Ding Dong Murder

[Briar Lee]

When I was a boy, my mother always told me as I left the house to go out on the town —-

Christ sees every little thing you do…

AND DON’T DO!!!

Please come home safe to me, Vanny

And most usually I’d be home by the time she set as I didn’t want her to worry

But being a boy; occasionally I’d find important business on the streets of Humansville and might be home a little late. If the house was lit up, which usually it was, I knew Mama would have the coffee pot hot and want to know of all my latest adventures.

But if I was so late the house was dark—-

I was in peril of getting shot

And I knew it

I’d honk the horn several times

Walk to the door yelling

Mama it’s me Mama it’s me Mama it’s me

Don’t shoot me Mama!!!

And sometimes I’d hear the bolt rack on my father’s Browning Automatic Sweet 16 I’d loaded with four rounds of BB goose loads I’d put in the magazine on the other side of the door and she’d say

My son said he’d be home by one o’clock

He doesn’t lie to his mother

WHO, ARE YOU?

Sing me a song to prove who you are.

—-

And a lifetime later when Mama was in the nursing home and I’d tell that story before my sideman David played the riff for Please Don’t Tell Mama I Was Drinkin’ and my Mama would nearly bust with pride and the nurses and Mama’s friends around her in wheelchairs would high five her, and I’d lead off

Don’t Tell Mama I Was Drinkin’

Xxxxx

Every morning I read the latest news and this morning there’s news from Houston Texas of another cold blooded Ding Dong Murder, which are getting to be a regular national problem

———
The gunman accused of shooting an 11-year-old to death after allegedly ding-dong-ditching nearby homes on Houston’s Eastside is behind bars.

INITIAL REPORT: Suspect detained after 11-year-old shot in back during ‘ding-dong ditch’ prank dies.

---

---

Houston police said Gonzalo Leon, 42, has been charged with shooting 11-year-old Julian Guzman on Saturday. Witnesses said Julian was last seen running from a house, after ringing the doorbell, “just prior to suffering a gunshot wound.”

Previously, Leon was detained by investigators and questioned before he was released while an investigation was conducted.


The Harris County District Attorney’s Office was consulted by detectives and murder charges were filed and accepted on Monday.

HPD said members of their SWAT team took the 42-year-old into custody and booked him in the Harris County Jail.

Copyright 2025 by KPRC Click2Houston - All rights reserved.


——-

Good Christians may differ, over the death penalty.

Personally I’ve always favored traditional hangings with a rope and 13 steps in the county where it happened.

But only, in cases like this one. No question at all of guilt, and only of punishment. No possible defense. No motive other than cruelty. Cold blooded. A well published case in the national news.

And one completely against every thing Christ died on the Cross for preaching.

Sing one Charlie Louvin

Will You Visit Me on Sundays

It might make those varmits hesitate before gunning down another mother’s son, you know?

 

[tbradsim1]

He was wrong, wrong,wrong to shoot that boy, they should have hung him from the nearest tree! I Garronte!

 

[Briar Lee]

He was wrong, wrong,wrong to shoot that boy, they should have hung him from the nearest tree! I Garronte!

One of America’s truly precious freedoms is absolute freedom of religious expression and to ensure that our government can pass no laws regarding an establishment of religion.

Here in America the government cannot invade the province of the church and the church cannot invade the province of the government.


No matter how late I stayed out on Saturday night I knew that bright and early Sunday morning I would have to put on that suit and tie for church to serve communion to the congregation

(usually including “Bear” Marlow)

and afterwards drive out the hallowed communion plates once prepared by Deacon Urban Herschel Marlow to the old folks out in the countryside the Elders called “shut ins”.

Urban Herschel Marlow (1915-1941) - Find a Grave...

Local man among fatalities of Pearl Harbor Attack. Dec. 7 2016 marked the 75th Anniversary of the Pearl Harbor attack which took place on a Sunday morning of 1941. The Imperial Japanese Navy attacked the American Army and Navy base in Pearl Harbor, Hawaii. The attack came by complete...

www.findagrave.com

I knew that when the most heinous and awful murder in the history of mankind occurred on Calvary’s Hill on Friday April 3, 33 AD in Judea, that news didn’t spread very far, on that day.

So it pleases me to no end to see the international news picking up this story.

Texas man charged after 11-year-old boy shot dead while playing doorbell prank

Leon Gonzalo Jr, 42, was arrested and charged with murder in connection with the Houston shooting

www.theguardian.com

Makes a body want to sing Walking My Lord Up Calvary’s Hill, you know?

Marty Stuart Show Live

The guilty men beside Christ had trials too.

They were common thieves.

Were I the prosecutor in Houston I’d certify this case for the death penalty, under &19.03.(9)

Texas Penal Code - PENAL § 19.03. Capital Murder​

Current as of January 01, 2024 | Updated by FindLaw Staff

(a) A person commits an offense if the person commits murder as defined under Section 19.02(b)(1)and:
(1) the person murders a peace officer or fireman who is acting in the lawful discharge of an official duty and who the person knows is a peace officer or fireman;
(2) the person intentionally commits the murder in the course of committing or attempting to commit kidnapping, burglary, robbery, aggravated sexual assault, arson, obstruction or retaliation, or terroristic threat under Section 22.07(a)(1), (3), (4), (5), or (6);
(3) the person commits the murder for remuneration or the promise of remuneration or employs another to commit the murder for remuneration or the promise of remuneration;
(4) the person commits the murder while escaping or attempting to escape from a penal institution;
(5) the person, while incarcerated in a penal institution, murders another:
(A) who is employed in the operation of the penal institution; or
(B) with the intent to establish, maintain, or participate in a combination or in the profits of a combination;
(6) the person:
(A) while incarcerated for an offense under this section or Section 19.02, murders another; or
(B) while serving a sentence of life imprisonment or a term of 99 years for an offense under Section 20.04, 22.021, or 29.03, murders another;
(7) the person murders more than one person:
(A) during the same criminal transaction; or
(B) during different criminal transactions but the murders are committed pursuant to the same scheme or course of conduct;
(8) the person murders an individual under 10 years of age;
(9) the person murders an individual 10 years of age or older but younger than 15 years of age;

——-

He shot cold blooded an 11 year old boy in the back running away from ringing his doorbell.

Let’s see if a Texas jury will do justice here

And if a Texas Governor will show mercy

Last Public Hanging in West Virginia

Lester Flatt and Earl Scruggs

It still makes news there.

Thanks to Tom T Hall

AI Overview



+5

The song "The Last Public Hanging In West Virginia" was written by Tom T. Hall and performed by Flatt & Scruggs and The Foggy Mountain Boys in 1965. For a historical non-fiction book about the events of the hanging, the author is Merrilee Fisher Matheny, who wrote Swift Justice: The Story of John F. Morgan and the Last Public Hanging in West Virginia.

 

[Kobold]

We had a bunch of ding dong ditchers in our old neighborhood. They got us a bunch of times but the jokes on them because I never answer the door if I’m not expecting anyone. Eventually they stopped.
I got to say killing somebody over this is beyond excessive. Maybe an ass beating or you throw some old piss on them but killing is way too far.

 

[BingBong]

A negligent mother and her daughter used to come out of school; she would flop on the bench on the street out front of mine, yacking to her friend. Meanwhile, the little girl would be in the nearby phone box dialling the emergency services etc.

The kid started into the habit of doing the ding-dong thing to me, until one day I lurked behind the door and whipped it open in an instant. That was enough to scare the kid so much, she screamed the place down and ran. Her mother stood up and gave me the filthiest look imaginable, but end of problem.

However irritating that was, I can't imagine taking up arms against the miscreant. Water pistol? Maybe. But USA, things are different; the guy could have shouted "keep that up, you gonna get yourself shot dead one day", just to plant that possibility. Didn't need to actually do it, though.

 

[jpberg]

How about Mom and dad/mom and mom/dad and dad/mom/dad/gramma/grandpa
teach kids to stay the fuck off other people’s property?
We want to be outraged that people are protecting their property like it’s 1950s suburbia heaven but don’t want to acknowledge that there’s a lot of animals out there who don’t care about your or your families life.
Fuck off with that, stay off my property like someone should’ve taught you, and you won’t get dead.

 

[Lumbridge]

How about Mom and dad/mom and mom/dad and dad/mom/dad/gramma/grandpa
teach kids to stay the fuck off other people’s property?
We want to be outraged that people are protecting their property like it’s 1950s suburbia heaven but don’t want to acknowledge that there’s a lot of animals out there who don’t care about your or your families life.
Fuck off with that, stay off my property like someone should’ve taught you, and you won’t get dead.

Here I was, scrolling through this thread and thinking "Good, glad no one here is defending a child murderer". Then I hit this comment.

 

[Auxsender]

How about Mom and dad/mom and mom/dad and dad/mom/dad/gramma/grandpa
teach kids to stay the fuck off other people’s property?
We want to be outraged that people are protecting their property like it’s 1950s suburbia heaven but don’t want to acknowledge that there’s a lot of animals out there who don’t care about your or your families life.
Fuck off with that, stay off my property like someone should’ve taught you, and you won’t get dead.

Wow.
What a piece of shit.

I kinda knew it the whole time but this confirms it.

 

[ziv]

I just hope he's trolling, but I'm afraid he isn't.

 

[The Benedictine]

How about Mom and dad/mom and mom/dad and dad/mom/dad/gramma/grandpa
teach kids to stay the fuck off other people’s property?
We want to be outraged that people are protecting their property like it’s 1950s suburbia heaven but don’t want to acknowledge that there’s a lot of animals out there who don’t care about your or your families life.
Fuck off with that, stay off my property like someone should’ve taught you, and you won’t get dead.

Deplorable

 

[Sig]

God knows im not defending this guy AT ALL.
Ive been involved in a lot of firearm related court cases, about 2000 of them.
An "initial report" can often change.
Ive seen no less than several hundred cases like this turn into more than what was reported.
Just for instance....
A case I gave an opinion on about 10 years ago was "cut and dry" as far as the public was concerned.
A guy killed one person and shot another in the back. They were on his enclosed porch. He used a 357 magnum revolver which he did not have a permit for. Here in NYS that is a HUGE issue. You cannot even TOUCH a handgun without a pistol permit. And, NY is a "duty to retreat" state. If you can safely avoid contact, you must. So, they were outside his home and he shot them both, one in the back while they were running away. He could have locked his door, called the cops, and hid in a closet.
NYS takes this stuff extremely serious. NY is one of the most unfriendly states to guns in the country.
The verdict and disposition was.....not guilty on all charges.
But wait!! The news said he viciously attacked them OUTSIDE his home and shot them with an ILLEGAL gun, in a very 2a unfriendly state!!
These 2 bad guys had robbed several homes over the previous week. They were on his porch because they just left his house after burglerizing it. The home owner had chased them down his stairs and out the door. There, one of the guys turned to fight. The baddie came back into his house. That's when he fired all six rounds.
The gun was left to him by his father 30+ years ago. He just kept it in a drawer. It had sat there loaded for over 30 years, the guy had never fired it.
The guy was in his 60s and had no police record. The jury said he was if fear for his life, the judge agreed.
The cops took his firearm until he got a pistol permit, then returned the revolver to him.
There are many, many more stories like this where we may not know the whole story yet.
Chances are this guy falls into one of a few categories.
He honestly believes what he did was justified. Or he was fed up and didn't care about consequences. Or he is a "I dont take shit from no one" type character.
When its all done he will probably go to prison for 25 to life. Or, there could be more to the story.

 

[wyfbane]

We no longer live in an America where it is safe to ding ding ditch. My kid is 20 and I instilled that in him as a kid.

So, as it is currently reported, of course I don’t think he should have been shot or shot at, but his parents could have taught him to stay the hell off other people's grass as well. Especially in TX.

 

[ziv]

We no longer live in an America where it is safe to ding ding ditch. My kid is 20 and I instilled that in him as a kid.

So, as it is currently reported, of course I don’t think he should have been shot or shot at, but his parents could have taught him to stay the hell off other people's grass as well. Especially in TX.

Good thing the parents have now learned their lesson, right?
Victim blaming is disgusting.

 

[Briar Lee]

My mother’s training saved me a DWI if not my life one frosty fall night of 1976 when I was 18 years old.

My college at Kansas City was only a two hour drive to Humansville and I’d manufactured a careful lie (as was my constant habit and custom) about some non existent reason I’d be home Saturday instead of time for supper on Friday, to tell to my trusting mother.

Instead that Friday afternoon I had been drinking with some girls that I was never going to be anxious would ever meet Mama.

And as the evening shadows fell, my phone rang and it was my best friend Johnny, saying that there was a party on the Chuck North farm and that Chuck was bringing down a bunch of good Catholic girls from North Kansas City including his sister.

And Chuck’s sister wants you and me to entertain them and he had his drums set up and a a guitar picker was arranged and how long will it be, before you are here?

I asked the same guitar picker as the last North party, and he said no, this time I promised N. L. his pick of Catholic girls except for Chuck’s sister, of course.

And then he said, honest with me, how much have you had to drink?

I said Johnny I promise I’ll be a lot more sober in two hours,,,,

And he said —-No stay there—-I don’t want to tell Miss Lois (my mother) I killed her only son inviting him to a party. There will be more parties. Stay there!

I said I’ll sober up first, Johnny.

Promise? Like you were driving Miss Lois?

And I did have one cup of coffee, with a beautful Jewish girl I assured I was sober enough to drive and that there was a benefit concert near Caplinger Mills for the North family, and a young girl about our age was very sick with cancer and she might lose all her hair to chemotherapy and it was important, that I go down there and give that girl a chance to sing along with me, Johnny, and N.L., in front of her mother and father and aunt, and her friends.

She said I’d be happy to drive you, and I looked at my Jewish roommate’s girlfriend and said could you explain to your Jewish friend here all the problems she’d face down there?

She said those Goya girls would tear out all your curly Yiddish hair by the roots! If they didn’t burn you at the stake first! What are you thinking?

He’s not going to a bat mitzvah!

My Jewish roommate walked me to my 1972 Torino and said—

You are a danger to yourself and others

Do not drive

And I waved as I left and said Adios Muchacho!

Adios Amigo

Jim Reeves live in Norway

And as I drove South the sun had set, and it was dark and getting cold, and I was super, hyper, paranoid careful of my driving.

I carefully turned onto Highway 7 and drove East past miles and miles of signs that read Christ Is Coming Soon and churches lit up like airports at strictly 55 miles an hour.

I was among the Evangelicals of Henry County and knew damned well, I was unloved, unwanted, and not too far from Clinton then down to St Clair County then home.

Google says it best——-

Urich, Missouri, is a small, rural city in Henry County known for its tight-knit community, peaceful atmosphere, and focus on small-town values. Located off Highway 7, it offers a quaint Main Street, a city park, and local businesses, serving as a stop for visitors heading to Truman Lake. The city was platted in 1871 and named for General Uhrich, a figure from the Siege of Strasbourg.

Key Characteristics

• Community:
  Urich is characterized by its strong sense of community, with residents valuing shared values, guided growth, and the preservation of local heritage.
  
  
• Rural Setting:
  The city is surrounded by serene rural landscapes and a peaceful creek, attracting wildlife and offering a quiet retreat from urban life.
  
  
• Small-Town Charm:
  Visitors can experience a genuine slice of small-town America with local events, community gatherings, and a focus on family fun.

——-

In 1976 “Bloody Seven” ran right straight through Urich and I never had any reason to stop much less slow down.

But as I approached Urich there were not one, but two Missouri State Highway Patrol cars on both sides of Highway 7, facing each other, parking lights on.

And I looked straight ahead and drove through then looked up in my rear view mirror as a quarter mile passed, then a half mile, and at the top of a hill I saw both cop cars hit their red lights and come out in echelon after me.

I had topped the hill and knew straight ahead was a gravel road heading due East while Highway 7 made a double curve right then left to avoid a farmer’s field.

I floored it and headed straight down that gravel road and shut off my lights and downshifting instead of braking and hoping the frost on the gravel would keep down the dust.

I dipped down in a little valley, and to my right saw both police cars running hard East on Highway 7, a quarter mile South.

Geeezus—

That was too close!

Now my problem was I knew they had radios and Clinton was off my route home now for certain.

And I knew they’d not be looking for me at Urich again soon.



And all I had to do was just turn around in that farmers driveway and head back less than a mile to Urich and turn left and I was just one hour and a few minutes away from Chuck North’s gorgeous sister with long black hair past her waist and her mother and mother’s identical twin sister and her Daddy waiting on me.

But I had to play Dukes of Hazzard.

I did almost make a perfect 180 on that gravel road.

But in my drunken state, I misjudged my speed for a bootlegger turn and wound up nose towards Urich and in the ditch and my right rear tire almost on the gravel.

it was on the frosty grass, and I didn’t have positive traction. I was just barely stuck, but stuck.

I swore off being an outlaw on the run that night 49 years ago. I was so scared, so nervous, so sorry I had been a damned fool drunk, that I guessed God took away my ability to walk. I couldn’t walk in that cow pasture leading up to that nice brick ranch style farm house. I crawled instead.

But when I reached the nice, level yard, my legs came back. I could walk again.

And much to my consternation I saw a sign over the door that read

JESUS SAVES

I started yelling

Don’t shoot

I’m a drunken college student

Call the law and I’ll sit right here

Don’t shoot me

But if you’ll pull me out of the ditch with your tractor I’ll pay you whatever you ask

A farmer opened the door and behind him was his wife with a doubled barreled shotgun.

I told him my name, where I was from, that the Highway Patrol was after me and I was just barely stuck across the field, and pointed towards my car.

He laughed and said here’s my chance to pay back an old farmer that rescued me in 1960.

Mary get this boy a cup of coffee, while I start my tractor.

They saved me, or maybe my mother’s training saved me, or maybe there really is a Christ who sees every sparrow when it falls.

I wasn’t too late for the drunken party at the North home.

Chuck’s sister and her friends ran out to greet me when I pulled up with an incredible but true adventure to tell.

I taught her to sing Where the Roses Never Fade that night, in front of her friends and family.

Jill Mason version

Her aunt came over to me and hugged me so long and hard and slobbered all over my cowboy shirt with the snap buttons that finally I told another lie.

I told them I had to go see my widowed mother who had lots of chores on the farm she needed done the next day.

Instead I drove over to Hermatige Missouri to my grandmother Ma Agee.






Judge not, that ye be not judged.

For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again.

And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?


——-

When I arrived back at the dormitory Sunday evening after church my roommate came out apologizing for his girlfriend and her friend calling the police and giving them my route home to Humansville.


And I replied tell those girls that Jesus healed that poor girl of cancer. She’s cured completely!

And Christ showed me the way home, in spite of the Highway Patrol.

But thank them, for their concern.


Here’s to you Grandma, for that wonderful white lie.

Thirty Pieces of Silver

Porter Wagoner and the Wagonmasters

Featuring Buck Trent and his Electric Banjo

——

Shoot a kid in the back for any reason, and I’m not ever going to be on your side, you know?

 

[tbradsim1]

 

[Briarcutter]

My mother’s training saved me a DWI if not my life one frosty fall night of 1976 when I was 18 years old.

My college at Kansas City was only a two hour drive to Humansville and I’d manufactured a careful lie (as was my constant habit and custom) about some non existent reason I’d be home Saturday instead of time for supper on Friday, to tell to my trusting mother.

Instead that Friday afternoon I had been drinking with some girls that I was never going to be anxious would ever meet Mama.

And as the evening shadows fell, my phone rang and it was my best friend Johnny, saying that there was a party on the Chuck North farm and that Chuck was bringing down a bunch of good Catholic girls from North Kansas City including his sister.

And Chuck’s sister wants you and me to entertain them and he had his drums set up and a a guitar picker was arranged and how long will it be, before you are here?

I asked the same guitar picker as the last North party, and he said no, this time I promised N. L. his pick of Catholic girls except for Chuck’s sister, of course.

And then he said, honest with me, how much have you had to drink?

I said Johnny I promise I’ll be a lot more sober in two hours,,,,

And he said —-No stay there—-I don’t want to tell Miss Lois (my mother) I killed her only son inviting him to a party. There will be more parties. Stay there!

I said I’ll sober up first, Johnny.

Promise? Like you were driving Miss Lois?

And I did have one cup of coffee, with a beautful Jewish girl I assured I was sober enough to drive and that there was a benefit concert near Caplinger Mills for the North family, and a young girl about our age was very sick with cancer and she might lose all her hair to chemotherapy and it was important, that I go down there and give that girl a chance to sing along with me, Johnny, and N.L., in front of her mother and father and aunt, and her friends.

She said I’d be happy to drive you, and I looked at my Jewish roommate’s girlfriend and said could you explain to your Jewish friend here all the problems she’d face down there?

She said those Goya girls would tear out all your curly Yiddish hair by the roots! If they didn’t burn you at the stake first! What are you thinking?

He’s not going to a bat mitzvah!

My Jewish roommate walked me to my 1972 Torino and said—

You are a danger to yourself and others

Do not drive

And I waved as I left and said Adios Muchacho!

Adios Amigo

Jim Reeves live in Norway

And as I drove South the sun had set, and it was dark and getting cold, and I was super, hyper, paranoid careful of my driving.

I carefully turned onto Highway 7 and drove East past miles and miles of signs that read Christ Is Coming Soon and churches lit up like airports at strictly 55 miles an hour.

I was among the Evangelicals of Henry County and knew damned well, I was unloved, unwanted, and not too far from Clinton then down to St Clair County then home.

Google says it best——-

Urich, Missouri, is a small, rural city in Henry County known for its tight-knit community, peaceful atmosphere, and focus on small-town values. Located off Highway 7, it offers a quaint Main Street, a city park, and local businesses, serving as a stop for visitors heading to Truman Lake. The city was platted in 1871 and named for General Uhrich, a figure from the Siege of Strasbourg.

Key Characteristics

• Community:
  Urich is characterized by its strong sense of community, with residents valuing shared values, guided growth, and the preservation of local heritage.
  
  
• Rural Setting:
  The city is surrounded by serene rural landscapes and a peaceful creek, attracting wildlife and offering a quiet retreat from urban life.
  
  
• Small-Town Charm:
  Visitors can experience a genuine slice of small-town America with local events, community gatherings, and a focus on family fun.

——-

In 1976 “Bloody Seven” ran right straight through Urich and I never had any reason to stop much less slow down.

But as I approached Urich there were not one, but two Missouri State Highway Patrol cars on both sides of Highway 7, facing each other, parking lights on.

And I looked straight ahead and drove through then looked up in my rear view mirror as a quarter mile passed, then a half mile, and at the top of a hill I saw both cop cars hit their red lights and come out in echelon after me.

I had topped the hill and knew straight ahead was a gravel road heading due East while Highway 7 made a double curve right then left to avoid a farmer’s field.

I floored it and headed straight down that gravel road and shut off my lights and downshifting instead of braking and hoping the frost on the gravel would keep down the dust.

I dipped down in a little valley, and to my right saw both police cars running hard East on Highway 7, a quarter mile South.

Geeezus—

That was too close!

Now my problem was I knew they had radios and Clinton was off my route home now for certain.

And I knew they’d not be looking for me at Urich again soon.

View attachment 414918

And all I had to do was just turn around in that farmers driveway and head back less than a mile to Urich and turn left and I was just one hour and a few minutes away from Chuck North’s gorgeous sister with long black hair past her waist and her mother and mother’s identical twin sister and her Daddy waiting on me.

But I had to play Dukes of Hazzard.

I did almost make a perfect 180 on that gravel road.

But in my drunken state, I misjudged my speed for a bootlegger turn and wound up nose towards Urich and in the ditch and my right rear tire almost on the gravel.

it was on the frosty grass, and I didn’t have positive traction. I was just barely stuck, but stuck.

I swore off being an outlaw on the run that night 49 years ago. I was so scared, so nervous, so sorry I had been a damned fool drunk, that I guessed God took away my ability to walk. I couldn’t walk in that cow pasture leading up to that nice brick ranch style farm house. I crawled instead.

But when I reached the nice, level yard, my legs came back. I could walk again.

And much to my consternation I saw a sign over the door that read

JESUS SAVES

I started yelling

Don’t shoot

I’m a drunken college student

Call the law and I’ll sit right here

Don’t shoot me

But if you’ll pull me out of the ditch with your tractor I’ll pay you whatever you ask

A farmer opened the door and behind him was his wife with a doubled barreled shotgun.

I told him my name, where I was from, that the Highway Patrol was after me and I was just barely stuck across the field, and pointed towards my car.

He laughed and said here’s my chance to pay back an old farmer that rescued me in 1960.

Mary get this boy a cup of coffee, while I start my tractor.

They saved me, or maybe my mother’s training saved me, or maybe there really is a Christ who sees every sparrow when it falls.

I wasn’t too late for the drunken party at the North home.

Chuck’s sister and her friends ran out to greet me when I pulled up with an incredible but true adventure to tell.

I taught her to sing Where the Roses Never Fade that night, in front of her friends and family.

Jill Mason version

Her aunt came over to me and hugged me so long and hard and slobbered all over my cowboy shirt with the snap buttons that finally I told another lie.

I told them I had to go see my widowed mother who had lots of chores on the farm she needed done the next day.

Instead I drove over to Hermatige Missouri to my grandmother Ma Agee.

View attachment 414924

View attachment 414925


Judge not, that ye be not judged.

For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again.

And why beholdest thou the mote that is in thy brother's eye, but considerest not the beam that is in thine own eye?


——-

When I arrived back at the dormitory Sunday evening after church my roommate came out apologizing for his girlfriend and her friend calling the police and giving them my route home to Humansville.


And I replied tell those girls that Jesus healed that poor girl of cancer. She’s cured completely!

And Christ showed me the way home, in spite of the Highway Patrol.

But thank them, for their concern.


Here’s to you Grandma, for that wonderful white lie.

Thirty Pieces of Silver

Porter Wagoner and the Wagonmasters

Featuring Buck Trent and his Electric Banjo

——

Shoot a kid in the back for any reason, and I’m not ever going to be on your side, you know?

Your mother should have taught you not to drink and drive and respect the law

 

[Briar Lee]

Your mother should have taught you not to drink and drive and respect the law

I could never be President, and likely not even Governor, because of my worst scandal.

(My sideman David was a fantastic guitar picker—the best of the best—when I’d say that he’d start playing Mama Tried—slow and sadly)

One night at a bachelor party when I’d told my widowed mother another lie about where I was, some of us boys were patrolling the gravel roads around Bug Tussle, in a large van that belonged to Mark Warsen.

And just north of the Rosebud Schoolhouse my 12th Missouri United States Volunteer Cavalry veteran Great Grandfather Alvin and the community had built after the Great Rebellion had been crushed, and every Arkansawer, bushwhacker, and Rebel soldier had been expelled and every marauding, thieving Jayhawker had been sent packing back to Kansas, and pretty young maiden schoolteachers then hired to teach my grandfather LeRoy Briggs and my father Bruce Alvin until 1952—

And where Bug Tussle’s greatest storyteller Alva Rains had graduated in April 1919—

One fall evening in 1975 a skunk was walking east of the Rosebud Schoolhouse and we boys came on him and every kid in that van said—-

Van—-here’s your chance—-show us all how Alva Rains could catch a skunk by the tail—-

My mother had always cautioned me to never take that first drink—lest I become an alcoholic, but her pleadings I’d denied.

I had the courage a few beers always give a 17 year old boy, and I jumped out of that van and ran alongside that skunk and reached down and grabbed the skunk and lifted him up forwards.

I had never doubted Alva Rains when he’d tell us boys how to catch a skunk. A skunk has to brace its legs to cast its scent. Pick one up forwards by the tail and it will hang there like a plumb bob on a string.

And the boys knew I needed witnesses, and with me standing up in that van holding a skunk by the tail Mark Warsen drove to Humansville.

My first stop was the crowded beer joint where I walked through the swinging doors and said

My pet skunk is thirsty — Could anyone here buy him a beer?

I knew Carl Barrymore kept a sawed off shotgun but I also knew he couldn’t shoot me, especially not holding a skunk.

Not welcome in the beer joint, I took my skunk inside the Humansville Recreation Parlor that also was packed with a snooker tournament that evening and my reception there was better, until the Proprietor Sandy Hubner appeared and said

Let’s call you mother so she can come in and see your skunk—-

And knowing she was sure to do that I left immediately.

There was a constant loop of cars with kids circling and I’d hold up my skunk to the delight of the children turned loose with two ton machines that could run a hundred miles an hour, and circle Humansville at five miles an hour every Saturday night.

And I grew tired of holding up that skunk.

And I’d look out across the nursing home crowded with old people in wheelchairs, and point right at my Mama and say—-

Thanks to how you raised me, Mama, the meanest thing I’ve ever done and ever will do is I tried to throw that skunk through the open window into Wayne Baker’s car, and he had an innocent girl with him.

But your prayers must have saved me from myself, because that skunk hit the door post between the seats and ambled away unhurt and never sprayed a soul, at least not that night.

And I’d lead off with Mama Tried

Merle Haggard Live version

Old people in the nursing home are a captive audience.

But every kid I ever read a police report about when I was City Prosecutor for two years in one town and about twenty five years in another —- benefited from my worst sin in my entire life.

Can you imagine if that innocent girl, had been sprayed?

But after church the next morning, after I’d served communion, and took the hallowed communion plates once prepared by Deacon Urban Hershel Marlow out to the shut ins, I pulled into the Shady Nook Cafe in Humansville and walked in past Mama’s 1973 Caprice.

There at a table sat Sandy Hubner and her beautful daughter Denise with my mother, who as always was so proud to see me.

And that Sunday I realized that sometimes if you generally live right that good people will cover for you, when you occasionally do wrong.

But if you step outside your safe home, with a loaded gun, and execute a boy who’s running away after ringing your doorbell—-

Christ may forgive that but I never will.

That case in Texas can be certified as a death penalty case and I’d do that next Monday morning so it would stay in the news cycle:

Not because he shot an 11 year old boy in the back.

So that other 11 year old boys will not be shot.

Down in Texas they still love Bob Wills and his Texas Playboys

Aaahhh Haaa sing one Tommy Duncan

Convict and the Rose

 

[Briarcutter]

I could never be President, and likely not even Governor, because of my worst scandal.

(My sideman David was a fantastic guitar picker—the best of the best—when I’d say that he’d start playing Mama Tried—slow and sadly)

One night at a bachelor party when I’d told my widowed mother another lie about where I was, some of us boys were patrolling the gravel roads around Bug Tussle, in a large van that belonged to Mark Warsen.

And just north of the Rosebud Schoolhouse my 12th Missouri United States Volunteer Cavalry veteran Great Grandfather Alvin and the community had built after the Great Rebellion had been crushed, and every Arkansawer, bushwhacker, and Rebel soldier had been expelled and every marauding, thieving Jayhawker had been sent packing back to Kansas, and pretty young maiden schoolteachers then hired to teach my grandfather LeRoy Briggs and my father Bruce Alvin until 1952—

And where Bug Tussle’s greatest storyteller Alva Rains had graduated in April 1919—

One fall evening in 1975 a skunk was walking east of the Rosebud Schoolhouse and we boys came on him and every kid in that van said—-

Van—-here’s your chance—-show us all how Alva Rains could catch a skunk by the tail—-

My mother had always cautioned me to never take that first drink—lest I become an alcoholic, but her pleadings I’d denied.

I had the courage a few beers always give a 17 year old boy, and I jumped out of that van and ran alongside that skunk and reached down and grabbed the skunk and lifted him up forwards.

I had never doubted Alva Rains when he’d tell us boys how to catch a skunk. A skunk has to brace its legs to cast its scent. Pick one up forwards by the tail and it will hang there like a plumb bob on a string.

And the boys knew I needed witnesses, and with me standing up in that van holding a skunk by the tail Mark Warsen drove to Humansville.

My first stop was the crowded beer joint where I walked through the swinging doors and said

My pet skunk is thirsty — Could anyone here buy him a beer?

I knew Carl Barrymore kept a sawed off shotgun but I also knew he couldn’t shoot me, especially not holding a skunk.

Not welcome in the beer joint, I took my skunk inside the Humansville Recreation Parlor that also was packed with a snooker tournament that evening and my reception there was better, until the Proprietor Sandy Hubner appeared and said

Let’s call you mother so she can come in and see your skunk—-

And knowing she was sure to do that I left immediately.

There was a constant loop of cars with kids circling and I’d hold up my skunk to the delight of the children turned loose with two ton machines that could run a hundred miles an hour, and circle Humansville at five miles an hour every Saturday night.

And I grew tired of holding up that skunk.

And I’d look out across the nursing home crowded with old people in wheelchairs, and point right at my Mama and say—-

Thanks to how you raised me, Mama, the meanest thing I’ve ever done and ever will do is I tried to throw that skunk in Wayne Baker’s car, and he had an innocent girl with him.

But your prayers must have saved me from myself, because that skunk hit the post between the seats and ambled away unhurt and never sprayed a soul, at least not that night.

And I’d lead off with Mama Tried

Merle Haggard Live version

Old people in the nursing home are a captive audience.

But every kid I ever read a police report about when I was City Prosecutor for two years in one town and about twenty five years in another —- benefited from my worst sin in my entire life.

Can you imagine if that innocent girl, had been sprayed?

You crack me up! My whole point was that as parents we TRY to teach our children right from wrong and to fear the Lord. But try as we might, sometimes they just don't follow our advice. I know I didn't always. We can teach our children to respect others property, that doesn't mean they always will and that doesn't mean they deserve to be shot doing childish pranks. Self defense is justified, but shooting someone for a childish pranks is totally wrong.

 

[wyfbane]

Good thing the parents have now learned their lesson, right?
Victim blaming is disgusting.

Well ill tell ya ziv. We can have a conversation, or you can make an echo chamber where anything less than 100% agreement makes someone evil.

I'm for the former, you appear to be for the latter.

For anyone with kids or grandkids that haven't been shot, I think it may be OK to discuss the how's and why's that these things happen. Maybe extrapolate from that data a warning to pass on to kids you may know?

Point of order though, asshole. I still have my kid. So maybe my plan wasn't so bad.

 

[LotusEater]

I may be wrong but I don’t think anyone here thinks the kid deserved to get shot. True - he would not have been shot if he stayed off of other people’s property. Also true - shooting an 11 year old in the back is pretty indefensible.

Additionally - the phrase “Point of order though, asshole” made me laugh out loud.