Sunday, April 24, 2016

The Last call for the haul, ya'll

Over the last few hours I have gotten quite a few calls saying that they felt I was being very cruel to Shelly, the gal that I brought out here to get hitched to. I also got calls from club members and a few others who know the situation that I'm in and are saying I'm doing the right thing, in testing her loyalties to both myself and the club as well as utmost dedication to the club and myself. I call it tough love and yes it is cruel, I feel both guilty and all about the thing, but at 43 years old it's time Shelly met the real world. Yes the real world is mean, nasty and will chew you up, spit you out and trample you under their hooves. But if you hold your ground, believe in the outcome, and survive, your now able to jump up and take life not only by the horns, but its balls and clit as well. 
I remember my Mom, and Dad doing the same thing to me to wake me up. On our 400 acre farm just outside of Hazzard, Idaho. There was one big house occupied at the time to a farm hand and his family, and another house meant for other farm hands. When I hit 17 years old, my parents, threw me out of the house we built, I moved in the smaller one for farm hands, endured mice, a tiny bedroom, a shower, and a rinky dink kitchen. For the first time in my life, I had to buy my own food, learn how to cook it, pay my own power and propane bill, sew, and all. I was on my own. I had to learn how to do my own wash, and ironing. Back then you had to iron denim jeans. I had to clean my own house, take out my own trash, and live looking at myself in the mirror, and all. I was by myself. Did it hurt? Bet your ass it did, but I grew up. By 1977 when I finally went into the Marines, and got off that bus, stood there on those golden boots and all, I already had a good foundation on living on my own. I wasn't pampered. Spoiled a bit perhaps, but never pampered. I learned how to do something our youth today hasn't, WORK. 
The initiation to the Knytes is near as strict. Without giving away too much, the final three things are serious tests, of the new prospect. First the climbing up a greased flag pole at Hazzard High, and putting rotten eggs up your butt. Second the walk of 10 miles from Bell Rapids to Hazzard township, in your underwear barefoot. And third, the cutting of your palm, and bleeding into a saucer, then all drinking of it. To unite members in full blood and spirit. So am I being cruel, to Shelly? Perhaps, but if she pasts these tests, can learn LDS teachings and becoming a member of the church prior to marriage, if she can learn to become independent as well as or rather than dependent , then we'll have a good match. If not , well she goes back to Florida.

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