His “discoveries” included the likes of Jesse James and Chip Foose, both of whom began their careers with Mr. Coddington before going on to fame, fortune and TV shows of their own in the customizing industry. Mr. Foose, who became a fiery rival of Mr. Coddington’s the last decade, was not available for comment. But his wife, Lynne, told me that “people didn’t understand the true nature of their relationship” and that “Chip was on good terms with Boyd when he died.” In an interview with Mr. Foose last year, it was suggested that friction had developed over whether proper credit was given for certain Foose designs that came out of the Coddington shop in the 1990s; also, some property that Mr. Foose believed to be rightfully his became entangled in the financial collapse of one of Mr. Coddington’s companies in the late 1990s. Mr. Coddington’s business interests were later reorganized, and he re-emerged as a force in custom car design. But in 2005, he was accused of fraud by the State of California for titling his custom-fabricated creations as “antique cars” to avoid emissions controls and tax obligations. He pleaded guilty to a misdemeanor in connection with the allegations, and was ordered to pay a $3,000 fine and perform 160 hours of community service. Mr. Coddington, born in Rupert, Idaho, spent his early years learning his craft in Idaho and Utah garages. He moved to California in 1966 and worked at Disneyland as a machinist by day and as a hot rod tuner by night. Among his famous creations was the Cadzilla street rod built for Billy Gibbons of ZZ Top. But he is probably best known for his many variations of the classic 1932 Ford deuce coupe. His creations have sold at auctions for well into six figures. But there were indications shortly before his death that perhaps he had been a bit too prolific. A pristine 1934 Ford roadster by Mr. Coddington failed to meet its reserve price at RM Auctions’ Scottsdale event in January; it earned “only” a $110,000 high bid — shockingly low by Coddington-creation standards. A 1934 roadster by Boyd Coddington failed to meet its reserve price at an auction in January. (Jerry Garrett for The New York Times)Mr. Coddington was a colorful outsize character who preferred loud shirts and loud talk. On his television show, he was often portrayed as a ruthless taskmaster. But as someone who has worked a bit in television, I can tell you it was an image that was carefully cultivated by producers who wanted the show and its star to have an edge. In private, he projected a mischievous sense of fun and excitement that was irresistibly infectious. His followers generally went willingly where he decided to lead. Boyd Coddington relentlessly pushed the art of the hot rod forward like few men before or since. His fellow customizers and show competitors will have a hard time finding a source of inspiration with high-power wattage as brilliant. UPDATE: A day after Boyd Coddington’s death, Chip Foose released the following statement: Chip Foose and everyone at Foose Design are saddened to hear of the untimely passing of legendary hot rod builder Boyd Coddington. Chip and Boyd spent many hours together in the early years of Hot Rods by Boyd, becoming so close that Chip considered Boyd almost as a second father. Boyd allowed Chip and all his employees the freedom to design and fabricate the ultimate in custom vehicles and provided the necessary customers to grow. Boyd formalized the Hot Rod business and thereby legitimized it — the result was the creation of an industry. Boyd’s contribution to the Hot Rod and Aftermarket are significant and unparalleled. “I appreciate all of the opportunities Boyd offered me while I worked with him and I owe a large part of my career and success to the great working relationship we had. I pass on my deep sympathy and respect to everyone at Boyd’s and the Boyd Coddington Family. He will be greatly missed”
Friend, we only met a little bit, We met by chance, took time to sit. Now you are gone, my heart feels pain, I'd understand, but it's not plain. It felt so good, this you and I, you had to leave, and I ask why. We went right past our age, our status, it might be love, looked right at us. I miss my friend it's here to see..... I guess this pain was meant for me. .... I LOVE YOU!
Daredevil Evel Knievel dies at 69 Associated Press, Updated 5 hours ago CLEARWATER, Fla. (AP) - Evel Knievel, the red-white-and-blue-spangled motorcycle daredevil whose jumps over crazy obstacles including Greyhound buses, live sharks and Idaho's Snake River Canyon made him an international icon in the 1970s, died Friday. He was 69. Knievel's death was confirmed by his granddaughter, Krysten Knievel. He had been in failing health for years, suffering from diabetes and pulmonary fibrosis, an incurable condition that scarred his lungs. Knievel had undergone a liver transplant in 1999 after nearly dying of hepatitis C, likely contracted through a blood transfusion after one of his bone-shattering spills. He also suffered two strokes in recent years. Longtime friend and promoter Billy Rundle said Knievel had trouble breathing at his Clearwater condominium and died before an ambulance could get him to a hospital. "It's been coming for years, but you just don't expect it. Superman just doesn't die, right?" Rundle said. Immortalized in the Washington's Smithsonian Institution as "America's Legendary Daredevil," Knievel was best known for a failed 1974 attempt to jump Snake River Canyon on a rocket-powered cycle and a spectacular crash at Caesar's Palace in Las Vegas. He suffered nearly 40 broken bones before he retired in 1980. Even in his later years, Evel Knievel thrilled fans everywhere he went. (Barry Gossage / Getty Images) "I think he lived 20 years longer than most people would have" after so many injuries, said his son Kelly Knievel, 47. "I think he willed himself into an extra five or six years." Though Knievel dropped off the pop culture radar in the '80s, the image of the high-flying motorcyclist clad in patriotic, star-studded colors was never erased from public consciousness. He always had fans and enjoyed a resurgence in popularity in recent years. His death came just two days after it was announced that he and rapper Kanye West had settled a federal lawsuit over the use of Knievel's trademarked image in a popular West music video. Knievel made a good living selling his autographs and endorsing products. Thousands came to Butte, Mont., every year as his legend was celebrated during the "Evel Knievel Days" festival, which Rundle organizes. "They started out watching me bust my ass, and I became part of their lives," Knievel said. "People wanted to associate with a winner, not a loser. They wanted to associate with someone who kept trying to be a winner." For the tall, thin daredevil, the limelight was always comfortable, the gab glib. To Knievel, there always were mountains to climb, feats to conquer. "No king or prince has lived a better life," he said in a May 2006 interview with The Associated Press. "You're looking at a guy who's really done it all. And there are things I wish I had done better, not only for me but for the ones I loved." He had a knack for outrageous yarns: "Made $60 million, spent 61. ...Lost $250,000 at blackjack once. ... Had $3 million in the bank, though." He began his daredevil career in 1965 when he formed a troupe called Evel Knievel's Motorcycle Daredevils, a touring show in which he performed stunts such as riding through fire walls, jumping over live rattlesnakes and mountain lions and being towed at 200 mph behind dragster race cars. In 1966 he began touring alone, barnstorming the West and doing everything from driving the trucks, erecting the ramps and promoting the shows. In the beginning he charged $500 for a jump over two cars parked between ramps. He steadily increased the length of the jumps until, on New Year's Day 1968, he was nearly killed when he jumped 151 feet across the fountains in front of Caesar's Palace. He cleared the fountains but the crash landing put him in the hospital in a coma for a month. His son, Robbie, successfully completed the same jump in April 1989. In the years after the Caesar's crash, the fee for Evel's performances increased to $1 million for his jump over 13 buses at Wembley Stadium in London - the crash landing broke his pelvis - to more than $6 million for the Sept. 8, 1974, attempt to clear the Snake River Canyon in Idaho in a rocket-powered "Skycycle." The money came from ticket sales, paid sponsors and ABC's "Wide World of Sports." Knievel died just two days after he and Kanye West settled a lawsuit over Knievel's trademarked image. (Island Def Jam Music Group / Associated Press) The parachute malfunctioned and deployed after takeoff. Strong winds blew the cycle into the canyon, landing him close to the swirling river below. On Oct. 25, 1975, he jumped 14 Greyhound buses at Kings Island in Ohio. Knievel decided to retire after a jump in the winter of 1976 in which he was again seriously injured. He suffered a concussion and broke both arms in an attempt to jump a tank full of live sharks in the Chicago Amphitheater. He continued to do smaller exhibitions around the country with his son, Robbie. Many of his records have been broken by daredevil motorcyclist Bubba Blackwell. Knievel also dabbled in movies and TV, starring as himself in "Viva Knievel" and with Lindsay Wagner in an episode of the 1980s TV series "Bionic Woman." George Hamilton and Sam Elliott each played Knievel in movies about his life. Evel Knievel toys accounted for more than $300 million in sales for Ideal and other companies in the 1970s and '80s. Born Robert Craig Knievel in the copper mining town of Butte on Oct. 17, 1938, Knievel was raised by his grandparents. He traced his career choice back to the time he saw Joey Chitwood's Auto Daredevil Show at age 8. "The phrase one-of-a-kind is often used, but it probably applies best to Bobby Knievel," said former U.S. Rep. Pat Williams, D-Mont., Knievel's cousin. "He was an amazing athlete... He was sharp as a tack, one of the smartest people I've ever known and finally, as the world knows, no one had more guts than Bobby. He was simply unafraid of anything." Outstanding in track and field, ski jumping and ice hockey at Butte High School, Knievel went on to win the Northern Rocky Mountain Ski Association Class A Men's ski jumping championship in 1957 and played with the Charlotte Clippers of the Eastern Hockey League in 1959. He also formed the Butte Bombers semiprofessional hockey team, acting as owner, manager, coach and player. Knievel also worked in the Montana copper mines, served in the Army, ran his own hunting guide service, sold insurance and ran Honda motorcycle dealerships. As a motorcycle dealer, he drummed up business by offering $100 off the price of a motorcycle to customers who could beat him at arm wrestling. At various times and in different interviews, Knievel claimed to have been a swindler, a card thief, a safe cracker, a holdup man. Evel Knievel married hometown girlfriend, Linda Joan Bork, in 1959. They separated in the early 1990s. They had four children, Kelly, Robbie, Tracey and Alicia. Robbie Knievel followed in his father's footsteps as a daredevil, jumping a moving locomotive in a 200-foot, ramp-to-ramp motorcycle stunt on live television in 2000. He also jumped a 200-foot-wide chasm of the Grand Canyon. Knievel lived with his longtime partner, Krystal Kennedy-Knievel, splitting his time between their Clearwater condo and Butte. They married in 1999 and divorced a few years later but remained together. Knievel had 10 grandchildren and a great-grandchild.


POCKET TASER STUN GUN, a great gift for the wife! A guy who purchased his lovely wife a Pocket Taser for their anniversary submitted this: Last weekend I saw something at Mike's Pistol and Pawn and it sparked my interest. The occasion was our 15th anniversary and I was looking for a little something extra for my wife, Kelly. What I came across was a 100,000 volt, pocket/purse size taser. The effects of the taser were supposed to be short-lived, with no long term adverse effects on the assailant, allowing the user adequate time to retreat to safety... Way too cool!!! Long story short, I bought the device and brought it home. I loaded two AAA batteries in the darned thing and pushed the button...Nothing! I was disappointed. I learned, however, that if I pushed the button AND pressed against a metal surface at the same time, I'd get the blue arc of electricity darting back and forth between the prongs. Awesome!!! Unfortunately, I have yet to explain to Kelly what the burn spot is one the face of her microwave. Okay, so I was home alone with this new toy, thinking to myself that it couldn't be all that bad with only 2 AAA batteries, right? There I sat in my recliner, my cat, Gracie, looking on intently (trusting little soul) while I was reading the directions and thinking I really needed to try this thing out on a flesh and blood moving target. I must admit, I thought about zapping Gracie (for a fraction of a second) and thought better of it. She is such a sweet cat. But, if I was going to give this thing to my wife to protect herself against a mugger, I should test it out first, right? So, there I am, in a pair of shorts and a tank top with my reading glasses perched on the bridge of my nose, directions in one hand, and taser in the other. The directions said that a one second burst would shock and disorient your assailant; a two-second burst was supposed to cause muscle spasms and a major loss of bodily control; a three-second burst would reportedly make your assailant flop on the ground like a fish out of water. Any burst longer than three seconds would be a waste of batteries. All the while, I'm looking at this little device, about 5 inches long and about 3/4 of an inch in diameter; pretty cute and loaded with two itsy-bitsy AAA batteries...thinking to myself, no possible way..... What happened next is almost beyond description, but I'll do my best... I'm sitting there alone, Gracie looking on with her head to one side as if to say, "Don't do it, dummy!", reasoning that a one-second burst from such a tiny, little thing couldn't hurt all that bad...I decided to give myself a one-second burst, just for the heck of it. I touched the prongs to my naked thigh, pushed the button, and Oh crap!!! It felt like "The Rock" ran in through the side door and body-slammed me on the carpet, over and over and over again! I vaguely recall waking up on my side, in the fetal position, with tears in my eyes, body soaking wet, both nipples on fire, testicles nowhere to be found, with my left arm tucked under my body in the oddest position, and tingling in my legs. The cat was standing over me, meowing oddly, licking my face, undoubtedly thinking, "Do it again, do it again!" NOTE: If you ever feel compelled to "mug" yourself with a taser, one note of caution: there is no such thing as a one-second burst when you zap yourself! You will not let go of that thing until it is dislodged from your hand by violent thrashing about on the floor! A three-second burst would be considered conservative. Son-of-a-b****! That hurt like he**! A minute or so later (I can't be sure as time was a relative thing at that point), I collected my wits (what little I had left), sat up, and surveyed the landscape. My bent reading glasses were on the mantle of the fireplace (How did they get there?). My triceps, right thigh, and both nipples were still twitching. My fact felt like it had been shot up with Novacaine and my bottom lip weighed like 88 lbs. For the record, I'm still looking for my testicles. I'm offering a significant reward for their safe return. I am still in shock. P.S.-My wife loved the gift, and now regularly threatens me with it! If you think education is difficult, try being stupid!
One day a Scotsman who had been stranded on a deserted island for more than 10 years,saw a speck on the horizon. He thought to himself, "It's certainly not a ship." And, as the speck got closer, he began to rule out the possibilities of a small boat or even a raft. Suddenly there emerged from the surf a wet-suited clad figure. Putting aside the scuba gear and the top of the wet suit, there stood a drop-dead gorgeous blond! The glamorous blond strode up to the Scotsman and said to him, "Tell me, how long has it been since you've had a good cigar?" "Ten years," he replied. With that, she reached over and unzipped a waterproof pocket on the left sleeve of her wetsuit and pulled out a fresh package of cigars. He takes one, lights it, and takes a long drag and said, "That is so good I'd almost forgotten what a great smoke could be". "And how long has it been since you had a drop of Single Malt Scotch?" Trembling, the Scotsman replied "ten years also". Hearing that, the blond reaches over to her right sleeve, unzips a pocket and removes a flask and hands it to the castaway. He opens the flask and takes a long drink. "Tis nectar of the Gods" stated the Scotsman. "Tis truly fantastic!!!" At that point the gorgeous blond started to slowly unzip the long front of her wet suit, right down the middle. "And how long has it been since you played around?" With tears in his eyes, the Scotsman fell to his knees and sobbed, "Jesus, Mary and Joseph! Don't tell me you've got golf clubs in there, too!"
Once upon a time there was a rich King who had four wives. He loved the 4th wife the most and adored her with rich robes and treated her to the finest of delicacies. He gave her nothing but the best. He also loved the 3rd wife very much and was always showing her off to neighboring kingdoms. However, he feared that one day she would leave him for another. He also loved his 2nd wife. She was his confidant and was always kind, considerate and patient with him. Whenever the King faced a problem, he could confide in her, and she would help him get through the difficult times. The King's 1st wife was a very loyal partner and had made great contributions in maintaining his wealth and kingdom. However, he did not love the first wife. Although she loved him deeply, he hardly took notice of her! One day, the King fell ill and he knew his time was short. He thought of his luxurious life and wondered, I now have four wives with me, but when I die, I'll be all alone." Thus, he asked the 4th wife , "I loved you the most, endowed you with the finest clothing and showered great care over you. Now that I'm dying, will you follow me and keep me company?" "No way!", replied the 4th wife, and she walked away without another word. Her answer cut like a sharp knife right into his heart. The sad King then asked the 3rd wife, "I loved you all my life. Now that I'm dying, will you follow me and keep me company?" "No!", replied the 3rd wife. "Life is too good! When you die, I'm going to remarry!" His heart sank and turned cold. He then asked the 2nd wife, "I have always turned to you for help and you've always been there for me. When I die, will you follow me and keep me company?" "I'm sorry, I can't help you out this time!", replied the 2nd wife. "At the very most, I can only walk with you to your grave." Her answer struck him like a bolt of lightning, and the King was devastated. Then a voice called out: "I'll go with you. I'll follow you no matter where you go." The King looked up, and there was his first wife. She was very skinny as she suffered from malnutrition and neglect. Greatly grieved, the King said, "I should have taken much better care of you when I had the chance!" In truth, we all have the 4 wives in our lives: Our 4th wife is our body. No matter how much time and effort we lavish in making it look good, it will leave us when we die. Our 3rd wife is our possessions, status and wealth.When we die, it will all go to others. Our 2nd wife is our family and friends. No matter how much they have been there for us, the furthest they can stay by us is up to the grave. And our 1st wife is our Soul. Often neglected in pursuit of wealth, power and pleasures of the world. However, our Soul is the only thing that will follow us where ever we go.Cultivate, strengthen and cherish it now, for it is the only part of us that will follow us to the throne of God and continue with us throughout Eternity. Thought for the day: Remember, when the world pushes you to your knees, you're in the perfect position to pray. Being happy doesn't mean everything's perfect. It means you've decided to see beyond the imperfections
Ozzy Angered by ND Sheriff's Sting Nov. 3, 2007, 7:05 PM EST Ozzy Osbourne wants an apology from the Cass County sheriff for staging a sting operation in the rocker's name without his permission. Osbourne claims his reputation was tarnished when Sheriff Paul Laney invited 500 people with outstanding warrants to a phony party at a Fargo nightclub before the rocker's concert with Rob Zombie at a nearby arena. More than 30 showed up and were arrested. "Instead of holding a press conference to pat himself on the back, Sheriff Laney should be apologizing to me for using my name in connection with these arrests," Osbourne said in a statement. "It is insulting to me and to my audience and it shows how lazy this particular sheriff is when it comes to doing his job," Osbourne said. Laney said Friday that it's his job to arrest people with outstanding warrants. "We meant no disrespect toward Mr. Osbourne or his show," Laney said. "What we did was a very creative law enforcement technique to lure individuals who had active criminal warrants to come to us." He said mentioning Osbourne's name in the invitations was no different than a bar advertising a Super Bowl party by mentioning the teams playing in the game. Laney said Monday's sting was done to let the community know his office was doing its best to serve about 3,000 outstanding warrants it must deal with. "They get very creative in how they abscond from the law," the sheriff said of the wanted individuals. "We just got real creative in how we reeled them in," Laney said. Not everyone is taking the sting personally, Laney said. "Three people called to say, 'I got one of those letters. Since you're being so creative, I'm turning myself in.
TO THE GIRL THAT FLASHED ME WHILE DRIVING.....You were on the sidewalk with a gaggle of your friends and you were all rushing toward the curb. I hit my brakes, afraid that you were going to run into the street, but you flashed me instead. Never before have I believed in love at first sight. They were shapely and round and oh-so-generously proportioned, with smooth creamy skin, and they were proudly standing up with the resilience of youth. I immediately began thinking of all the things I could do with your breasts -- we could go for long walks together on misty mornings, have dinner in romantic restaurants, go for bike rides around the lake. I began to imagine a lifetime of waking up with your breasts in my face, continuing to love them as age and gravity inevitably take their toll. I could write poems for your pom-poms, ditties for your titties. Eat your heart out Keats -- who needs a Grecian urn when I've got a pair of ice cream sundaes with cherries on top? I'm almost certainly too old for you, but I think I could still have a meaningful relationship with your boobs.
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