celebrities, humor, silliness

David Hasselhoff is on Cameo!

I had quite a laugh the other day when I noticed a Facebook ad for Cameo. Have you heard of it? It’s a service where you can pay for a personalized video message from a celebrity. I first heard about it in the Duggar Family News Group because Jinger Duggar Vuolo had signed up for it. It looks like Jinger is not doing messages now, so I don’t know what her rate is. However, the Hoff’s messages are apparently quite pricey… For a message, one must pay 276 euros (about $300).

I never watched the Hoff on Knight Rider, although that was a very popular show when I was growing up. I do remember seeing him on Baywatch, although I wasn’t a regular viewer of that show. I most fondly remember seeing him on America’s Got Talent. He struck me as a major asshole on that show, but in an entertaining way. It was fun watching him go head to head with Piers Morgan and Sharon Osbourne, as well as certain contestants.

David Hasselhoff was a big hit in Germany about thirty years ago. I think they still love him here.
This is probably why Germans love him.

The Hoff was kind of handsome when he was young. I can’t deny that. But he kind of acts like Larry the Lobster, too. In fact, I bet Larry the Lobster on Spongebob Squarepants was fashioned after David Hasselhoff’s character, Mitch Buchanan, on Baywatch.

Maybe I need to see this film.

I have to admit that he doesn’t seem to take himself too seriously in his Cameo ad, either. He’s standing there, holding one of those orange buoy thingies he always had on Baywatch. He’s seems friendly and laid back, and for $300 a pop, he’d damned well better be!

If I had $300 to throw away, maybe I’d be interested in talking to David Hasselhoff. But I think I’d rather watch videos of him on YouTube. He was a good sport on AGT last year, too.

I want to hassle the Hoff.
This show was pretty hot in the 1990s. I didn’t watch it very often because I was busy doing other shit, like making money.
I think I’d rather watch burlesque than Knight Rider.

Seriously, though… I guess he needs money and making videos on Cameo is a way to get some money. If you go on his Cameo page, you can see some samples of his “work”. I wonder if he’s ad libbing or someone has made a script. It looks a little like he’s reading. I played one for Bill and he said it sounded like maybe the Hoff was drunk. I don’t know that he was drunk, but he did sound a little bit stilted, like maybe he wasn’t his natural self. But then, who is among people from Hollywood?

Frankly, as a child of the 70s and 80s, I might get more excited about a Cameo from Larry Wilcox of CHiPs. I used to love that show. Also, Larry Wilcox reminds me of Bill. Erik Estrada is not on Cameo. Neither is Sharon Osbourne, although Jack Osbourne has a profile. I guess everybody has to eat. John Kassir of Tales From the Crypt is also on Cameo. I would be into getting a video from him, too! I loved that show, too! Shit– all of the best TV shows were on thirty years or more ago.

Barry Williams, of The Brady Bunch, is also on Cameo. I am a true Brady fan, but I actually met Barry once in the 1990s. He came to Longwood to talk about his book, Growing Up Brady. I remember thinking he was kind of phony, although I did enjoy his talk. I wonder if Vanilla Ice is on Cameo… (he’s not)… but Kevin McDonald of Kids in the Hall is! I love that show! Dave Foley is on Cameo, too!

Oh gawd, I’m going to be looking at this all day… which beats the hell out of looking at Facebook, doesn’t it? I guess, if anything, the Cameo videos show us that celebrities are people too… and a lot of them are weirder than you think they are.


What’s something you can say in a restaurant AND during sex?

This morning, I am determined to write something off the grid. I ran across a funny memory today. It was a meme shared last year by The Bitchy Waiter, who writes a funny blog about waiting tables in the United States and has a very active Facebook page. It’s been a long time since I last waited tables, but I remember the experience well. I don’t always agree with The Bitchy Waiter or his other followers, but I do remember waiting tables all too well. As glad as I am that I had the experience, which taught me a lot about fine food, wines, and liquors, and left me with a lot of great friends, I hope I never have to wait tables again. It’s a good skill to have, though. When there isn’t a pandemic going on, restaurant work is usually plentiful and has kept many a person employed and fed.

But anyway, last year, The Bitchy Waiter shared today’s featured photo. I ran across it this morning and it made me laugh. I’m tired of complaining about the usual shit, and since it’s Monday, I thought I’d write something funny for a change. Or, at least I think it’s funny… maybe you don’t.

So… what’s something you can say in a restaurant AND during sex? My first answer was “No thanks. I’m full.”

Some of my friends joined in with their suggestions and I could post them here. I might decide to rip off a few if I can’t come up with (heh heh, I wrote “come”) any other beauts… Hmmm

  • Something smells fishy
  • I’m not eating anything that looks like that
  • Lots of protein in this
  • I’m hungry
  • That tip is not big enough
  • Feed me!
  • Please pass the sausage
  • I’m NOT paying for this!
  • The service is terrible
  • I want seconds!
  • This is too hot!
  • Blow on it!
  • Can I have a refill?
  • Smells yeasty…
  • Where did this come from?
  • That’s an impressive cut of meat!
  • I’ve had enough
  • What’s with all the jelly?
  • Thank you for satisfying my hunger
  • Service with a smile!
  • Can I have this on the side?
  • I’m a breast man
  • The legs are to die for!
  • Brown sugar tastes so good.
  • Give me some sugar.
  • Tender and juicy!
  • It’s so meaty
  • Creamy and dreamy
  • Succulent… falling off the bone
  • It’s burning!

I guess thirty is enough. I could probably come up with a lot more, but that seems like a waste of time. Bill went in to work today, so I think I’ll do some musical exploration. Maybe I’ll even make a video, although I’m not sure what I’d do. I’m not feeling particularly inspired today. Usually, when I go as far as making a video, I have something in mind that I want to try. Not so this morning… at least not yet.

Hope everyone has a good Monday with as little interpersonal drama as possible. I noticed when I was looking at this post that someone who responded to it last year has blocked me… probably because one of her friends recently attacked me on Facebook and I decided not to be “Facebook friends” with her anymore. I guess I don’t mind being blocked by her, since we didn’t really know each other, and she seems pretty immature, anyway. I mean, I’m probably old enough to be her mother, and I’m not from Utah or even an ex Mormon. I’m pretty sure we found each other on RfM, and I’ve found that I don’t mesh with a lot of people I “meet” there. So it’s just as well.

Maybe the solution to my current social media dilemma is to do a massive “friend” purge. I hate to do that, since I know some people’s feelings get hurt. But I really am finding that I have less time and patience for stupidity, yet deleting Facebook is a bit impractical, since so many people use it and ditching it would make some things more complicated. For instance, the introductions and discussions about the dog we’re hoping to soon bring into our home were done entirely through Facebook. He’s still in Kosovo right now. If I ditch Facebook, then it’s harder to get in touch with the people arranging the adoption.

Also, I run a local wine group that I’m not quite ready to give up yet… especially since we officially got word that we’re going to be staying in Germany for a bit longer. I do need to do something, though. I’m sure some people think I need to develop a thicker skin, but my skin is plenty thick, and getting thicker thanks to all the isolation and lack of exercise and exploration. So we’ll see what happens.

Time to play the guitar and work on my quest to be able to change chords without a one second break.

fiction, silliness

When will this shift end? A kinky short story for Sara…

Now for something completely different…

Given what’s going on in the United States right now, it’s only natural that people feel the need to repeatedly comment on it. However, because so many people are commenting, it’s kind of like Facebook has turned into a tsunami of comments about COVID-19, racism, and riots… and just because I’m kind of a goofball with an odd sense of humor, I’ve decided that today’s post will be another one of my nonsensical short stories. This one is kind of by request. My friend Sara is a nurse who is working on the frontlines of COVID-19. She also happens to live in Minnesota. She was recently describing what it was like to have to wear PPE all day every day while on the job. I said it sounded kind of kinky. So Sara, this kinky story about PPE is for you. I hope it makes you chuckle. It’s completely tasteless and made up on the fly, so don’t blame me if it’s lame.

Sara sat at the nurse’s desk, head sheltered in plastic protective gear. She gazed tiredly at the computer screen, where her gloved fingers typed away at her notes on the latest patient to enter the unit. The man had been found wandering the streets of Minneapolis completely naked, except for his face mask, a long, blonde wig, and a cock ring. The mask he wore, made of orange naugahyde, bore an image of a gigantic large intestine on it. It clashed garishly with the pink cock ring encircled with feathers. The wig was platinum blonde, kind of akin to Barbie doll hair. But the man’s bushy black eyebrows and dark pubic hair gave away his secret.

Besides being a bit chilled by the nippy Minneapolis weather, the man got into trouble because the cock ring was cutting off his circulation. He was screaming in pain when someone finally called the paramedics to bring him to the emergency room. After a cursory check by the ER doctor who determined that the guy was not well mentally or physically, he landed on Sara’s unit to get help for his “unit”. Early the next morning, a microsurgeon would work his magic on the man’s magic wand.

Wearily, she typed his name on the record. It was Goat McCall. Yes, a naked man named Goat was admitted to a room on Sara’s unit. And now that the blood was flowing again, the man named Goat seemed only slightly less perturbed about being confined to a hospital bed. She had managed to get Mr. McCall into a gown… a special one that defied escape. It wasn’t unlike a straitjacket. She confiscated the platinum blonde wig. Mr. McCall refused to let Sara take his orange, naugahyde face mask, though. He claimed he didn’t feel safe without it. Not wanting to get into a fight with her latest patient, Sara shrugged and let him have his way.

Stealing a look at the clock, Sara typed faster. She had to have the record done in five minutes, or else she’d be penalized with another layer of personal protection equipment. Her supervisor, Nurse Ethel Echo, was a stickler about the rules. Sara had arrived to work that morning in just her usual scrubs, but every time she missed a deadline or made a mistake, Nurse Echo would levy another fine by way of forcing her to wear more oppressive PPE.

So far, Sara wore booties on her shoes, gloves on her hands, and a cumbersome face shield. She wasn’t yet wearing a face mask. That would come next if she missed her next deadline. But the face masks at Sara’s workplace weren’t your every day, average masks. Nurse Echo was sadistic and looked for ways to make the gear less comfortable and more kinky. Sara had never had to wear one of Nurse Echo’s kinky masks yet, but she’d heard from her colleagues that Nurse Echo had designed them to include penis like knobs. On the face, they looked very munch like your usual surgical masks, except for the sturdy rubber straps that caught in the nurses’ hair. Underneath, they were very effective gags.

Since Sara liked to talk and needed to be able to speak to do her job effectively, she wanted to avoid the mask. She knew that if she had to wear the mask, the rest of her night would be completely fucked. She’d never get her work done and would probably wind up spending the night in a “humane” restraint wrap. Nurse Echo liked to sentence her nurses to occasional nights in the restraint wraps to make them more empathetic to their patients.

She could have been Nurse Echo’s twin sister…

“Almost done…” Sara muttered as she finished up the last part of her SOAP. As she tapped the last key, she looked up to see the stern, stodgy, elderly supervisor standing there. Nurse Echo held a riding crop in her meaty hand and shook her long, scraggly red hair. Sara giggled to herself. Her boss always reminded her of Sergeant Bertha Blast from the 80s era Popeye cartoons Sara had watched as a child. Sometimes, she wondered if Nurse Echo had a twin who had inspired the character.

“That was very close, Sara.” Nurse Echo said as she slapped the riding crop in her palm. She had a clipped British accent. “You need to work on your efficiency. I won’t tolerate any slackers on my unit.”

Resisting the urge to roll eyes, Sara smiled weakly at her boss and smoothed her plastic smock. A bead of sweat rolled down her face under the face shield. She took a deep breath, grateful that she could still do that unfettered. How in the hell had she wound up working at the kinkiest hospital in Minnesota, anyway? Oh yeah. She’d answered an ad in the newspaper. I’ll never make that mistake again, Sara thought to herself as she slammed a drawer shut and prepared to take Goat McCall’s vitals. So many times, she’d considered quitting this job and working somewhere else. But she had to admit, the money was good and the hours were decent, even if her bosses were a bit unconventional.

“Have you checked the bedpan in room 435?” Nurse Echo nagged as Sara picked up her stethoscope. “I notice a strange smell coming from there. You remember what I told you about shunting the less pleasant work to your colleagues.”

“I haven’t had time yet, Nurse Echo.” Sara said crossly. Man, that woman got on her fucking nerves.

“You know what that means.” Nurse Echo chided as she headed for the dreaded PPE cabinet.

“Oh man… can’t you give me a break? I’ve been working like a dog today.” Sara whined.

“You know the rules.” Nurse Echo said sternly. “I suggest you cooperate or else I’ll throw in a helmet.”

“Dammit!” Sara snapped as her boss handed her a mask. Unlike the usual medical style masks people were wearing, Nurse Echo’s masks had two thick rubber straps that made the mask less comfortable, but much more secure.

“You have thirty seconds to put on the mask, Sara.” Nurse Echo said, her eyes steely.

She’s such a bitch… Sara thought to herself as she expertly put on the face mask gag. The heavy rubber gloves she wore made it difficult to fasten the straps, but the boss was still standing there, tapping her foot and looking at her watch.

“Ten seconds.” Nurse Echo warned as Sara fumbled with the buckles.

“Mmmmph.” Sara grunted.

“Excellent. Now see to that bedpan immediately.” Nurse Echo snapped. “I’ll check on Mr. McCall.”

Sara trudged off into the room where the funky bedpan was. The patient who had befouled the bedpan was not in the room. Mrs. Milton, whose bowels could put a bovine to shame, had been transferred to a specialty unit. But the remnants of her brief stay on Sara’s unit had definitely left a memorable impression. Sara considered putting a bit of ammonia in her nostrils just to neutralize the stench a bit. But then she decided she just wanted to get the job done and hope she didn’t pass out from the smell.

It took a few minutes to take care of the bedpan. After she was finished cleaning it, Sara felt a lot better. Yes, the face mask was a bit oppressive and the penis like knob tasted terrible, but she found that not being able to speak made her more efficient. Besides, she was now in such a mood that she doubted anyone would want to hear what she had to say, anyway.

If I can just get through the last hour of this shift, I’ll be home free… Sara thought to herself.

“SARA!” Nurse Echo barked. “Get over here this instant!”

“Mmmmph.” Sara grunted as she rushed to her boss’s side.

“Mr. McCall’s medications are late.” Nurse Echo said. “You know what that means.”

Oh no… Sara silently groaned.

“Go get the helmet.” Nurse Echo ordered.

Sara hated the helmet. It was hot, heavy, and obstructed her hearing and peripheral vision. The nurses were only supposed to wear them in unusual cases when they were dealing with highly infectious patients, but Nurse Echo liked to use them as punishment. She’d force her nurses to wear them when they were having bad days.

Man… I wish I could quit this job. Sara thought, chewing on the gag as she slipped the heavy helmet on her head and fastened the strap. But even if the money and hours weren’t excellent, Sara couldn’t quit her job. Working at this hospital was kind of like checking into the Hotel California. She could never leave, no matter how many times she quit working.

“Keep it up, Sara, and I’ll add the music.” Nurse Echo warned.

Oh gawd, no… Sarah moaned. The helmet had a built in music function that would play elevator Muzak. It would effectively cut off Sara’s ability to hear as it also drove her crazy. The Muzak used was the worst kind– softened versions of pop acts from the 70s and 80s played by cheap, tacky orchestras. It was enough to drive a person mad! She knew that if Nurse Echo tortured her with the music, she’d finish her shift with a four alarm headache and a need for a stiff cocktail.

“Mr. McCall is still waiting for his meds. See if you can get him to take off that mask. It’s filthy and clashes.” Nurse Echo said, her voice even louder within the confines of the padded helmet. The helmet had an annoying intercom feature making it impossible to tune out her boss, but canceling out most other sounds… except of course, the Muzak, which her boss hadn’t yet turned on. She knew it was only a matter of time, though. Nurse Echo loved to harass people who were under her command.

Sara got the medications for Mr. McCall. He was looking forlorn in his hospital gown, mouth still covered by the orange naugahyde mask. She couldn’t speak to the man, so she simply nodded at him and handed him the pills and some water.

Mr. McCall sighed as he peeled off the mask. Sara went to take the mask from his hand, but he had it in a death grip. Unable to explain why she needed to take the mask away, Sara watched as he took the pills, satisfied in knowing that one of them was a sleep aid. When he dropped off to sleep, then she could steal the mask and throw it into the incinerator. Sara took a perverse delight in throwing away things that were gross, like old, grimy face masks. But she also knew Nurse Echo would be angry at her for not removing the mask when she’d asked her to… and that would mean the dreaded Muzak therapy.

“Where is my cock ring?” Goat McCall asked.

Unable to answer, Sara simply shrugged and gave the man a little wave. In about ten minutes, she was sure he’d be sleeping and she could take away his mask. Meanwhile, the first annoying strains of the canned music were flooding the helmet. Obviously, Nurse Echo had been watching Sara on the closed circuit camera.

This last hour can’t end soon enough, Sara thought to herself. She cringed as a Muzak version of “Muskrat Love” started playing. (side note: I searched YouTube to see if I could find a Muzak version of “Muskrat Love” and was shocked to find that someone else must have also searched for it. Unfortunately, my search was fruitless.) So here’s a Muzak version of “Beat It”, followed by a horribly cringeworthy version of “Every Breath You Take”.

This actually reminds me a little of the original Beverly Hills 90210 theme…

When will this shift end… Sara groaned. Nurse Echo would probably break out the HAZMAT suit next, only it was made of latex. Sara had a latex allergy, but that didn’t matter to her sadistic boss, who was already dreaming up new ways to make life worse for her.

But Nurse Echo had a surprise for Sara. “I’ve got good news, Sara.” Nurse Echo said. “You’re getting off early today.”

“Mmmmph?” Sara mewled as saliva ran down her face.

“Yes… because I think you need a rest.” Nurse Echo said with a smile. “A little empathy lesson.”

Oh no… Sara thought to herself, casting her eyes at the on call room. That was where the restraint wrap was. But at least she could take off the rest of the PPE, right?


To be continued? Maybe…

silliness, true crime, videos, YouTube

“Crack’s a hell of a drug…”

I don’t have much to write about today. I’m feeling kind of out of sorts, now that another holiday has passed. Yesterday was a mix of Memorial Day shaming posts and COVID-19 shaming posts on Facebook. I could write about a couple of issues on my mind right now, but I’m not feeling very disciplined. I want to do some reading instead… which I know will probably just put me to sleep.

So here are a couple of funny videos I discovered after lunch today. I hope they amuse.

Video #1

I think if I were a granny, I’d be like this lady…

Bill thought the punchline was that the guy used his tongue. He doesn’t have a gutter mind like I do. I got it immediately.

Video #2

Woman gets busted shoplifting, goes crazy.

I’m not going to say anything about this video except I agree that “crack’s a hell of a drug”. That, and little miss missed out on a few opportunities to kick him square in the nuts. Glad she didn’t, though.


You can’t lick our Cocks…

This morning, as I was sitting here thinking about what I wanted to write about today, I remembered a post I wrote for my original blog back in March 2015. At that point, we had only been in Stuttgart for about nine months. I was a member of way too many local Facebook groups. There was a lot of drama in those groups… drama that I haven’t seen up here in Wiesbaden. In many ways, I enjoy the lack of drama because I don’t end up nearly as annoyed or upset as I regularly did in Stuttgart. On the other hand, I almost never lacked for topics to write about.

Back in March 2015, the American high school for the children of military and government service members, Patch High School, was still located on Patch Barracks. The Stuttgart area high school has since moved to Panzer Kaserne, as a brand new facility was built and opened in the fall of 2015. The new high school’s mascot is the Panther, as it was for Patch High School. However, the community sports team’s mascot was the stallion, as is the mascot for Patch Elementary School.

A flag with the famous Stuttgart stallion on it.

The choice of a stallion as a mascot was locally significant, since Stuttgart’s coat of arms has a stallion on it. Car buffs might also notice that Porsche, which is a sports car brand made and based in Stuttgart, also has a horse on its logo. Sometime in the past, when it came time to name the local sports team’s mascot, someone decided on the stallion. The teams for the female athletes were known as “Lady Stallions”. Back in March 2015, the local sports team coordinators were looking for people to join the “Lady Stallions” softball team.

I am a lover of words. I’m also a lover of horses. A stallion is, by definition, an uncastrated male horse. Because I was feeling saucy, I mentioned this fact in a snarky Facebook group I used to be part of back in the day. Some brave soul decided to share my thoughts with the sports team coordinator, who wrote this cranky response:

I’m going to take a wild guess here and assume that Ms. ****** has no prior experience or dealings with OCONUS community level sports. We did not name ourselves Stallions. That is the mascot for the Stuttgart community, therefore we don’t have the authority nor the desire to change it simply because a stallion is a male horse. Every community level sport here has a men’s team and a women’s team, both of which are Stallions. Just like any other community… Lady Rams, Sabres, Mustangs, Generals, etc. So, if there is more concern about what we are called than actually playing the sport, that is not someone who we are looking to add to the team. 

Well excuuuuuuseeee ME!!!

I was amused by the bitchy response, which wasn’t directed to me personally, but to the woman who had decided to comment that stallions are, in fact, male horses by definition. But then I started thinking about it some more. I wrote this in my original blog:

Okay, fair enough…  but have they considered what makes a stallion a stallion?  I used to judge horses and I’ve seen quite a few sets of stallion genitalia.  They have balls the size of grapefruits.  They have very impressive penises, too.  I was thinking about including a photo for reference, but given that apparently a lot of people like to use horses for their own twisted fantasies, I decided against it.  

Notice that the person who responded lists examples of other “lady” teams as “proof” that Stuttgart is not the only area where a mascot is obviously male, yet has teams designated for the ladies.  But only one of her examples isn’t gender neutral.  One can be a female mustang or general, for instance, though I don’t think sabres actually have genders.  I do realize, though, that sexist mascots are very common. 

My high school’s mascot, the Duke of Gloucester– hence the Gloucester Dukes.

Now, at my high school, our mascot was “The Dukes”.  No, it wasn’t because of the Dukes of Hazzard; it was because of the Duke of Gloucester.  If you grow up near Yorktown, Virginia, you quickly become acquainted with the names of people who were important in the American Revolution.  And yes, we did have “Lady Dukes” instead of Duchesses.

Long, hard, and pointy… just like something else we all know…

After I graduated from Gloucester High School, I went to Longwood College– now known as Longwood University. Our mascot was, and still is, the Lancers. Back when I was a student, we didn’t have an actual mascot. Now, there’s Elwood, who is a horse. Longwood was an all women’s school until 1976. Still, we have a rather phallic looking symbol on our mascot…

Elwood the horse… He didn’t exist when I went to Longwood. I guess the sports teams have gotten better since the 90s.

It wasn’t lost on me that my college had a rather phallic mascot. I mean, the horse isn’t so much… except that I think Elwood is male, and if he’s a stallion, he’s got impressive genitalia. Trust me, I’ve seen a lot of equine genitalia.

I used to have this sticker on my car. I had to remove it due to force protection rules.

So then I went to the University of South Carolina, where the mascot is the Gamecock. Gamecocks are fighting roosters. Roosters are males. I remember that the female athletes at my graduate school were not known as Hens, but Lady Gamecocks. And, in fact, they were all collectively referred to as “Cocks”. I have a Facebook friend who went to the University of South Carolina as an undergraduate. I like to tease him by writing “Go Cocks” on his posts.

I used to wear a garnet colored t-shirt that read, “You can’t lick our Cocks.” It looked just like today’s featured photo looks. Unfortunately, back at that time, it was just before Lou Holtz took over coaching the football team and, in fact, a whole lot of other teams “licked our Cocks” quite soundly. Like Lou Holtz, I started my time at USC in 1999, and Mr. Holtz was indeed able to turn the football team around. They became a very formidable force that year. Lou Holtz left USC in 2004, having vastly improved their stats.

I don’t actually follow football or any other sports. I just think it’s interesting that so many sports teams are named after male animals, and a lot of those names end up being shortened to references to genitalia. Especially when you consider what happens when when a male gets hit in that part of the body…

3:22… that was all she wrote for that fight. OUCH!
Sheesh! Game over!

Given this obvious weakness in a male’s anatomy, I wonder why we glorify a male’s genitals in sports contests and in naming sports teams.  What’s wrong with having a team called the Stuttgart Mares? Mares are pretty tough. And when they get hit in the genitals, it probably doesn’t hurt as much.

This mare looks like she can handle herself quite well.

Anyway… I’m glad that Stuttgart’s high school has adopted a gender neutral mascot in their Panthers. Here in Wiesbaden, the mascot is a nice, somewhat gender neutral Warrior. I guess there are female warriors out there, right? When I went looking to find the featured photo for today’s post, I found a picture of the t-shirt I used to own. I also found a lot of x-rated photos of the slang use of the word “cock”. It’s not just for male chickens, that’s for damned sure.

Actually, I’m reminded of something funny from my glory days in high school. Back then, Gloucester County still played in the AA league, which meant our school was considered “smaller”. It has since moved to the AAA league– I think that happened the year after my graduation. Teams were playing bigger schools in Hampton and Newport News and, unfortunately, getting soundly beaten a lot. But my senior year, we were still AA, and for Homecoming that year, we played the Bruton Panthers. Bruton is a small community in York County, near Williamsburg. Anyway… I distinctly remember my friends trying to come up with fight slogans for the floats in the Homecoming parade– you know, things like “Pierce the Panthers” or “Pop the Panthers”. One of my grosser male friends suggested “Panther Pap Smear”. Knowing my friends, I’m surprised no one suggested “Pork the Panthers”.