Scattered Thoughts from a Scattered Mind: Volume Iii a Laugh a Minute

By David Mills

Like Elvis, David Mills has left the building.

It was a few short months ago, near closing time at the Tradewinds Lounge in St. Augustine, Florida, when he announced to the crowd
Im going to find my fortune in the uranium fields of west Texas!
They say its just lying around on the ground out there and all you have to do is pick it up!

And he hasnt been seen since.

Sadly, before he disappeared, no one had the opportunity to explain to him that there was no such thing as uranium fields in West Texas.

In his absence, we hope you enjoy this, his third helping of Scattered Thoughts.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Nov 22, 2013
• ISBN: 9781493125203

David Mills

David Mills has worked in the field of pneumatic conveying for over forty years. From 1998 – 2006 he was Professor of Bulk Solids Handling at Glasgow Caledonian University. He has published over 170 papers in the field, and has been working as an independent consultant in pneumatic conveying since 1996.

Book preview

Castles of Sand

Wasting away in the U.S. of Ages,

Scratching my ass, writing these pages,

Trying to figure these times that we’re in,

The barkeep is pouring until I say when.

Around and around the pundits go,

Accomplishing nothing, refusing to row,

A trillion, two trillion, three trillion or more,

Our Treasury soon a wallpaper store.

One million babies aborted last year,

Parenthood holding the taxpayers near,

Your dollars, my dollars, money to burn,

Suffer the children with nothing to learn.

Brietbart is dead and sorely missed,

Speed reading Drudge just keeping me pissed,

Wearing the wife with political rant,

So off to a friend’s to roll up some plant.

How should I answer my grandson’s questions?

When he lives in a world of constant recessions,

No way to give him a helping hand,

Our country eroded as castles of sand.

(Neal Bootrz made me do it just before he retired. Happy trails, Neal)

Some Say

Some say the humor has left my life,

That it poured from my veins at the tip of a knife,

I still hear them talking, I’m a crafty old fox,

As I lay in this cushiony crafted box.

But they don’t know, nor try to see,

That I’m finding myself finally free,

Aloft and gaining escape altitude,

Freshened and happy with a new attitude.

Gone are the doubts, the pain, the sorrow,

Nothing to gain but the thrill of tomorrow,

I’ll send you a card from the land of next door,

As I visit the stars and continue to soar.

Physical Cliff

Physical Cliff was a mountain man,

With arms big-around as country hams,

His teeth were green and his speech was mean,

The Tennessee Vols were his favorite team.

He drove to town every month or so,

And stopped by the Westbrook watering hole,

Beam straight up was his weapon of choice,

Six at once before losing his voice.

He loved to shoot pool and play the juke box,

He’d often shout, Aerosmith rocks!,

Had a girl downtown, Molly by name,

They’d drink cold beer and watch the "Newlywed