Welcome

Welcome to my blog http://www.skegley.blogspot.com/ . CAVEAT LECTOR- Let the reader beware. This is a Christian Conservative blog. It is not meant to offend anyone. Please feel free to ignore this blog, but also feel free to browse and comment on my posts! You may also scroll down to respond to any post.

For Christian American readers of this blog:


I wish to incite all Christians to rise up and take back the United States of America with all of God's manifold blessings. We want the free allowance of the Bible and prayers allowed again in schools, halls of justice, and all governing bodies. We don't seek a theocracy until Jesus returns to earth because all men are weak and power corrupts the very best of them.
We want to be a kinder and gentler people without slavery or condescension to any.

The world seems to be in a time of discontent among the populace. Christians should not fear. God is Love, shown best through Jesus Christ. God is still in control. All Glory to our Creator and to our God!


A favorite quote from my good friend, Jack Plymale, which I appreciate:

"Wars are planned by old men,in council rooms apart. They plan for greater armament, they map the battle chart, but: where sightless eyes stare out, beyond life's vanished joys, I've noticed,somehow, all the dead and mamed are hardly more than boys(Grantland Rice per our mutual friend, Sarah Rapp)."

Thanks Jack!

I must admit that I do not check authenticity of my posts. If anyone can tell me of a non-biased arbitrator, I will attempt to do so more regularly. I know of no such arbitrator for the internet.











Saturday, June 26, 2010

Redneck Poem- A funny from our friend, Sonny!

Sonny sends a funny!




Sam





----- Original Message -----

From: ramey hoskins

To: Undisclosed-Recipient:;

Sent: Friday, June 25, 2010 23:31

Subject: Fw: THE OUTHOUSE POEM













THE OUTHOUSE POEM*

(*note: If you don't know what an Outhouse is - ask someone a little older.)





The service station trade was slow

The owner sat around,

With sharpened knife and cedar stick

Piled shavings on the ground.



No modern facilities had they,

The log across the rill

Led to a shack, marked His and Hers

That sat against the hill.



"Where is the ladies restroom, sir?"

The owner leaning back,

Said not a word but whittled on,

And nodded toward the shack.









With quickened step she entered there

But only stayed a minute,

Until she screamed, just like a snake

Or spider might be in it.



With startled look and beet red face

She bounded through the door,

And headed quickly for the car

Just like three gals before.



She missed the foot log - jumped the stream

The owner gave a shout,

As her silk stockings, down at her knees

Caught on a sassafras sprout.



She tripped and fell - got up, and then

In obvious disgust,

Ran to the car, stepped on the gas,

And faded in the dust.



Of course we all desired to know

What made the gals all do

The things they did, and then we found

The whittling owner knew.



A speaker system he'd devised

To make the thing complete,

He tied a speaker on the wall

Beneath the toilet seat.











He'd wait until the gals got set

And then the devilish tike,

Would stop his whittling long enough,

To speak into the mike.



And as she sat, a voice below

Struck terror, fright and fear,

"Will you please use the other hole,

We're painting under here!"

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