Moment In Time

When I think about the day now, it seems more like a dream.

I am riding shotgun with my Dad, Mason Kaintock. There is an assorted pile of 3 ring binders, keys, paper contracts and a hair brush at my feet. The AC is on high and I have coopted the car stereo's cassette deck with a homemade mix tape. We are on our way somewhere and Dad asks me if it's OK to make a quick stop.

The road is wooded,steep and snakes back and forth. We travel miles and miles without seeing a building or another car. Around a curve appears a 50 car lot. We pull in to the gravel drive way. The sound of the tires against the gravel reminds me of the cycle of one hundred Jiffy Pop Popcorn from maximum popp to just before the burning stage.

Out of the gray dust appears two guys with matching knit collar shirts and guts. The owners of the lot greet my Dad with the familiarity of running in to one of your best childhood friends. Of course this reception was not uncommon. Every used car dealer in the state of Alabama knew Mason Kaintock.

Dad shot some shit with the salesman while I walked around the lot. He came after me holding a set of keys. He said let's take the car for a ride. He pointed at a late model 700 series BMW. Now, this is no 325i. This is a seriously powerful car. He tossed me the keys and we hopped in.

As I turned the engine over, I could feel it's strength. The road, with its pins and turns, was treacherous. It was a straight shift, so it took me a couple of minutes to get used to the clutch.I was not completely in control of the car and I had trouble keeping the speed comfortable. I was nervous as hell, but didn't want to show it to my Dad.

I slowed down and pulled into a.....


Still too painful to finish this.

Tattoo Jews Pt.3 Elvis

1) Forbidden Practices?


I started going through the list: don't eat the fruit for three days, don't eat blood, don't cut your prayer curls or your beard?
I began to think...man how relevant is this?

When I reached
19:28
Do not make gashes in your skin for the dead.

Do not make any tattoo marks on your skin. I am God.

I got chills. I had never heard this part before. I know there are different interpretation of the bible, but there is no ambiguity here.


2)Would the tattoo's text could possibly get me in trouble with the big guy?

The image that I currently want is a Basquiat Crown ( more on this in Pt.4) with the word king underneath. King was my dad's nickname. The name appeared throughout his life in several contexts. The "rabbi for hire's" eulogy at my Dad's funeral brillantly tied the King title from his birth to his death. But, KING?...too obvious. Subtlety is more my style. So, I looked to other languages. El rey, Le roi...not quite. The chinese and japanese word for king looked more elegant. I continued to search and then arrived at hebrew.

מלך

I loved it. Shortly thereafter, I began to think that this might be the word for the king of kings. You know G-d. I wanted to use the general term. I better start working on an explanation now so that I am ready on redenption day.So, I asked a friend of mine about it. Would an israeli call King Auto Parts...Melech Auto Parts. He responded with this true story.

A friend of mine walks into this falafel joint in Jerusalem. There are Elvis pictures everywhere. Early Elvis. Late Elvis. Elvis in concert. Elvis on the silver screen. There's hardly an open piece of wall space. So he asks the owner, "Mah im 'Elvis'?" What's with Elvis? Needless to say, the proprietor responds: "Elvis -- hu ha melech." Elvis -- he's the king.

Yes, melech can be all kinds of kings.

I have to think about all this for a while.

clay

Tattoo Jews Pt.2 Leviticus

Forbidden Practices

19:23
When you come to the [promised] land and plant any tree bearing edible [fruit], you must avoid its fruit as a forbidden growth. For three years [the fruit] shall be a forbidden growth, and it may not be eaten.

19:24
Then, in the fourth year, all [the tree's] fruit shall be holy, and it shall be something for which God is praised.

19:25
In the fifth year, you may eat its fruit and thus increase your crops. I am God your Lord.

19:26
Do not eat on blood.

Do not act on the basis of omens.

Do not act on the basis of auspicious times.

19:27
Do not cut off the hair on the sides of your head.

Do not shave off the edges of your beard.

19:28
Do not make gashes in your skin for the dead.

Do not make any tattoo marks on your skin. I am God.

19:29
Do not defile your daughter with premarital sex. You will then not make the land sexually immoral, and the land [will not] be filled with perversion.

19:30
Keep My Sabbaths and revere My sanctuary. I am God.

19:31
Do not turn to mediums, nor seek out oracles, so as to defile yourselves through them. I am God your Lord.

19:32
Stand up before a white head, and give respect to the old. You shall thus fear your God. I am God.

19:33
When a proselyte comes to live in your land, do not hurt his feelings.

Tattoo Jews Pt.1 Gangsta Soprano

When my dad, Mason Kaintock, went to the bone yard, he left me, his only son, a wooden box of memories. I really have not looked at it much, in fact it's in Hill River now. I am pretty sure there is a pistol in there. There is one piece which is with me and I wear it most of the time.
""
It's a thick gold rope chain with a chunky contemporary Chai medallion. Chai which means "life" comes in the form of the
hebrew letter "chet". Not only is it popular with jewish men, but black baptist brothers too. I am not so sure that it isn't mistaken for a horse most of the time. This necklace's girth wouldn't shame a regionally famous gansta rapper.

My grandmother gave it to Dad after his six bypass heart surgery back when in 1982. As my Dad's girlfriend will say, he liked to wear it. I actually have more memories of it sitting on a table after Dad would go to sleep. Every night,there was always a big pile of his stuff...necklace, his father's high school ring, change, a well worn brown leather wallet and an apple core that resembled a holocaust victim.

Whether I am wearing it or not, I am comforted by its presence. On the other hand sometimes the combination of the necklace, the 25 grief pounds sitting at my waist, the Austin Power like chest hair style and my not so concidental fondness for nylon adidas warm-up pants sometimes make me feel like a two bit extra on HBO's Soprano.

I am now looking at a more permanet and personal tribute to my Dad. A tattoo. Most jews put tattoos and suicide at the same level. Jews love to elevate the mundane to the hysterical. In fact, it is commonly believed that one cannot be buried in a jewish cemetary with a tattoo, while concentration survivors get a by for their nazi numeric imprint.

I have a grand plan to get the tattoo on my Dad's first yartzheit. I figure that I will research the topic, get some opinions, sit with the idea for a few months and then make my own decision.

After, I learned that a tattooed one could be buried in a jewish cemetary...I looked for the bible portion which details this sin against G-d's gift. You will find it in Leviticus. There are a bunch of shoulds and should nots listed.

To Be Continued...

kaintock

Vulcan's Spear Pt.4

The young boy who was seated below was seated with his parents and his older brother Dickie. He was maybe seven years old and had a flair about him which did not jibe with the rest of his family's down home style. Born Jeffrey, he had changed the spelling to Geoffrey to accent his adopted persona which was akin to an english arisocracy. Geoffrey sewed his own clothes which he scounged for out of the dipsy dumpsters of Hancock Fabrics in Roebuck Shopping Center. He really stood outin his charcoal gray knockers and ox blood and blue lively ascotts.

As the racket ceased from up above, Geoffrey felt sorry for the young bus boy. He pushed around his dry noodles with his chopstick.

kaintock

Vulcan's Spear Part 3

Joe King was a slight young man with a deferred vacant mug. He was adequately fumbling through his first work day at Joy Youngs' as a bus boy. The truth is his real name wasn't Joe King and he was actually from Viet Nam. But, for 1963 era Birmingham, he was chinese enough.

As he approached the Bear's table the fousome were breaking up with laughter over a joke that Pat James told about an Alabama linebacker from Arab and an Auburn tight end from Pascagula, Miss. Joe King reached for an appetizer plate littered with a half eaten egg roll and six Kent "king sized" cigarrette butts. The Bear did not relish the interruption and in an unintelligable rant proceeded to hurl a verbal whippin' at Joe which ended with "commie gook". The entire restaurant was silenced by this outburst. A young boy seated in the commissary below was particulaly shaken by the experience. He never fogot it.

clay

Vulcan's Spear Pt.2

As the chopper gets louder,the screen dissolves into the revolving spokes of a 1962 Eldorado.It is 1963. The caddy is occupied by two couples who are loaded. The car pulls in front of Joy Young's restaurant.And out stumbles the great Alabama football coach, Bear Bryant. He is accompanied by his assistant coach whose name would later join the likes of Nicky's, John's and Joy Young's as Birmingham restaurant royalty, Pat James.

The boys are celebrating ummm. Well, noone really remembers the occasion, but the bourbon is flowing and two ladies of the evening, Candy and Roberta from Centerpoint are in tow. Out tumble the foursome and The Bear chucks a silver dollar at at an excited group of colored teenage boys and warbles, "park it on the 4th Avenue...Buckwheat...and come and see me in August in T-town."

Joy Young's was as exotic and high tone as the Magic City had seen since the Tutwiller Hotel opened. The decor was a not unlike the great movie palaces of the era. It was as dark, plush and cool as a Hopper painting. You know the one with the girl waiting under the dimly lit lodge sign. The main dining room was three stories high. The ground floor had maybe 40 four-tops. On the second floor was a perimeter balcony which held the coveted, curtained booths. Up there, diners enjoyed the swinging Shanghai treatment. Private "geisha girl" waitresses,sugary sweet cocktails with colorful umbrellas and chop suey loaded up with thick brown gravy.

The Bear eats The Box Lunch

Joy Young Restaurant:
High on flavor low on price.

The Magic city's first "Oriental" style restaurant reviewed by our favorite connoisseur and glutton Bear Bryant.

The sweet smell of opium and egg rolls whiffed through the air as me and my lovely dinner companion entered the new "far eastern" style restaurant at 412 20th St. North. Candy, a buxom prostitute I picked up in Centerpoint, and I, have never eaten together, at least not food.

I ordered fried chicken and Candy asked for a cheeseburger with an order of fries. We were dumbfounded when we found out that these Orientals don't eat regular food, but rather snails, noodles and crap like that. The waiter told me that his kind doesn't eat cheese, they find it repulsive. His kind? I know what his kind is, a bunch of commies. That's what they are.

So I ordered a number 1 and Candy shot for the moon and had a number 2. When the food finally arrived we were drunk to the gills. Not that the service was necessarily slow, but rather that we started early and drank fast. I was surprised that I wasn't served man's best friend. "I thought you people ate dogs," I politely remarked. The waiter must have been hard of hearing. He didn't respond.

I guess if you like weird foreign food it was all right. But we're going to stick to barbecue from now own.

Bear Bryant

Kaintock stole this from The Birmingham Free Press /www.birminghamfreepress.com/

Vulcan's Spear

Vulcan"s Spear 


When the film is shot. This story will begin with an aerial shot of Vulcan's rear and the cityscape of Birmingham. Think Wim Wenders aerial shot of the statue of Christ the Redeemer which overlooks Rio De Janero in Wings of Desire.
As the chopper circles Vulcan, we see two men talking on the observation deck. The camers zooms in. We see an older asian man holding a green 10 oz. bottle of Coke. The other gentleman, good looking late thirties in a charcoal suit, is pouring salted peanuts into the elder man's Coke.
Due to the roar of the chopper, we cannot hear what is being discussed, but it seems serious. The camera slowly zooms out and we cut to the helicopter pilot's perspective. The chopper spins and heads north to downtown Birmingham where it hovers with local news helicopters over the Jefferson County court house.

ck

Real Live Members and the Dial Tone Secretarys Who Love Them

I recently heard about a new trend of gyms for men on the other side of the baby boom. These gyms do not have mirrors, cardio machines or scales. There are a few members of my local gym who ought to move over.

Real Live Members:

1) 3 piece suit man...yes this guy works out sporting a tie,vest and jacket.
2) eskimo sailor man...this bearded chap fancies nautical striped shirts and cardigans...there something Jack London about him.
3) drummer runner...he plays air drums with real sticks while on the treadmill.
4) super schlong man... this guy showers with the curtain open talking to everyone who passes by...I have to admit he could make Iggy Pop sweat.
5) and his side kick mini trump...he makes unconvincing cell phone calls in the locker room berating his dial tone secretary about her fuck ups.
this duo probably jointly own a 10'x10' cellar store room, but to hear them talk the might as well be the heir apparent to the Donald.


Kaintock

MILF pt3. Rear View

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Being Dad:Brooklyn 2005

Recently, I struggled with my daughter Gretchen to succomb to a nap. This nap would relieve us both of the agony that dear, sleepy two year olds catupult upon their fortunate parents. Hammas could take a lesson.
I strap her into the car seat and with no destination but relief from the wailing.I drive around and around pretty much the same block. The crying fades and sleep has taken her for a good hour that is if we continue to drive around.
I am settling into the quiet. I dial up Laura Cantrell's Radio Thrift Shop. All I need now is a large hot beverage.
Now, if I lived in Atlanta, I could simply drive-thru a Caribou Coffee and pick up good cup of coffee and a pastry. There is no drive-thru coffee available in Brooklyn. Well, there is McDonalds where the beverages are hot, but bad.
I pull over and park in front of Fall Cafe, they make a solid latte. Now, I am faced with my very 2005 dilema.I cannot leave Gretchen in the car. When I was kid, I was left in the car for hours as my Mom, Tallulah gossiped with the ladies at the beauty parlor or my Dad, Mason would shoot the shit with his chronies and feed the guard dogs at the used car lot.
As the snow begins to fall, my eyes are peeled for someone i know to watch gretchen for two minutes. Spotting someone is a likely since my wife, agatha knows every parent in this neighborhood. After a few minutes, I stop two strangers who are coming out of Fall Cafe and give them 5 bucks to go back and get me a latte. The could taken the money and run, but they returned shortly with the tall order. Greetchen sleeps and all is well.

CK

krispy kremes and the killer

In high school, I couldn't get a date to save my life.
Every girl wanted to be my friend. It was like I was the gay male friend to the straight girl. Pathetic.
Finally...through a friend of a friend, I managed to get set up for a date. All I had to do was drive six hours on the nation's darkest highway. So, I packed up the Datsun 200SX and left Camelot Trailer Park for Memphis.
All I can remember now about the date was the drive from the girl's house to the hotel. Don't get excited. the only action at the hotel was dancing to forgettable hits of the 80's. It was a double date. I really cannot remember who the passengeres were. Scary. I do remember when the 200SX broke down miles away from our destination.
It was of course the days before cell phones. Fortunately, we were directly across from a Krispy Kreme. After explaining to the lovely counter ladies my predicament, they directed me to the wall phone in the back. I was so caught up in the embarassment of the 200SX's break down, it took me a few minutes to recognize my good fortune. The wall phone in the back was located next to the cooling segment of the doughnut making process. So, I am on the phone with AAA snatching up hot ones. They are were really hot. It was a productive phone call, I arranged for the tow truck to pick up the 200SX and downed a half a dozen classic glazed doughnuts. I returned to the passengers with a severe sugar high and third degree tongue burns.
AAA took the car away and a cab was called to take us to the hotel. We pull up to the hotel and I pay the driver. As, I open the car door there is a huge man waiting to take our cab. I look up and recognize that it's Jerry Lee Lewis. I tell the cab driver but he is clueless. In this moment of serendipity, I stand up a proudly exclaim, "goodness gracious Jerry Lee...how you doing?"
The killer doesn't miss a step. He gives me a bear hug and says, God bless you son...you are here just in the nick of time!"
He hops in and the cab drives away.

clay

MILF pt2...GG tres jolie

Between the ages of 2 and 12, I lived in a trailer park named Camelot. The aristocracy of the tony suburb Hill River had tried for years to rezone Camelot into the next municipality, but a grandfather clause would not allow it. Camelot was safe and cheap. It was popular with young single girls in their 20's and families just scrapping by.

Two of my friends, Jado and Slyvester, and I spent our endless days building forts, vandalizing and peeping. We were never bored. For me there were two MILFs that lead the pack.

Gayle Berger was a petite blond with just theright propotrtions...picture a blend of Stevie Nicks and Chertl Ladd, What more could a child of the 70's ask for. She loved to sunbathe in the front yard and it being Alabama her season lasted from early April to late September. My bedroom had ideal sight lines and promoted inverse peeping. Jado, Slyvester and I could chill next to the window unit air conditioner and watch for hours.

One night, drawn by the romantic sounds of Heart's Dog and Butterfly, we creeped up to her front window. All we could see in her living room was an empty pair of male cowboys boots. This sight provoked the unholy three to run around to the back where we were rewarded with the following indelible memory.

Gayle in her glory had cleared out the dining room table and replaced it with harem type floor pillows, strawberry incense was quite present. Her face was writhing in ectasy as she rode her cowboy sans boots. HOT.

The other "G" MILF was a tall, dark brunette... picture a 70's version of a jewish Penelope Cruz. She liked to chat on the phone at night in a tiny t shirt without any bottoms. Even better was an activity we liked to call "Gwenich Mean Time" or "the gwedo".

Every night at 8:30, the unholy three met on some concrete stairs behind her trailer. I will be forever indebted to the architect who kindly put a window in the shower. Like clock work, we had a nightly full view of the cleansing accompanied by pleasuring. Who needed Laverne and Shirley, we had Gwen.

ck

MILF pt1

The first one was both my Mom's best friend and my best friend's mom. In those days, her body was in the beginning stages of rubinesque. She had three sons at that point and was on the way to a total of 5 sons. She had a french sounding first name and a feisty attitude. She would sun bathe wearing a green bikini with a heart cut out on the derriere. After a day of Alabama sun and Johnson's Baby Oil, the cut out would most certainly yield the tomato red temporary tatoo. HOT. Her hair was frosted and everyday she would make me and the brothers lunch. Sensous foods like home made egg rolls, fillet's wrapped in bacon and fried chicken breasts on top of white bread.mmmmmmmm.HOT.

clay

Psychological Thermostat

My wife, Agatha Rice, found my dad's necklace in the washing machine. I have no memory of leaving it there or even taking it off.
I am taking 40 mgs. of Prozac a day.
I started taking it because when I was met with adversity, I became frustrated and depressed.
Losing my keys would bum me out for a good two days.
Now, I lose everything and it does not phase me.

clay

Lost necklace/Seeing Stars

As I continue my grieving for my dear dad, my short term memory lapses. Last night, I returned home from a long day of work and promptly fell asleep on the couch. When I awoke...about 3AM...my dad's gold necklace which I have worn since he died had disappeared from my neck.Could not find it anywhere.

Around 7AM, I am staring out the back door and I see gold points of light jiterring against the next house.It reminded me of getting the wind knocked out or a strain. Is it a physical sign from my dad? I am sad for the rest of the day.

Clay