1968 Camaro Z28

   
   "1968 Camaro Z28"
  
   Camaro in French is slang for friend; moreover, in pony-car talk, it kinda/sorta means:  Mustang Slayer.  Almost identical to the 1967 version, the 1968 Camaro has new rear-side marker lights; plus, a superior suspension.  Here are some approximate and totally accurate levels of specs and performance levels--here we go:
  
RWD--4-speed gearbox.

301.6 Cubic Inches.

Holley 4-barrel carburetor.  

Horses:  290.

Torque:  290 lb-ft.

0-60:  6.9 Seconds.

Quarter Mile Sprint:  15 Seconds.

Top Speed:  130 Miles-Per-Hour.

Crystalline Cool (17)

  
   "Crystalline Cool (17)"
   
   Duncan woke to the news, which was:  TRUMP!!!
   At that point, he knew anything is possible, and people do have a chance, from a certain point of view; still, he adored his duty as a poor kid, kneeling down, thanking God for the day--that is why we call it the present, for it is a gift.  And he recalled how much he adored the Virgin Mother, Her having said in Luke's Gospel:  "My soul doth magnify the Lord.  I shall be remembered for every and all generations."  Indeed, there has been more sightings of Her than Elvis himself.  On every corner in America there is a Virgin Mother statue, or image, which She predicted more than 2,000 years ago.  
   Furthermore, the reason he loved Her--because so many put Her down, not knowing Catholics don't worship Her, but honor Her, as She held the Living Torah in Her Blessed Belly, being the Ark of the Covenant, a Singular Vessel of Devotion, associated with the number 13--just ask Reagan's friend, Pope John Paul the Second, that Saint knowing all too well, and totally still alive in Christ.
   So, after his morning prayers, Duncan wended his way to the modest kitchen, finding Dad brewing some green tea; next, mixing it with the Stevia leaf and some cinnamon.  The old Apache Native said, in a probing manner to his bruised son:  "I'm not that up on the Book of Daniel, but doesn't it say that a leader will come from the North, and the South will be driven out; then, the East will get involved?"
   Duncan took some of the highly anti-oxidant tea, responding:  "Possibly."
   Dad then lit his cigar, blowing his prayers to the Celestial Heavens, and instructed his son:  "If you really want to be chaste, maybe you shouldn't corporeally gel with Aimee.  But no matter how great your sin--God's mercy is stronger."
   Duncan replied:  "All I know Dad, is that I love the Trinity and the Virgin; plus, the sublime Angels and Saints.  I'll cross the bridge concerning whether to make love or not when I approach it.  But for now, I'll keep digging ditches and praying for the souls in Purgatory."
   The old man with:  "It's a new day my loyal son.  Your sins are forgiven, for you are a weirdo of the most magnanimous kind, and like I told you before, I'm pleased with you, and if you continue being a ditch digger--be the best ditch digger you can be."
   Duncan smiled; next, Roadkill entered the kitchen, gave a wag of the tail, smiled some slobber, and urinated on the floor.  His Dad laughed, saying:  "Saint Francis still hasn't tamed this crazy, wily quasi-wolf.  You clean up the piss."
  Duncan kept smiling, saying:  "As Pynchon mentioned--every dog has his day, and a good dog just might have two."  Then, he knelt down and gave the loyal hound a kiss on the canine's furry head, telepathically telling the noble beast, pineal gland to pineal gland, that he adored those loving creatures that divinely walked on all fours, for there is nothing more faithful than a loving dog.   

Doc Holiday Val Kilmer Best Last Line Ever

Crystalline Cool (16)

   
   "Crystalline Cool (16)"
   
   The angelic countenance of Aimee escorted Duncan, sweetly, and with the super suavity of Squirrel Girl beauty, which had control over the lesser mammals, out onto his backyard turf, where the bucolic beauty of Mother Nature did reside.  
   She gently asked him what you called drops of sweat on Dolly Parton's buxom abundance, to which he admitted that he didn't know.  She answered:  "Mountain Dew!  And no, I don't drink it like the garden-variety redneck; moreover, I don't want to get Mountain Dew mouth, which is more insidious concerning causing damage to the oral cavity than that of street meth."
   Duncan axiomatically surmised that she was much like his father, sharing his Native man's stoic humor, as the Native American had lost so much, yet shook it off with lovely levity, like a prancing gazelle does shake away the negative energy after surviving a cheetah's hungry pounce.
   Yet with her blonde mane of sunshine yellow, and eyes sparkling like green gemstones, she, from his empirical observations, appeared Northern European; next, he asked her if she had ever climbed the scholastic ladder of academia, and how far up.  She responded a bit ambiguously:  "General education is like every other garbage can, full of the same toxic nonsense.  People should be pushed into the path of their skills and talents.  So, I go to our local library, reading all of the books on metaphysics, nutrition, and of course, baseball history.  I guess that's why working at a burger joint brings me glee, for I get to put sage, oregano, turmeric, garlic, and other healthy stuff into our poor community's impoverished cows to help the herd of our people folk.  Too, I listen to the ball games on my headphones."
   Duncan grinned at her silly spirit, saying:  "You're plenty like my Dad."
   Aimee offered:  "That's not a bad thing.  Loving the Earth and laughing at yourself is health food for the soul."
  Duncan's face lit up, him really liking her victorious vibe.

Crystalline Cool (15)

   
   "Crystalline Cool (15)"
  
   Things were wending in a non-weird direction of late for Dad and Duncan.  Reruns on the black and white, cigar smoke, stoic humor from the old man, as usual, and Roadkill finally pooping outside instead of on the hardwood floors; moreover, Duncan's labor and prayers were pointing the compass North, to the loving allegory of a motherly Earth.
   Yet, just went they were about to dig deep into their HUNGRY MAN  microwave dinners, with a fresh spinach salad to keep their bodies strong and have a non-calcified state of neurology--an angelic, meek knock came at the front door, and Roadkill resisted the smell of people food, sprinting the small distance to investigate, Dad hollering:  "It's open."
   Duncan was like:  "Dad, we don't know who it could be out here in the country."
   His Dad responded:  "I like surprises half-white boy."
   Next, the door opened ever so sweetly, and it was like a choir of angels began to sing as Aimee entered with her bright, toothy smile, Roadkill sitting down and smiling back at her with friendly and benevolent canine incisors. 
   Duncan's face blushed bright red, him blurting:  "Aimee, what are you doing here?"
   Dad shot a verbal arrowhead:  "That's no way to talk to a spirit-filled princess of the pastoral world."
   Aimee swung her cascading mane of yellow hair behind a pink sweater, her emerald-green eyes locked upon Duncan's chocolate-brown orbs, SURPRISE truly written over his face.
   She elegantly voiced:  "I don't want it to be over Duncan.  You're the sweetest guy I've ever met out in theses parts; plus, you never made a pass or an ass out of yourself--so gentle and tender you truly are--it can't end between us; specifically, it has to begin."
   His Dad interjected:  "Young boy needs blossoming flower, not old leather man."
   Duncan said wisely:  "You got that from the Karate Kid  movie Dad."
   Dad lit up a smoke, saying:  "Mr. Miyagi knows shit boy."  

1968 Shelby GT 500 KR

   
   "1968 Shelby GT 500 KR"
   
   Ford had done it again--forging maximum muscle by way of Shelby genius.  This KR model, meaning:  KING OF THE ROAD, was equipped with a free-flowing exhaust for superior outtake; plus, numerous hood scoops and vents for high intake power.  Coming in an immaculate white and highlighted in the goodbye communication of a galloping pony-blue; moreover, having a rollover bar inside as an interior shield--this is the ultimate muscle car--here are some specs:

428 Cubic Inches.

440 pounds-foot torque.

Horses:  335.

0-60:  5.4 Seconds.

Quarter Mile Run:  13.9 Seconds.     

Wheaten Terrier Totem

   
   "Wheaten Terrier Totem"
   
   From Ireland--and if you can't afford the Irish Wolfhound, you purchase a Wheaten Terrier, known as the Poor Man's Wolfhound.  This dog, like all terrier types, is great at pulling rats out of the bushes; moreover, as in Bram's Dracula, many terriers are put in a room to destroy all venomous vermin.
   Wheaten Terriers are prone to come to their owners in dreams.  Showcasing fertility and an abundance of protection; also, according to some canine experts, they are the most loving dogs, only rated behind the Golden Retriever.  Born a chocolate brown, Wheaten Terriers evolve into a white, almost wheat-like color; hence, the name Wheaten Terrier.  And while they eagerly hunt any vermin, they are great sheep dogs too, almost appearing as such, using their furry camouflage to blend in with the herd, and yet herd them as well.
   This is a benevolent beast, eager to great, treating you like you're their long lost friend from yesteryear.  They do pounce, but in a playful manner.  Overly social and protective of their masters; however, forgiving to the end.
   Here are my observations of the Wheaten Terrier for a decade:

*  Loyalty
*  Devotion
*  Leadership
*  Playfulness
*  Forgiving
*  Guardians
*  Security
*  Hungry bellies
*  Hypoallergenic 
*  Sturdy and Agile 

   Too, usually having a cropped tail, and still today, out of tradition, for the British put a tail tax, so the story goes, on Irish hounds--so, being divinely stubborn, as are plenty of the Irish--they simply cropped the Wheaten's tail so as to not pay the tax.