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My Robot Is Pregnant theme song!

tough guy poetry and manly stories of loneliness
all contents copyright Jon Rolston 2004, 2005, 2006

January 17, 2009

the fortune beneath you

Mr. Fisher and I are getting ready to do a pod for current.com about metal detecting. If anyone has any ideas or questions relating to the subject, let me know.

You probably don’t have much idea about metal detecting, or “coin shooting”, as they call it. It appeals to a hard core audience of dreamers. Men, mostly, who think they will find buried treasure. Articles in the treasure hunting magazines lay out a cold case of a missing fortune. Like this one about “Outlaw Gold In Kansas”. In 1895 badman Bill Doolen was arrested after a string of bank and train robberies. According to the story, “Until now Doolin’s outlaw career had paid off handsomely. He had organized a gang in Oklahoma Territory, and for their first venture they rode into Spearville, Kansas. They robbed the town bank of $11,000. Next was the bank in Cimarron, Kansas, which provided them with $14,000 in gold. They rode to Southwest City, Missouri, robbed another bank of $15,000, then loped leisurely towards Oklahoma. Passing through Pawnee at high noon, Doolin noticed a bank and waved towards it.

‘Let’s stop here a few minutes,’ he yelled to his men. This one they cleaned of all it had, several thousand dollars in gold. Next they struck in northwest Texas, robbing a Longview bank of more than $50,000.

With a string of successful bank holdups behind them, the gang began stopping trains to blast open safes in the express cars. They held up several trains around Wharton, Oklahoma, stormed a depot in Woodward and made off with a $7,000 payroll destined for Fort Supply. Then they moved up into Kansas to hold up trains, and it was here that Doolin cached most of his savings.”

You’re about ready to get involved aren’t you? Doolin escapes from jail but the sheriff tracks him down and he is shot off the springboard with his wife left alone in the wagon. Doolin was a family man. The secret of where his stolen loot lies is buried with his corpse. By the end of the article ten men have decided to buy a metal detector. You want a piece of the action.

But it isn’t just heist jobs gone wrong, there are stories about gold rich mines the prospector could never find again, valuable artifacts from Civil War battle sites, and occasionally you get a gripping article like the one that made the cover of True Treasure in April 1975. Take a look and tell me you aren’t sold.

please note the crocheted PBR can hat Marika is wearing in the photo.

January 16, 2009

cabot street market

photo posted from my iPhone

Cabot street used to be a bad little street in a small little town called Portsmouth, NH. For some reason the neighborhood got more money, but Cabot Street still has a sense of illegality to it. I encourage anyone who wants to post a little story about this place to do so in the comments. Then, when it eventually gets converted to an upscale organic food store the memories won’t be lost.

I got lucky with the scratchers here. If you call breaking even lucky. A lot of people do, that’s why gambling is an addiction. It makes no sense. I spent two bucks and won two bucks on cat scratch fever. Then I left the state without cashing in. So really I lost.

January 14, 2009

33 pounds

photo posted from my iPhone

Mr. Pooperlooper restored this old giant mudbug for Earl Sanders lobster pound.


photo posted from my iPhone
These are the slow runners, the nearly dead lobster culled from the tanks at Sanders. Jarret Celli, my old math class pal, told me they’re called weaks as well. Compare the size of these critters to that 33 pounder. How much do you figure these weigh, Mr. Celli?

free sand in brisbane

photo posted from my iPhone
This is the heartbreak of junk hauling. Perfectly good sand, but where do I store it? Who needs it right now? Where do I sell it? Instead, it gets thrown in a dumpster.

photo posted from my iPhone
Got a six foot yellow birdcage yesterday.

January 12, 2009


photo posted from my iPhone

This is a penis bone.

learn more

do horses even eat pies?

a letter written from prison

My parents write to a guy in jail. No one they know, just some morale booster thing I suppose. Prison might sound romantic, but reading this guys letter makes me feel his loneliness. He isn’t intentionally revealing it, but it seeps out all over the place. The desire to be alone after long term confinement with others, the desire to be with a woman but the fear of them after being in prison on a rape charge. He’s got a twenty year sentence, according to my parents. They aren’t sure of all the details and didn’t want to ask.

There was a time about ten years ago when I was facing charges that could have put me away for some years. I was pretty scared. The charges were dropped against me and I don’t think about it too often, but for a while I couldn’t think of anything else. This letter was about four pages long, but this first page is enough for me to read. I know I don’t want to ever go to prison. This fellah wasn’t so lucky…

Taking his dog and horse through the McDonalds drive thru. That’s his dream. An impossible dream, because he is locked up. Every morning I wake up I have the potential to ride a horse through the drive thru. So much is possible in my world. Yours too. If you have lost your job or you’re worried about getting laid off, think about that. Let’s get creative this year and not worry about money. Nurture your lover and chase your dreams. That’s it. Stay free.

January 11, 2009

anger management

photo posted from my iPhone
If the snow delay gets too frustrating rip the fucking door off and throw it on the tarmac.

throwin’ snow

“Plowin’s stressful,” says the driver of this rig.

This beautiful Peterbuilt sits at Suds n’ Soda, a hometown favorite convenience store with a tackle shop upstairs.

Jason McKenzie tells me business is great due to the cold weather.

“We usually don’t get bay ice till the end of January but it’s already froze up,” he said, referring to Great Bay. That’s a smelt fishing paradise right down the hill from where I grew up. When the brackish water gets iced deep enough to support a few guys and an old shed you see the bob houses appear. It looks like a used outhouse lot with a bunch of drunks in heavy winter clothes trying out the offerings. But please don’t go number two in the hole in the ice, no one wants to hook a turd and wrestle a frozen poo off their line.

city sidewalk, shitty sidewalk,

photo posted from my iPhone

…soon it will be Christmas Day. Think that’s how the song goes but I can’t memba’ it’s been so long since I sung it. Jesus Crow boy ain’t they gut a lotta ways to open up them streets aftah ah stahm! A snow stahm! Cripes yayyes they do. That crazy machine cocks in half fah’ sqeezin’ ’round corners of sidewalks. Ain’t that somethin…

i’m confused

photo posted from my iPhone

They say as long as it’s not windy the cold don’t bother you. But what the hell is this guy thinking?

January 10, 2009

photo posted from my iPhone

she made it to 60!

Happy Birthday Mom! Here’s an email from our favorite childhood trouble maker who’s turned it around, Mr. Poopies. Thought you should see it Mom, and know how many people tell me how special a person you are. I agree 100%.

That’s poopies and a puppet, not Mom.
“Now having freed up room in my mental wharehouse, i have taken up photo taking,,, i am not a photographer, but rather an entusiast who is noting things in my life, quite amusing, i must say, Iv’e been thinking alot about your mother,,,,,,,,,,,,,I hope that doesn’t creep you out, but a gental woman she is,, the kind of mother i wish i had, she had patience, wit, and and iron hand that would would make any man mind, a true woman, please tell her happy birthday from the guy who used to live down by the tracks take care

Lamb chop

photo posted from my iPhone

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