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Post by tthaden » Sat Dec 24, 2011 9:37 am

2009 GSPCA Open All Age Dog Of The Year
3 1/2 years Old

NFC FC On Points Son Of The Max

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Post by Cajun Casey » Sat Dec 24, 2011 10:00 am

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year and best of luck in the coming season.
Never try to teach a pig to sing. It wastes your time and annoys the pig.

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Post by Brittlver » Sat Dec 24, 2011 10:15 am

Every year my family on my Mothers side all gather at my Grandmothers house. We sit around and chit chat until its time to do gifts. We have a buffet that everyone nibbles at. Then after that we gather at my aunts house for a few more gifts and some drinks. Been the same way for the last 28 yrs good times. This year will be a bit depressing I think as my aunt passed away from cancer about 2 weeks ago so I am not sure how my mom and her sisters will take it. We got a few new additions to the family and my daughter just turned 2 so my mom loves that. It will be a good day.

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Post by SHORTFAT » Sat Dec 24, 2011 10:22 am

Merry Christmas all!!! :D
Heaven goes by favor. If it went by merit, you would stay out and your dog would go in.
- Mark Twain.
Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak out and remove all doubt.
-Abraham Lincoln

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Post by ezzy333 » Sat Dec 24, 2011 10:39 am

CHRISTMAS at the Gas Station

The old man sat in his gas station on a cold Christmas Eve. He hadn't been anywhere in years since his wife had passed away. It was just another day to him. He didn't hate Christmas, just couldn't find a reason to celebrate. He was sitting there looking at the snow that had been falling for the last hour and wondering what it was all about when the door opened and a homeless man stepped through.

Instead of throwing the man out, Old George as he was known by his customers, told the man to come and sit by the heater and warm up. "Thank you, but I don't mean to intrude," said the stranger. "I see you're busy, I'll just go."

"Not without something hot in your belly." George said.

He turned and opened a wide mouth Thermos and handed it to the stranger. "It ain't much, but it's hot and tasty. Stew ... Made it myself. When you're done, there's coffee and it's fresh."

Just at that moment he heard the "ding" of the driveway bell. "Excuse me, be right back," George said. There in the driveway was an old '53 Chevy. Steam was rolling out of the front.. The driver was panicked. "Mister can you help me!" said the driver, with a deep Spanish accent. "My wife is with child and my car is broken." George opened the hood. It was bad. The block looked cracked from the cold, the car was dead.

"You ain't going in this thing," George said as he turned away.

"But Mister, please help ..." The door of the office closed behind George as he went inside. He went to the office wall and got the keys to his old truck, and went back outside. He walked around the building, opened the garage, started the truck and drove it around to where the couple was waiting. "Here, take my truck," he said. "She ain't the best thing you ever looked at, but she runs real good."

George helped put the woman in the truck and watched as it sped off into the night. He turned and walked back inside the office. "Glad I gave 'em the truck, their tires were shot too. That 'ol truck has brand new ." George thought he was talking to the stranger, but the man had gone. The Thermos was on the desk, empty, with a used coffee cup beside it. "Well, at least he got something in his belly," George thought.

George went back outside to see if the old Chevy would start. It cranked slowly, but it started. He pulled it into the garage where the truck had been. He thought he would tinker with it for something to do. Christmas Eve meant no customers. He discovered the the block hadn't cracked, it was just the bottom hose on the radiator. "Well, shoot, I can fix this," he said to himself. So he put a new one on.

"Those tires ain't gonna get 'em through the winter either." He took the snow treads off of his wife's old Lincoln. They were like new and he wasn't going to drive the car anyway.

As he was working, he heard shots being fired. He ran outside and beside a police car an officer lay on the cold ground. Bleeding from the left shoulder, the officer moaned, "Please help me."

George helped the officer inside as he remembered the training he had received in the Army as a medic. He knew the wound needed attention. "Pressure to stop the bleeding," he thought. The uniform company had been there that morning and had left clean shop towels. He used those and duct tape to bind the wound. "Hey, they say duct tape can fix anythin'," he said, trying to make the policeman feel at ease.

"Something for pain," George thought. All he had was the pills he used for his back. "These ought to work." He put some water in a cup and gave the policeman the pills. "You hang in there, I'm going to get you an ambulance."

The phone was dead. "Maybe I can get one of your buddies on that there talk box out in your car." He went out only to find that a bullet had gone into the dashboard destroying the two way radio.

He went back in to find the policeman sitting up. "Thanks," said the officer. "You could have left me there. The guy that shot me is still in the area."

George sat down beside him, "I would never leave an injured man in the Army and I ain't gonna leave you." George pulled back the bandage to check for bleeding. "Looks worse than what it is. Bullet passed right through 'ya. Good thing it missed the important stuff though. I think with time your gonna be right as rain."

George got up and poured a cup of coffee. "How do you take it?" he asked.

"None for me," said the officer..

"Oh, yer gonna drink this. Best in the city. Too bad I ain't got no donuts." The officer laughed and winced at the same time.

The front door of the office flew open. In burst a young man with a gun. "Give me all your cash! Do it now!" the young man yelled. His hand was shaking and George could tell that he had never done anything like this before.

"That's the guy that shot me!" exclaimed the officer.

"Son, why are you doing this?" asked George, "You need to put the cannon away. Somebody else might get hurt."

The young man was confused. "Shut up old man, or I'll shoot you, too. Now give me the cash!"

The cop was reaching for his gun. "Put that thing away," George said to the cop, "we got one too many in here now."

He turned his attention to the young man. "Son, it's Christmas Eve. If you need money, well then, here. It ain't much but it's all I got. Now put that pea shooter away."

George pulled $150 out of his pocket and handed it to the young man, reaching for the barrel of the gun at the same time. The young man released his grip on the gun, fell to his knees and began to cry. "I'm not very good at this am I? All I wanted was to buy something for my wife and son," he went on. "I've lost my job, my rent is due, my car got repossessed last week."

George handed the gun to the cop. "Son, we all get in a bit of squeeze now and then. The road gets hard sometimes, but we make it through the best we can."

He got the young man to his feet, and sat him down on a chair across from the cop. "Sometimes we do stupid things." George handed the young man a cup of coffee. "Bein' stupid is one of the things that makes us human. Comin' in here with a gun ain't the answer. Now sit there and get warm and we'll sort this thing out."

The young man had stopped crying. He looked over to the cop. "Sorry I shot you. It just went off. I'm sorry officer."

"Shut up and drink your coffee " the cop said.

George could hear the sounds of sirens outside. A police car and an ambulance skidded to a halt. Two cops came through the door, guns drawn. "Chuck! You ok?" one of the cops asked the wounded officer.

"Not bad for a guy who took a bullet. How did you find me?"

"GPS locator in the car. Best thing since sliced bread. Who did this?" the other cop asked as he approached the young man.

Chuck answered him, "I don't know. The guy ran off into the dark. Just dropped his gun and ran."

George and the young man both looked puzzled at each other.

"That guy work here?" the cop continued.

"Yep," George said, "just hired him this morning. Boy lost his job."

The paramedics came in and loaded Chuck onto the stretcher. The young man leaned over the wounded cop and whispered, "Why?"

Chuck just said, "Merry Christmas boy ... and you too, George, and thanks for everything."

"Well, looks like you got one doozy of a break there. That ought to solve some of your problems."

George went into the back room and came out with a box. He pulled out a ring box. "Here you go, something for the little woman. I don't think Martha would mind. She said it would come in handy some day."

The young man looked inside to see the biggest diamond ring he ever saw. "I can't take this," said the young man. "It means something to you."

"And now it means something to you," replied George. "I got my memories. That's all I need."

George reached into the box again. An airplane, a car and a truck appeared next. They were toys that the oil company had left for him to sell. "Here's something for that little man of yours."

The young man began to cry again as he handed back the $150 that the old man had handed him earlier.

"And what are you supposed to buy Christmas dinner with? You keep that too," George said. "Now git home to your family."

The young man turned with tears streaming down his face. "I'll be here in the morning for work, if that job offer is still good."

"Nope. I'm closed Christmas day," George said. "See ya the day after."

George turned around to find that the stranger had returned. "Where'd you come from? I thought you left?"

"I have been here. I have always been here," said the stranger. "You say you don't celebrate Christmas. Why?"

"Well, after my wife passed away, I just couldn't see what all the bother was. Puttin' up a tree and all seemed a waste of a good pine tree. Bakin' cookies like I used to with Martha just wasn't the same by myself and besides I was gettin' a little chubby."

The stranger put his hand on George's shoulder. "But you do celebrate the holiday, George. You gave me food and drink and warmed me when I was cold and hungry. The woman with child will bear a son and he will become a great doctor.

The policeman you helped will go on to save 19 people from being killed by terrorists. The young man who tried to rob you will make you a rich man and not take any for himself. "That is the spirit of the season and you keep it as good as any man."

George was taken aback by all this stranger had said. "And how do you know all this?" asked the old man.

"Trust me, George. I have the inside track on this sort of thing. And when your days are done you will be with Martha again."

The stranger moved toward the door. "If you will excuse me, George, I have to go now. I have to go home where there is a big celebration planned."

George watched as the old leather jacket and the torn pants that the stranger was wearing turned into a white robe. A golden light began to fill the room.

"You see, George ... it's My birthday. Merry Christmas."

George fell to his knees and replied, "Happy Birthday, Lord Jesus"


A very Merry Christmas to each and everyone.

From all of us here. Ezzy

It's not how many breaths you have taken but how many times it has been taken away!

Has anyone noticed common sense isn't very common anymore.

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Post by dog dr » Sat Dec 24, 2011 11:09 am

Dammit, Ezzy, now i have to explain to the girls why I am crying! Merry Christmas!

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Post by ezzy333 » Sat Dec 24, 2011 1:37 pm

That kind of explains the world I grew up in many years ago. Merry Christmas to you too, Doc.


It's not how many breaths you have taken but how many times it has been taken away!

Has anyone noticed common sense isn't very common anymore.

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Post by Brittlver » Sat Dec 24, 2011 1:49 pm

Here is a nice little poem to get us thinking of all our fellow Soldiers.

Merry Christmas, My Friend

Twas the night before Christmas, he lived all alone,
In a one bedroom house made of plaster & stone.

I had come down the chimney, with presents to give
and to see just who in this home did live

As I looked all about, a strange sight I did see,
no tinsel, no presents, not even a tree.
No stocking by the fire, just boots filled with sand.
On the wall hung pictures of a far distant land.

With medals and badges, awards of all kind,
a sobering thought soon came to my mind.
For this house was different, unlike any I’d seen.
This was the home of a U.S. Marine.

I’d heard stories about them, I had to see more,
so I walked down the hall and pushed open the door.
And there he lay sleeping, silent, alone,
Curled up on the floor in his one-bedroom home.

He seemed so gentle, his face so serene,
Not how I pictured a U.S. Marine.
Was this the hero, of whom I’d just read?
Curled up in his poncho, a floor for his bed?

His head was clean-shaven, his weathered face tan.
I soon understood, this was more than a man.
For I realized the families that I saw that night,
owed their lives to these men, who were willing to fight.

Soon around the Nation, the children would play,
And grown-ups would celebrate on a bright Christmas day.
They all enjoyed freedom, each month and all year,
because of Marines like this one lying here.

I couldn’t help wonder how many lay alone,
on a cold Christmas Eve, in a land far from home.
Just the very thought brought a tear to my eye.
I dropped to my knees and I started to cry.

He must have awoken, for I heard a rough voice,
“Santa, don’t cry, this life is my choice
I fight for freedom, I don’t ask for more.
My life is my God, my country, my Corps.”

With that he rolled over, drifted off into sleep,
I couldn’t control it, I continued to weep.

I watched him for hours, so silent and still.
I noticed he shivered from the cold night’s chill.
So I took off my jacket, the one made of red,
and covered this Marine from his toes to his head.
Then I put on his T-shirt of scarlet and gold,
with an eagle, globe and anchor emblazoned so bold.
And although it barely fit me, I began to swell with pride,
and for one shining moment, I was Marine Corps deep inside.

I didn’t want to leave him so quiet in the night,
this guardian of honor so willing to fight.
But half asleep he rolled over, and in a voice clean and pure,
said “Carry on, Santa, it’s Christmas Day, all secure.”
One look at my watch and I knew he was right,
Merry Christmas my friend, Semper Fi and goodnight.

Here is a link to an audio version you can listen to, which is titled A Soldier’s Silent Night, unfortunately the song is not credited…

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Post by Hookadooka BirdDogs » Sat Dec 24, 2011 10:55 pm

It was early in December, 1968 when our chaplain got a bunch of soldiers together and asked if we would be interested in volunteering to drive out to a village about 15 miles northeast of our hospital/POW camp in Phu Tai, S. Vietnam, and bring back a bunch of Vietnamese orphans for Christmas dinner at our Field Hospital. To a man we all said, "heck yes we'll go"!

Some of us had hopes of getting a little time off to see Bob Hope at Phu Cat airbase. The orphans won hands down over Bob and his troupe. I guess our trip to the orphan's village was in God's hands, for one reason, a couple days before Christmas, the Viet Cong had blown up the bridge over a stream at our turnoff road off Hwy 1towards the orphans village. We couldn't have gotten to see Bob anyway. The other reason was that a week or so before Christmas we watched as F4's pounded a hill, then choppers landed with Korean Tiger Division troops. They killed 97 enemy and only had 3 wounded. That hill was on the route we were to take on Christmas. We surely would have been ambushed if not for our ROK friends.
When we loaded up and got our duece and a half's in line, a gun truck from our neighboring compound showed up to lead the convoy. It was nicknamed the "cobra". Two years later a soldier from that same unit was awarded the MOH for actions at the Mang Yang Pass near An Khe.
Following up the rear of our convoy was a jeep with a M60 machine gun mounted on it. The gunner had the brightest red Santa Claus suit on, complete with a flowing white beard. Yes Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.
Our route there was mainly a high spot through rice paddies. We paused once to chase a bunch of water buffaloes out of the way when we had to ford a river. My buddies had the foresight to bring bags of hard candy, Hershey bars, etc. from their "care packages" we received from some folks in Texas. Every village we came through the children chased after us gathering up the candies our GI's tossed to them.
We finally arrived at our destination, which was a tiny village of thatched roofed hooches, no running water or electricity. Also no young men or women. Only older mamasan's and papasan's, and the orphans. They were taken care of by the villagers and a few French speaking Vietnamese Catholic nuns. We turned our trucks around for the trip back, while the nuns lined up the orphans. There was about a hundred of them from 5 to 12 years of age. Boys and girls in blue shorts, white shirts that looked like the came from a dry cleaners. They were all so giggly and seemed so happy, and were very respectful to the nuns and to us. We made an uneventful journey back to our hospital compound.
We unloaded the kids in front of our mess hall and each soldier took an orphan by the hand and escorted them in for a Christmas meal like none other. Our mess guys were unbelievable. I waited till the end of the line, because I knew there more orphans than troops. I had my wife and three children at home waiting for my safe return. My youngest was 3 months old when I went to Nam. I got my wish, because at the end of the line there were five girls about ten years old that became my "dates" for the day. We held hands and went into the Mess where I had the honor of feeding my new friends and got them their first ever drink of Kool Aid, fresh milk, orange juice, grapes, etc. They were all so polite and full of fun.

After dinner I took my new buds over to my barracks, where I gave them all my religious Christmas cards I had received from
family and friends. They were very interested in the pictures of my family and I told them all about them. I gave away all my extra toothbrushes, soap, toothpaste, washclothes, towels, etc. After a while it was time to load up and take them back to their village. We wanted to be back before dark as the VC owned the night.
The nuns unexpectedly had about 20 of the older children get in four rows in front of all the troops. She pulled out her pitch pipe and the kids started singing Christmas Carols to us first in Vietnamese, then in English. First was jingle bells, oh holy night, but when they sang "Silent Night" to us we all pretty much lost it. I cried like a baby. The best part was that just behind where they were singing to us, were about 150 hard core NVA POW's locked up. All wounded in action. But treated humanely by us.
Then the icing on the cake for the day. My old high school teammate was the mess sgt. I don't know where he found them, but he had all his mess personnel bring out Kroger paper shopping bags, filled to the brim with all the leftover fruit, nuts apples, bananas, oranges, candy and gave each orphan a bag to take home to the village.
We loaded up the kids and their bags, and the nuns and headed to their home. When we got to the village and turned around, we unloaded the orphans, the nuns put them in a single file line. They all thanked us, the nuns released them and they all ran with their bags to the hooches and gave all of the goodies to the elderly people that cared for them. I was so impressed by the kids unselfishness. I'm sure those kids still remember Christmas 1968. I do and will till the day I go to Bird Dog Heaven.
Merry Christmas to all.
I only told this story to my family about 5 years ago. It says something about the real meaning of Christmas.
CHRISTMAS 1968, 311TH FLD. HOSP. CONVOY MACHINE GUNNER S.CLAUS.jpg (69.36 KiB) Viewed 1809 times
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