Since my blog has started being real popular in the GPCMSA (Greater Perry County Metropolitan Statistical Area), lots of young people have been asking for advice of one kind or another from their ol’ uncle Elwood.

Since I believe that the children are the future and all that crap, here is Elwood Jenkins’ Tips For Life and Stuff Like That.  Mostly, I learned all this my own self and am passing along my wisdom to you.

1. When pulled over by the police for speeding, don’t remind them that your tax dollars pay their salary.  You would think that the police would be all impressed with your knowing all about civics and such.  Well, they ain’t.
2. If you got bumps on your noggin, say from a police baton because you got all smart mouthed, try a bag of frozen lima beans as an ice pack.  It works good. It don’t melt and run down your back, and lima beans suck for eating.
3. When in doubt, poke it with a stick.  You would be surprised at how many areas in life this covers.
4.  There are three types of people – those who can count and those who can’t.
5.  You do not need a parachute to skydive. You only need a parachute to skydive twice.  I sure miss my friend Bubba. His last words were, “You know what I think I forgot?”
6.  When that pin is pulled, Mr. grenade is not our friend.
7. You people who drive a car – It ain’t a telephone booth, a beauty parlor or a restaurant.
8.  Uranus has 27 moons.  This ain’t important for living a good life or anything, but I  bet you giggled when you read it.
9.  Nothing is really idiot proof because the world keeps building better idiots.
10.  Two wrongs don’t make a right, but three lefts do.

So there you go.  Some free advice.

Later

EPJ

For a bunch of us folks, ‘the store’ only means one place.

Wal-Mart

Now, let me say that I love me some of  Wal-Mart.  They got everything you ever need in life.  Even the occasional hound pups in the parking lot being sold from the back of a 1992 F150. That’s how I got my coondog Scooter.

I need a fishing license? Done.  I need a new “3-wolves howling at the moon” t-shirt? Done. I need a big ol’ sandwich from the deli and some starter fluid for my 1981 AMC Pacer? Done.  I mean every dang thing that a man like me needs is in one place.

So don’t think for one minute I am running down Wal-Mart. No way, Jose.

But, you got to admit that sometimes the people shopping there are down right …interesting.  Especially if it is open 24-hours a day and it is 2:00 a.m.

So, if you shop at Wal-Mart, I got something for you.

If you go on a Sunday afternoon, I bet you can fill that card out in 15 minutes or less.

So the next time you go to the Wal-Mart, if you hear people yelling out ‘BINGO!’, you’ll know why.

Heck, we might even organize a tournament.

And if you don’t believe me about the people you see there, check out www.peopleofwalmart.com.

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Don’t forget if you got marriage proposals, questions, funny pictures that can be printed in a family style place, funny pictures that can’t be printed in a family style place, or any general weirdness, just shoot me an e-mail to epjenkins@gmail.com or you can look me up on Facebook.com and post them there.

Later y’all …and BINGO!

EPJ

Ok. I know it has been a while since I last posted, but I have a lot of stuff happening in my life right now.  My third ex-wife Louvella started sniffing around again, and my nights have been busy. Ok?

Now on to my Epcot story.

Lute Fenwick has a problem with public nudity.

Actually, that ain’t quite true. Lute ain’t got a problem at all with nekkedness. The public in general, however, has a problem with Lute’s nekkedness.  Lute gets nekked when he hits a particular level of drunk. It’s an issue at Christmas time, which is why the Fenwick Family get-togethers are usually a dry event. Fourth of July before last, Lute got cuffed and stuffed because during the party we had at the trailer park he stripped down to his Tony Llamas and did the Boot Scoot Boogie to God Bless America right before the fireworks show.

This is information you need to file away as the story continues.

Epcot is the best dang park in the world. First thing you notice is the big dang golf ball.  Go past all the rides and crap, because you can do some serious drinking in Epcot.

I warned Lute before we even started that if he even unbuttoned a shirt button, I would hit him so hard his momma would feel it.. Lute said ok.

So me, Lute and my nephew Eugene started drinking in Mexico and kept moving on through the world. Things were going ok until we hit Germany.

But I took my eye off the ball. Actually, that ain’t accurate. I was staring at the big golf ball after I had 3 or 7 grapefruit beers and wondered how big a putter you would need to hit that sucker.  All the sudden, people started raising a commotion. It was then I saw a trail of clothes, starting with a “These Colors Don’t Run” shirt and ending with a pair of underdrawers that really were just gross.

By the time I found Lute posing in a fountain in Italy, he was trying to sing The Barber Of Seville and had gathered a crowd. Mommas were trying to shield their children’s eyes, and three crazy women were trying to get in the fountain with Lute.

Lute spied me, and took off running.  He stopped in Paris long enough to pose with a mime. I am not the most educated man, but is a mime supposed to say “Holy Shemp!”?  (Edited for children and church folks)

Lute then kept running yelling “Tally Ho!” Through England until he hung a left at Canada. It was there he ran into Disney Security.  Then Lute got hit full in the face with a dose of pepper spray.  Not by the Disney Security folks, but by a pissed off momma from New Jersey who was going to have to explain some things to her kids.

We got asked to leave, but we had blown through my nephew Eugene’s money. And to be honest, the Canadians there were very polite about it.

First, let me state this: IT WAS NOT MY FAULT! All I did was light the fuse. My neighbor Bobby Martinez got the darn things. See, with the 4th of July coming up we were in Bubba Roy’s Bar a few weeks ago discussing the sad state of American fireworks. Besides the fact they are all made in China, American fireworks don’t have the firepower they had when we were kids. And even the fireworks we had as kids were nothing like in grandpa’s day. To hear grandpa tell it, they used to be able to remove stumps with a good, old fashioned M-80.

What happened is, a bunch of years ago some moron kids blowed their fingers and other various and sundry body parts off. Then the lawyers said we can’t have good fireworks no more. So now, we have to use these teeny, wimpy fireworks that will barely blow apart a beer can, never-mind turning a mailbox inside-out like in the good old days.

Well every year, we have a big ol’ 4th of July party here at the trailer park. We grill some hot dogs and blow up some fireworks and the party usually ends with Luke Fenwick getting arrested for public indecency.

Well this year, Bobby says his cousin lives down in Brownsville, Texas. Brownsville is right on the border and his cousin can head on over to Matamoros, Mexico and get us some REAL fireworks.

See, the Mexican government don’t worry that some bonehead blew off a few digits. They still sell fireworks that have some punch. Anyhow, Bobby came over last night with a bag of fireworks he got from his cousin. There were big ol’ firecrackers and a couple of rockets that could take out a SCUD missle. Gotta love a border town. You can get anything. Anything.

Well, we decided to try one of those big rockets. Bobby gets this piece of PVC pipe and wedges it between two concrete blocks. Well, we put the rocket in the pipe and I light the fuse and we run away, just like you’re supposed to do. Well, the pipe fell over right as he fuse lit the rocket.

You folks need to understand at this point that I told Bobby to make sure it was in there good and tight. Anyhow, the thing goes off with big SHOOOOOOOSSSSSHHHHHH and heads right for Stan and Erma Scrimshaw’s trailer.

Now let me just say that I have told Stan for years he needed to go ahead and install that flashing around the bottom of his trailer. Not only does it look nicer, but maybe…just maybe, it would have diverted the rocket. I have also told Stan to not store gasoline in old plastic milk jugs under his trailer. But Stan is what we call in the trailer park “dumb as a box of hair”. He is also ugly as an armpit, but I don’t want to get personal.

Any how it the rocket hits one of Stan’s gas filled milk jugs right under the back end of his trailer and blows up. The explosion took off the back wall of the trailer and took out all the cinder blocks supporting the trailer on that side.

Now this next part I can’t take any blame for. Had Erma not been in that part of the trailer, I don’t think it would have tumped over. But, Erma is not a small woman. As a matter of fact, Stan had to put double doors on the trailer for Erma to get in and out.

So the trailer tumps over like a teeter-totter with one fat kid on it and Erma and Stan come rolling out the trailer and land on the ground with a look on their face like those people on Cheaters when they get busted by their wife, an entire camera crew, and that guy that looks like a cocaine dealer.

By this time, Bobby and me have done run off and hid in my trailer. Well, when the deputies show up, we did the right thing and told them some kids did it and run off. So the lesson is: Don’t let Bobby near the fireworks and don’ store gasoline in plastic milk jugs. Also, put flashing around your trailer.