The Original O'l Farts Club.

[CharlesU Farley]

@Gypsy Nirvana -- Here is an edited (and slightly rewritten by Himself to pay your syntax for you) result of your story so far.

This is the easiest way to get it to you, so if you think there is sumpin' you do not want the commoners to see, you can just yank it off.

Wait... "Yank it off" may not be the best way to express... Anyway, here:

They Were Exciting Times


©Gypsy Nirvana​

I'm pretty sure that many of us here have a few or even more than a few colorful stories. Some may even done as I have, and smuggled some form of cannabis or contraband (or both) from one country to another in the past. I certainly have, and it is now time for me to dig deep into my often-fractured memory to recount them.

Let me take you all way back to Hong Kong in the early 1980's, where I found myself in Crete – the Mediterranean island – after being hired as a 'Minder' (close protection security guy) by an aptly-named Californian property developer with the handle of John Crooks.

EDITOR: OK, you are in Crete. What happened in Crete that got you to Thailand??

I ended up in Hong Kong via Thailand a few months later. I was almost broke, and pretty much in a desperate frame of mind.

My last $100 bill had gone to pay for an economy flight from Bangkok to Hong Kong, where I hoped to find some work to make some money to survive on. Upon arriving at Kai Tak airport on Kowloon, I checked what funds I had; I was down to just $40 US dollars.

This was all I had to my name at that time. Necessity is a mother, so I had to come up with some sort of financial plan immediately. I had to spend $10 for a taxi ride from the airport to the cheapest place to stay that could be found according to my “South East Asia On A Shoestring” guide book.

I found myself at The Travelers Hostel renting a dormitory bunk-bed space on the 6th floor of Chung King Mansions on Nathan Road Kowloon, just across the water from Hong Kong Island on the Chinese mainland. At this time this was still within the then British colony of Hong Kong.

The hostel was cheap at just 30 Hong Kong Dollars per 24 hours. At that time, the exchange rate was seven Hong Kong dollars to one U.S. dollar.

This left me with around 200 HK$ to my name, which was less than a week's rent at the hostel, providing I did not eat, spend any money on buses, taxis, ferries, drugs, or hookers wondering how I was gonna get out of this financial hole and back on my feet again.

I needed some of the security of real money in my pocket again; and there was a definite sense of urgency. In these circumstances, I felt my best bet was to talk to as many people as possible in the hope of finding some quick way to afford the costs of survival which were already on my horizon.

The flight from Bangkok to Hong Kong had arrived very early in the morning around 2 AM. It was 4 AM by the time I had got through the airport and into a taxi and arrived at the hostel.

Surprisingly, I was buzzed with the excitement of arriving in a place I had never been to before. I felt wide awake after catching an hour or two's sleep on the plane and filling my belly with as much food as I could get from a very pretty Asian air hostess.

She was an angel, and at my request, gave me double the in-flight meal so there was no grumbling stomach yet, but there was no one awake in the hostel to talk to either.

Everyone was asleep at that hour. There was a very disgruntled-looking Chinese female receptionist night-shift worker who did not give me the vibe that she was interested in any sort of conversation beyond checking me in .

After a hopeful look at the hostel notice board to no avail, I went for a wander and tried to get in the elevator that I used earlier to get up to the 16th floor, but it seemed to have broken down.

It never came. Even after waiting for 15 minutes, constantly pressing the dirty button there was simply no response. So I took the filthy stairs down, aiming to get out onto the street where when I'd gotten out of the taxi I had seen some early morning activity. There had been many people hanging out and moving around at that time.

The stairway was like something out of a dystopian nightmare. The landings and stairwells were full of open trash bags, broken glass, discarded construction materials, and decomposing shit which stunk to high heaven.

There were also many big fat rats and cockroaches scurrying through it all. Clouds of mosquitoes and bloated-looking fat flies were buzzing around. Some areas were a tiny bit cleaner than others, but overall the whole downward stair journey was absolutely disgusting.

I tried to be careful as I descended gradually and cautiously towards the ground floor, avoiding touching or stepping on anything suspect that might cause me to slip and get me injured or sick.

Even the lighting was out on some floors of the stairwell, requiring me to navigate by the light of my trusty Zippo lighter at times while listening to the constant hum and clanging of multiple air conditioning units pumping stagnant and very humid air out into the hot and muggy stairwell.

The miasma came oozing in from the many small businesses, restaurants, and guest houses on many different floors all along the way down. My senses were assailed by the smell of spicy curry-like foods combined with the ever-present stench of sewage - YUCK!

Suddenly, at around the 5th floor, the sickening stench was permeated with something very familiar to me of... Yes! Oh my gawd! I could smell the sweet smell of hashish - cannabis resin mixed in with the other noxious odors!

Since I had not been stoned for a day or two, I was keen to discover the source. So I followed my nose down to the 4th floor, where the very pleasant cannabis smell seemed to emanate from the slightly-ajar front door of The Lee Gardens Guest House.

As I got closer to the place the sound of familiar music flooded out into the stairwell. It kept getting louder and louder as I approached. The music was also something very familiar to me:

It was the reggae soundtrack to a Jamaican film called 'Rockers'. They were playing the second track of the album called 'Money Worries'! How bloody ironic!

So I sang along as it went into the third track, 'Police and Thieves' by Junior Murvin while standing there singing and sniffing and stalling by that front door of the guest house as the pink neon sign above the door spluttered slightly while I was slowly getting up the courage to venture inside beyond the door.

Nothing for it, I had to go inside. So I did, slowly but surely, while I began singing 'Stepp'in Razor'. Just inside the door, I could see yet another door slightly ajar to my left hand side - where plumes of sweet smoke emanated.

A very dark black man was visible to me. He was bare chested with big long dreadlocks, sitting crossed legged on a bed - with a big hash press in front of him and a boom box cassette player by his side.

He was toking on a huge chillum. As my eyes took in this crazy sight, his eyes met mine and we both smiled.

“Hey mon! You singin' ma music! Come in an sit for a while an' tell me your story” he said, greeting me with what sounded like a Jamaican accent. He gave off a very positive vibe while waving the big chillum around as he gestured a welcome with his left hand.

Then he passed the chillum to me as I happily sat on the chair next to the bed he was on. I was taking some huge lugs from it, shaping my hands around it in the right way.

I was well versed in how to smoke on the 'ting' and soon I was stoned to the bone without even introducing myself. I was in a kind of happy trance like state.

“I'm Toni from Trinidad” he said as we shook hands, “And you are?”

- to be continued -​

Outstanding rewrite!

This part caused a pause in my speed reading "... by an aptly-named Californian property developer with the handle of John Crooks." Harley is the grammatical expert and knows all about adverbs, prepositions, and all the rest of that technical shit that goes with writing but I just go by how it sounds/reads. That was the only sentence in your entire rewrite that caused a pause for me.

I'm just a nobody on an internet forum, but that was a _damn_ find job of editing! That took some time and effort, and it shows. As a published author, I can only imagine how you reacted to your editor being so brutal.

Gypsies original wall of words brought my speed reading to a absolute fucking halt. But I'm used to that now, having spent so much time on this forum. Compared to others, even Gypsies punctuation was pretty good.

 

[Unca Walt]

Do you use voice dictation? If you don't, you should give it a shot. I'm a anti Apple, Android kind of guy and Google's voice dictation is absolutely outstanding.

Like we useta say: There It Is. ^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Beats fat finger fornication on a fargin phone. You talk, and your app records it in print.

 

[Unca Walt]

As a published author, I can only imagine how you reacted to your editor being so brutal.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
That made me grin. Actually, I had two editors. One was a prof at Renssalaer Polytech. She drew blood every time I wrote the forbidden "that" word.

As in, "He told me that he was alone." Required correction: No "that" necessary. I never knew that I did that.

The other editor was also the Deputy Director for Counterintelligence and Security Countermeasures at the Pentagon. The man had no mercy.

He didn't edit "The Bat and Balloon War -- An Alternate History of WWII" but became a voluble supporter because he "loved the battle scenes over, on, and under the surface of the Pacific." (snork) He got his entire staff copies of that one.

 

[CharlesU Farley]

Morning Jan

Had a manic run last night, started thinking about the Bi Po thread and thought I should say _thanks_ to you for guiding me back towards this thread. It kind of helps me when I look around the participants here and realize they are just as, if not _more_, fucked up then _we_ are!!!!

I don't communicate well without using a sledgehammer, unfortunately.

But this is my way of saying thanks!

Don't want to get into your back issues, other than to hope that you're doing much better now. But a little unsolicited advice, from one who has much experience with L2-3 herniated discs. In addition, Harley suffers from cervical spondylosis (having a 40 lb lead shield wrapped around her neck in the CV lab for 10 years), her father had scars up and down his lower back that would make Bigs look like little stitches, and lastly, my grandfather who had more lumbar laminectomies than I can remember.

Do not allow surgeons to operate until you are in untractable pain and just absolutely cannot take it anymore.

Unlike Gypsy, where surgeons can go in, fix what's fucked up, and make it almost operate as normal, orthopedic and neurosurgeons don't "operate" like that.

The shit orthopedic and neurosurgeons do is permanent and cannot be undone. It creates scar tissue that eventually makes things worse, requiring _more_ surgery.

So ride with the cortisone shots as long as you can, lie to 'em as long as you can and say you're fucking 80% better, regardless whether you truly are or not.

Whatever they want to hear, so you keep on getting the shots.

Harley had shots where the next day, she would feel like a new person. The next time she had a shot, I damn near had to carry her out of the car, just to get her into the house. The pain was that bad.

That was probably 20 years ago and she _never_ had the surgery. She's doing great now but if she had cervical disc surgery, real good chance she'd still be fucked up, probably worse.

Anyway, that was a phase of my manic run last night, hope you're doing great today.

 

[dogzter]

Had a manic run last night, started thinking about the Bi Po thread and thought I should say _thanks_ to you for guiding me back towards this thread. It kind of helps me when I look around the participants here and realize they are just as, if not _more_, fucked up then _we_ are!!!!

I don't communicate well without using a sledgehammer, unfortunately.

But this is my way of saying thanks!

Don't want to get into your back issues, other than to hope that you're doing much better now. But a little unsolicited advice, from one who has much experience with L2-3 herniated discs. In addition, Harley suffers from cervical spondylosis (having a 40 lb lead shield wrapped around her neck in the CV lab for 10 years), her father had scars up and down his lower back that would make Bigs look like little stitches, and lastly, my grandfather who had more lumbar laminectomies than I can remember.

Do not allow surgeons to operate until you are in untractable pain and just absolutely cannot take it anymore.

Unlike Gypsy, where surgeons can go in, fix what's fucked up, and make it almost operate as normal, orthopedic and neurosurgeons don't "operate" like that.

The shit orthopedic and neurosurgeons do is permanent and cannot be undone. It creates scar tissue that eventually makes things worse, requiring _more_ surgery.

So ride with the cortisone shots as long as you can, lie to 'em as long as you can and say you're fucking 80% better, regardless whether you truly are or not.

Whatever they want to hear, so you keep on getting the shots.

Harley had shots where the next day, she would feel like a new person. The next time she had a shot, I damn near had to carry her out of the car, just to get her into the house. The pain was that bad.

That was probably 20 years ago and she _never_ had the surgery. She's doing great now but if she had cervical disc surgery, real good chance she'd still be fucked up, probably worse.

Anyway, that was a phase of my manic run last night, hope you're doing great today.

I watched quite a few family members undergo a variety of spinal procedures and not one of them got tne promised results.
Every single one of them was worse off a year later.

I don't nave any faith in the people doing them at all...........zero,none.

 

[Janborrego]

Morning Jan

How are ya?

 

[Unca Walt]

I gotta go with the surgeons on thisaone. I looked like Beetle Bailey after Sgt Snorkel got done with him as I laid in the road.

I was wearing a kid mohair and silk suit (tailored in Taipei), kangaroo high shoes, gloves, and a $350 helmet (in 1990) on my cruise-contol, intercom, radio, garbage can, footpegged, big shiny red motorcycle.

And a kid driving with his dick in a school zone switched lanes over me.

I spent two consecutive Chrismases in an electric wheelchair. Could not use crutches because there was nuthin' unbusted to take any weight.

Fargin genius surgeons cut out my patella with tendons attached, drilled holes in my tibia and femur, and invented a new knee design.

I walk without a limp. My busted neck, scapula, etc. now have parts of my hip bones in them. (I'm still working on learning how to fart through my neck...) My left shoulder and upper arm are now titanium.

Yeah. I look like Arnie in an X-ray:

As a result of brilliant and wonderful surgeon-work, while I cannot golf (never could, but now... eek), I can hunt using a gun or crossbow, and work -- I used a chainsaw this very morning.

At airports, between the metal in my leg and in other places, I even set off the fargin fire alarms.

 

[Unca Walt]

Oh dear. Lookit this. Funny!

 

[CharlesU Farley]

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
That made me grin. Actually, I had two editors. One was a prof at Renssalaer Polytech. She drew blood every time I wrote the forbidden "that" word.

As in, "He told me that he was alone." Required correction: No "that" necessary. I never knew that I did that.

The other editor was also the Deputy Director for Counterintelligence and Security Countermeasures at the Pentagon. The man had no mercy.

He didn't edit "The Bat and Balloon War -- An Alternate History of WWII" but became a voluble supporter because he "loved the battle scenes over, on, and under the surface of the Pacific." (snork) He got his entire staff copies of that one.

I've been communicating with the author Alan Paul (who did books on the Allman Brothers Band and Stevie Ray Vaughan) via his FB page. I did a turn on words in a thread about the ABB being non racist that he actually responded to positively ... "Transformational music transcends cultural differences".

Kind of made me feel good.

Had a phrase come to me last night, when I was trying to get to sleep, that (there's "that" word) I'll be using in a thread about Northern Lights later on; you can't recreate what has already been created, you have to create something new.

I think I'm communicating with a Millennial, so I don't think my point will be understood.

 

[CharlesU Farley]

I gotta go with the surgeons on thisaone. I looked like Beetle Bailey after Sgt Snorkel got done with him as I laid in the road.

I was wearing a kid mohair and silk suit (tailored in Taipei), kangaroo high shoes, gloves, and a $350 helmet (in 1990) on my cruise-contol, intercom, radio, garbage can, footpegged, big shiny red motorcycle.

And a kid driving with his dick in a school zone switched lanes over me.

I spent two consecutive Chrismases in an electric wheelchair. Could not use crutches because there was nuthin' unbusted to take any weight.

Fargin genius surgeons cut out my patella with tendons attached, drilled holes in my tibia and femur, and invented a new knee design.

I walk without a limp. My busted neck, scapula, etc. now have parts of my hip bones in them. (I'm still working on learning how to fart through my neck...) My left shoulder and upper arm are now titanium.

Yeah. I look like Arnie in an X-ray:
View attachment 18986652

As a result of brilliant and wonderful surgeon-work, while I cannot golf (never could, but now... eek), I can hunt using a gun or crossbow, and work -- I used a chainsaw this very morning.

At airports, between the metal in my leg and in other places, I even set off the fargin fire alarms.

You know I always hated hearing this in the hospital, especially when surgeons would tell it to people who were just in _unbelievable_ amounts of pain from trauma... but I'm going to say it to you anyway:

You know, you just don't realize how lucky you are!

Seriously, that is fucking _awesome_ (Chris Farley impersonation) you overcame the trauma of that and can still function relatively normal.

 

[CharlesU Farley]

I'll give it a whirl - but voice dictation - conjurs up more difficulties - over just being able to write it down - and edit as you go - if needed -

Everybody uses voice dictation differently. What I found best is to vocalize what I want to say and just go with the flow of what I'm trying to communicate. Usually it's a paragraph, sometimes a page, sometimes more. I don't worry about editing it until the thought process is complete and I've _said_ what I wanted to _write_. Then you edit.

Google's voice recognition is outstanding! When you say period, it uses the punctuation mark instead of spelling out the word, like most voice recognition programs.

This is how I write for the website: export what I've dictated and edited here on my Android tablet to my main PC; import it into Word then run it through a spelling and grammar check; space it out visually so I avoid a Wall 'o Words if at all possible; then email it to my old Usenet techies who format it and get it up on the web for me.

It's worth the effort for me to communicate what I want to say to my kids, g-kids, and g-g kids and I ain't led _near_ the life you have!!!

Damn, now that I know Unca Walt is a published author, I'm spending _way_ too much time trying to make sure all my i's are crossed and my t's are dotted.

 

[Putembk]

Had a manic run last night, started thinking about the Bi Po thread and thought I should say _thanks_ to you for guiding me back towards this thread. It kind of helps me when I look around the participants here and realize they are just as, if not _more_, fucked up then _we_ are!!!!

I don't communicate well without using a sledgehammer, unfortunately.

But this is my way of saying thanks!

Don't want to get into your back issues, other than to hope that you're doing much better now. But a little unsolicited advice, from one who has much experience with L2-3 herniated discs. In addition, Harley suffers from cervical spondylosis (having a 40 lb lead shield wrapped around her neck in the CV lab for 10 years), her father had scars up and down his lower back that would make Bigs look like little stitches, and lastly, my grandfather who had more lumbar laminectomies than I can remember.

Do not allow surgeons to operate until you are in untractable pain and just absolutely cannot take it anymore.

Unlike Gypsy, where surgeons can go in, fix what's fucked up, and make it almost operate as normal, orthopedic and neurosurgeons don't "operate" like that.

The shit orthopedic and neurosurgeons do is permanent and cannot be undone. It creates scar tissue that eventually makes things worse, requiring _more_ surgery.

So ride with the cortisone shots as long as you can, lie to 'em as long as you can and say you're fucking 80% better, regardless whether you truly are or not.

Whatever they want to hear, so you keep on getting the shots.

Harley had shots where the next day, she would feel like a new person. The next time she had a shot, I damn near had to carry her out of the car, just to get her into the house. The pain was that bad.

That was probably 20 years ago and she _never_ had the surgery. She's doing great now but if she had cervical disc surgery, real good chance she'd still be fucked up, probably worse.

Anyway, that was a phase of my manic run last night, hope you're doing great today.

Morning Charles. Glad you are here....it is nice being around like minded folks. I am NOT on any other social platform...no Twitter, Facebook period....I choose to be here.

My back is much better....one more shot to go! I will not have surgery or take opioids period! I have lived with back pain for over 20 years. I can put up with it for another 20 if I have to. In the mean time I am enjoying the temporary relief.

I watched quite a few family members undergo a variety of spinal procedures and not one of them got tne promised results.
Every single one of them was worse off a year later.

I don't nave any faith in the people doing them at all...........zero,none.

I have heard the same!!!

How are ya?

Still here. You should be on here full time. Leave the mud hole behind.....

Oh dear. Lookit this. Funny!

View attachment 18986660

Ha ha!

 

[jokerman]

Good man! Here is the contact information. Tell them that Graywolf sent you.

lloydathleticclub.com

Thank you and I will not forget the 10% for the big guy...

 

[dogzter]

We got a new Dominos in town(very small town)and boy do I regret eating it.

Not venturing far from the shitter for the time being.

 

[jokerman]

Is there an age limit on that pole dancing instruction class on Thursdays?

Not if you know somebody!

 

[jokerman]

I watched quite a few family members undergo a variety of spinal procedures and not one of them got tne promised results.
Every single one of them was worse off a year later.

I don't nave any faith in the people doing them at all...........zero,none.

Also not so sure everything can be fixed.

 

[dogzter]

This is my plan for the day right here.........maybe trim up a f2 cut.
That ones a keeper but I cannot come up with a name for the cut.
The flavor and smell is very strong but hard to describe.
Haven't had two people describe it the same yet other than generic shit like awesome or intense.

 

[dogzter]

Also not so sure everything can be fixed.

Aint that the truth sometimes acceptance and adaptation is the only answer.

 

[jokerman]

My neighbor found out that her dog could hardly hear, so she took it to the veterinarian. The vet found that the problem was hair in the dog's ears. So he cleaned both of the dog's ears and the dog could hear fine. The vet then proceeded to tell the lady that if she wanted to keep this from recurring, she should go to the drug store and get some "Nair" hair remover and rub it in the dog's ears once a month. The lady went to the drugstore, and bought the ''Nair" hair remover. At the register, the druggist told her, "If you're going to use this under your arms, don't use deodorant for a few days." The lady said, "I'm not using it under my arms." The druggist said, "If you're using it on your legs, don't shave for a couple of days." The lady replied, "I'm not using it on my legs either." "But if you must know, I'm using it on my schnauzer." The druggist said, "Stay off bicycles for about a week!"

 

[Putembk]

Grow is in good shape and all due diligence is done. Nice day so another walk by the lake is coming soon.

Just another day in the highway of life!