Tuesday, September 10, 2013



Old Colorado and Crab Apples

Pablo Gonzales
Lies below
His gums were fast
but his sidearm slow

I miss Gonza now but in old Colorado, you never mock a cowboy's hat and expect to finish out the day. Grandpa was German and insisted, with his dying breath, that we all ride the high plains wearing those Godawful, damn, ridiculous Kaiser Wilhelm steel helmets with the idiotic spike on top!  All the kids except Gonza and I got to wear a cool Stetson. Gonza wore a sombrero so he figured that he had the edge over me which of course he did. Ooh, it made me so mad! 

What earned Gonza his eternal nap below the starry skies of Colorado was more or less a "lucky" shot. He maliciously flung a crab apple at me with a high trajectory and, of all things, the crab apple came down and got impaled right on the stupid spike of my Kaiser Wilhelm helmet with a loud metallic thunk. This happened right in front of everybody in town, a one in a million shot!  Words cannot describe the humiliation. "Crabby!" From then on, it was: "Here comes Crabby!! hahahahaha."

Blinded by rage, and with gritted teeth,  I ripped the crab apple off my spiky helmet, lowered my head like a bull and charged!

"Watch out, citizens!, that boy has spent too much time around cattle!, he's gone crazy! hahahahaha"

Some laughed so hard that others had to drag them away before they got gored by the lunatic in the Kaiser Wilhelm cowboy hat. I've always hated being laughed at so, that very week, I moved from that dusty, cruel town of Louisville, Colorado and settled in California and grew a mullet haircut. (a mullet haircut is a kind of warning, if you catch my drift)

Farrell Hamann
Sacramento, California
                                                                               
My novel: Greenland Tower xoxo. At Amazon/Kindle


Written in Sacramento, California

My Zazzle Store

تبدو الحياة أكثر وأكثر سخرية على نحو متزايد وغير بديهية
Note: Maybe I should set up a "special fund" to protect the Great White Lizard of the North Pole since I, Old Butthairs, (I mean, the Exalted One) is the only one who knows the whereabouts of so such white lizard and am the protector. Or something.. Donations?


(No meatballs in novel but loads of French pastry and bad ass covert rescue aircraft)
Church of the Blue Moon/Moon Beams on your Naked Booty 

 Polychrome Vase. Farrell Hamann Fine Art/Writing
Sacramento, California (still working on the finish when this pic was taken)



Artist/Writer wearing his palm Frond


#Polymath Castiglione Gifted


Reward! 


Radioactive Fish


My 10 bldg. "Castle Village" set, part of the Castle Collection


Goebbels: Do not believe anything you see or hear paid for by Americans for Prosperity or any of the other Koch funded astroturf groups. To Charles Koch:
me cago en tu puta madre!

 Clown

@farrellhamann on twitter

 My critter collection is still growing. Available for non-profit kid events.
Farrell Hamann, genius consultant. First consultation free. Any topic.. I also have some great ideas for investors. F.

 Ready for my appearance on The 700 Club? I would say yes
and, technically, I could say that I been a Minister or Pastor for many years.
Just call me The Exalted One (formerly Old Butthairs)
With my Pointy War Stick!


http://californiafineart.blogspot.com/

farrellhamann@sbcglobal.net

Mystery meat, it is what's for dinner
The other white meat
Taste like chicken!

My novel link again. Consider a review please, sorry if I pester.