The Unauthorized Biography of Rosco P. Coltrane

When it's my moment in the sun, I won't forget that I am blessed, but every hero walks alone, thinking of more things to confess

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Location: Owensboro, Kentucky, United States


Thursday, March 08, 2007

The Stinker

Just for the record, I never taught Reed this...

There was also a really funny picture of him in the bathtub with a soap beard. But being as he will probably be bigger than me one day, I won't post that picture...

Wednesday, March 07, 2007

The Last Pure Tournament

Last week, someone invited me to the state basketball tournament at Har-Ber High School. I said, thanks but no thanks. I said, it's not a really state basketball tournament. The last real state basketball tournament, the last pure state basketball tournament is still in Kentucky.

No classes or divisions. In every other state, there are multiple state basketball champions. Sometimes states have 7 basketball champions. That may be nice, little town get to hoist a trophy and say they are the state champs. But it doesn't make sense to me. How can there be multiple champions? Sure people make the arguments that bigger schools have a bigger advantage, but the fact is that is just a good excuse. Basketball is twelve players working as one. The pool to pick from is greater, but that doesn't necessarily mean the pool consists of better players.

The reason is so that more people can feel better. More kids can say they won a championship. Multiple state classification is the high school equivalent of me going to watch my friend's 5 year old play soccer, where everyone feels good because no one keeps score.

But when your spread out glory, glory become diminished. It doesn't sparkle the same way.

When I was in high school, the state tournament was by far, the biggest thing all year. Going to the Sweet 16 in either Louisville or Lexington was so exciting. No one wanted to decide a championship in a little rinky dink gym. Teams wanted make it to Rupp Arena or Freedom Hall, basketball jewels.

Hundreds of schools formed 16 regions. One winner from each region advances.


Our (Owensboro High School Red Devils) region was the 3rd.

I can remember those 3rd regions tournaments at Grayson County and Daviess County High schools like it was yesterday. The time that DCHS sold way too many tickets to the championship game. All the Muhlenberg North fans had gotten to the school before school had even let out. They took all the seats, so all of the OHS fans were standing 7 people deep in the end zones. It really is a wonder that a riot didn't occur. There was also the time when my best friend, John Pelphrey, and I started to storm down towards the court to beat up an annoying mascot. Luckily, a Baptist minister's wife stopped us, actually grabbed us by the collars.

I don't know, maybe basketball just isn't as important in other states. But in Kentucky, everyone wants to prove their mettle. Everyone strives to be the last team standing. Because what good is a victory, if you haven't defeated everyone.

Tuesday, March 06, 2007

I'm Big In Spain

Now, my little blog, TUBORPC, is a small little blog. I mostly write about my adventures and misadventures in my normal life here in Hyphen-ville, Arkansas. You know, no big deal. I try to be poignant sometimes, other times I go for cheap laughs. Nothing to exciting. I might get 20 or so visitors. But yesterday I looked at my stat tracker and found that I had over 70 visitors to my blog. And where did they all come from? Spain and Bolivia. I did a little bit more checking and found out that the Youtube clip of Bono was linked on a U2 fan page in Spain.


Sunday, March 04, 2007

You Say Tomato

So Friday, I had to make an adjustment on a truck scale at a feed mill. Feed mills have a tendency to have rather pungent truck scales. Usually, the pit (always dark and cold) is filled with water, corn, mud, and some sort of mutant rodents. When you mix these four ingredients together, you get a smell that will not only put hair on your chest, it will melt it offany newly grown hair with it's own radioactive powers. I usually describe it as the smell of Satan. If that helps you form any mental images.

So I had to crawl down in this pit and make a few adjustments. Well, this smell got onto my everything I had on. The funny thing about the odor is that it seems to come and go. But when it comes, watch out.

So when I got back to Springdale, I took my boots to the car wash and used about 3 dollars worth of quarters spraying them off. I took them back to the office and doused it with Febreeze. I sat them in front of a heater and turned it up full blast. When the gas finally poofed from the pilot light, I began to wonder a question I had never pondered. Is Febreeze flammable? The answer, I soon learned, luckily, was that Febreeze is not flammable. But I still had the smell on my clothes.

I tried rubbing alcohol, I tried pumice soap, I even sprayed the rest of the bottle of Febreeze on me just to try to take the stank off, but nothing worked. So, my boss told me that Tomato juice would take any smell off.

I stopped at my local Neighborhood Market and picked up two large cans of tomato juice.

When I got home, I took the tomato juice and a can opener to the shower (first time I can ever say that happened). I opened the large can and slowly poured it over my head and over all my extremities. Five things happened.

First: I screamed like a girl. No, scratch that, I screamed like a little girl.

Second: It burns your eyes if you happen to open one accidentally.

Third: You look at your shower and realize that it looks like a triple homicide has occurred.

Fourth: You it takes the stank off.

Fifth: It make you smell like Chef Boyardee on a five day bender of ravioli, beefaroni, and heroin.

Reverend Bono

I didn't watch this live this weekend, but I saw it online this weekend. Bono gets up up there and preaches.