The Truth About Ancient Athens And Mustang

Recently, in a discussion group I belong to my good Friend Always on Watch asked a question:

Hey, Mustang. Didn't you post a story at your blog about you and GM. Perhaps during the Age of Dinosaurs? I was looking for that story."

Now, for those of you not in the know, Mustang (who blogs at Social Sense which despite its author is a really good blog - but I digress), a really dear old friend of mine and I have had a number of exchanges regarding the activities of one another. You can read some of them here and here. At any rate, Mustang replied with a huge canard, specifically he said this:

No, that was GM who did that . . . during one of his episodes on mind expanding drugs, which is a perk of being in the mental health racket."

So, once again my friend Mustang has thrown down the gauntlet. So, as much as it truly pains me to tell this story, in the interest of setting truth down I must.

Many of you do not know how old Mustang really is. Well, I won't say he is old, but he helped God decide where to put all the plants in the Garden of Eden and supervised the raising of the pyramids.

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The Last Ice Age

Much has been said about global warming, both pro and con and by that I don't mean if favor of or against, but rather is it real or isn't it real. But, there is a tale to be told about the last Ice Age and how my friend Mustang and I were saved from dying in a cold, cold blizzard one summer's night. It was just north of Kiik-Koba what is now the Crimea, and the winds across the steppes was cold, oh so very cold. How cold was it? Why, it was so cold that if you had to take a leak, you'd freeze your ... (well, I won't say because their may be children in the room)...

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Mustang 'N Me!

Many many moons ago, a good friend of mine by the name of Mustang was a member of a group of like minded bloggers. Now, Mustang is a retired Marine Corps Lt. Col. and one hell of a nice guy. Having said that, he is also older than dirt. In fact, he is so old, he picked the fig leaves for Adam and Eve to wear when they became embarrassed about being "nekkid."

Mustang just can't stand the idea that someone is smarter than he is, better looking, but more important MUCH MUCH YOUNGER than he is so he started telling stories about me and how old I was. Now, I admit, I'm an old fart. I'm pushing 60 and damn lucky to be doing so, especially when one considers the alternative.

But, I digress. Mustang and I belong to this forum where we discuss ideas, trade insults, and figure out how to keep the liberals from spreading like a case of measles in a kindergarten class. What follows is a series of exchanges between Mustang 'N me regarding age. Mustang fired the first shot

Mustang: "Duncan, I'm not saying that GM is old, but when he was a kid, Moby Dick was a minnow. Now GM, go ahead and tell everyone what Thomas Jefferson once told you . . ."

Me returning fire: "Delighted to Mustang dear fellow. As we were sitting around discussing the exact wording for the preamble to the Constitution, Tom (we were pretty close) looked at me and said, "GM, I know that you are really good friends with Mustang, but damn son, that old fart has been around since the beginning of the 30 years war and he was OLD then and he still can't manage rattlesnakes around the motor pool. Find some newer, younger friends."

Mustang: I won't admit to being old, my friend . . . but let me say that I helped Moses carry down the tablets. Originally, there were three, but I tripped . . . My punishment is perpetual life and having to contend with moonbats. Sigh. By the way, having a dozen or so wives is WAYYYY over-rated.

Thus endith round one.

Round two:
Mustang: "In case anyone needs it, GM's social security number is "1"

Kender of Kender's Musings steps in: "GM was telling me that yours is "1/2" Mustang."

Mustang: "He's such a darn liar. . ."

Me: "Mustang, you are just jealous as hell that on the first day of issue, you slept in thinking it didn't matter and I was first in line... still, your number 999-01-0011 isn't THAT High, there are other numbers higher (not many though)."

Mustang: "Okay, okay. Everybody see that? GM wants me to call him on his 1-900 number."

Me: "Mustang, not only are you senile, you are Blind as a bat... EVERYONE (except you apparantly) can see that it is a number short only 9 numbers, not 10... so, no 1-900 number.... "

Round Three:
Me: Everyone DID notice that Mustang admitted to being a member of the OLD PEOPLE set!!!!

No response from Mustang... count that as a skirmish.

Round Four:
Me: "MUSTANG, DO NOT READ ANY FURTHER.... I'M GOING TO SAY SOMETHING NICE ABOUT YOU AND I DO NOT WANT YOU GETTING A SWELLED HEAD... YOUR BRAIN CAN'T TAKE ANY MORE DAMAGE...

Now, Cao, since I've warned Mustang off, let me tell you a story. I first started teaching at the University of Texas-Pan American in Edinburg Texas in 1987. By 1994 I was sick of the politics in the psychology department and quit, moving over to South Texas College, but at the time was known as South Texas Community College. While teaching there, I had become a widower in 96 , remarried and discovered the joys of internet forums, especially the one at the college where one retired Marine, Lt. Col. Tad === and I struck up a friendship and were supporting each other as two of only three conservatives on the forum. Tad and I would get to gether for Saturday morning breakfast at a local eatery from time to time and he would regale me with stories of some dude named HB (AKA Mustang)... I could tell you what the HB stands for, but then I'd have to kill you. At any rate, for a couple of years Tad would say something like HB did this or that. Then, one day in an e-mail, tad sent several of his friends something I had written at gmscorner.blogspot.com and said something about his "friends" I responded to all, and introduced myself. Lo and behold, I got an email from said HB and we started e-mailing back and forth - we live less than 300 miles apart, and he would leave comments on my blog. One day, he e-mailed me asking about blogger etc. and the next thing you know, I was the blogfather of Stacking Swivels. One thing led to another, some dunderhead invited Mustang into the TWA, and somehow I got hooked into the same bunch of crazies... now, since I'm a mental health counselor, that was a good thing because now I can bill everybody for the therapy... except Mustang of course, after all, If I'm willing to counsel only those that can really be helped, why would I take his money?... especially after all those ageing jokes.

Now, if you are really good, I will tell you what Mustang told me that he was told by Methusela when Methusela was in the kindergarten class that Mustang taught........."

MUSTANG.... admit it... you read the whole thing didn't you?????

Mustang: "Remember . . . YOU HEARD IT HERE FIRST. GM is my long lost (blog) father, which means HE'S OLDER. Ha! The prosecution rests, yer honah. (Okay, I read it)"

Me: "Of course, everyone knows that in the blogosphere that the father can be YOUNGER than the blogson... But, you knew that anyway Mustangie old top... by the way, have you had your medicine today????"

Mustang: "Okay, most of you remember "Grimm's Fairy Tales" from when you were kids. All of us remember stories about trolls, ogres (no offense dood), ghoolies, beasties, and things that go bump in the night. These stories, including stories about warewolves and vampires, were perpetuated by the Catholic Church in the early middle ages to scare people into being good. Face it, if you thought that you might get eaten by a warewolf on the way home from Charley's Bar and Grill, chances are you'd stay home and be sober. We recall these stories because they were told to us. GM remembers them first hand."

Me: "Ahhh, Mustang... first, it's Ghoulies and Ghosties And long-leggedy beasties and Things That Go Bump In The Night... Secondly its WEREwolves... sigh, and yes, I was there, In fact I taught Hans Christian Anderson and the Brothers Grimm most of what they know... On the other hand, Baron Maunchausen learned the skills for his stories from Mustang."

Mustang: "Once upon a time, a long, long time ago when GM and Martin Luther became inspired to pursue a psycho-therapy career (rumored to be as a result of seeing dead people on a regular basis), GM had to actually attend a few sessions as part of an introductory class. So when it was GM's turn to attend the session, he dressed up in his Luau suit and promptly reported to the psychiatrist at the prescribed place and time.
GM walked in to the doc's office and removed his straw hat. The doc looked up and noticed that there was a frog sitting on GM's head. So the doc asked, "Well this is interesting; what appears to be YOUR problem?"
And the frog said, "Jeez I dunno. It started off as a wart."
Note: Above story can be independently verified at CNN.

Mustang: "Perhaps you'd like to explain to everyone how you got to be known as "Skivvy Boy." Go ahead, tell'em.

Me: OK, but remember that you asked me to tell them. You guys see, it was when I was a drummer boy in the Revolutionary army under Washington. Mustang was the camp launderor and kept getting my skivvies mixed up with his. I kept yelling.. NO MUSTANG.... Mine are white, your's are yellow with age and other things.... Well,
after a while, when I'd go to pick up our unit laundry, all the other guys said "Hey, be sure and check the skivies lad... and the name stuck, "Skivies lad." OK MUSTANG, satisfied now?

Thus endith the first instalment. This represents a review of over 3321 forum posts to find them. More if you desire. Cheers... Mustang, I told you I'd get you and your little dog!!!