It was late 1923 and “radio” didn’t seem but just a few months old, but for those who owned a radio, that box was quite a delight. Just about every time you turned it on you’d hear the song, “Barney Google;” with the “goo goo googly eyes” bam, bam, bam. Barney Google and Snuffy Smith inspired the hit written by Billy Rose, and I’m of the notion that radio was the greatest invention ever. I mean it was a total shockwave listening to music through a wireless setup! I remember me and my best girl, Mary (I called her Mouse), singing along at the top of our lungs at a little “knock, knock” up in
I called ‘em “knock knocks,” but I guess if you were not a frequent guest like my fortunate self, you might call it a “speakeasy.” I didn’t worry too much about a RAID; after all if your “owner-pal” had the right setup, those joints were all connected. My friend, Nic, in
Chicago didn’t understand why I called them “knock knocks.” At social gatherings, he kicked into blogging mode and would even offer money for me to speak in my native tongue filled with fast talking “jargon.” And I would naturally oblige laying my accent on thick by using my best tools, resources and wit to claim my domain; via my best southern vernacular. During that era of time anybody from the Appalachian Mountains was a novelty. However, that little café was a publicly criticized operation that anybody could take a DIG at! And my hillbilly charm would have been for naught had it not been for the product I personally delivered to the “tuxedo gambinos” in the big town.
I didn’t much like “moon-running” all the way to
but every once in a while I’d do the whole trip. I preferred taking my homemade vice on a shorter drive from the hills of Chicago Tennessee and to a flexible storage drop off unit at my cousin’s silo in . He had an “arrangement” with only one “organization” in Ohio . That was the smartest way to keep your teeth and nose straight (no pun intended). But I had been in the “Great War,” and I didn’t mind taking chances now and then on a bruised ego or worse… bruised, battered and broken bones. Cleveland
SO, to make a little extra cash, my “pay-pal” Nic who owned the little spindle in
got a great deal on my white lightning while his lady friends would flip and/or, should I dare say, flap over me. That’s why I didn’t mind running shine way up there. I referred to that long, hard drive as my secondary storage vice and I didn’t want to lose my connection to that “Inside Intel,” if you know what I mean. Plus Nic had a cannon massive protection device that he wasn’t afraid to use. He called it his MP-360 because the thing would turn on a dime if the cops showed up and it would scatter whatever you threw in there into what northerners might call, a powerful "third party" that equals the playing field. Chicago
Let me briefly explain why I took up moon running so you don’t think I’m a complete scoundrel. Even though the “Great War” supposedly ended in 1918, I didn’t get back from
until well into 1919. Upon my return from the service, I found that eking out a living in the Germany hill country was getting’ harder and harder. However, by 1923, I was really “twittering” along. I’m just poking fun with you. My friend Nic is the one who introduced me to that word (twittering) and I’ve laughed about it ever since. He was upset one day about an article from the New York Times claiming the investigation into President Harding’s administration was “poison-tongued partisanship, pure malice, and twittering hysteria!” I’ve loved that line ever since he read it out loud. I’ve used the phrase several times in conversation just to keep things rolling and to lighten up the mood. It usually gets me a laugh out loud. Of course, I proudly extort my entire southern drawl to adjudicate “twittering hysteria” from my mischievous lips. Tennessee
It had been a couple of years since the Eighteenth Amendment and when the government prohibited someone from doing something, the first thing they wanted to do was enlighten themselves with intoxicating beverages to further understand the law!
I actually delivered a special brew that my uncle Mac taught me how to make. Mac’s real name was Cameron McIntarsh (from the old country) but we just called him Mac. Cameron was a desk builder, but he was known in the “Good Lord’s Country” of
as one heck of a drink maker. He was an inventor and he would use a “special ether-net” allowing him to make whiskey that tasted like it had been blended for years. He called the bottle his “motherboard” and always said, “there in lies the secret” to making a great product. We never really understood what he was saying because he was always drunk, but we respected him for his… “Him-Selflessness.” He called it the Tennessee Dublin concoction and claimed the water was actually fresh from a colorful place called . Of course, we all knew where the spring water came from, but we jokingly referred to it as the E-Bay, Ireland I-Pond Bay of the . It’s rumored he had the secret recipe written down in what we also lightheartedly called his I-Pad or “Irish Pad.” In other words, it was somewhere in his house or the crevasses of his mind and no one would ever find it! Great Smokey Mountains
The beer recipe, however, is a different story. My Pappy once told me that our beer recipe had been in the family since 486 A.D.! He said that we were distant relatives of
, the King of the Franks. After the Franks sacked Clovis Rome, they made their King in 481. According to my Pappy, Clovis Clovis had a taste for brew, but at that time in Europe, beer was despised and considered bad for you. But in 486, used Roman technology (some say it actually came from the ancient Sumerians) to cross breed a delicious wine/beer mixture. It’s a 32 bit branch process where he used a broadband so the liquid combination would flow faster through an integral pipeline fermenting the yeast fusion process at a floating point that he called a branch prediction. This was the Pentium of the brewing progression. Clovis
I don’t have a window into
’ mind, but the procedure somehow works, and the product sold great in 1923. We enjoyed a prosperous, healthy living throughout the roaring 20’s and “The Age of Prohibition.” Known from Clovis Cleveland to , we were “Processing Coherent Indiscretion” and so dubbed ourselves the “PCI Express.” Chicago
Running at night by the light of the moon, I bet the law thought we had artificial intelligence. I wish I would have been on line with something like that, but all I had was a police radio. I was the “Irresponsible Service Provider” (or ISP) of all the whiskey the big city folks could share or ware for that matter. Sometimes it felt like I was in a world wide web of deceit, but a man’s got to make a living.
On one extended trip to the coast, I had to modify the trunk for extra storage space. You can’t take a chance on a surprise search be it a trunk or an engine search. When you go to the U.S.B. P. (
’s Busiest “rum running” Port), you can’t be too careful. They definitely had some spy ware there! United State
I got nervous about halfway to the port. I even thought I might have to send a cable back home to Pappy. My machine (I call her that) started acting funny and slowing down a bit. I had sporadic popping activity in the motor (SPAM). I whipped out the toolbar and could tell it had something to do with the coasting diode random oscillating machinery (CD-ROM). After checking the random action mechanism (RAM), I found the default off switch (DOS) located under the console to be interfering with the Complementary Metal Oxide Semiconductor or “codec.”
I stood there for a few minutes. I had a cookie and a pop; up by the edge of the highway. I felt like just crashing the whole load. But I brought myself back from the depths of my deepest fears and into a new dimension of thought. I had to figure out if my hunch would work. SO, I very softly took out a micro bit part from the processor and replaced one of the diodes to camouflage the micro function device into a Single In-line Memory Module (SIMM). By then, I was stirring for a nap; yes sir! But first I took a shortcut to my destination. And I must say; I don’t ever want to go that slow down that super highway again!!