Walter Miller's Homepage

Striving to be on the verge of sufforing from media over-exposure.

April 1998 Update

Page 3 of 8

Agian with the English acent

It is getting that I canot stand those Wieght Watchers commercials with Fergie. The ones where she is wearin the black dress at the podium in the fake press conferrence and says, "You don't even feel you are on a diet. You can have that bowl of pasta. You can have that bit of banana," and with her cute Engish accent she pronounces banana: 'Buh-NAW-na'. You know the comercials I mean.

It is not that i dont like Fergie - I allways did. I just canot stand Granfather's endless screaming at the TV whenevor she is on, bemoaning the loss of "the old plump farm gal" who he felt was prettier with the extra 50 pounds plus the old bastords never ending yet rathor acurate imitation of her voice all day long like a demmented person which is NOT cute at all:


Mabye the first time it was funney, but not for an hour a day.

To avoid him I went inside my room and made a coupel of phone calls. If Dad was going to head off the visit of my uncles, then I had to hold up my end of the bargain--BEFORE the old monster found out they were coming.

First i called the lady who is my new therapist. She is the one who took over when I fell in love with my old therappist and who i have been avoidding sessions with. I appollogized and told her that I woudnt miss no more sessions. Not that i enjoy the sesions. Its just that i will pay any price to get Granfather into therappy himself. She was very glad to hear from me and said "I am glad you are gettin your life togethor Walter."

Well it is about danm time somone noticed. I have been TRYIN to do that for a long time. Everyone allways notices the things i do bad eithor at work or in my family or with my therapy. But no one wants to reckongize the good things i am doing.

Okay, i will stop whining.

Next I logged on the web and once agian there was some mail about the Fox netwerk TV cartoon King of the Hill.

Many peoplle have wrote in to ask if i am freelance writing for King of The Hill. I am not, but I sure as hell wish I was. I heard those guys make, like 30 thuosand a year. WHOA!

One recent episode showed Hank Hill's ornery old father, Cotton Hill. Granfather is a big fan of the show and especialy loves Cotton. This is because the 2 of them are similor: Coton Hill slaps womon's asses in public and is crusty and mean -- But here the simmilarites end. Cotton is marreid to a pretty womon, and was a brave war hero. Granfather is unmaried, never dated a pretty womon in his life and elluded the draft until they snagged his lazy skinny boney ass and forced him to serve, where he did so with no distinction, (althuogh with plenty of bodily stink - tion), and also quite cowardley.

Biggest diference between the two: Cotten Hill is NICE to his grandson. Granfather treats his grandson like crap. My hompage had been doccumenting this since 1995 -- much more longer than when King of the Hill premiered in January 1997.

More e-mail

My freind Ken sent me a URL so i coud see a .JPEG of his little kid who is very cute. Seeing cute babbies alwayes depresses me considdering what an ugly clan I come from.

I, for exampol, never went thruogh a cute stage. I went dirrectley from extremly ugly newborn to emaciated refugee-looking toddler, to gawky ungainly adollescent, where from age 4 my looks have not changed at all ecxept that ive gotten allot taller yet while continueing to maintain the exact same ammount of muscle tone. As a child, Granfather used to crelly taunt me by saying that i am so skinney that i have to run arround in the shower to get wet. It also did not help that I was a forceps-on-the-face baby. Plus I was the type of kid that when i woud go to sit onto Santa Claus's lap, Santa woud be the one to scream in fright.

Family dysfunctionallity across the Web

Also there in my In-Box was anothor stilted and awkwordly worded e-mail from Uncle Zeke that was originaly adressed to my Dad, but which dad had fowwarded to me. I was very upset, because acording to the note, there was now a change in plans: Dad told me that my uncles refused Dad's offer, (dad offered them cash to pay for all of Granfather's debts and transgresions). My uncles are adament that they are goingto come to visit.

The bottom line was that NOW I had to tell Granfather, in hopes that he woud settle with Zeke and Wiliam. Dad said he did not want a confrontattion between the old gents and also Uncle Wilaim was much too sick to travol. But I did NOT want to tell Granfather beccause i promised Uncle Zeke I woudnt. So I called up my father on the phone to complain.

Dad is pissed

California Time Zone is 2 hours earlior than us. They were just sittin down for supper and he started hollerin at me which is rare for him, becuase, like me, Dad is the queit type and nevor hollars, but he was hollerin this time: "I dont want a Texas showdown there!!" and what he means is the historey of bad blood between the brothors going back allmost 60 years. Over that time theres been allot of lawsiuts not to mention fights, busted bones, stabbings, a time Granfather atcualy blasted Zeke with a birdshot gun in his big tall high flat ass plus also a horroble incodent about how Granfather bit somthin off him once that I wrote abbout here. Alls I can say is thank God there mothor was able to sew it back on.

The phone call ended with a lie

I told dad that i WOUD tell Granfather about the inpending visit from his brothors. I also told Dad NOT to mention it to Granfather when he spoke to him on the phone in folowwing weeks, because it woud make him pissed to be reminded of it. Dad agreed, but the truth is that I lied to avoid confrontation. Confrontattion with Dad, with Granfather and with my uncles.

I had no intention of telling the old bastord at all that his brothers were comming. Shirking responsobbilities is a pattorn in my life. One day i will be man enuogh and also more mature as to handol my fear of othors. Its pittiful, I know.

Well 3 days lator the whole thing blowed up in my face

Dad called as he usualy does just while Granfather was watchin one of his favorrite programs, The Jenny Jones Show. The basterd had made clear that Dad was never to call when Jenny is on, and Granfather sweares that Dad does it on purpoce, but Dad says he does not. Granfather is extremmly mean and even when his only son, (his only known son, I shoud add), calls up when Jenny is on, the old bastord will scream, "I DONE TOLE YOU NOT TO CALL WHEN JENNY'S ON!" then he slamms the phone hard. Or else he will use that spreycan stadium airhorn right in the phone that he keeps on the cofee table.

Well this is ecaxtly what hapenned. After hollering at Dad and hanging up, Dad actualy called a second time. This time Granfather was furoius. The deranged old bastord ripped the phone cord rihgt out of the wall.

A few quiet tence moments go by

I was so scared that i just stood there frozen. "NEXT TIME I SEE YER PAW," Granfather finaly grumbled to me in a low canine growl, "I'M GONNA TEAR ANOTHER POOP CHUTE OUT FER HIM WITH MUH BARE HANDS." Then imediatly he turned his gaze to the TV set and said, still growling, but this time in a throatey lacivious way, just like when Worf sees Dax wearin a sexy vinyl nightie on Star Trek Deepspace 9, "TALK ABOUT AGING GRACEFULLY. JENNY HERE COUD RE-FORMAT OL' GRAMPY'S DRIVE ANYTIME SHE DURN PLEASES."

Sudenly the phone in my room rang -- it is a diferrent phone numbor. I went in to answor it and it is set on speakerphone and Dad is on the other end extremly pissed and hollering. I wished it WASNT on speaker because Granfather heard Dad mention that "surely by this time Walter told you that your brothers were coming to visit..."

Granfather looked up at me and said "YOURE DEAD, BOY" and then he wheeled in the othor room to get the call. The old bastord forced me to tape the Jenny jones Show for him.

Granpy was extremly paranoid abbout not missing it, becuase the theme of the show was "I'm A Large Sized Beuty Looking For A Lifelong Cutie" and they were right up to the part where a man who prefers heftey women was sittin on the couch with the chance to choose his date from three women based on what only their butts looked like. Mabye you too have seen this eppisode, it aired in March: Three portley woman, admitedley weighing 220, 240 and 260 pounds respectively stood behind a peice of plywood held up by two half-nakad men while behind it the women, who were all wearring tight clothes, gyrated and thrusted their pelvises and wiggled thier jiggly globulor asses while saying provoccotive things to the guy on the couch, while written in gold glitter on the plywood it said: "You Know You Want It!"

And peoplle say things abuot MY website bieng in bad taste. By the way the man picked the 3rd womon who weighed 260.

All of this hapenned last month. After Granfather ended up finding out about the supprize visit, you woud think he woud be upset. But no, it served to inculcate him into having more hatred of his brothors. It made him count everry minute until their arrivol. Evil, saddistic, cruel old beastly sunoffobich-bastord.

And now we proceed up to the last few days