Hey Ben -
Check out my podcasts on Trendifier with Julian Dorey - the story is on there for sure.
Thanks for your support!
Jim
See I just got this email from a big honcho at the FBI, kind of guy that tries to help McGyver thwart the terrorists or whatever. He was actual college roommates with the tubby CIA director guy from the Trump era, Mike Pompeo. The tubby guy actually dropped a lot of weight now that I remember it. Anyway exactly simultaneous came a photo of my boat on the slip. The hull is (correction, WAS) in real need of a scrape and resurfacing (two coats if paint today). One of the chaps from the sailing club went over and photographed it. It's quite a community on the water and a good feeling to find community again. That's pretty average in Spain to call a fat guy gordo openly, that's not disrespectful in Spain from what I've seen. Probably not a woman unless it was close family. So if you go to Spain and they ask you what the testicles (bollocks) you're painting (doing) in Spain just tell them boat hulls.
I'd post that photo the chap just forwarded of my boat but Google is sick of people using all their server space with photos and videos and the phone doesn't allow it, only the PC. It was interesting how both things ended on my screen at the same time and how they overlapped: story and the storey that the main galley of Red Herring constitutes. Sure and shore that she is on. Pod cast and pod that a small boat is, will be cast back onto the water. And I even have a neighbor called Julian near my boat's mooring. He seems so happy for a 60 something year old with his 7 year old son and 20 something year old wife. I haven't seen her or him but I do not doubt they give him a vitalizing lease on life.
"Oh it seems they've already scraped her and have put masking tape up ready for two coats of sealant..... Better give them a call to ask about the motor. Propellor and rudder looking ok to you??
Yep, looks great "
Ok I was about to go on a spiel about correctional facilities. Then I got mentally sidetracked remembering some memories I was telling my son about this morning. We had what the marines call a 'housebitch', I know this from my former american marine buddy from college film school days. However it wasn't a person but an actual bitch, Ginger. Ginger would have a litter of pups like the amount of teats she had plus a runt. Now that I think about it, that runt was intended by Nature to provide a snack for Ginger while busy breastfeeding. As disgusting as that might seem to you, I can only imagine if you talk to a dog breeder, they might say it's a common occurrence. Although I imagine many humans would intervene by nursing a runt puppy. I might flip now to foster children and humans intervening in broken families to nurture children from broken families. As Ginger invariably went into heat every year once and somehow fell pregnant to whichever dog, it seemed perhaps some years there wasn't a runt and other years there was. I don't remember especially well although I do have plenty of photos of a litter like this and even with my two sisters living at home before our family disintegrated in 1984, probably pretty early into 1984. It's difficult for me to remember as I was eight when it happened. Ginger's litters came before and after the family collapse. I definitely remember one year she was nervous of me standing too close to her suckling litter and jumped up while they were still sucking their milk to give me a little warning nuzzle on my nose. She never actually bit into the flesh but effected a kind of grinding with her teeth as a way to warn the untrustworthy young pack member to stay away from her young. Truth be told, I cannot actually recall ever harming Ginger or any of her puppies and as I came into relationship with Ginger from an extremely young age, like four or younger. I don't recall my brother Koba (not his real name) ever harming Ginger or her puppies either. Although unfortunately, after the family collapsed the life and love in the family died considerably. I still maintained a fraternal relationship with my brother going on walking and swimming trips together, but unfortunately he now had a free hand to punch me or terrorize Ginger's son, Fred. Fred was Ginger 2.0 and my brother turned it into an angry attack dog through his dark arts if elastic band dog abuse. I never liked it but it's just a matrix of my memories as a ten year old or whatever. I never liked my brother headbutting me, spitting in my face or punching my face but I guess he was just angry. Soon Freddy was angry and Ginger died somehow, possibly of old age as she was already fully grown when I was like three years old and likely died when I was like ten or so.
I think at one point, after the family collapse, both Ginger and Fred got a taste for chicken blood and were always trying to kill our chickens which we had for eggs. I don't think my brother ever tried harming Ginger and I certainly never tried harming Ginger or Fred. Definitely not Ginger. I think with Fred I remember my buddy Winston Churchill (not his real name, I can't use his real name here for privacy reasons and Winston Churchill is easy to remember as he actually looked just like the guy as a little toddler before I even made his acquaintance, also extremely English like Churchill*), I think with Churchill definitely I used to show him how gently I could get Fred to eat food from my hand and this training was done with a kind of minor abuse, pretty minor. Not the 100% a league gold standard Americans have of treating their dogs but still not terrorizing my dog exactly. I think Ginger might have bitten me because she might have noticed one year I had possibly killed one of her puppies when I was like seven or eight or nine whatever however if this is the case, there was no intent with that action. I thought it was cute to gently squeeze the pup's intestines and I don't know I actually killed it but it definitely seemed that's the pup that ended up with its intestines sticking out like poop, oops. Likely Ginger was wary of me one way or the other and that's why she warned me off that time aforementioned. That puppy just turned up dead one day. The time I saw Ginger eat one of her pups, that was a newborn runt. I mean I normally wouldn't remember all that crap but I just randomly remembered my parents feeding the pups corn flakes in milk in a big rectangular container once they [sic or not to sic, that is the question] little teeth started coming out and they left the teat. Normally a wild dog like a wolf would hunt and feed its young from the wild. I saw someone walking a dingo around for a pet like less than a year ago....
Don't put it out with your boots Ted!!!
https://youtu.be/o_F_e4Bznzk
* this guy thought it was hilarious part of Fred's spine ended up dug up in the backyard and just lying around, can't remember how that happened, possibly a different dog dug it up. Can't remember how Fred died at all. This guy had a super nice in ground swimming pool in his backyard. I was remembering some of his giggles and hijinxes. I think he certainly found his teenage buddies amusing. His friendship with FDR took off where mine left off, they're still friends even today and now the guy lives in Japan and talks to noone from the old hood. He came into grade seven with Hendrix (not his real name, just another one of the boys with a codename). My friendship with FDR was strongest around when my family imploded around 1984. That's when I sniffed the guy out and really just forced my friendship onto him. He was a nice boy, his parents were from Ipswich in Queensland and had an old poker machine in their kitchen. The mother Vivian even reminded me somehow later of my own mother in law. By that inground swimming pool, I remember around age fourteen, one of the sweeties from the hood, Danielle was sitting right next to me in her summer clothes, maybe not a bikini. Her and I would steal chocolate and soda from the nearby supermarket after school. That supermarket with Danielle, I knew a guy later, he ended up dating a friend of my old next door neighbor from my baby to thirteen house, so that I ended up rooming with him eight years ago when the Russian mother in law came (and annoyed). Well that guy I ended up rooming with, eight years ago, he ended up getting raped at that supermarket when he was a kid. Some paedo asked him to help him find his dog then raped him in the ass next door to the supermarket. He was kicking himself about it years later, being so gullible. He went straight to the cops and they got the guy he said. He was a bad hombre, heroin dealer ex-bikie, bad news. I was about to start rooming with him three years later as baby three came and the Russian babushka came back but then the cops came to tell me my brother had died so I moved in with mom instead. I'd definitely swap that back if I could redo that instance of the past, that guy was interesting. He was a badass ex bikie heroin dealer, badass. Would have been better to move in with him as originally planned to keep a close eye on mom and bro and his new girlfriend from China (and her two boys). Family!
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