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This was borrowed from the Boozefighters website, I just thought everyone would benefit from this wisdom.

Wizzard stood before the latest prospects class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, wordlessly, he picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the prospects if the jar was full? They agreed that it was.

So Wizzard then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the prospects again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.

Wizzard next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full. The prospects responded with an unanimous "yes."

Wizzard then produced two cans of beer from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively filling the empty space between the sand. The prospects laughed.

"Now," said Wizzard, as the laughter subsided, "I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things--your family, your health, your children, your job, your friends, your favorite passions--things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full. "The pebbles are
the other things that matter like your job, your house, your car. The sand is everything else--the small stuff.

If you put the sand into the jar first," he continued, "there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are important to you. Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Play with your children. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your partner out to dinner. Play another 18. There will always be time to clean the club house, and fix the disposal. "Take care of the golf balls first, the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand."

One of the students raised his hand and inquired what the beer represented.

Wizzard smiled. "I'm glad you asked. It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem, there's always room for a couple of beers."

 I just got back to Lafayette, La. from an overnight trip to Monterey, La.
The weather was 55 degrees and full on sunshine when I left yesterday. I dressed accordingly of course. I hopped onto I-49 North through Opelousas, La. and took the Lebeau exit turning East. When you get to the town of Lebeau, you jump accross to the Palmetto Highway which I think is Highway 1. Well, you go through Palmetto(slowly) and turn left onto a triple digit road, and go over the tracks. From here on out, you should have gotten your tank full and food if you are hungry before now. Which I had taken care of, since this was not my first time through here. Well, this road is in fairly rough shape for a few miles, so take care. But once you get past the first 5 or 6 miles, it becomes fantastic. When you get to the Atchafalaya River levee, turn north onto a beautiful scenic highway that I feel few probably know exist. Perfect with very little traffic, and smooth twisties with cows and horses staring as you pass by.
 When you come to Simmsport, La. you are going to want to take a right turn, towards the river bridge(in sight from the light) and cross over the river making the first left turn available, keeping on the river road. Still heading north, again this river road thing is very nice. Lots of smooth roads with mild to moderate curves. Not much traffic again. When you come to the end of the line here, take a left and go towards the Old River Control Structures, which is a Corps of Engineers masterpiece marvel. Truly a credit to a branch of our government. On that last left turn, from there on out is nothing but Wildlife management Areas, farmlands, and hunting campgrounds. The road is ontop of the Mississippi River levee. Again, nice, smooth pavement with lots of sweeping turns. And great scenery. Truly good therapy for city dwelling souls.
 Travel on this road for approximately 25 miles, crossing 4 more lock and dams, and countless smooth turns, and you will come to a junction which states"Monterey Left, Vidalia, straight" I turned left, and went to Monterey and filled up my gas, and my belly. This was 112 miles from Lafayette. I ran into a girl I grew up with down south in the store. Small world huh? I ended up staying the night at my cousins house about ten miles from there. Out on another beautiful lake, built a fire, drank beer, and ate a delicious deer roast.
 Upon waking this morning, I walked outside and discovered that I was blessed with another, even better day. No wind, 60 degrees, bright full-on sunshine. I took the same way back home, but took it a little slower. Stopped at a couple of places on the levee where campgrounds were found on the riverside. Beautifully kept up, and clean. This trip is definately my new favorite ride. Hwy 15 along the Mississippi River is definately the best of all the roads I took on this trip. Hope you get the chance to enjoy it soon.

Tags: Ride Rides Country

 Twas the night before Christmas, and God was it neat,
The kids were both gone, and my wife was in heat.

The doors were all bolted, and the phone off the hook,
It was time for some nooky, by hook or by crook.

Mama in her teddy, and I in the nude,
Had just hit the bedroom and reached for the lube.

When out on the lawn there arose such a cry,
That I lost my boner and poor Mama went dry.

Up to the window I sprang like an elf,
Tore back the shade while she played with herself.

The moon on the crest of the snowman we built,
Showed a broom up his ass, clean up to the hilt.

When what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a rusty old sleigh and 8 mangy reindeer.

With a fat little driver half out of his sled,
A sock in his ear, and a bra on his head.

Sure as I'm speaking, he was as high as a kite,
And he yelled to his team, but it didn't sound right.

Whoa Shithead, whoa Asshole, whoa Stupid, whoa Putz,
Either slow down this rig or I'll cut off your nuts.

Look out for the lamp post, and don't hit the tree,
Quit shaking the sleigh, 'cause I gotta go pee.

They cleared the old lamp post, the tree got a rub,
Just as Santa leaned out and threw up on my shrub.

And then from the roof we heard such a clatter,
As each little reindeer now emptied his bladder.

I was donning my jacket to cover my ass,
When down the chimney Santa came with a crash.

His suit was all smelly with perfume galore,
He looked like a bum and he smelled like a whore.

"That was some brothel" he said with a smile,
"The reindeer are pooped, so I'll just stay here a while."

He walked to the kitchen, himself poured a drink,
Then whipped out his pecker and pissed in the sink.

I started to laugh, my wife smiled with glee,
The old boy was hung nearly down to his knee.

Back in the den, Santa reached in his sack,
But his toys were all gone, and some new things were packed.

The first thing he found was a pair of false tits,
The next was a handgun, with a penis that spits.

A box filled with condoms was Santa's next find, ..
And a six pack of panties, the edible kind.

A bra without nipples, a penis extension,
And several other things I shouldn't even mention.

A fuck ring, a g-string, and all types of oil,
A dildo so long, it lay in a coil.

"This stuff ain't for kids, Mrs. Santa will shit,
So I'll leav'em here, and then I'll haveta split."

He filled every stocking and then took his leave,
With one tiny butt plug left under his sleeve.

He sprang to his sleigh, but his feet were like lead,
Thus he fell on his ass and broke wind instead.

In time he was seated, took the reigns of his hitch,
Saying, "Take me home Rudolph, this nights been a BITCH!"

The sleigh was near gone when we heard Santa shout,
"The best thing about sex is that it never wears out!"

Rebirth
Fiction, by:Bartol Tally
Chapter 1
It's 4:30 in the morning and I wake to the sound of semi's passing on the interstate about 100 yards away. The fire from the last night is only ashes now, so I unzip my sleeping bag and roll out into my boots to stoke the fire a bit. I look at my motorcycle parked near by and the previous days activities flash in my head. Remembering the sounds, smells, sights, feelings of adrenalin shock my body into the motions of rolling up my bed and packing for another day of total selfishness. A day like the 35 days before this one. Riding aimlessly across the country. Turning whichever way the roads look better.
I grab a chunk of the beef jerkey that has become the main staple of my diet and gnaw on it while the fire is getting right. I need to get out of this county before daylight or I might not at all. So I pack my bed roll on my scooter, have a look at the oil, suit up and off I go.
I am heading west today. No particular reason for the direction, just the direction I was going the night before. Maybe one of these mornings, I'll figure out the purpose for the rest of my life. You see, my kids have all grown up, my wife and I are long since divorced, and I am alone.
Sure there are people who I call friends. There are people who call me their friend, but through the years I have grown sick and tired of the phony, backstabbing nature of people nowadays. Put trust in someone, only to have them lie to your face, then laugh at you behind your back.
The road has become my home. My sanctuary. My survival.
This motorcycle has become my wings. My means of sanity.

I roll past the Louisiana/Texas state line and turn north off of the interstate. The scenery is beautiful in east ..:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-com:office:smarttags" />Texas. The rumble from my exhaust is a sharp contrast to the peaceful tranquility around me as I turn left on a backroad. I begin to understand my new role in this society. It is to turn upside down the lives of the ones that I am to meet in the future that lie and use deceit on those naive and trusting idiots.
I am to become both of thes types at once. I am to become the naive, being suckered in by these con artists, then I am also going to be the one who is running the con.
I ride on for at least 100 more miles entertaining these evil thoughts before turning in at a truck stop for a piss and some coffee. I get off of my scooter and my tranquility starts to slip away. Thoughts from the month before crowd in on my sanity like sugar being poured into a bowl.


Chapter 2
You see, it all went wrong in Port Gables Florida when a young black man and a very young white girl pulled into this store I was at. I was sitting on my bike having a cigarette when I noticed them get out of the car arguing. I payed little attention to them because I have always been one to mind my own business. But what caught my attention was when one of these two thug looking guys standing near the payphone yelled to the young black man," Hey nigga, what the hell? you cant control that little white bitch?"
What really suprised me was when the guy with the girl yells back, " Man, this girl cant be controlled by nobody".
The guy by the phone says" I could if I had her alone for a little while"
The look on the girls face became shock. Especially when the girls boyfriend said to the other guys "Get in and we'll see then".
I then witnessed the three men wrestle the girl into the backseat of the car and got in one on each side of her. She started to scream, but the one on the left hit her in the face so hard that I heard her cheekbone break from where I was. She slumped over in the seat and they drove off.
I went into the store to find a phone to call the police and I found a cop leaning on the counter talking to the clerk lady.
"Hey officer, I just seen a white girl get her face busted and thrown into a car with three black guys outside!"
He said" That's what she gets for marrying a nigger."
I stood there for a moment in shock, waiting for him to say he was joking and then run out the door after them. He didnt.
So I got on my scooter and headed off in the same direction as the girl in the car went.


Chapter 3

I caught up to the car pretty quickly, but stayed about a half a mile behind. Soon, they turned off of the road onto a gravel road in a heavily wooded area. I approached slowly and coasted into the drive and parked my scooter off of the road. I heard screams from no more than 200 yards back down the road. I checked my pistol, stuck another knife on my belt from my tool pouch and I slipped down the edge of the treeline to where they were. When I got there, they had the girl out of the car onto the ground and were raping her. She couldnt fight them off. She was as helpless as a kitten in the mouth of a mastiff.
I took aim from about 30 yards away at the one on her now and squeezed. I hit him in the neck with a .45 caliber hollow point. His head fell off to one side and his body collapsed on the girl.
The other two guys turned to look directly at me, and I ran at them when the girls boyfriend reached for the glove box in the car.The other thug guy pulled a pistol from his waist and I stopped, aimed, and shot while he was cocking his firearm. The human body reacts totally different to bullets than it shows in the movies. I say this because I blew his entire arm off below the elbow. The girls boyfriend fired at me and I felt warmth run down the side of my head. His gun jammed and I charged him again. He was cornered in the doorway of his car when I reached him. I put my gun to his face and he started crying and pleading for his life. He said "Man ,that is my wife! I have kids with her! Please dont shoot"
Then I was struck in the back of the neck with a pounding blow. It didnt knock me out, but it knocked me down. I thought it was the thug with one arm now. But when I rolled over, I saw the young little white girl standing there with a tree branch. The thug#2 was cowering against the back of the car trying to clamp off the blood.
The Girl then said" Nobody f*#ks with my man!"
The girls boyfriend then came at me with the pistol and I reached into my waist band, retrieved my 8" Bouie knife and met him as he was getting point blank range to me with his little pistol all pointed sideways, and swung the blade in a wide arc cutting halfway through the neck.
The girl screamed and lunged for the gun. I lunged too and wrestled it from her. I told her I was trying to help her. She said "I don't need the help of some redneck looking honkey like you."
I was in shock. Partly from what I had just went through, but mostly from what this bitch was saying to me.
I clicked.
I swung the blade and struck the main vains in her neck. She dropped to the ground flopping like a chicken fresh off of the block.
Thug #2 was crying like a little bitch now. I put a .45 slug square between his eyes.
That was the first step towards where I am now.

Chapter 4

I crank up and pull out onto the highway, hard on the throttle, I blaze towards Fayetteville, Arkansas at a adrenaline pumping speed, for a week long rest on a local campground that I have visited for the past 12 years for the rally.
The ride is 800 and some odd miles from where I'm at now, and I am anxious to put as many as I can behind me today. I am enjoying the smooth, straight highways immensely here in Texas. I notice that the Hawk that has been with me since that day in Florida, is gliding high above to my left. I notice him everywhere I stop, perched nearby on a powerline, or treetop, just watching. I am unsure of his interest in me, but he has some reason for hanging with me for the past 1900 miles.
I stop at a rest area just south of Pineland, near the lake. There are some other bikers here, and they are eyeing me up. As I get off of my scoot, I notice the hawk light on a tree branch nearby. I go ahead to the restroom, and take some much needed relief. As I exit, I notice one of the other bikers, a large, haired over gent, standing by my bike. I walked over and said" How's it going?"
"Alright, just looking to see how you attached that tool box down there."
"Yeah, it was a job. Just made a bracket, bolted it on. Needs to be painted still."I said.
" Where you headed?" he asked, and I heard the hawk sound off a high pitched squeal! It gave me chills, and I became cautious talking to this fellow.
I don't know why even paid any attention to the birds note, but something inside me felt attached to it.
"I am heading to Fayetteville, to the rally".
He then said" Thats where we are heading too, my friends call me Slag." And he extended a hand.
I shook his hand, and said," My name is Brand, ya'll from here?"
"We are coming from Arizona" he said. "We lost a brother back in New Mexico by way of 18 wheeler. We been pushing on though. Been a pilgrimage for our crew since 96'."
"Well, sorry to hear that man. Ya'll heading up highway 59?"
" Yeah, that is the plan. You wanna tag along with us?"he said with a raised eyebrow.
I looked around at his crew, and noticed one of the guys looking my way. This guy looked like he fell into a hog pen, and rolled around for 3 days, then jumped into a dumpster behind a chinese restaraunt in New York City! The rest looked not much better, but looks are decieving sometimes. I mean, Arizona is a long way to ride, but, c'mon. I am not exactly looking my best either, so I accept his invite.
"Sure Slag, I would be honored"
"There are some rules though, The women with us are for our patchholders only. Get caught fucking around, and hell itself won't save you "
"No problem bro" I said.
He then walked me to the group, which became quiet as we approached.
"This here is Brand. He is gonna be riding with us to the rally"
There were some sneers, and scowls from a couple of the younger riders, but that is to be expected.
Slag mounted his bike, raised an arm to the sky, spun a finger around and the gang mounted up. I did likewise. We pulled out of the rest area and hammered down. I was all the way at the back of the pack of 13, not counting myself, right in front of the tail gunner. The open road was once again my only focus.

Chapter 5

As we turned in at the liquor store, a dog ran across the street in front of a car with an elderly lady behind the wheel. She swerved a little to slowly, and plowed over the animal, and was coming straight at us. I gassed the throttle enough to get out of the way as she slammed into the brick building housing our whiskey and beer! I put the kickstand down, and ran to her window.
"Are you all right maam?" I asked.
She was clearly dazed and blood was oozing from her lip.
The store owner came out in a rage."What the hell is wrong with you!"
She must have been 75 or 80 years old by the looks of her. She had not a clue as to what had actually just happened. "Take it easy man!" I said as calmly as I could manage after what had just happened.
" I'm calling the cops!" The guy from the store said.
Slag was at my side now(to be continued)

Tags: Fiction Story