Overton County News Overton County News - An Award Winning Newspaper - Livingston, Tennessee
homeabout ussubscriptionskids cornerlocal linkscontact us
News
Events
Society
80 Years Ago
Obituaries
Sports
Weather
Classifieds
Archives

Archives 2001 11-07-2001

North County Lines by Bob

bobncl@hotmail.com

 

Whenever I drive Uncle Leo to an outpatient health facility in Nashville, he says the same thing when he's through getting treatments: "Come on, boy, let's go to a strip joint."

I usually say something like, "I don't want to see a bunch of naked junkies lumbering around like they're lost in space. That's not dancing. That's not a turn on. That's sad."

I don't have anything against strippers. In my younger days, while working for an engineering company as an inspector of military road and bridge construction, I spent a lot of time with Seabees visiting strip clubs.

We'd leave on these trips and return days later. I drank myself sober on many of these occasions, something that's hard to comprehend if you've never experienced it.

After several days of nonstop drinking, you're completely wasted. You down another dose of alcohol and wham, the fuzzy, dopey feeling is gone.

Reality hits hard. The pain surfaces from the cuts and bruises inflicted during your drunken spree. You wonder if any bones were broken during however many brawls you were in.

Fighting while drinking with Seabees in stripper bars was common and escalated to extraordinary heights when Navy Seals got involved, which always happened if any were around.

I've seen four Navy Seals armed with only hands and feet pulverize more than a dozen motorcycle thugs armed with chains and knives.

When I heard that Navy Seals might go after the Taliban, I knew the Taliban wouldn't stand a chance. Praise Allah all you want, boys. The game is over. You're dead meat.

One evening after inspecting a bridge at Roosevelt Roads, a Navy base in Puerto Rico, I drove to an NCO hangout where everything was a quarter. Quarter sandwiches. Quarter beer. Quarter shots of whatever.

Five bucks got you off and running. Ten bucks, you were lost and didn't care.

I slid a twenty on the bar and began talking to a group of Seabees about the importance of adequately compacted subbase in highway construction.

The twenty was running out when someone slapped a fifty on the bar and said, "Set ‘em up, barkeep, and keep ‘em coming."

Four days later I came to in a room above what could politely be called a dating establishment. Yeah, right. "Come on, honey, we're going to the prom."

I'm not going to say anything about the woman lying next to me when I came to. Impressionable juveniles might be reading this and all creatures are beautiful in the eyes of the Great Spirit.

I had many similar experiences when I was younger. I spent a lot of time drinking in strip clubs. I'm not condemning that kind of behavior.

I'm not criticizing those who attend strip clubs. If that's their bag, they have the right to pursue it. I'm not holier than thou. I don't see sex as dirty.

If it were up to me, prostitution would be legal. Monitoring the health of prostitutes would be one result of legalization.

Legalizing prostitution would reduce the spread of AIDS and other sexually transmitted diseases. Not legalizing prostitution will increase the spread of AIDS and other sexually transmitted diseases.

More sickness and death? Less sickness and death? Prostitution is a health issue, not a moral one.

I don't refuse to take Uncle Leo to a strip bar because I'm a prude. I refuse because I don't like wasting time. I want to get home to Pinchy.

I didn't refuse last week after Uncle Leo finished his treatments. It was his birthday.

Which one? I don't know. But he's my grandfather's brother and Grandpa was born in 1895. Uncle Leo wasn't the oldest or the youngest of six brothers. Neither was Grandpa. You figure it out.

On the way to a strip club, Uncle Leo said, "Quick! boy, pull over."

"Why?" I asked. Uncle Leo said, "That woman waved at me."

I pulled over. Uncle Leo rolled down his window. "Hey, honey,” he yelled.

The person wiggled up to Uncle Leo's window, "Hi, handsome. You wanna party?"

Uncle Leo's store-bought teeth glimmered with anticipation. "Sure thing, sweetheart," he said.

"Roll up the window," I said.

"Why, boy?" Uncle Leo asked.

"Roll it up," I said.

Uncle Leo rolled up the window. "What's wrong, boy?"

"That's not a she," I said.

"It ain't?" Uncle Leo said.

"No," I said. "It's a gander pretending to be a goose."

"Let's go, boy," Uncle Leo said.

I sped away.

We'd gone less than a mile when Uncle Leo said, "Drive slow by that one, boy.

Goose or gander?"

"Goose," I said.

"Stop, boy. Hey, sweet thing!" he yelled out the window.

She walked up to the car. "Hi, good lookin', I'm Angel," she said. "Wanna party?"

"I like parties," Uncle Leo said.

"It'll cost you," Angel said.

Uncle Leo said, "I'll go as high as $17 if it's a good party."

Angel pulled out a badge and a gun. "Get out of the car. You're under arrest for solicitation,” she said.

"Give him a break," I said. "He's at least a hundred."

"You're under arrest too," Angel said.

"For what?" I asked. "I'm just the chauffeur."

Uncle Leo played the senile routine and got his case dismissed.

I pled guilty to contributing to the delinquency of a senior citizen and was sentenced accordingly.

Pinchy says she'll be driving Uncle Leo to Nashville for his treatments until I start behaving like someone with good sense. Yeah, right, like there's a big chance of that happening.

 

Overton County News
415 West Main Street
P.O. Box 479
Livingston, Tennessee 38570
tel 931.823.6485
fax 931.823.6486
ocnews@usit.net

top of page

 

 

   
Printing Supplies Graphic Design Custom Printing Advertising