Thirsty?

Just “Whistle”!

Circa, I ain't sure how many years ago. Pretty certain it was my friend Rick Holman's father who asked it... And of course, the answer was a wonderful Vess Orange Soda. Rick's dad was nice enough to help some of us recovering from an airline going belly up – and I was a temporary “hod carrier” - those jobs had personality, and I was extremely thankful he'd bailed me/us out... Thirsty? Just Whistle!

Victor, howinthehell do u pick these topics
(and mebbe whyinthehell too)? You mean like “whistle?” Yes, like whistle. This will come as no shock to those that frequent “The Dish” pizza (and bar) joint.. .but... I have somewhat of an addictive behavior pattern, and onea those patterns is whistling.

I do it constantly at work. If I'm standing, walking, I'm whistling. Undecided if it's “see the funny little clown”: No one knows he's crying, no one knows he's dying on the inside, cause he's laughing (whistling) on the outside.. mmmmmm” OR... that I really am happy, enjoy every moment.. and simply whistle. I'd like to think the latter.

Onea my addictions this morning led me to the breakroom to partake in an 85-cent packa chocolate donuts, and a 65 cent bag of BBQ Fritos (this is a recording). As I entered (whilst whistling something) I hear “I bet I know who that is”... swung door open, “Yep, toldya.” So, a good thing whistling is. Identifiable. Up. Fun. Happy. Braggadocios? Quoting my wonderful stepson “Not no's but hells no's”.. Walking silently taint fun. Adding a whistle along the way helps. Mebbe makes one think of a happy Grandpa. (Victor, u dumbass, you are that.) SEE? Toldya!

Whistling, as in refereeing. My buddy and I do 1st/2nd grade basketball. Ya blow the whistle for a violation, and heck, the kids just ain't that far removed from “Johnnie Jump-ups” but all they know whistle means stop, so they do. The dads (some, not all) think you blow the whistle too much, or not enough, or at the wrong time, or for the wrong reason.

(Side note: nothing to do with whistling. For simplification, the five kids on each team wear different colored wristbands.. 5 colors total.. and the “red guy” guards the corresponding “red guy” on the other team, and blue/blue, green/green, yada/yada. Occasionally, onea the good/smart players will leave the blue guy he is guarding, and attempt to steal the ball from yellow guy. A no-no. As I wander around at age fitty-something, I've seen/heard the AGE DISCRIMINATION thingy. This years coaches, cool dudes. Not-so-much last year. One of the wet-behind-the-ears (sorry, I know judgmental) coaches hollered out “Can you even SEE the colors?”) Come to think of it, I guess that was kinda-sorta related to whistle, 'cause I damn near swallowed mine in laughter when he said that.

Clean as a whistle.... Not worth a whistle... Whistle down the wind... Whistle for it.. You ain't justa whistling Dixie... Whistle while you work... Wet your whistle... Calling a dog... A cop, stopping traffic... The “it's lunchtime” whistle... The Choo choo train's warning prior to an intersection.. Whistler's mother.. Whistleblowers...

In music...... Me and Julio down by the schoolyard... Centerfold.. Sittin' on the dock of the Bay... The Good, the Bad, the Ugly.. and (I'm old) my alltime fav “"The Bridge On The River Kwai"

And........ drum roll........... SPRING! I swear I've heard the kinda whistles from birds that ain't supposed to be back here yet. SWEET TWEETS! For us Midwesterners - we wait and wait and wait for that whistle... And it's ALWAYS worth the wait....

The whistle. Recess (and this blog) is over. Last one in line gets a demerit. Whistle, and whistling very much is a happy thing. Honest, I ain't braggin'. Just happy... so... I whistle. Life's a good blow. Love, Victurd.