Better at lying than reportingBy: Robin Enos and John Downs
Three or four years ago we started this column with the idea of recording who’s who and what’s what in Newcastle but it didn’t take long for the Pirate and I to figure out we were better at lying than reporting so we started focusing on Auburn’s royalty. We couldn’t pull that off in Newcastle because there ain’t enough royals to slander and living in the area we would run the risk of one of them sneaking down to our places and shoveling a load of manure down our wells. Auburn provides us with an endless supply of chumps to abuse and then we can return home to the relative safety of our little village.
Fortunately Suzie Brown stepped up to the plate and filled the void with her column on the Newcastle page appearing once a month. The woman has some kind of unhealthy obsession to report the facts. But once in awhile we do mention Newcastle, especially if it has anything to do with me, my favorite subject.
This Aug. 19, the Newcastle Community Association is holding its annual meeting and barbecue. Also at the meeting we will be holding elections of board members and officers. I think I have one more year to go before the board gives me the bum’s rush. Further the board has approved a modification to the bylaws regarding membership qualifications. In the past only Newcastle residents or business owners were accepted as full members and were eligible to vote and hold board positions. Now we accept applications from those who live outside the district for membership or board positions. The barbecue will be at Gold Hill Gardens, 2325 Gold Hill Road and much thanks to our hosts Mike and Cindy Carson. If you are planning to attend please RSVP at firstname.lastname@example.org or call 818-414-6522. Last names starting A – K please bring salad; L – Z bring dessert. Barbecue chips and drinks provided by NCA. Bring a swimsuit.
On to other stuff. I drove by the Pirate’s place the other day and was totally taken aback by what I saw. And I’m not easily taken aback. If you will remember the Pirate’s house was sold to the Canadian Doukhobors while he was on his multi-month trip and now he’s been forced to live in his travel trailer at the lower end of his property. The first thing I noticed he has rigged up some kind of pulley device attached to a tree branch of dubious structural integrity and is using an old washing machine as a gate weight to make an automatic gate closer. The Pirate was in front of his RV wearing boxer shorts and one flip-flop stirring a pot of beans over a Coleman camp stove. Norris P. Thermadore III and Harley Ridgecracker were snoozing on a homemade hammock made out of an old moldy mattress hung between two pyracanthas. Bloody Parrot and his younger cousin Nigel were squabbling over a bag of sunflower seeds. Madame Kahli was busy hanging her dainty underthings out to dry on the fence and the Pirate’s wife Janice was sitting on an old beat up recliner reading “Paradise Lost.” Oh how the mighty have fallen! To make matters worse, the Pirate’s neighbor Dave Mackinroth was trying to hand the Pirate some legal papers and a young lady was smacking Dave with a crudely drawn sign that read “#PirateFanClub.” I don’t know what the hell is going on over there; maybe the Pirate can fill in the details.
Well our fifth-wheel trailer hasn’t gotten any bigger since moving into it five weeks ago. I can hear all the chanting up at our used to be house with that God forsaken occult of some kind. Read our last few columns to get caught up. I’m sure the leader of the cult, Mau Mau has probably already eaten my solar panels, my Hummer and anything else that has metal on it … vicious. On to happier news, Janice told me the other day to expect the delivery of a kid! What, I say how is that possible, we’re in our 60s. She retorts: “People have them every day.” I leave it at that and go to my barn and, well, SCREAM! This in turn causes Turner our little wire haired terrier to whimper, urinate on my foot, run out of the barn and right up a Blue Oak tree. Once I get past the migraine I caused myself, I realize I need to expand our fifth-wheel trailer. So I checked the “Everything in Newcastle Is For Sale” website, found and bought a ’66 VW bus complete with the orange flowers and peace signs all over it and still has the scent of Acapulco Gold. So Hippie Cheech, as he calls himself, signs over the bus and threw in the macramé that was on the bed. When I get it home and proceed to cut a hole in the side of the fifth-wheeler, attach the V-dub to the trailer, glue/seal the bus and the trailer together with about 26 tubes of septic tank riser caulking, hey it’ll be water tight, right? I’m sure it will.
Time Traveler stopped by earlier to help, saw anarchy in the making, muttered something, turned and left in a trail of dust. So, as I complete this DIY project, Farmer Fibber pulls up, jumps out of his International pickup all excited and shouting; “I’m here to deliver a kid.” I gets the goose bumps, then Fibber exits the truck and out behind him jumps a kid — it’s a goat, a baa-baaing goat. Mr. Wizard, where are you when I need you? I turned and give Janice a disparaging look. She’s laughing so hard she caused the recliner to flip backwards, but she never skipped a beat and kept on laughing. Now we have two parrots, two dis-barred attorneys, a fraud fortune teller and now a goat. I want my house back. To our listening audience I ask, what pray tell shall I name the goat? Time Traveler Jr. or? I need some help here. Janice will not let me name the goat TT Jr. Tune in to our radio show. Yes I’m back on the air with Time Traveler but now I’m second banana. Tune in to the Newcastle Television Show on Saturday mornings at 10 a.m. at KAHI 104.5 FM and 950 AM.
“If you want to get in shape, go to the gym every single day, change your clothes and take a shower. If you can do that every single day for a month, pretty soon you’ll start doing something while you’re there.” —Seth Godin