Don't Shoot the Messenger

 You know how most of the skeletons you've heard of either are underground or hiding in a closet somewhere? Well, I'm not like most skeletons. Nope, I am a mover; a shaker; anything but a faker.

 I go to work every night and earn my keep. It's a real skeleton crew at night. Usually just me and a buddy of mine. You may not see us on the screen that much, but guys like Billy Cuff and I really make your world a lot more enjoyable. If you are watching the news or catching a show, we are responsible for punching all the right buttons. If it wasn't for us, you would be watching a blue screen right now....... Back in the day, that blue screen would actually be nothing more than static. Lol. That was also when we had to get up and go turn the channel on a round dial. Sometimes, if the signal didn't come in too good, we would gently pull on the dial and stick a coin in there to keep it locked into place. Wow, that seems so primitive compared to what kids have today.

 Like I said, I don't do it all by myself up here at Fox-31. Billy does most of the work, but occasionally he lets me help out. I gave him a break every once and awhile to make a phone call or to jump on Facebook. Lol.

 When we aren't in the control room, it is imperative that we make sure the weather report is accurate and ready to go for the next newscast. On this particular evening, we were preparing for some HOT weather. This was about a month ago and now I hear that the rest of the country is catching up with us. There has been news story after news story about the heat wave.  To that I say "Boo Hoo." Nobody made you live there. Get over it already. Put on your big girl panties and take it like a woman.

For a week after this forecast, we experienced 7 straight days of 99+ degree heat.  Many days it was 102 or hotter. It was just as hot for me as it was for you so before you shoot the messenger, just remember that I prepare the weather, I don't make it.

Hope you enjoyed seeing what a busy skeleton does during his night shift job. Maybe soon I will show you some of the cool things we do when we are goofing around with the news crew.

I Smart 2

 I love classic cars. I would love nothing better than to get modern fuel efficiency by driving a classic piece of Americana. However, we know that gas is outragious and anyone who's anyone knows I love to travel. When I decided to get my last car, I searched high and low. Finally, I settled for something practical, affordable, and pretty darn "smart."

 I knew people already loved to stare at me so I figured I would give them one more thing to gawk at to help them get on with their sad lives.  What they didn't expect, however, was that I was gonna give them a BOGO deal of a lifetime. I couldn't decide on a white or a black car, so............................

 I got one of each. Now I can honestly say I am helping the environment WHILE not being prejudiced. Oh, and that stereotype about once you go black you never go back, yeah, it's a lie. I drive the white one just as much as I do the black car.

So if you are looking for a fuel efficient, cool looking, SMART Car, give me a call and I will hook you up with the best dealer in the area.

Lordy, Lordy, Marti turned 40...

 It may be hard to believe that such a cool guy as Walter has a sister who many claim to be "normal." However, it is the truth. This past year she celebrated 40 years of being alive. I told her that's nothing; I've been celebrating the last 500 years of being undead.

It was good to hang out with Marti and her friends that night. I'm just a little upset that none of her friends ever  called me afterwards. I mean, come on, they were all OVER THE HILL so if any weren't married, it's not like I was out of their league.  Give a skeleton a chance...

I'm Not Just Whistling Dixie...

 People often ask me if I use soap and water to get myself clean. I usually respond by laughing like Ron White then insult them. How else do you think I am gonna get clean? I am an educated skeleton who loves to charm the ladies. Am I supposed to reek of week old body odor and accomplish this? Come on, seriously???

I'm a Manly Man, um, skeleton.

I use Old Spice High Endurance Body Wash to get that 8 hour clean smell the ladies have come to love.....

So, before you go assuming that all I do is sit around and rot, give me a hug and tell me what you think.

Getting to Know Papa Goff

 Some people see me and think I am just plain strange. I'm a skeleton who likes to frequent the same places you do; I enjoy doing the same things you do; And I probably like the same people you do. I am gonna tell you about one such person who you might know as well.

 The very first time Walter took me to his parent's house to meet Papa and Granny, I was a little apprehensive. Not everyone has Walter's sense of humor. What was I about to encounter? Was I gonna be left out in the truck the whole weekend? I really wasn't feeling too well that day and the thought that they may not accept me was making my stomach churn. I thought about something to talk about to break the ice. As I hobbled out of the truck, my mind was at ease because all around I could see things that I could relate to. There were Georgia Bulldog flags flying, Georgia Bulldog stickers all over the vehicles and even a cool Honda  Goldwing 1800 trike that had Georgia Bulldog stickers and medallions all over it. I was gonna be just fine.

 Papa took a few minutes to tell me all the details and specs of his toy. I never knew anyone could take a one minute story and turn it into a half hour mini-novel. WOW, that man could talk. Lol. I see where Walter gets it from now.....

After we talked about what the trike could do, I asked if he would take me for a ride. You know what, he did.  And it was the first and only time I have been on a motorcycle. I really think Papa enjoyed it more than me. Walter said he saw a look on his father's face that day that had been missing. Papa Goff was like a kid again. He was about to ride around his neighborhood with a skeleton on the back of his trike and it made him happy.

 Papa helped me onto the back of the bike and made sure I wouldn't fly off while we were riding. He was so cautious and made sure nothing went wrong. I was nervous, but seeing the joy on his face made everything alright. I was getting excited and my face clearly showed it.

 Papa couldn't stop smiling either. You have to admit, we were two handsome gents riding on the trike that day.

 Papa carefully turned the trike around and soon we were off on our adventure. We may have only gone around the block, but it was the memory we created that will live on. Papa was able to say he drove around with a skeleton on his trike and I can say I got to ride on a trike with an awesome human being.

The wind blew through his hair and over my bald head. His eyes watered and my eye sockets were bare. He wore protective shoes and I propped my foot on one footpeg and my stub on the other. I was free. As Walter likes to put it, I was "Enjoying life." I really was. This one time I got to spend with Papa Goff will live on in my memory for as long as I continue to exist.

 The ride came to an end and Papa let me just sit there for awhile. I thought about what we had just done and I could still feel the vibration of the bike long after it was no longer running. I remembered the looks on the people as we rode past and Papa waved. I saw the kids pointing and smiling and it made me happy. I remember Papa grinning and wondered just what he was thinking. I had a really good time that day.

 That was the one and only time I rode with Papa Goff. As I sit here and reflect on his life, I am proud to say I was his friend. He never judged me nor did he ever say I wasn't welcome in his house. He got a kick out of watching the joy Walter got from taking me around various places and taking pictures of me. I only have one regret and that is the fact that I didn't have longer to spend with him in this life. Papa Goff went on to ride the winding roads in Heaven.

One day, when we meet again, I hope to hear all about the funny things he did in Heaven as he waited for us. I know the Angels are laughing daily at the stories he is telling them and if flirting is prohibited there, I'm sure he is breaking the rules each and every day because one thing I learned about him from my brief time with him  on this earth is that "Papa" was 100% Goff and that is why we all loved him.

In loving memory of Morris Levy Goff Jr.
May 2, 1943 - March 11, 2011

That's Just Wrong.......

 I actually have no story to go with these two pictures. I just want to know how much of a prude you are and see if you think there is anything wrong with a nude skeleton cutting the grass? I mean, if this was the first post you read, you might be like "Why is there a skeleton cutting the grass." However, this ISN'T the first blog you've read about Fred and instead you are thinking "Where are Fred's clothes???"

Come on, admit it, you are getting that uneasy feeling, aren't you??? Why? It's just a skeleton cutting the grass, in the buff, wearing his birthday suit, going all natural, etc... So, you gonna comment or not? What's the matter, ARE you a prude?

Still Womanless After All These Years.

 Well, I was feeling a little frisky one day so I set out to find me a little woman, or a big woman, or any woman for that matter. Hey, I know I can't be choosy.  I would be doing well just to find a woman with a pulse.

 I looked far and wide. I looked high and I looked low. For some reason, I was unable to find ANYONE no matter where I went. I wasn't looking for love. I wasn't looking for romance. I wasn't even looking for anything you might imagine. All I wanted was some company.

 I grinned this way. I grinned that way. But no matter how much I grinned or in what direction, It was all a waste of energy that day.

 I showed off my good side. I showed off my bad. I gave it all I had.....

 For some reason on this particular day, I was unable to get some play. Monopoly, Checkers, Etc. You get the point.....

 I thought if I monkeyed around, some cute little something might join in the fun. I was looking for somebody to teach me how to climb so I could teach her how to dangle. (Sorry, copyright infringement, but you know that is a good line). Lol

 I was about to give up when I thought about what I could use to lure a female close enough to even pretend she was with me. I found a hot dog joint nearby and just knew how much women LOVE to eat. I was getting excited until I noticed the OPEN sign wasn't lit. Oh, the guy stumbling down the street clearly was, but like the clown used to say, "Homey don't play that."

 I couldn't get a girl. I couldn't get any food. I tried for a drink, but that was't happening either. I was about to give up when I remembered what women love more than food. I was so hoping to share a Coke and a smile, but that wouldn't happen this day. I had to roll up my sleeves, well, tighten my belt, and buy what NO woman has the ability to turn down.............

ICE CREAM!!!!! 

 I found a nice little ice cream truck, scared the poor guy driving half to death and offered to buy his ENTIRE truckload if only he would help me find a woman. I'm not sure if he understood why I was looking or what I was looking for, but he shook his head, sold me some premium soft serve and dropped me off at a place SOME of you may be familiar with......

I never did find a woman, but after all that searching I was pretty tired and since I was moody and having hot flashes, I decided to go ahead, get a room, and have me a pity party. You know, that manager guy tried to charge me by the hour. Then again, I'm sure SOME of you already knew that's how they charged..... LOL.

Time to Make the Donuts

 Dunkin is to Donuts as Krispy is to Kreme. Some places have Holt's and others have Mi Lady Bakery. I don't care what your pleasure, just know that I have seen 'em all; I have eaten 'em all and I have baked 'em all at one point or another in my life. This reminds me of a story....................(You never get tired of my stories, do you?)

I was in this run down part of down town Crapsville when I hobbled into a bakery. I had not a dime to my name. I was hungry and the smell wafting across the counter was too much to bear.The guy across the cash register just looked at me with disgust. He thought I had some nerve walking into HIS establishment. Oh, if he only knew the things I could do with some uncooked dough.

He looked at me. I stared him down. His hand reached beneath the counter and I braced the table in case something awful was headed my way. He whipped out a paper hat and tossed it to me. I slipped it onto my newly polished chrome dome and gave him an evil grin. He knew I was hungry and said if I was gonna get yesterday's donuts, I had to prove that I was worthy of eating them.

I jumped the counter and grabbed a broom. In 30 seconds, I swept every inch of that place. Next he handed me a mop. In just under 5 minutes, I had that place spic and span clean.  Every chore he gave me was completed in a fraction of the time it took a mortal. Finally an idea came to his mind and he asked me to put on some plastic gloves. Let's just say that isn't the easiest thing to do when you are missing a digit and balancing yourself on one foot.

He took me around to the back of the shop where the flour lay before me on a waist-high table. He demonstrated how to roll the perfect donut. Big whoop. He freakin took a small cup and cut out a hole in the dough and tossed them both into the hot grease. I wasn't having this. I was set to start new things and set this place on fire.(Actually literally in once instance, but I'm not telling you that story right now. Remind me and I will tell you later).

I took the flour and kneed it like a professional. I cut his simple little "holes" and tossed them into the vat of boiling polyunsaturated bliss. They each puffed up beautifully every time. Again, I still wasn't happy. I wanted more. I deserved more. I took some dough and twisted it. Other dough was pressed and pinched until it was in the shape of a star. I took some dough and filled it with creme, some with custard and other with jelly. I was a genius in the art of making pastries. Soon I had the idea to use melted chocolate and an iced glaze concoction on my pastries. Still others were coated in a blizzard of white powered sugar. You would have been amazed at the things I created for that shop keeper. In one day, I had gone from sweeping and mopping his floors to creating the best pastries Crapsville had ever tasted. Unfortunately, there is a downside to my story.

The only other customer in the store that day was the health inspector. Lol. Seems he had something to say about the owner/shop keeper taking a homeless skeleton off the street, making him sweep and mop then immediately begin frying pastries without even allowing him to wash his hands. Oh, those were the minutes.... To this day, I can't pass by this place without a good chuckle.... So, if you are ever in Crapsville and find yourself standing in a bakery without a dime to your name, remember this one thing, WASH YOUR NASTY HANDS IF YOU EXPECT TO GET PAID!!!!

They Call Me Nuts

 I'm what you might call unconventional. Possibly even strange. Some might even go as far as say I'm nuts. Lol. That's alright. I usually have a good comeback for them all. See, I tell them I'm a distant relative to Walter Goff and they usually ALL understand my situation. Now, why am I telling you this? Do you really care? Do I really care if you really care? You betcha.........Not really, but if you could have seen the look on your face, you would appreciate my careless attitude.

 One day I found myself standing in a field of green peanuts. I said to myself, "Self, what is it that makes a man? What makes some men famous? What makes other men infamous? Why are some men remembered for all of mankind and others forgotten soon after they meet their maker?" The answer was actually easy this time. What makes a man is not what he says nor how he earns his living. A man is remembered for what he did while he was alive. Johnny had his apple seeds. People remember him for that. Paul Revere made his ride. Again, we remember him for that. What do I have that I could share with others so that they may remember me? I'm not as large as a sumo wrestler so size isn't it. I'm not as athletic as a Michael Jordan or a Bo Jackson. I'm no Einstein so I'm not gonna be remembered for my intellect. Nope, when you think of me, you are gonna remember me because I always rode shotgun with the craziest cousin a skeleton could ever have. He isn't ashamed to take me to the park and swing me. He always encourages me to try new things like go on TV or visit a local aquarium. He is the biggest fan I have. No, when you remember me, you are gonna say "Look at that guy, he must be nuts" and I'm gonna laugh as hard as I can because I know you aren't actually talking about me but I just don't have the heart to tell Walter you are making fun of him....

By the way, I would appreciate it if you didn't tell him all the negative things I say about him. He is kinda sensitive sometimes. If you ask me, he should put on his big girl panties and learn to deal with it.

I Once Caught a Fish T-H-I-S BIGGGG!!!!!!!

 If you give a skeleton a fish............well, you know how it goes. No wait, that's if you give a man a fish. If you give a skeleton a fish, he is probably not gonna do anything with it. Why? Cause he is a skeleton you freaks. When are you gonna realize that a skeleton is limited in what he can and can't do???

 I don't fish because I enjoy the taste. I enjoy the peace and comfort that comes as I sit on a dock with my foot dangling over the side. Now where might a skeleton with no job or money come up with some bait? Well, remember me saying how I lost my foot? Well, now you might have an idea as to where my missing finger went. Yep, I'm not above self-mutilation in the name of sport-fishing. That reminds me of a story....

On a dark and stormy night on a little river named Coochee Creek, I found myself floating downstream at a rather mediocre pace. The mosquitoes were buzzing and the water was reeking from trash and debris.  Something brushed my leg and sent a chill up my spine. Not the frightening kinda chill. You know, the good kind. Anyway, I knew that something big was beneath me and I wasn't about to let it get away.

Being the resourceful skeleton I was, I quickly surveyed the situation and saw that I had no pole. I had no fish hook. I had no string. I had no bobber. I had no bait. Crap. How did I actually expect to catch this monster fish? I would be the laughing stock of Coochee Creek if I didn't find SOME WAY to land him. What was I to do? What could I use for bait? Then it hit me. It hit me HARD. The fish, silly, not some clever idea. It kept ramming my legs and knocking me around the creek. It about flipped me upside down one time and finally bolted to the far side of the creek when I noticed it turned and came for me once again. By this time I was fuming (probably as a direct result of my interior composition decomposing in the raw sewage that had been dumped into this creek). I had had enough. I was gonna catch this fish and I knew exactly how to do it.

Now by this time, that stupid fish had me sideways. I didn't know which way was north, south, east or west. I didn't know if I was going up or down the creek. I didn't know if the fish was alone or in a school. All I knew was that I had quit enjoying that little chill he sent up my spine. I wanted it to stop and I was just the skeleton to do it. Besides, who else was there to help me???

I saw the ripple of the water as it came near me. The water swirled. The water sprayed. The water did things I have never seen water do before. Hmm, now that I think about it, maybe I was just in the water and heat and mosquitoes too long and was beginning to imagine things. What I do know is that the fish was headed straight towards me. Right as it was about to ram my legs, I spread them, made a fist and I punched that fish so hard, his lips quivered, his mouth opened and my arm was soon all the way inside him. He clamped down on my arm as I grabbed a hold of whatever internal organs I could find. He took me to the bottom of the creek and thrust back and forth like a bucking horse. Soon we were headed towards the surface. Before I knew it, we were both airborne and as I opened my eyes, all I could see was this very same dock where I'm sitting today. I reached out and found myself clinging to a rotting piece of wood with one hand and some half-digested swamp rat in the other. I almost lost my lunch right then, but I knew this was no longer a game. It was him or me. Do or die. Sink or swim. Yada yada yada..... I held on and when all hope was gone, I felt my finger dislodge, break off and get stuck deep in the fish's throat. After an epic battle, the fish wound up choking to death on my digit.

 After I drug the fish to the bank, I was pretty worn out. I climbed up on this bench and decided to rest a little. About 30 minutes later a group of fishermen paddled up and saw a sight to behold. There I was snoring with an 85 pound catfish beside me. They sat in wonder for at least five minutes before attempting to wake me. As I came to, they didn't quite know what to say. There they were sitting face to face with a real live skeleton who had just landed a fish that out weighed me by a good 75 pounds. I had no pole. I had no fish hook. I had no string. I had no bobber. I had no bait. So how did I land this 85 pound beast???

Simple. I created the sport of noodling in a little ole creek called the Coochee about umpteen years ago. Now  you can turn to the Discovery Channel and watch people do it all the time. But just between us, I would prefer doing it the old fashioned way................with a stick of dynamite or a car battery hooked to a wire and hand crank....Lol.

Feeling Blue....

 So the South Coochee Red Necks weren't exactly what I was looking for so I headed west. Northwest to be exact. Unfortunately, this place ended up being The Pitts... I strolled into town wearing my best Red attire and they laughed at me. I couldn't stand it. Well, with only one foot, it's hard to stand at all. Anyway, it was time for a change.

 I found this one horse town and thought it would be a good place to plant my feet, um, foot. First thing I did was get some new duds. Blue seemed to be the theme and I went for it. Hey, nothing screams scary like a zebra striped hanky in black and smurf blue. And who knew how fashionable a Dickies work shirt could be???

 With a skull and crossbones knit cap and a pair of crazy eye glasses, I was set to cause some trouble. First thing I had to do was get past the Barney Fife deputy. Oh, that was fun, believe you me.......

 I met him in the alley. Just he and I . It was dark. Rain slowly trickled down. My glasses were fogging up. His hand was shaking and my foot was aching. Yes, the one foot that I actually still have. Barney drew his pistol with the pen and paper I provided him. It was actually fairly good. I asked if he studied art in school and he told me that he studied my Mom. That's when I put a bullet in his head. Lol

 With one less copper do deal with, I only had one thing left to do and that was pick up a little extra cash. I found myself standing at a cross road. Well, actually outside the Pitts Banking Company (Organized in 1906). I grabbed my gun. I stepped to the door. I looked for any bystanders and didn't see any. I was just about to get my robbery on when I discovered one little problem.............The bank of Pitts moved down the road about 500 feet and they were closed. The building where I was standing was abandoned and only for show.  Who knew they locked the doors early on Wednesdays? What was I to do? What else??? Lol. I was going to get a bite to eat.

Since I was new to town and I didn't have any money, these two good people decided to hook me up with one of  Wilcox County's juicy and delicious hamburgers. Let's just say if I wasn't dead before eating it, I should be after eating it.... This place didn't last too long.