January 20, 2022

All You Big and Burly Men?

Perhaps no more! The sissified America probably doesn’t produce any more Big and Burly Men, only Girly Men.

Many years ago, Dick Curless, sang this song and it was popular. Of course things have changed over the years and the Haynesville Woods have been tamed considerably, and more men wear women’s clothes. The things you find in Maine, are still a separation from much of the rest of the nation and I wouldn’t suggest just anyone taking up residence there…perhaps nary a visit.

Tombstone Every Mile
Recorded by Dick Curless
Written by Dan Fulkerson

All you big and burly men who roll the trucks along
Better listen you’ll be thankful when you hear my song
You have really got it made if you’re hauling goods
Anyplace on earth but those Haynesville Woods

It’s a stretch of road up north in Maine
That’s never ever ever seen a smile
If they’d buried all the truckers lost in them woods
There’d be a tombstone every mile
Count ’em off there’d be a tomb-stone every mile

When you’re loaded with potatoes and you’re headed down
You’ve gotta drive the woods to get to Boston town
When it’s winter up in Maine better check it over twice
That Haynesville road is just a ribbon of ice
Repeat #2

When you’re talking to a trucker that’s been hauling goods
Down that stretch of road in Maine they call the Haynesville Woods
He’ll tell you that dying and going down below
Won’t be half as bad as driving on that road of ice and snow
Repeat #2

Big and Burly Men frequent luxury accommodations.

Big and Burly Men’s rendition of “The View”

This Big and Burly Maine Moose is looking for some action.

And it looks like he’s found some “Big and Burly” action.

This is NOT a Big and Burly Man

This is NOT a man. Big and Burly Men have no use for inconvenience. Life is inconvenient to everyone except the Big and Burly Men.


Innocence and the Absence of Insanity

This is a true story! This past Maine deer hunting season, while at my annual trip to Hunting Camp, one of my long-time hunting buddies shared with me a story of one of his grandsons – approximate age of 6 years.

The young lad is attending school and is learning to read and write. It is my understanding that in the boy’s class, as a weekly project, each student is asked to write a short paragraph relating an event that happened to them in the past. During the first writing class, the teacher asked the students to write of an experience.

Knowing the young boy myself, I could picture him looking about the room, perhaps gazing out the window for a bit, wishing he was there instead of in the classroom, with a glint in his eyes, and then settling in to the task at hand, perhaps in mild protest. He wrote:

“One day my father took me to a place where men were loading logs onto a logging truck. It was fun.”


The following week, once again the teacher instructed the class that they needed to write a short paragraph about something that had happened to them that they remembered. The young boy, perhaps a future Pulitzer Prize winner, wrote:

“One day my father took me to a place where men were loading logs onto a logging truck. It was fun.”

For the teacher, it was a bit of troubling success, but didn’t say anything to the young lad.

The following week, once again, the teacher instructed the class. The boy wrote:

“One day my father took me to a place where men were loading logs onto a logging truck. It was fun.”

The teacher could not allow this to go on, but pondered how to address the young boy knowing he was a sensitive little fella. When the opportunity presented itself, just prior to the next week’s writing assignment, the teacher said to the little grandson, “I have enjoyed reading your story. Do you think you could write something different this time?”

With that, the little genius went to work. He wrote:

“On a different day, my father took me to a different place, where different men were loading different logs onto a different log truck. It was still fun.”


How It Works

I told my son, “You will marry the girl I choose.”

He said, “No.”

I told him, “She is Bill Gates’ daughter.”

He said, “Yes.”

I called Bill Gates and said, “I want your daughter to marry my son.”

Bill Gates said, “No.”

I told Bill Gates, “My son is the C.E.O. of the World Bank.”

Bill Gates said, “OK.”

I called the president of the World Bank and asked him to make my son the C.E.O.

He said, “No.”

I told him, “My son is Bill Gates son-in-law.”

He said, “OK.”

This is how politics works.


So Simple Even a Moron Can Understand It



Gluten-Free From a Laughing Moose





Because Bill Gates is of the Ruling Establishment



Black Bears Matter?




How To Catch…Worthlessness



Trump Boys Slay Extinct Triceratops

“This time, he went around his usual spot somewhere in San Diego and asked people their reactions to the news that Donald Trump’s sons posed in pictures with a slain triceratops that they had just killed in Africa. (Yes, the now-extinct dinosaur.)

If that wasn’t ridiculous enough, for others, he’d ask the same thing except claiming that the Trump boys killed a saber-toothed tiger, a wooly mammoth, or a pterodactyl.”<<<Read More>>>(Caution: As with many websites today, should you choose to accept the challenge of clicking on the link to visit the host website, I suggest clicking on the link then go mow your lawn, cut a cord of firewood, or write a book – perhaps all three. Perhaps by then all the ads that are going to load and consume your browser will have happened. Unfortunately, if you dare to further your adventure and click on anything within the article or on the website, go cut another cord of firewood, then come back and take a 10 workout session deleting the innumerable pop up ads. Sorry, I understand that people want to retire millionaires making money with advertisements on their websites, but to some readers – perhaps irredeemable, deplorables, like me, can’t tolerate the nonsense. Carry on!)


I Understand Your Struggle…You Idiot!