Tom Petty

Angel Hair & Grandma

   
   "Angel Hair & Grandma"
  
   First of all:  Boy, being from the backwoods of Tennessee, he boldly states:  "When ya eat urself a can of them Beanie-Weenies, enjoy the beanies, but never the weenies--ya hear me boy."
  
* * * *

   Now, for something beyond seedless watermelon:  Went to visit my Grandma in a nursing home.  I was eternally emaciated, for that relative moment, with a proud, Tesla-like mustache, though he let Edison have all the credit; next, I slowly sauntered into Grandma's room, and she was being lifted upright by a mechanical appendage, saying:  "Get your ass over here and give me a big kiss."
   Wheeled her outside underneath the Virginia Beach Sunshine--a Border Collie was playing frisbee with its master, and a nice, black lady, also in a wheelchair, asked me if we allowed her to smoke, which I said "Yes" to, and she stated that that was a fine thing to allow.
   As Grandma lit up her generic cigarette, I noticed not any blonde angel hairs upon her--I guess the nursing home didn't house the regulars; then, she looked at me, saying:  "I don't wanna be here.  We should get a shanty.  Just a little shanty."  And then she looked off into the azure noon.  A tough old bird she is.  

Tom Petty

Obi Wan talking to Luke

1970 Dodge Charger

   
   "1970 Dodge Charger"
  
   Being reminiscent of the 1969 version that was engineered by moonshine and Uncle Jesse, with Bo Duke sliding over the hood, kinda/sorta like T.J. Hooker always gallantly on the hood of a car in his series, yet not having the Luke Duke Disorder--got me the Luke Dukes some might mention in melancholy; anyway, I'm talking:  The 1970 Dodge Charger with the HEMI, armed with a new hood cutout--here we go:
  
426 cubic inches.

Horsepower:  425.

Torque making and manipulating rotation--gotta get power to the wheels:  490 lb-ft.

0-60:  5.5 seconds.

1/4 Mile:  13.9 seconds @ 105.

Top Speed:  Hypothetically, 130 plus miles-per-hour.  

Fox Biddable (29)

    
   "Fox Biddable (29)"
   
   Healing Eagle flew and sweetly soared in miraculous triumph; specifically, his prayers to Grandfather had been awesomely answered, in the sublime sense of anti-entropy forging non-foolish fuel for the forbidden fruits denied, in order to obey the true Law, and have the Land (geography) of God Almighty.
   Moreover, Jenny McGee (the fox), and Clovis Bloom (the mongoose) had gelled into the gregarious portion of each others' compulsion, finding gentle and smooth romance, without the noisy burden of an adversary salaciously screaming against the quiet humble of God; however, the God of Israel knows counterpoise, and Christ hands the woefully weak his bullwhip at times, knowing ignorance is not allowed in his Father's or Mother's House, for behold:  "Behold thy Mother."  
   After so much seeming rejection, vociferously offered to the woman that His time has not yet come, but now arriveth, and He offers Saint John the Eagle a genuine Healing Factor of magnanimous mesh in no mirage mirror, but the mystical majesty of a dog not inheriting Heaven, eating dead Roman bodies from the crosses, as they had not the Orthodoxy of Judaism concerning burying their dead, like unto the ivory-tusked elephants, and Clovis and Jenny kissed the salutary spark of magical matrimony, engaging in a symposium of Japanese Rap--me love you long time; plus, happy endings and all the rest of jive turkeys living within us, for we are so mixed and curiously interesting to Otherworldly fascinations, but Jenny McGee's hair morphed blue-black, and she didn't give a damn about her reputation, taming an unknown shrew beneath, while Clovis kissed her fertile feet, so gallant and gently, anointing with oils and aromatherapy for the purpose of non-lascivious love, yet that of brother and sister beyond the constrictive chambers of monstrous man, so innocent in their integrity towards the SOURCE of ALL consolation, and Jenny McGee was a short dwarf; furthermore, a black-haired girl, absorbing the negativity of every situation, while a meek mongoose protected his property with the engaging light of luminous love.  

1968 Camaro SS 396

   
   "1968 Camaro SS 396"
   
   You see plenty of American muscle on the road nowadays; specifically, they have brought back the mean muscle of the 1960's that challenged phony enlightenment, fabricating the distant and mythical Dark Ages.  Nothing save dog and man gelled in sublime synergy does outshine muscle car and man in the mystical mesh of torque and spirit.  Here are some stats for the 1968 Camaro SS 396--like this:
  
RWD; plus, manual gearbox.

396 cubic inches.

325 horsepower.

Plenty of rotating torque:  410 ft-lb.

0-60 dance:  Approximately 6 seconds flat.

Quarter Mile run:  Around 14 seconds.  

Top Speed:  You can't handle it, unless fueled by hope against hopelessness.