Littleton, NH

Have you ever noticed how the mind can make you feel any way it wants you to feel. It's kind of scary when you think about it but our minds are controlling all of us. Whether we like it or not. Think you have free will and can do whatever you want? Think again. That pesky mind is gonna get in there and screw it up for you, it always does.

I remember one time I wanted to go to a good college but then I realized that it was just my mind telling me that so I went and got drunk. Turns that was my mind too. Tricky bastard. I wonder if Lyle Gorches mind controls him too. I bet it does. I doubt anybody can get away with their mind not controlling them.

Think about what you did last night. Or the night before. Or whatever you've ever done. Well, let's just start with last night. What'd you do? Got it. Now, ask yourself, did you think of doing that? Come on, be honest. I bet it wasn't you at all. It was your mind wasn't it? Tricky fucker.

See that's how he gets away with doing it over and over and over again. He makes you think it was you all along. Oh yeah, I wanted to go get blasted on gasoline and poppers. Oh yeah, I wanted to drive my car off Mitchum Ranch Road. Wrong. It was your mind. Don't you see it now. You have no control over your life. You are just a prisoner of your mind being dragged through a series of tricks that your mind has orchestrated like a puppet master. I didn't even want to write this blog, but I guess you know who had other ideas.

Modesto, California

Clayton, Louisiana

Clayton is a town in northern louisiana. The population is 858. Cotton is a principal commodity in the area. Clayton is located on the Tensas River, important for fishing and boating.

Among the businesses in the community are Cross Keys Bank and David's Grocery.

And this is where I found one of Lyle Gorch's cousins who had all these family videos to show me.

Lyle Gorch

Blowing Rock, North Carolina

Located high in the North Carolina hills on the Eastern Continental Divide (elevation 4,000 feet), Blowing Rock is a town for all seasons. The falls are spectacular, the winters have been compared to scenes from Currier and Ives, the springs are an explosion of wildflowers, and the summers are cool and comfortable. Perhaps that's why the population of 1,500 swells to more than 5,000 during the summer months.

Fans of Jan Karon's "Mitford" series of books will no doubt feel they've come home to Mitford upon arriving in Blowing Rock. The author lived in the town while writing her novels and used it as the model for her fictional village.

It's also one of the best places I've found to go looking for recently retired spies. Or their wives. I find myself in Blowing Rock at least three or four times a year.

I keep getting more mail from our old friend Lyle Gorch. I'm not sure if it's his real name or not so I'm keeping my distance, he sure seems to know a lot about me. He could be a spy the I outspied years ago, coming back for his revenge. Anyway here's his latest.

Lyle Gorch said...

Mr. Hall,

I like your websight and all, and I think if you ever came to my town we could hang out (it would be cool -- you like junkyards and shooting rats, right?) -- but man I got some anger for you.

I don't if I like my letters to you being out there for everybody. I thought I was just writing you.

So I talked to Jimmy, and he talked to his brother Karl who been arrested like 40 times and shit so he knows the law good.
Karl says is you need to be getting me some fucking cash if you's going to be putting my writing there for everybody.
That got me pissed, and I broke that Richard Petty clock I bought at the Bakersfield Flee Market. It was badass to -- made outta Bud cans and driftwood by some mexican.
It had what you call "sendimental" value. And Richard Petty kicked fucking ass! Now he's retired and that Mexican's probably dead, so I'll never get me a knew one.

The ways I see it, you need to pay me. I fucking loved that clock (even if didn't work and all.)
Either that or Me, Jimmy and Karl is coming down there to whoop you ass! Karl knows karate so we're serious.

-Lyle Gorch


P.S. - Don't get pissed Mr. Hall. I had to write that shit about whooping you ass cuz Karl and Jimmy was in the room.
I didn't want to look like a pussy while I was writing this and talking it to them.
Don't worry about me though. They'll never know I aopologized cuz they can't read. And I ain't going to tell them neither.

I was lying about Karl knowing karate to. He said you'd be scared if I said that--worrying about numchucks and flying stars and shit -- but he don't know shit -- he just thinks Jackie Chan movies rock.

October 15, 2008 11:27 AM

lyle Gorch said...

Mr. Hall,

It's Lyle again. Who you doing?

I ain't doing to well cause you ain't never answer my question. What in the hells going on?
Maybe I scared you by saying I was goign to kick you ass? But I hope not.
I was got fooling you and I guess showing off for Jimmy and Karl -- but like I said don't worry about them. They to ignorant to reed.

It's just that I wrote to you like two days ago and and still nothing.
I'm a little upset. I couldn't even drink no gas last night (and that ain't happened since the day Dale Ernhardt died and when Channel 29 stopped playing Hee-Haw. Well, I also got pretty upset when Brittney shaved her head -- like some kind of freak or some shit!).
Even UFC wasn't no fun to watch last ight. I even tried watching some Mama's Family DVD's I gots from Jimmy for my birthday last year -- that didn't work neither. Fucking nothing.
Well, I did drink some gas before falling asleep on the couch.

I juts keep telling myself that you on some spy mission or some shit. And maybe you to busy chasing Russians (or was it Americans -- I can't remember. Wait is you a double-spy? Damn, thatd' be way cool) to write some shit.

It's just that I like to read about all them towns you visit, wishing it was me.
Sometimes I hate my town. I lived here my hole damn life so I get bored sometimes. We do have Squirrel season, but there ain't no real reason to live here.

But it's cool.

I got Satellite TV and there's lots of gas stations here (if you knows what I mean). You should visit -- we also got midget races every Saturday at the Bardstown Track just outside of town.

One good bit of news ... I gots my job at the bowling alley back. Mr. Dinkle said he had three Mexicans working for the same cash he paid me, but once rhubarb season hit -- they was gone. So he needed me back.

Mr. Dinkle also said that Jimmy could never come back cause he's a fucking drug addict. I neer busted a gut when I heard him say that.
Mr. Dinkle don't know shit. I can drink way more gas and huff way more of just about anything compared to Jimmy. (The only thing Jimmy can do more than me is he once beet me in a candy-corn eating contest. He eight 10 hole bags from KMart -- I eight seven and a half.)
Jimmy's almost as big a pussy as that Tyler dude who keeps fucking with you.
Even if Tyler thinks Tom Cruise is as Gay as I do, I still think he's the real candy ass.
You should watch out for that guy. I found a letter writing place of his out here on the interweb. I think I'm gitting in his head.

But if I ever see him ... I'd hit him square in the face ... BOOM!! ... like the floor does Jimmy after he just dranks a hole gallon of unleaded!

Your pal,

Lyle Gorch


P.S. Now that I'm think about it, you should come to visit during Squirrel season. Like I always says to Jimmy, You ain't living till you shoot a family of Squirrels in face when you wasted on gas!

Squirrel season starts the day after Thanksgiving in these parts, case your wondering.

Lets this be a warning to you Mr. Lyle Gorche, if that's your real name.

Attica, Ohio

The picture you see above you is of Lyle Gorch's grandfather and great grandfather. Lyle Gorch is this guy who might start posting to TDD pretty soon. He has some really good insight on things and I think he might be a pretty good spy.


Mr. Hall,

Two things.

One - you got me, I thought you were Jay Z there for a minute. I think I know how you became a spy.

Two - I guess that Tyler guy isn't so bad. I like kids covered in shit to.

My friend Jimmy has about four kids, I think. Every time I go over to his doublewide, I get so drunk that I usually piss on the floor. Not on purpose, but gasoline will fuck you up.
I ain't playing.
Have you ever tried it? If not you should cuz it's a good way to get fucked up.

Anyway, I can't remember how many kids Jimmy has cause we drink a lot of gas -- we used to huff it, but that stopped working after awhile.

So this one day two of his kids -- Tommy and that other one with the teeth-- were playing in the goat pasture next door. It's a farm owned by this Russian guy - maybe you know him. Well, I don't know if he's Russian, but talks funny so he must be something weird.
So Tommy comes runnin up screaming something about the other one is stuck or something -- we had just started with the gas so I can remember it a little. Anyway, we go over to that Russian's property and don't see nothing except a big old pile of goat shit. I never knew goats could shit that much, I mean Goddamn it was a big ole pile -- like that Russian had been taking them goats for Biscuits and Gravy at Cracker Barrel for a whole year!
Jimmy walked over to the pile cause it was so big. And he started laughing. Turns out that other one had fallen in headfirst and was screaming like a fat pig before Christmas.
Jimmy reached into that shit and pulled him out by the ankles.
I laughed so damn hard that gas came clear out my nose!
Damn that was funny. You shoulda been there Mr. Hall.

Lyle Gorch

Eagar, Arizona

Dear Mothers Cookies,

While your passing comes sudden and without warning I prefer to remember the good times before you got old and “stale”. Summer evenings with a bag of the Chocolate Chip and a baseball game. Nights in high school sharing the Toffee with an innocent crush. Or at birthday parties when it seemed the one constant in life was a bag of sweetened rocks, ehem, I mean cookies. Whatever the memory and though we’ve been apart for a long time now, I’ll just miss knowing you were there.




RIP MOTHERS COOKIES


Mothers Cookies, of Oakland, California closed its doors today after being in business since 1914.

Essex, Connecticut

Normally I wouldn't have anything nice to say at all about Connecticut, because I know some real doueschebags from there, but this is different. I had a huge crush on a girl from Essex.
Me and this other kid named Kevin used to be totally in love her. Her name was Winnie Cooper. She had long black hair and really cute eyes and legs that you could tell were gonna be really hot when she was older. Any way he was a real pushy little fucker that Kevin Arnold. With his little smile and his perfectly worn Jets jacket, he ended up getting Winnie right out from under me.

But a couple of days ago I was thinking about her and so I decided to look her up on the internet. What slut! There were like 100 pictures of her practically naked. My innocent little Winnie, a true modern day Jezebel. I mean Jesus, she really grew up in a good way.




Her real name is Danica McKellar and she's just as hot as she was then, but now she's legal. Essex is a sex offender.