Born in L.A.

I was born a poor white child. (cliche', in case you didn't know. Extra points for the movie it references)

My parents lived in Monticello, Arkansas. I can remember my Dad was in the boat-building business as long as I knew. I did hear he was a cop for awhile. He was born in the Fendley community, outside of Alpine, Arkansas. We'll get into that more later.

My Mom was 16 when she got pregnant. She had me on March 4, 1964. She was raised in Curtis, Arkansas, outside of Arkadelphia. We'll get into that more later.

I was trouble from the start. When Mom went into labor they were in Monticello. They wanted to have me in Arkadelphia, where the families were. They struck down the road and had a flat. Figures. I have that impact on folks. To hear the story, my Dad flagged down a ride. Some man they didn't know. After hearing my Dad's story, he agreed to drive them to Arkadelphia. I have that impact on folks, too. Even before birth. Or maybe it was a karma that I inherited. I like to think that.

Ok, that's the groundwork. My kids have been on me for awhile to write this stuff down. I have had so much to tell, for way too long. I feel like now is the time.

I won't use your real name. Not to protect you. Because you're not innocent! Except my girls. I'll make you sing tenor if you hurt them.

I don't want this to be some sappy-ass crap. That's not me. Let's get this straight, I don't give a damn about a box of chocolates. You get what you chew.

I will entertain you with pics, links, videos to help tell the story. Not just me rambling.

If I shock or offend you, well it's probably because your butthole is made of plastic.

Stay tuned...