I thought all the potential badges were great, and congrats to “The Sound of One Hand Typing” for the new SoCS badge. I’ll switch out the images this weekend.
As to my SoCS, umhum, well, it’s full of a lot of damn f’ing cursing (only being in character, not in a s****y mood as my cell phone puts it when I do talk rather than type). So, if your eyes and ears are more sensitive on a Saturday morning, beware. There is however, no gratuitous sex or violence. (only suggested off-screen; and ya might wanna miss the last five words.) So here is, under the banner of our new badge:
My mother had a warped sense of humour and a love of Johnny Cash. So, here I am Johnny-Sue-Cash-Cow Milker. Great. Just what every teenager needs – embarrassing clothes, bad hair dayz, stupid names and lame parents. Or should I parent! Ma took the signed original George Harrison guitar and the 35 year old bottle of single malt scotch and left me with my wonderful moniker. My father, the damn fool, was still so in love with her, he wouldn’t considerate changing a syllable or letter of it.
So JSCCM (as I referred to myself) defied being stereotyped by my name. Johnny – hell I dressed like Jessica Simpson in that Dukes of Hazard Movie, Sue – I had a crew cut – cash – always begging for $ or getting it anyway I could – cow – I was so skinny folks said, to see me sideways for sure, I’d need to stick my tongue out too – til I stayed skinny but my boobs didn’t get the message. No more sticking my tongue out for that particular reason.
As for looking for my bitchin’ ma who laid this shit on me – hell, I’d had enough cat fights, I didn’t want to go against someone who grew up with the name of Easy-Big-Fat-Ass Hole.
Should you need some “re-edjamacation” on Johnny Cash’s “Boy Named Sue”, here’s a video and the lyrics. Sorry re the language – mine; Johnny’s pretty clean. Got to be the f’ing humidity.
My daddy left home when I was three
And he didn’t leave much to ma and me
Just this old guitar and an empty bottle of booze.
Now, I don’t blame him cause he run and hid
But the meanest thing that he ever did
Was before he left, he went and named me “Sue.”
Well, he must o’ thought that is quite a joke
And it got a lot of laughs from a’ lots of folk,
It seems I had to fight my whole life through.
Some gal would giggle and I’d get red
And some guy’d laugh and I’d bust his head,
I tell ya, life ain’t easy for a boy named “Sue.”
Well, I grew up quick and I grew up mean,
My fist got hard and my wits got keen,
I’d roam from town to town to hide my shame.
But I made a vow to the moon and stars
That I’d search the honky-tonks and bars
And kill that man who gave me that awful name.
Well, it was Gatlinburg in mid-July
And I just hit town and my throat was dry,
I thought I’d stop and have myself a brew.
At an old saloon on a street of mud,
There at a table, dealing stud,
Sat the dirty, mangy dog that named me “Sue.”
Well, I knew that snake was my own sweet dad
From a worn-out picture that my mother’d had,
And I knew that scar on his cheek and his evil eye.
He was big and bent and gray and old,
And I looked at him and my blood ran cold
And I said: “My name is ‘Sue!’ How do you do!
Now your gonna die!!”
Well, I hit him hard right between the eyes
And he went down, but to my surprise,
He come up with a knife and cut off a piece of my ear.
But I busted a chair right across his teeth
And we crashed through the wall and into the street
Kicking and a’ gouging in the mud and the blood and the beer.
I tell ya, I’ve fought tougher men
But I really can’t remember when,
He kicked like a mule and he bit like a crocodile.
I heard him laugh and then I heard him cuss,
He went for his gun and I pulled mine first,
He stood there lookin’ at me and I saw him smile.
And he said: “Son, this world is rough
And if a man’s gonna make it, he’s gotta be tough
And I knew I wouldn’t be there to help ya along.
So I give ya that name and I said goodbye
I knew you’d have to get tough or die
And it’s the name that helped to make you strong.”
He said: “Now you just fought one hell of a fight
And I know you hate me, and you got the right
To kill me now, and I wouldn’t blame you if you do.
But ya ought to thank me, before I die,
For the gravel in ya guts and the spit in ya eye
Cause I’m the son-of-a-bitch that named you “Sue.'”
I got all choked up and I threw down my gun
And I called him my pa, and he called me his son,
And I came away with a different point of view.
And I think about him, now and then,
Every time I try and every time I win,
And if I ever have a son, I think I’m gonna name him
Bill or George! Anything but Sue! I still hate that name!