Hank Hill Quotes

A better life means different things to different people

Soccer was invented by European ladies to keep them busy while their husbands did the cooking.

Dang it bobby

I sell propane and propane accessories.

BWAHHHHH

I was at a party in Beverly Hills, and everyone in sports was there. Magic Johnson, Wayne Gretzky, Kareem. And I spotted my idol—Hank Aaron! I walked up to him and introduced myself. He said, “I know who you are. You made a great decision going to the USFL.” I was shocked. Then he leaned in and whispered, “Tom, you always have to get the money. Get the fucking money. Because they don’t care about you.” —Tom Ramsey, quarterback, Los Angeles Express

In 1498, Vasco da Gama the Portuguese navigator explored this eastern coast of Africa flanking the Indian Ocean. This led him to open a trade route to Asia and occupy Mozambique to the Portuguese colony. In 1840, it came under the control of the Sultan of Zanzibar and became a British protectorate in 1895, with Mombasa as its capital. Nairobi, lying 300 miles to the northwest of Mombasa is the largest city in Kenya. It became the capital in 1907 and is the fastest growing urban area in the Republic having become independent of the United Kingdom on December 12, 1963 and declared a republic the following year on December 12, 1964. Kenya is divided by the 38th meridian of longitude into two very different halves. The eastern half of Kenya slopes towards the coral-backed seashore of the Indian Ocean while the western side rises through a series of hills to the African Shear Zone or Central Rift. West of the Rift, the lowest part of a westward-sloping plateau contains Lake Victoria. This, the largest lake in Africa, receives most of its water from rain, the Kagera River and countless small streams. Its only outlet is the White Nile River which is part of the longest river on Earth. Combined, the Blue Nile and the White Nile, stretches 4,160 miles before emptying into the Mediterranean Sea.

Major General Leonard Wood Leonard Wood was an army officer and physician, born October 9, 1860 in Winchester, New Hampshire. His first assignment was in 1886 at Fort Huachuca, Arizona where he fought in the last campaign against the fierce Apache warrior Geronimo. He was awarded the Medal of Honor for carrying dispatches 100 miles through hostile territory and was promoted to the rank of Captain, commanding a detachment of the 8th Infantry. From 1887 to 1898, he served as a medical officer in a number of positions, the last of which was as the personal physician to President William McKinley. In 1898 at the beginning of the war with Spain, he was given command of the 1st Volunteer Cavalry. The regiment was soon to be known as the “Rough Riders." Wood lead his men on the famous charge up San Juan Hill and was given a field promotion to brigadier general. In 1898 he was appointed the Military Governor of Santiago de Cuba. In 1920, as a retired Major General, Wood ran as the Republican candidate for the presidency of the United States, losing to Warren Harding. In 1921 following his defeat, General Wood accepted the post of Governor General of the Philippines. He held this position from 1921 to 1927, when he died of a brain tumor in Boston, on 7 August 1927, at 66 years of age after which he was buried, with full honors, in Arlington National Cemetery.

After walking up one of the steepest streets in the Village of Überlingen, I found Herr Graf at the municipal hospital and was shocked to see how severe his burns were. He was in a dreadful state and obviously appeared to be in great pain. Although his heavy woolen police uniform had warded off burns to his body, his face and hands were badly scorched. The hospital was understaffed for the number of casualties they had to care for, so he asked me if I could come to feed and care for him occasionally. Of course I agreed, even though I knew that for each visit I would have to trudge up the same very long steep hill to get there. Seeing him suffering and in such pain, I felt that this was the least I could do; besides I was now moving into his apartment…. With great difficulty he handed me the key and asked if I could try to locate his teenage son, who had most likely been captured by the Allies. On the way back, my reward was that it was downhill with a beautiful view of the distant Alps. Besides, it was a much easier walk!

Of all the theaters I miss from the 1950’s and before, the Hudson Theatre tops the list. It was built in what was then called Union Hill, early in December 1907. It was actually known as “The Hudson Burlesque,” and it featured striptease artists such as Lili St. Cyr, Gypsy Rose Lee and Tempest Storm. Being too young to get into the theatre on my own, I usually offered an adult standing in line some money to take me in. Once inside, I would head for the front of the theatre to the fire exit on the right side of the orchestra seating. It was all prearranged with my friends waiting outside! With one kick, the door would open, allowing them to come streaming in. There were not enough ushers to catch us all, so some of us would invariably be caught and evicted; only to try and gain access again. It was all great fun! Its demise came in 1957 after the theatre owners took out the comedy acts and replaced them with more featured strippers. Society balked, arrests were made and the curtain came down!

KaBoom…. The roar of the cannon could be heard reverberating for miles around. The volatile sound boomed off the side of the hill that the school was on, and echoed across the Bagaduce River. I don’t know if the 3”/50 caliber gun, mounted as a decorative piece in front of Richardson Hall, was ever fired in anger, but now for the first time, as far as anyone could remember, it had been fired as a lark. The parking lot was a mess. Strewn across the melting snow were brightly colored panties, brassieres and other ladies’ garments. There were bras hanging from the electric wires and trees. It was obvious that the cannon had been fired as a prank since we could later hear the seniors talk about what they had had to do to get these items to start with. Although the chatter continued for some time, no one was ever identified as the culprit. In fact, the administration took the position that it never even happened since that way nobody had to lie or be held accountable. No logbook entries were ever made since it did not happen on either of the watches. Nothing was broken and the all-too-visible attire could have fallen from an airplane, for all anyone knew.

Geographically, Liberia borders the Atlantic Ocean and is situated at the bottom of the “West African Bulge.” It has a wonderful diversified terrain and an abundance of natural resources. This little known country is located southeast of Sierra Leone, south of Guinea and west of Cote d’Ivoire. Liberia has a coastal plain extending 25 miles in from the ocean and is about 350 miles long extending the length of the country. Inland from the coastal plan are rolling hills and low mountains. In this mountain range is Mount Wuteve with an elevation of 4,724 feet. However the highest mountain, although but not wholly within Liberia, is Mount Nimba with an elevation of 5,748 feet.

After the Spanish American War, the United States appointed military governors for Puerto Rico, the Philippines and Cuba, as well as the Panama Canal Zone, which had been wrested away from Colombia. Leonard Wood was a physician who served as a line officer when he commanded the Rough Riders during the Battle of San Juan Hill, for which he was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor. In 1898, he was appointed the Military Governor of Santiago de Cuba. Major General John R. Brooke served in the United States Army during both the American Civil War, where he was seriously wounded and later in the Spanish American War. After the war with Spain he was appointed to be the Governor of Puerto Rico after which he became the first Military Governor of Cuba, a position he held from January 1, 1899, until December 23, 1899.

I knew that once I was sworn in, I would be a Midshipman in the United States Naval Reserve and a Cadet in the United States Maritime Service. That meant that I would be a low life “plebe” or “mugg” to the upperclassmen. Everyone on the bus had a good idea of what we were in for as muggs, and it was not good. The bus rolled through Bucksport and then passed through Orland, which could hardly be called a town, onto even narrower, bumpier roads, to what seemed to be the end of the Earth. By now, it was getting late and the shadows were getting longer, as the bus ground up a long incline and then turned right, past a small golf course on a barren hill. Finally, I saw the “Maine Maritime Academy” sign, indicating that we had arrived. I don’t know what I expected, but the few buildings on the side of this windblown hill wasn’t it! The buildings that I was looking at would be my home for the next three years. The bus took a final left hand turn and pulled up alongside a relatively large red brick building. I could see the upperclassmen through large windows, anxiously awaiting our arrival. Seeing us, they finally knew that they had graduated to the exalted position of “Lord and Master.” For the first time, I got that sickening feeling of total helplessness, mixed with apprehension and anxiety. There was nowhere to hide and I refused to show my feelings, so I compensated by getting off the bus with a swagger and a smug grin that would soon get me into trouble and be wiped from my face. If I wanted to survive, I had better be ready to play their game and put up with the countless acts of immaturity that would be bestowed upon poor me….

Working was a matter of pride and we did it because we wanted to, not because we had to. During our infrequent breaks, the reward was going to the small store we called a “geedunk.” Getting to it required a climb up the long ladder or wooden stairs from the dock area. The geedunk was owned by Ma & Pa McCloud and, although it wasn’t anything to write home about, it was a safe haven for underclassmen and had everything from lobster rolls to hot dogs and hamburgers. Having an old-fashioned soda fountain, some tables and booths, it was a place where we could sit and shoot the breeze, without being hassled by the upperclassmen. Although the Academy fed us well, I was at an age when I was always hungry and if I got some slack time from Bo’sun Haskell or Bill Cooms, and had the money, I’d climb the back ladder for some chow. Sometimes I’d even be able to afford a lobster roll, but they were few and far between. I always tried to stretch the break into at least twenty minutes. Our respite never seemed long enough, but just by looking at my hands you could tell that the work was hard and the day was long. Finally, when the working day was behind us, we usually just dragged ourselves back up the steep hill, forgetting the idea of marching in formation. Time was always a factor, so it was imperative that I get cleaned up and into the uniform of the day before the chow line closed.

Plodding along what barely passed for a trail, I had an eerie feeling. There was still snow on the ground but the air had become warmer, causing a mist to form. We trudged under large trees to a place that I finally recognized. The thick forest ended as we continued, walking across an open field up the side of a hill. Once again our trail entered the woods, however now there were only low bushes, which surrounded the limestone quarry. I hadn’t really noticed but the snow was getting deeper, and now almost obliterated the worn pathway. The young man told me that I was close to my destination and that he would turn back now. I think he felt it would be better if we were not seen together, since the locals loved to gossip and seeing me with a single young man would certainly cause them to talk. Swinging his lantern as a farewell gesture, he disappeared into what had now become a heavy fog. I really felt uneasy now that the fog had settled in. There I stood, knowing that I still had to walk through the rock cut and past some trees before I could get back onto the paved road. There wasn’t anything I could do except continue on!

…we dipped down into the tunnel taking us under the Hudson River and into the heart of the “Big Apple.” I knew New York City well, so it only took minutes before I found my way to 42nd Street and was on the Great White Way! There was a sense of excitement being surrounded by people who all seemed to be in a hurry to get somewhere. I ambled over to 8th Avenue, and found one of many bars advertising two drinks for the price of one. I entered thinking that in uniform I looked old enough to be served, but was still surprised when it happened. I don’t remember how much money I had on me, but it couldn’t have been much. Sitting at the bar, I blended in and no one seemed to care, so I had the second glass of what must have been the cheapest whiskey ever sold. Fortified by liquid courage, I started to feel bigger than life, and I thought to myself that if nobody else cared, why should I? The world was my oyster and I was the “King of the Hill.” The bartender asked if I wanted another drink. Looking at my watch I suddenly realized that it was later than I thought…. Where had the time gone? I had to get back! I had just arrived in the City and couldn’t believe how fast the time had flown by. I hurried to the new Port Authority Bus Terminal two blocks away and luckily caught the bus to Perth Amboy just in time. I felt a little lightheaded, but had it together enough to realize that I was racing against the clock. The bus seemed to take forever, making many more stops for red lights than I expected….

I started my long journey back to Bischoffsheim, by walking from the farm, high on the side of a hill, down to the subterranean railroad station in Überlingen. After the last crest I could see the lake with the magnificent high Alps on the far side. Again, I knew that I was looking at neutral Switzerland but it was a world away from war-torn Germany. It took me well over an hour walking down the steep hill to the village. With me I had two big empty suitcases that I pushed ahead of me as I boarded the train that finally came out of the tunnel. At first the train for Strasbourg was nearly empty, but the farther north we traveled the more people got on. I remember how crowded the Strasbourg Hauptbahnhoff was when the train finally pulled into the station. Not wanting to disturb my sister-in-law Elizabeth again, I stayed at a hotel that night. I didn’t know if I was still wanted by the Nazis but I couldn’t afford to take a chance. This way I could catch the early morning connecting train to Rosheim, which was the closest town to Bischoffsheim.

No place in Haiti was easy to get to and to drive to their lodge would take a couple of hours, so they sent a van to pick us up. It was already evening and the sun had just set, as we made our way up into the mountains behind Port-au-Prince. As we bounced along the dirt road winding through the hills, I could distinctly hear the rhythm of drums and see fires on the distant mountains. Mrs. Allen, who was with us, explained that in the 1940’s devout members of the Catholic faith considered the Voodoo rites an abomination of their faith. They armed themselves and started to eradicate from Haiti what they considered a cult. The entire thing turned into a war! They burned voodoo temples and shrines, and killed some of the practitioners as well as voodoo priests. In the end, the Catholic hierarchy gave up and after a time reached a tacit understanding with them. They now allowed Voodoo drums and songs to be sung in Catholic Church services and ignored what they once called devil worship.

home last night. He went to work in the morning and that’s the last I saw of him.” She paused. “What’s this all about? What’s he done?” “Do you know where he might be?” Lines of worry showed on Tammy Norton’s face. “I … I don’t know. Can’t you tell me what’s going on?” “He’s wanted for questioning in a murder case, ma’am.” Mrs. Norton’s mouth dropped open and she sank into a chair and leaned forward. “Murder?” She rested her head in her hands and sat still a moment. Finally, she looked up, confusion and pleading on her face. “There must be some mistake?” “What is your, or your husband’s, relationship with Werner Shaft?” Hank asked.

Rosemary Coleman?” Hank said softly.

The Hudson Burlesque Of all the theaters I miss from that era, the Hudson Theatre tops the list. It was built in what was then called Union Hill, early in December 1907. We called it the Hudson Burlesque, and it featured striptease artists such as Lili St. Cyr, Gypsy Rose Lee and Tempest Storm. Being too young to get into the theatre on my own, I usually offered an adult standing in line some money to take me in. Once inside, I would head for the front of the theatre to the fire exit on the right side of the orchestra seating. It was all prearranged with my friends waiting outside! With one kick, the door would open, allowing them to come streaming in. There were not enough ushers to catch us all, so some of us would invariably be caught and evicted, only to try to gain access again. It was all great fun! “I don't think there is such a thing as being too raunchy when it comes to the art form of burlesque.” Christina Aguilera, American singer-songwriter and actress. From the upcoming book “Seawater One.

The following year, on June 20, 1947, not suspecting what was about to happen, Bugsy Siegel was sitting on a couch in the living room of Virginia Hill’s home at 810 Linden Drive in Beverly Hills. As he was reading a newspaper, an assassin fired a number of shots, from a rifle, through the front window. Siegel was shot twice in the head, with one bullet exiting his skull near the bridge of his nose, causing his left eye to be blown out of its socket. He was also hit twice in the torso. His death was instantaneous and the graphic photos of his bullet-riddled body made headline news. Although there were enough suspects to go around, Eddie Cannizzaro, the “Cat Man,” a connected west coast mobster, made a deathbed confession that he was the one who carried out the contract. Although the case isn’t closed, it is cold and will most likely remain so, as it rests on the desk of Detective Les Zoeller of the Los Angeles Police Department.

Sergei Vasilievich Rachmaninoff was born on April 1, 1873. It was his good fortune to be born into a rich aristocratic family and could take up the piano at age four. The Rachmaninoff family although a part of the elite Russian military had a strong tie to music which allowed Sergei to attend the Moscow Conservatory of Music where he followed his talents to become one of the finest pianists of his day. At the time of his graduation in 1892 he had already composed several piano and orchestral pieces some of whose works are among his most popular pieces. In 1897 when he was 24 years of age he became depressed over a critical review of his Symphony No. 1. Voluntarily entering therapy he overcame his debilitation and four years later wrote the enthusiastically received Piano Concerto No. 2. After the Russian Revolution the elite families of Russia fled with the Rachmaninoff’s moving to New York City. Sergei’s talents and popularity as a pianist grew as he went on a demanding international tour. During this time his productivity slowed to where he only completed six copositions. In 1942 he moved to Beverly Hills and became an American citizen. The following month he died of advanced cancer.

Jake, it’s Hank.

the fog closed in around me, smothering the hills like a familiar old blanket.

Caleb’s eyes shifted to something in the corner and went narrow, and a dangerous calm replaced his outrage. “My shotgun,” he said disbelievingly. “Isn’t that my shotgun?” “I only borrowed it,” Lily said, squaring her shoulders. “You shouldn’t make such an issue of a little thing like that.” “Have you fired it?” Lily thought of the large round bruise on her stomach where the butt of the weapon had struck her when she pulled the trigger. She wasn’t about to talk about that, or the fact that the force had thrown her ignobly to the ground. “Yes, sir,” she said, putting a pointed and mocking emphasis on the word “sir.” Caleb let out a long sigh and shoved splayed fingers through his dirty hair. “Lily, you could hurt yourself with that thing. You’ve got no damned business being out here without a man to protect you.” Lily ladled water into her shiny new enamel coffeepot and set it on the stove with a bang. “Well, I won’t have to worry anymore, will I? Now I’ll have you for a neighbor!” “You could be a little happier about it.” “Why should I be? Velvet and Hank are settling just over the next hill. What do I need with a man who won’t marry me, who thinks I’m sneaky? Besides, you’re not interested in settling here—you just want to be handy so you can gloat every time I make a mistake!” Caleb chuckled ruefully and shook his head. “To think I actually imagined you’d be waiting for me at home.” “This is home,” Lily said tautly, spooning coffee grounds into the pot. “We’ll see how you feel when the snow is six feet deep and you’ve been eating beans for two months straight,” Caleb replied.

There’s Gold in Them Thar Hills! Cuba has a history of mining that dates back to 1520, when the Spaniards opened the previously mentioned Jaguar gold mine. In 1533, the Jobabo mine was the site of a four-slave uprising which lead to their deaths. To intimidate the slaves and calm the colonists’ fears, the bodies of the strikers were decapitated and put on display in Bayamo. Although the number of strikers was small, the ramifications of this strike were lasting. For the remainder of the 16th Century, a number of confrontations continued between slave owners and their indentured servants consisting of Indians and African field workers. In most cases, their slaves just simply ran away. In 1550, needing replacement workers, Spain granted a group of merchants the right to import additional African slaves into Cuba. Working conditions under Spanish rule were generally unregulated. For the mineworkers conditions were deplorable and continued to be unsafe and unacceptable for another 400 years.

Not meaning to disrespect the Lincolns in any way, but they’re looking into this because they’re paid to look into it. Not because they necessarily think there’s anything to go on.” He paused. “However, if they come up with something solid. I mean solid. Real proof a crime has been committed here. Something that will stand up in court, then we’ll take another look. But until then …” He closed the file folder in front of him with a swish, sat back, adjusted his navy-blue tie, and looked at Hank. Hank studied Diego a moment and then finally stood. “All right. Thanks, Captain,” he said reluctantly as he turned and left the room. Hank knew Diego had done the logical thing. As head of the Richmond Hill Police Department, Captain Diego had worked his way up through the ranks and was well respected by the men under him. That wasn’t to say Diego was always right, of course, but he was the captain. He sighed and stabbed speed dial on his cell phone. “Jake here.” “Hey, Jake, the captain closed the file. Mrs. Macy’s death has officially been labeled a suicide by the coroner.” “So the investigators found nothing either?” Jake asked. “Nope. I have all the reports right here. If you guys are going to be home for a while, I’ll drop them over.” “Sure,” Jake said. “We’re here now. Come on over.” “Be right there.” Hank touched the cell phone and ended the call, shoving it into his pocket. He made photocopies of the papers, went to his desk, and slipped them into his briefcase. Before leaving, he poked his head back into Diego’s office. “Can we at least have an autopsy done?” he asked. Diego sighed. “All right. I’ll get the coroner to do a full autopsy. Then we’ll close the case.” “Thanks, Captain,” Hank said. He turned and left the precinct. Thursday, August 18th, 9:22 a.m. JAKE SWUNG the front door open when Hank knocked. “Come on in. Annie’s in the kitchen. There’s some fresh coffee on.” He led the way and Hank followed. Annie greeted Hank with a smile as he and Jake dropped into chairs at the kitchen table. Jake slouched back, using another chair to prop up his feet, while Annie poured three steaming mugs of coffee. She set them on the table with cream and sugar and sat at the end. Hank opened his briefcase and removed the folder of reports. He dropped them on the table in front of Annie. “It’s all here,” he said. “Police report. Coroner’s report. Doctor’s report. Drug screen.” Annie flipped open the folder and browsed the papers while Hank and Jake prepared their coffee. Lots of sugar in

This is how it is, how it always is with men: It feels good at first, it feels soft and solid, slipping into love, sliding into the sweet thing. But then it’s just like falling into a muck. Everything I learned at Silver Hill is gone. I am obsessed with Hank— Hank! My friend Hank! —the way I’ve been with everyone else before him. And I could say something, should say something, should make this stop before it gets any worse, but I’m not going to do that. I can’t. I am not good at walking before I have to run. I’m an idiot. I deserve to be a drug addict. I never learn.

Hank says he wants to take us up in the hills for a cougar hunt.

No place in Haiti was easy to get to and to drive to their lodge would take a couple of hours, so they sent a van to pick us up. It was already evening and the sun had just set, as we made our way up into the mountains behind Port-au-Prince. As we bounced along the dirt road winding through the hills, I could distinctly hear the rhythm of drums and see fires on the distant mountains. Mrs. Allen, who was with us, explained that in the 1940’s devout members of the Catholic faith considered the Voodoo rites an abomination of their faith. They armed themselves and started to eradicate from Haiti what they considered a cult. The entire thing turned into a war! They burned voodoo temples and shrines, and killed some of the practitioners as well as voodoo priests. In the end, the Catholic hierarchy gave up and after a time reached a tacit understanding with them. They now allowed Voodoo drums and songs to be sung in Catholic Church services and ignored what they once called devil worship. At the lodge, we were assigned rooms with real beds instead of the cots we were used to on the ship. Dinner consisted of chicken in a hot tomato and garlic sauce, over rice, with a heap of picklese on the side. Picklese is a pickled dish or Vinaigre Piquant, indigenous to Haiti consisting of peppers, shredded cabbage, onions, carrots, peas, vinegar, peppercorns and cloves. The dessert was Haitian Flan. It could not have been better and I was glad that I had availed myself of this generous offer. After dinner we went outside to where there was a large fire roaring, surrounded by benches made of split logs. We were warned that it gets cool in these mountains, and I was glad that I had brought along a sweater and jacket. We seated ourselves on the logs around the fire and listened to a gaunt-looking old Haitian woman explain what Voodoo was. She sounded convincing as she told of the Grand Voodoo Zombie rituals that were held at “Wishing Spot,” and how snakes slithered about the feet of the young women dancers. She spoke reverently about the walking dead in the Lower Artibonite Valley and the Spirits trapped in bottles near Cape Haitian. It was all very spooky and gave me something to think about that night. However before her talk ended, she came directly up to me and, looking deep into my eyes, said that I was to beware…. “I would witness death before leaving the island….” Ouch!

Turning left off of Deering Street, I headed the car down the hill towards the Deering Oaks Park. There was no reason to think anything would go wrong, but when we got down the hill, we both noticed that somebody had lost the wheel from their car, as it rolled past us. “What in the world is that?” I asked. Ann looked and replied, “I don’t know, I don't see any other cars around....” The very next moment, the car tipped down on my side and ground to a halt. We couldn’t believe what had happened! It was our car that had lost its left front wheel, right when we got to the bottom of the hill! There we were, stranded, on the corner where High Street meets Forest Avenue. Fortunately the car ended up near the curb, where we could leave it for now.