Big Un'

The ranch hand recently had the soul satisfaction of re-yoon-yun with Glenn Bert (Big Un') as a ghost from high school days past.

Big Un' was a patient feller as evidenced by his unsucessful attempts in Joinerville to teach your humble scribe a few simple chords on his Sears and Roebuck Wright City git-fiddle?

Big Un' was...well "big" as he towered over every one else in our lil' country school?

And Big Un' was exceptionally articulate.

This ole fat boy remembers a friday night gridiron tussle when an offensive play resulted in Big Un' runnin' down hill with the ball like a Sherman tank burnin' nitro....that puppy was pumpin' them knees, snorting snot like a freight train, and bowling down every last man on the hapless defense like they was rubber ducks in a shootin' gallery.....(Oh yeah, with each mighty step he was cussin' like beelzebub incarnate yellin' every profanity this ole cuntry boy ever knew and a few...I suspicion were made up on the "fly"???)

Inevitably, the ref didn't appreciate the finer esoteric value of Big Un's vocabulary and promptly informed the obvious Heisman candidate that such ungentlemanly conduct would not be tolerated. To which the ever gentlemanly Glenn Bert replied, "Aw sh*t, I'm sorry sir!"

For more country memories about the ole war hawse, read Big Un's blog at:

http://www.glnroz33.blogspot.com