BTB Holds the Zen Like a Baby Bird.

Bald Tire Bob, he was watching Matlock and sipping the ‘45, just letting the day slide a bit, and he got to thinkin’ that you can go crazy sometimes, thinkin’ you can control those things you just can’t control — it’s like being in the backseat of a car that ain’t no LeBaron and Big Chuck is driving with his salt all high.
Anyway, Bob, he thought that — even though a man can’t control everything — son, if he can control his temper an’ his bowels then he’s still doin’ fine, things considered.

Darn Clowns

You have been kidnapped by circus anarchists, and you have 2 choices for your release:

You are given $5,000 in hundred-dollar bills. You get to keep $300, but you must burn the other $4700 — one hundred dollar bill at a time — in front of a group of hungry, pleading, photogenic orphans wearing discarded Styx concert shirts from the Mr. Roboto tour. Also: it is on the condition that your $300 cannot be used in any way to help the poor, poor children;
the $5,000 will be donated to the orphans, but only on the condition that you stay in the ring for one 3-minute round with a professional boxer who does NOT speak English. Also: the $5,000 will be forfeited if you are knocked to the floor for over 10 seconds, or for more than 3 times.

The clowns give you 30 seconds to decide…

Post your answers below, BUT you must explain your decision…

BTB Gonna Lesson You Here

“Sometimes you can try so hard to see the good in people that you don’t see how dang stupid it makes you look.”

BTB Hes Got The Keys For a Reason.

Bald Tire Bob, he was thinkin’ himself about how the world wasn’t much different than a fine Chrysler LeBaron, and in that LeBaron there are really only three places you can be: in the driver’s seat, in the passenger seat, or in the trunk. Now, no one drives Bob’s LeBaron but Bob, so that only leaves you two choices, son.

And — if you happen to find yourself in the trunk — well, you best not be helpin’ yourself to any of Bob’s Colt .45s there — there’s a tarp and a shovel in the trunk for a reason, just sayin’.

BTB Says You Need a LeBaron to Properly Understand, Son

Big Chuck, he was seeming a’be a bit down on his big self, like someone had stole all the Nutter Butter from between his cookie crunch when he wasn’t lookin’.

Bald Tire Bob, he did all what a friend could do: he kept the Colt .45 cold and kept the grass lobster all steamy-hot n’ tangy, and without the hard pointy nasty bits, but it didn’t seem to work much none, with Chuck still all moping like a man trying to sell left shoes to people who only had a right foot on ‘em, the world can be rough that way.

Bob shook his head; it’s just the way it is– one day you can be eatin’ pistachios n’ bacon and party’n with the drummer from Night Ranger, and the next night you’re all shot in the tater tots with a Taser while someone’s all up and yellin’ about a restraining order or some such.

Big Chuck, he just needs to realize it all comes around, and that the justice monkey, he swings himself from tree to tree, non-stop: even people with Tasers have been known to have accidents that no authority can quite right explain, you just gotta be patient, hope can be itself a bit skittish.

BTB, He Loves Himself a Parade.

Bald Tire Bob, he was looking at his Chrysler LeBarons of the 80s calendar and realized it was already halfway through June, meaning it was about the time for him to get to preparating for the Fourth of July. Now Bob, he ain’t much of a sentimental man but the Fourth of July, that’s special, there — if you don’t like the Fourth of July then perhaps you best go back to Belgium, son.

Anyhow, he figured he’d start the day at the diner with a Colt .45 and a slice of apple pie with bacon, because if there’s anything more American than apple pie then it’d have to be apple pie with bacon, no question.

After breakfast Bob figured to iron the flag and wax the tank all proper, with the shammy that has the image of Abraham Lincoln on it, it just appeared one day as he was shining the turret, looking all like Abe on the penny except from the other side.

So Bob, he went to ironing the flag and checked himself the stitching of all 49 stars cause you don’t want to be flying Old Glory and then have Ohio all fall off, that would be disrespectful. Some people, they ask Bob why he has only 49 stars on his flag, but any fool should know that Hawaii ain’t no real state, it ain’t but a couple of bumps in the ocean with some hotels and Hawaiians all on it: heck, it makes Rhode Island seem darn like Texas and that’s saying something there. Son, if Hawaii was 50 then you might as well make the Holiday Inn down by the interstate #51.

Let Bob learn you something here: the Big Guy in the Sky only put islands on the world to give the American troops a place to storm on their way to the bad guys, that’s History that ain’t taught you by no teacher from Massachusetts with all the bumper stickers on the car, not naming any names mind you. And who knows, next year it might only be 48 stars: California, it’s been giving Bald Tire Bob the suspicions, there.

So anyways, after ironing the flag Bald Tire Bob he waxed himself the tank to a fine gleaming shine, it would make Patton proud and scare a dozen hippies into taking themselves a bath, it was that good.

Yep, Bob he’d be himself ready to lead that Fourth of July parade all down Main Street. Of course, the town never does quite ask him to lead their parade, but when he shows up in his tank with the flag waving big and proud in the breeze they never quite say no, either.

BTB Appreciates Himself a Spring Night

Bald Tire Bob, he was sittin’ on the porch of the compound sippin’ himself a tasty cool treat and thinkin’ to himself that there ain’t much better on a warm spring day than an icy cold root beer float, it says “Come here, summer!” nice and bright.

Of course, the only thing better is having one of Bald Tire Bob’s Special Root Beer Floats. Mary Beth down at the wrecking yard, she makes a mean home-made root beer ice cream, its as good as her RC Cola Spaghetti Sauce if you’re askin’.

Anyhow, Mary Beth, she’s a bit sweet on ol’ Bob, she calls herself a “LeBaron Girl” –whenever she comes for a ride in Bob’s car she brings her own car seat cover, and that’s nice and thoughtful, that.

So anyway Bob scoops himself a scoop or three of that home-made root beer ice cream, puts it in an old pickle jar and then pours some icy cold Colt .45 all over it: Bob, he figures himself the only thing that could even put better on that would be to have a pet penguin, he’s sure the penguin would love himself an icy cold float, too. Then Bald Tire Bob, he could put the penguin all safe and snug in a child’s seat in the LeBaron and then go cruisin’ without a polar bear in sight, the penguin would like that just fine.

So Bob, he was thinkin’ that if a root beer float said “Come here, summer!” then a Bald Tire Bob’s Special Root Beer Float must be sayin’ “Come here summer and watch Mary Beth mow my lawn!” — when Mary Beth comes over she brings her own can of gasoline for the mower, and that’s pretty nice there, too.

BTB, He Waits For The Sign to Say “Walk”

People, they sometimes wonder why Bald Tire Bob he keeps Big Chuck around and all, being that Big Chuck he ain’t had all his meatballs in the spaghetti, thinkin’-wise, since that time the plane landed on his head, what were the odds on that.

Well, when people they get to such wonderin’ then Bald Tire Bob he just has to shake his head at such shameful thinking, shameful and low, son, shameful and low. Now Bob he would expect such talk from Rubber Pierre maybe, but Rubber Pierre is French and he don’t know any better, that’s science.

Bald Tire Bob, he knows that when a man saves your life there is a bond there stronger than anything that couldn’t be pulled apart by two tanks moving in the opposite direction, even with new tank treads. And son, when Bald Tire Bob gets himself his second tank then he’ll prove it to you with American flags waving, that’s how Patton would’ve done it, with a piece of blueberry pie. Now don’t get Bob talking about the Belgians, that’s another story.

That being said, it’s true and all that Big Chuck he never actually saved Bald Tire Bob’s life, but he almost did, back when he jumped out in front of that bus at Fourteenth and Shubert to try and block the blow, except Bald Tire Bob he wasn’t even in front of the bus just yet, he had stopped all law-abidin’ on the curb waiting himself for the light to change, them police they’re always out there lookin’ for jay-walkers cause real criminals run too fast. Still, Bob was touched, he stayed there all the way until the ambulance came.

So, the how and the whole of it is that when Big Chuck says “apricot” in that way he does when his eyes don’t follow just right, Bald Tire Bob, he keeps his thoughts to himself, that’s what a buddy does.