Wednesday, June 30, 2004

The Burgoo Soup Story

Burgoo is a hearty soup made from mutton, chicken, and a variety of vegetables. No two cooks prepare it the same way and most keep their recipes a closely guarded secret.

One tradition says that burgoo came to this country from Wales. It found it’s way to the Kentucky frontier through Virginia, but Daviess Countians have long claimed that the Welsh-Virginian dish was a low quality soup, not burgoo.

The evolution of burgoo, and its contents in its early days, seem markedly similar to those of Brunswick Stew. Burgoo developed in the early 1800’s as a squirrel stew with vegetables and it was first served to crowds at political rallies and later at church picnics.

Burgoo experts disagree about what meats actually go into burgoo. Each area of Kentucky, and even individual burgoo cooks use different types of meat in their burgoo. I prefer to use mutton, beef, and chicken. Mutton gives burgoo a wild game like flavor that holds its own against the red pepper and vegetables in our burgoo. Mutton gives the burgoo the same oomph that squirrel and other wild game formerly provided.

About the only point on which burgoo experts agree is the consistency of the soup. A good burgoo should be thick, but still soupy. This is the reason for the long, slow cooking time. It gives the burgoo time to thicken naturally.

The Burgoo Recipe
4 lb. Mutton
1-3 lb. Chicken
3/4 lb. Cabbage Ground or Chopped Fine
3/4 lb. Onion Ground or Chopped Fine
5 lb. Potatoes Peeled and Diced
2-17 oz. Can Corn (we like Shoe Peg)
or 2 Cups Fresh Corn
3/4 Cup Tomato Catsup
3-10 3/4 oz Can Tomato Puree
Juice of One Lemon
3/4 Cup Distilled Vinegar
1/2 Cup Worcestershire Sauce
2 1/2 Tablespoons Salt (or more to taste)
2 Tablespoons Black Pepper
1 Teaspoon Cayenne (more if you like)

Boil mutton in enough water to cover. Cook until tender about 2-3 hours. Throw out the broth and bones. Chop meat fine. Set aside. Boil chicken in 2 gallons of water in large kettle until tender. Remove chicken, add potatoes, cabbage, onion, corn, catsup and one gallon of water to chicken broth. Bring to a boil. Meanwhile, chop chicken meat, discarding bones and skin. When potatoes are tender add chicken, mutton, lemon, salt, pepper, Worcestershire sauce, vinegar and puree. Let this simmer for two hours or longer, stirring often from the bottom as it thickens.

Yield: 3 Gallons Burgoo is often served with bread, but crackers or corn bread are also good with burgoo.

If any of y'all get's a wild hair and tries this, I'd love to hear how it turns out. You should know... When I say sometimes we cook it longer than 2 hours... I mean some folks cook it for a day or so...
Southron Cookin'

Ok... stop reading, go to the kitchen, and find your mason jar full of bacon grease. What? You don't have one? Clearly we're going to have to work on you. Few things in this world can be properly cooked without bacon grease. Let's start with the simple stuff though:

Eggs: Eggs cooked properly, be they over-easy or scrambled, are always fried in butter and bacon-grease. Sausage grease can also be used, assuming you just cook the eggs in the same pan you fried it in. A tablespoon of butter never hurt an egg either.

Green beans: Green beans are not to be boiled. Like most things, they are far better fried. Take a couple of tablespoons of bacon grease, and about half a stick of butter, and fry up a mess of green beans in it. Cook them until their good and tender. This is how God ment for you to eat them.

OK now go on out to the smoker... wait... you mean to tell me you have no smoker? How the heck to do cook the bird on Thanksgiving??? WHAT!? You bake it? Sakes people! It's a bird not a cake!

Thankgiving Turkey: Ok, get ya a 16 to 20 pound bird. Clean him up good, and then rub bacon grease all over him. Good. Now cut a big onion in half, and throw it and a couple garlic cloves inside him. Now head out to get your smoker setup. In the water pan, make sure you put some more onions, garlic, and most importantly... whiskey. You must have whiskey. Lots of it. To make certain sure I always use Jack Daniels wood chips in my smoker. These are chips from the barrels used in that blessed distillery. Oh... the smell... OK, so now the smoker's setup. Put your bird in there on the lower rack. He's gonna need about an hour smokin' per pound. Let him go until he's about 5 hours from bein' done, and then go get ya a decent sized Boston Butt, and put it on the top rack. For the last 5 hours, all that juice will drip down on that turkey, and ohhhh Lord... ain't nothin' like it.

Someday we're gonna talk about the proper way to barbeque.

Tuesday, June 29, 2004

*** WARNING: Insensitive Post ***

Ok... if that headline wasn't enough, I'm going to give you one more chance. I'm fixin' to vent here. I'm going to say things that aren't nice, and that would almost certainly hurt someone's feelins. So listen up... If you're havin' a "I'm gonna save the world" day, do not read this.

So about 2 years ago, some folks around the neighborhood started noticing this girl around. She was about... 13... She never talked. She was about 5'4", black hair... permenantly squinting eyes, and a totally expressionless face. Not downs... No palsy that I could put my finger on... but she was clearly touched. Had that banjo-boy from Deliverence look. To make matters worse... She would just stare at you. I'm tellin' ya man... it creeped us out.

So put yourself in our shoes. We've lived here a year and we've never seen this girl. But now all the sudden, she's showing up. No one knows who she is, or where she lives, and no one is watching her.

I remember at one point, my neighbors little boy was trying to talk to her, and she wouldn't answer him. So he ran back to his mom and kepts saying, "Mom! He won't talk to me! Mom! He wont talk!" hehehe... His mom just kept trying to get him to shutup.

So anyway... now it's a year later. I know she's female, and I know her name is Erin. She talks now, but she still creeps us out. I mean come on. Our image of this kid is still of that girl staring at us from 20 feet away.

And our problem is compounded. Now it seems, she sits at her window, watching for me to come out. Then she runs straight over, and will not leave until I go back inside. Jeb and I can't go outside at all without this girl coming around. I have to say... I'm gettin pretty fricken frustrated. She stays about 16 inches from me, and stares at me... All the time! If I stepped away, she stepped closer. If I walked away, she followed. I swear today I was seriously considering grabbin' a stick and chasin' her off.

I understand... She's touched. But I'm startin' to think she's got a crush on me, and dude... There ain't enough bourbon in the world for a situation like this. This is all just painful. Dealin' with folks who're touched requires some serious patience. It's patience that I have, but not when I'm otherwise occupied with my son. I have no desire to be responsible for my son, and this girl. From the conversations I've had with her, I can honestly say that while her language skills are far superior to Jeb's, she's not nearly as perceptive as he is. That's not an insult. That's just a statement on the kid's condition.

She says the most bizarre things... Here are some examples...

After Jeb farted: "Why's he making sounds?"
After Jeb spent 15 minutes dropping rocks down a great: "Does he like to drop rocks?"
After I asked why her boyfriend doesn't talk: "Are boys always like that... you know... where they... talk?"

All the while standing 16 inches away... looking at me... always looking at me...

Now... Let's be straight here. I hate the Northeast. I hate West Virginia. I hate Morgantown. I hate the neighborhood I live in. I hate the Street that I live on. I hate the fact that all the houses are cramped together. I hate that I have no privacy what-so-ever. I hate people in general, and wish to live away from them.

As if all this wasn't enough, aparently someone decided it would be funny if this whole situation was magnified by throwing an infinitly intrusive girl into the mix, who happens to be touched. Oh and by the way, just for kicks... let's make sure she has a crush on ol' Nate too! Thanks! I like that! Hey, could ya maybe ram a red hot poker up my ass too?

So what am I supposed to do? Go talk to her parents? Oh that's gonna go over well. It doesn't matter what I say, what they'll hear is, "Hey! Keep your tard at home!" Of course, by the way she acts, and general observation, they don't seem to care what happens to her. We've often thought that they send her out just hoping she gets hit by a car or abducted or something.

So now that I've decided that chasing her off with a stick isn't an option... what the hell am I supposed to do? Jeb's not gonna give up throwin' rocks in the alley... and I can't take this shit anymore. I don't want to upset the girl. If she wasn't touched, it would be easy. I just tell her to leave us alone. That ain't right though... at least I don't think it is.

Screw it... I'm drinkin'.

Get a Maid

Julie and I give a woman 50 bucks a pop to come clean our house. She shows up ever couple weeks. So... for 100 buck per month, we get a clean house, and all I have to do is dishes, laundry, and clutter. I ain't scrubbin' floors or anything like that. I can tell ya, this is a big stress saver. Julie can't stand a dirty house, and frankly I have to much going on to clean it to her expectations. Hey... I have a boy to raise.

Now... I'm not advocating those maid service things. The first time the come out, it will be spotless, but after that they do less and less, until eventually you can barely tell they've come.

Either way, you've got better things to do with your time than clean house, and seriously... if you can't budget in 50 bucks every two weeks... you gots some issues.

Hell... The Texas contingent can probly get a little senorita for half that!

Another Reason Soccer Sucks

So I'm standing in line at Subway... waitin' on my sandwich... feeling uncomfortable as hell because we're in a Mall. You know what you find in malls right? people. I don't like people. Anyway...

This kid walks up and cuts in front of me. He's maybe 13. Hair cut short, sprayed and gelled like some little girl's. He's wearing a white gold chain around his neck that any rapper thug would be proud of, and a diamond bracelet, AND a diamond Anklet... And of course... he's got on his baggy soccer shorts, his shiny blue Italy jersey, and cleats... Even had some dangly earings to match.

That's why soccer sucks. You let your kids play soccer, then they get into it, then they start following the european leagues, and the next thing you know, they are dressing like girls and prancing around like queens.

If I wanted to be around a bunch of 13 year-old drag queens I'd go to Kid's Day in San Fransico.

Monday, June 28, 2004

A Nearby Book

"To justify the ideological Anschluss against white trash, one would have to establish that hillbillies wield an unholy degree of power."

1. Grab the nearest book.
2. Open the book to page 23.
3. Find the fifth sentence.
4. Post the text of the sentence in your journal along with these instructions.
7 Years

Well... Today is our 7 year anniversary. Can you believe the poor girl has put up with me for that long? I figger this is as good a time as any to tell y'all the weddin' story.

We're probably better off if I just list some of the things that went wrong:

1) Julie's Mom refused to come to the wedding. She eventually changed her mind and showed up, but tensions were so high that the groomsmen were instructed to escort her out of the Church if she made even the slightest peep.

2) The day before the wedding, the photographer cancelled. He was sick. Julie ended up having her college chemistry professor come down and take the photos. He was an amateur, but the pictures were just awesome, and well... Pretty much free.

3) Josh, the Most Bestest Man, was supposed to take me to the hotel on the way to the church so we could drop off our luggage. He did so... but his car broke down and wouldn't start at the hotel. Had to get it jumped. I was so late, I was greeting the first guests wearin' a T-shirt and shorts.

4) The tuxes arrived late. They showed up about 10 minutes before the wedding.

5) Julie's Dad was carrying... so of course... we figured we better be carryin' too.

6) The moron played the wrong music. He played... "here comes the bride." As opposed to Wagner's Wedding March. *** FUME ***

But hey.. all in all.. it worked out. We got hitched, and headed off to the Bahamas for a few days. And hey... I have one favorite memory...

When all of us male types were rushing to get the tuxes on... well.. it was me and my redneck family and my redneck friends... and julie's poor dad. He sat there with this shocked look on his face while we all smacked each other on the butt and claimed to be the prettiest.

He later told Julie: "Nathan's a good man, he was just raised rough." Amen Brother.

Saturday, June 26, 2004

Dr Who Kicks Ass

Y'all know what Jeb and I do all do, but I've never really blogged to much about Julie. I thought some of ya might get a kick out of knowin' more about what resident life is like, specificly an anesthesiology resident.

Now first lets just talk about anesthesia. Now if you get your medical knowledge from ER, then you probably think that surgeons run the whole show. In fact, you would never even know that anesthesia exists by watching that unbearable foolishness. Let me clue you in a bit. An anesthesiologist's job is to keep you alive, and pain free, while a surgeon does terrible things to your body that would otherwise kill you.

Everyone talks about the surgeon who first performed a heart transplant, and the person that everyone forgets, is the anesthesiologist that was there actually making sure everyone lived through it!

My wife can stop your heart, and re-start it... Safely.

When the shit hits the fan in the ER... you know who they call? Surgery? Hell no. They call anesthesia, because anesthesia is who is gonna intubate the patient when no one else is good enough too. When there's a code, the medicine folks are supposed to be running it... and while two of them stand around with their thumbs up their asses, going over the differential diagnoses for a coding fella who happens to be blue, the anesthesiologist simply walks in, tubes him, and walks out. Code handled.

Anesthesiologists are the backbone of a hosptial. From MRI's, to Pain Management, to Trauma, to Surgery, to I.C.U's, to O.B., there is not a service in the hospital that doesn't depend on them.

So many people think an anesthesiologist just puts you to sleep. HA! They wish. What they really do is monitor you all the way through surgery. They watch every vital sign, and manage your fluid levels. When you need blood, it's the anesthesiologist that gives it to. When you need a drug administers... anesthesiologist... When the Surgeon F's up and you try to die, it damn sure ain't the surgeon that saves you.

Julie goes to work at 5:30am every morning to get the or's setup for the first case. They do cases, and turn-over OR suites all day. They get 1 30 minute lunch break, and 1 15 minute afternoon break. If she gets home before 6 or 7, it's a good day, on a bad day, she may be there till 9 or 10. When she's on call, she goes in at 3:00pm, and usually ends up working all night, until she's relieved at 7am the next day.

July she's covering SICU, the Surgical Intensive Care Unit. When she's on call for that, it means that she goes in at 7:00am, and is releaved at noon... Noon the next day that is. Ever worked a 30 hour shift? And don't for a minute think about the call room beds. They exist, but they never get used. There may be 2 hours of sleep in that 30 hour shift.

Recently they've passed some rules over at the acreditation office. Residents are now only supposed to work 80 hours per week. Of course that's averaged over a 4 week span, so 100 and 120 hour work weeks still happen all the time. They just get balanced out with 40 hour weeks... or the department just lies about the hours.

A truck driver is required by law to sleep for 8 hours after he's been on the road for 12 straight.

But anesthesiologists spend 24 hours straight in the OR's... almost every week.

You think they're overpaid? Whine some more about your aweful 50 hour work week. The word "overpaid" is an economic myth. If someone is will to pay you an amount for a service, then by definition, that is what that service is worth.

The next time you bitch about the price of healthcare, think long and hard about what these people go through, because they don't do it out of charity. They quit, and retire early everyday, because the stress and hours aren't worth 100 grand per year.

Oh, and that pediatrician you bitch about? They average about 80grand a year, and have some of the worst hours. I've seen them quit to go to work driving trucks because they make more per hour.

Food for thought.

Friday, June 25, 2004

Astro! Here Boy!

Ok... This is one of the coolest things I've ever seen. A pet robot dog. 100+ word vocabulary. It plays soccer with a little pink ball, and love flash cards. It's like your very own recharble Vox! And speaking of that, it "sleeps" every night in it's recharger. It recognizes it's owners face and voice, and responds differently to him than others. It 'feels' organic touch, and responds to praise and affection. The dog has several seperate emotions ranging from fear to anger to happiness. He links in with your wireless LAN so you can control him. You can set his clock to control when he sleeps and when he wakes up. He'll even wake you up if you want.

It's like a puppy... except it doesn't crap all over the house. They sell 'em for $1400 on Ebay... hrmmm... I'm thinking yes. Julie's been wantin' a little yappy dog.
A Year at Home

Now I know to people like Spacebunny and myself, the weekend has no real meaning. Cause hey, it ain't like we go to work on the other 5 days. But I do remember being excited about days like this. So... rather than talk about the highbrow stuff we usually cover here... ahem... we'll move on to something less heavy...

So it's been a little over a year since I retired. I can honestly say that retirement suits me. There were twinges at times before I quit. I would worry about being bored, or feeling useless as tits on a boar hog. These were fleeting moments where clearly some great stupidity had seeped into my otherwise vastly powerful brain.

I can't for the life of me imagine why any family would forego something like this.

I've noticed some fun stuff. For example, women who work tend to feel the need to defend themselves around me, while men who work are almost all fascinated. The men ask questions about how it is accepted socially, and how I spend my time, while the women almost immediately launch into a mindnumbing diatribe about how important their job is and how amitious they are. I wonder if these chicks have any clue as to how unattractive that is to a man... It's the equivilent of a man telling a woman how much he likes to wear silk panties.

I can't see myself ever ging back to work. I will definately farm, and 10 years down he road, I may start some business out of that... Maybe a pumpkin' patch / Christmas tree farm, or a huntin' reserve. Who knows? I may just open a little booze shop and call it a life. Hey... you laugh... ain't no such thing as a package store that don't make money.

So anyway... The week flew by for me... but then... I don't go to work in a cubicle, or at all for that matter. It's gonna be a big weekend around here, so don't expect much outta me. I may cover situational awareness tonight, or we may give the dead horse the weekend off. Jeb, Julie, and me are goin' campin' either tonight or Saturday night, and Sunday me and the boys are takin' a long ride while Julie stirs up some trouble somewhere here in town. Looks like there's gonna be about 7 of us, so it'll be a big time... no doubt.

Y'all have fun this weekend. We damned sure will.

Thursday, June 24, 2004


It's very important that a man teach his sons to curse. This unfortunately is simply lost in our society. Kids learn to curse from TV by the time they are 3. This is rather like trying to teach a 3 year old to carve tomatos with a ginsu knife.

Since it's a lost art, I figured someone better find it. So here's my best explaination on how this should work.

1) Timing. When do you teach the boy this stuff? It varies from child to child. You have to make sure that they are mature enough to understand the art, and when to practice it, and more importantly, when and where not to. Around the time that you can trust the boy with his own firearm, you should he should be ready. Some great signs to look for: is he doing his chores without being told to? Can you send him to buy something, and he'll return with correct change without you asking? It may be time then.

2) Rules. Since I suspect most of you were not taught to cuss properly by an elder male, I better list the rules.

A) Never curse in front of a female.
B) You don't shoot a rabbit with a .454. Never use elite curse words when the typical ones will suffice.
C) Whenever you are working on an auto of any form, you must curse. No automobile has ever been repaired without a certain minimum amount of swearing. Anyone who says otherwise is a liar. This is also why Amish don't own cars.
D) The rate of swear words should be closely watched. It should rarely, if ever, increase beyond 1 per sentence.
E) it's proper pronunciation is "Gat-Dammit"
F) Damn has two syllables when properly spoken: "Day-em"
G) Male Zones exist where cursing is permissable. Barns, out-houses, garages, workshops, and honky-tonks.
H) You do not, under any circumstance, curse in the sanctuary. This is grounds for a beatin' far worse than any other you're likely to experience. This is why we don't work on cars in Church.

3) Exceptions: If a woman enters a Male Zone, and hears cursing, you are not to blame. It's her own fault for being there. Certain risks are understood.

We'll cover spitting one day too.
Drug Lords and other Valueless Scum

Ok, obviously the major topic these days is Joy, and why in fact it is stupid for her to be going to Columbia. I would much rather ignore this whole thing and talk about football... but since you kids have your panties in a wad over it, we may as well hash it out.

I'll tell ya where I stand on this. From the first time I heard about Joy going to South America, back when she was like 16 or so, I've been telling her it was a dumb idea.

Her crazy-as-a-bedbug Mom took her down there when she was young, and impressionable, and now wonders how she ended up being so impressed. Duh.

The Church down there is supposedly going through this great revival. Woo Haa. Miracles are happening all over the place. Of course when I say "Miracle" what I really mean is, "nothing at all". Someone says a prayer, and suddenly they have glitter in the hair. It's a Miracle! Yeah... that... or you sprinkled glitter in your hair to get attention.

The proof that this is all BS, if you need it, is that apparently God is always one-upping Himself. One person will find a tiny jewel in her pocket after a prayer, another person will find a whole pocket full of jewels, and someone else will show up with a new gold tooth. To be honest, it's a discusting display of "look how holy I am!".

Of course, show this to a 30 year old man, and show this to a 16 year old girl, and you will have completely different perspectives. There's a good reason for that. One has a finely tuned bullshit detector, and the other doesn't have one at all.

So anyway... that's where this fascination came from.

As usual... I blame her mother.

Tuesday, June 22, 2004

World War III

So not only has Iran been fast tracking its nuke program, and thumbing its long hooked nose at the US... aparently now they've decided to 'arrest' some Brits. Not good.

Its a matter of time before we hit the mullahs, and it ain't gonna be pretty. I've always thought Syria would be first, but now I'm thinkin' its more and more obvious where we're heading. Our boys have been making trips into Iran for the last several months, preparing for the invasion, just like they did in afganistan and in Iraq. The question is, how many Arab states will fall before they finally band together to fight back? And who else will take their side?
I miss football

I'm dyin' here. Everywhere I look... Baseball.. Golf... Soccer... Shoot me now.

There just ain't nothin' like football in the South. I know, the girls in the Big 11 think they like football but it ain't religion up there. Down here, preachers quote General Neyland and the Bear during the sermons. In any town with less than 20,000 people, the highschool football coach is the most powerful man around.

I've sung Rocky Top in Knoxville. I watched UT play Bama in Tusculusa, when the town was so fired up, they suspended the open container laws for the day! I've watched High School games that had more people in the stands than major north eastern univeristies draw.

I love everything about football in the South. Gettin' up on saturday morning... the smell in the air... If you're in Knoxville, you may fire up the boat, and head down to join the Volunteer Navy. Or maybe you're from Nashville... but it don't matter, because you arrived in your RV on Tuesday to make sure you got a good spot, and had time to get rev'd up for the game. That's not an exajuration by the way. They really do start rollin' in on Tuesday.

For now though... I'm without... So I follow every practice report I can. The Titans are gonna rock-and-roll, but that ain't news. They are, after all, the Titans. The Vols are young at QB, but that don't matter. Fulmer's been squawkin' about smashmouth football and on Rocky Top, that is music to our ears. A return to the good ole' days, when UT's offensive linemen used to tell the defenders across them what play they were fixin' to run, just because they knew they were still to damned big and strong to be stopped.

Times a comin' boys. Before long we're gonna be strappin' it up! BOO YAA!!!

Sunday, June 20, 2004

Favorite Guns

What better topic for Father's Day eh boys? I guess we could talk reloadin' too! Anyway, I can't tell you much about my favorite guns. It's been my experience that men develope a love for individual guns themselves, not just the design. So we're really talkin' about a couple different things. For me, my favorite gun is my Taurus PT-101. I love that gun like a man loves a woman who don't complain. Why? Well.. mostly because, it's never failed, and the bullets go where I expect them to. It's my gun. I know every millimeter of it. I know what ammunition gets great velocity, and I know what ammo is the most accurate. Most of all, I know that if the bad man showed up, that gun would stop him. No question.

But guns are tools. Each has a differnt purpose. I love my savage 99 for example. It's short, flies up, and sites faster than any gun has a right to. But would I take that 99 to Africa? Nope.

What about wheel guns? You won't find two people who differ more on this topic than Bill and I. I hate Ruger wheel-guns. I find them Over-priced and featureless. The best wheel-guns in the world are made by Taurus. You get custom features, and custom accuracy, for 75% of the price of a plain Ruger. Bah.

As for long guns... Right now Savage is on the verge of taking over the world. The new trigger system is un-frickin' believable. You can adjust the pull-weight down to less than 2 pounds, without a gunsmith. And... Like their website says, "Actions speak louder than Words."

Ahh.. but scatter-guns? How do you go wrong with an over-under? They are all gorgeous. Berretta.. HK... Ruger... Browning.. and those aren't even the nice ones! For around the house, you can't beat a Winchester Defender. That's what's by my bed. I would love to have that mossberg coastguard edition though.. badass.

And what about duty weapons? AR-10, FN-FAL, AR-15... The HK's... To many awesome guns to list..

These are fine days... But to tell a secret... lately I've been lusting more and more for the Walther P99, or the Springfield XD.

Friday, June 18, 2004

The Peaceful City of Morgantown

The house a few doors down got broken into last night. Happened around dinner time. Julie and I were both home. I'm so jealous. Just think, right now you could be reading about the brains splattered all over my workshop. Aparently the little bastards broke in through the back, defeating a deadbolt. They even were so damned inconsiderate they let the people's dogs out. Now what good does it do to have two big dogs if they just want to play with the bad man? This is why labs are better than Goldens. Cas and Dixie would've killed the pricks.

Ah well... maybe I need to pretty the house up some? I mean... you don't break-in to a house with big battleflag emblazened truck out front right? I should put out peace flags, and a no guns allowed sign out front.... maybe then we could lure them in...

Ahh well.. it's Friday y'all. It ain't time to save the world. It's time to crack a few open. For the knoxville contingent, y'all go find a good resturaunt with a patio. Sit out there with your boat drinks and live it up a little.

Res, go fishin' buddy.
Red.. I'm sure you have a concert to go to....
Bill.. head out to Deep Creek.
JACIII.. I don't need to tell you to have fun.. I know your ways.
Spacebunny, pinch Vox on the ass for me.
Sarah, you playin' in the garden this weekend?
Eddie... Study up on your draft picks boy. You're in for a rough year.

The rest of y'all, go have some fun too.

As for me... I'm gonna head out on the CBR.

Thursday, June 17, 2004

Ladies Night has been outlawed in California, Colorado, Connecticut, Iowa, Maryland, Missouri, Nebraska, New York, Pennsylvania and, recently, New Jersey. Do I really need to go off on the stupidity of this?

Throughout the history of the world people have discrimiated in pricing for all sorts of physical or behavioral reasons. Older people get discounts all over america, children fly for half price... there are thousands of examples.

What we see here is further erotion of the most hated enemy of any good liberal. Property Rights.

It's my bar. If I want to charge women less, it's my call. If I want to charge white people double, that's my call too. In fact, if I don't want to serve the Irish at all, that is also my call... though granted that Irish thing would run me out of business...

I am really really starting to hate the USA.
I hate reporters

I hate anyone who seeks out a job that rewards them for making other people say something un-PC. I particularly hate reporters who then climb into their holier-than-thou chairs and wring their hands and talk about how terrible what was said is.

The main motivation for my hate, is their motivation. If it were just ratings it wouldn't be so bad... greed is greed. It's not though. They seek these moments out because of their own insecurities. They need these moments. The need them to make themselves feel enlightened. They need them so they can tell themselves that they are smarter than the atheletes they cover.

Face the facts boys. You weren't good enough to make it in your chosen sport, so instead of playing, you write, and to make up for that, you try to make yourself appear more enlightened than the guys who were better than you.

In the end though... you just look like pricks.

UPDATE: I thought I would list some of the incidents of recent history that triggered this:
Connie Chung was talkin' to Bob Knight about being blown-out. He said, "You know Connie, its kinda like being raped. If you know its unavoidable, you may as well lay back and enjoy it."

That's my all time favorite "holy shit" quote.

The most recent broo-haha has been over Larry Bird speaking the truth. We need more white stars in the NBA.

Wednesday, June 16, 2004

Wes strikes out on his own!
Our boy Wes had started his own blog. Lookin' pretty good too! I dig the movie reviews. I toyed with that idea myself. Helluva a hook. Check him out here.
Social Security

For perspective, I thought I would point out some of the original promises that FDR made when he introduced the Social Security program. I do hope you learn a lesson from this.

1.) That participation in the Program would be completely voluntary,
2.) That the participants would only have to pay 1% of the first $1,400 of their annual incomes into theProgram,
3.) That the money the participants elected to put into the Program would be deductible from their income for tax purposes each year,
4.) That the money the participants put into the independent "Trust Fund" rather than into the General operating fund, and therefore, would only be used to fund the Social Security Retirement Program, and no otherGovernment program, and,
5.) That the annuity payments to the retirees would never be taxed as income.

By the way, who was President when Social Security income was deemed taxable? and who cast the deciding vote?

Bill Clinton... and Al Gore...

Right... Now... Who is gonna steal your social security?

Near Death Experience

You meet bizarre people at college. Danner, would certainly fit this bill. He was about 6'3", and weighed well over 350. In fact, he once told us that a girl told him he looked like he weighed about 450, and he took it as a compliment. He figured he must of trimmed down.

That said, Danner wasn't the bloated sloth you may envision. He was just out of porportion with the rest of the world. He's the kinda guy who could palm a cinder block. Yet Danner was desceptively agile. He used to regularly beat me at raquetball, which I assure you is a feat no slovenly sloth could duplicate.

At any rate, Danner and I became quite good friends and I developed a habit of making fun of his "Man-teets". I was known to run up and honk them in fact, causing the great mountain of a man several near heart-attacks. Revolting to be sure, but worth it to see his reaction.

So one day, I was sitting alone in Taco Bell... eating my bean burrito, when in walks Danner. Well I kept my head down so he wouldn't see it was me, and as he walked past I reached up and squeezed a tit.


It wasn't Danner.

Tuesday, June 15, 2004

Fantasy Politics

So on Hardball the other day Chris Mathews actually was stupid enough to ask who would win a Presidential Election between Bill Clinton, and Ronald Reagan. Worse than that, this question actually seemed to spark genuine interest.

How stupid are these people? Bill Clinton never even won 50% of the popular vote. Reagen, in two elections collected 1000 electoral votes, while Jimmy Carter,a Walter Mondale collected.... 62.

1000 to 62.

Reagan would win 49 states if he ran against Clinton. They aren't even in the same league. Hell it ain't even the same sport!

Monday, June 14, 2004

The Greatest Compositions

You think the rock list was hard? HA! That's nothing. How do you compare works from the Romantic Period to works from the Classical Period? Any wise man would say, you don't. Thankfully I'm making the rules... so when in doubt... I'll just list both! HA!

Again, in no particular order:

Dvorak - Symphony #9 "The New World": The greatest of all time.

Arron Copeland - Third Symphony "Appalachian Spring": America's greatest composer.

Dmitri Shostakovich - The Tenth Symphony: Musical violence on a grand scale.

Igor Stravinsky - Rite of Spring: At its debut, it caused a riot. Enough said.

Beethoven - Symphony number 9 "Ode to Joy": Duh.

Brahms - Requiem: Written for his mother's passing. Unbelievable language and score.

Bach - Little Fugue in G minor: One could list the all-fathers entire catalog, but instead I thought I'd just pick my favorite.

Modest Mussorgsky - Pictures at an Exhibition: I would've loved to put Night on Bald Mountain here... but come on.... The Great Gate puts this over the top.

Tchaikovsky - 1812 Overture: You know it. Even if you don't know you know it.

Richard Wagner - The Ring: Big Balls. Big Big Balls.

Holst - The Planets: Makes the list for Mars alone.

Camille Saint-Sean - Danse Macabre: The musical story of Death dancing in a cemetary. Modern music starts here. Listen for the rooster calling the dawn at the end... and the twelve strokes of midnight at the begining.

Berlioz - Symphonie Fantastique: Un-fricken-believable.

Again.. I could go on for days.. but if you can't immediately hum any of these... then you need to do some serious searching. This is the greatest music ever written. If you can't appreciate it, then something is wrong. Nothing but good can come of learning from these 13.

UPDATE: Special Thanks to the Jones for his help. He and I would basically construct identical lists so I spoke to him to make sure I didn't make any obvious ommisions.

UPDATE II: Some of you may be looking for something new here. If you like masculine music... I strongly recommend The Novosibirsk Chimes by Dmitri Shostakovich. It's also known as The Fire of Eternal Glory, an apt and descriptive name if ever there was one.

Sunday, June 13, 2004

The Greatest Albums of All Time

When ever you tackle something like this, you first better define the word great. Greatness is about effect, and influence. A great album changes music, or changes people. You will find both types on this list.

First Rock and Roll... In no particular order...

Rush - Moving Pictures: This album has two of the top-5 most requested rock songs of all times according to the radio industry; Tom Sawyer, and Limelight. Throw in YYZ which won a grammy for best insturmental, and you understand why this album is here.

Pearl Jam - Ten: Curt Cobain may have been the face of grunge, but Nirvana didn't change the world. That was done by Pearl Jam. When everyone else in the Grunge movement was depressed and wallowing in self-pity, Pearly Jam shouted defiantly, "I'm Still Alive!" Oh, they whined as much as the other bands of the day, but they had that extra-bit that the others lacked. They had hope. When it was all said and done, Pearl Jam's first album whiped the slate clean in Rock and Roll, and everything that came after them was affected.

Led Zeplin - ZoSo: You could make an arguement for so many Zeplin albums. But here, you have what would amount to a Greatest Hits album.. except... it wasn't. It just so happens that practically every song on the thing was destined to go down in Rock and Roll History. Stairway to Heaven was enough to get the album on this list alone, but when you consider the rest.. Black Dog, Rock and Roll.... It's just over the top. They don't make 'em like this anymore boys.

Pink Floyd - The Wall: Another Brick in the Wall. Comfortably Numb. Enough said.

Van Halen - Van Halen: Cry all you want. This album changed the world. From the day it was released guitar playing was rocked to the core, and it has never looked back. Hate Eddie Van Halen, or love him, his impact is simply undeniable.

Creed - My Own Prison: Sick of Creed? You know why? Because everyone is trying to be them. That's what greatness is. It's releasing 7 number one singles in a row. It's about single handedly bringing back spirituality to Rock. Back when NIN was breaking big, Creed was kicking people's teeth in at clubs in Florida. No one played old school, simple, guitar based rock anymore. Now? Where's Trent Reznor? He's at home, and every band on the radio is trying to be Creed.

Metallica - And Justice For All: Like Rush and Zeplin, you could argue for days about which was the bands greatest album. There is little doubt in my mind though, that Justice was the apex of Metallica. It was Metallica in their purest form, all drums and guitar. Got no radio play when it was released... But it sure as hell does now. That's greatness.

Eagles - Hotel California: I don't think this needs an explaination.

Beatles - The White Album: I don't think this does either.

Credence - Green River: Everything the Eagles wished they were... and a little more.

Elvis - 1956: This isn't up for debate. Hound Dog, Don't Be Cruel, Love me Tender. Give it up. Rock and Roll was born.

I'm sure I left some awesome albums out... but I had to stop somewhere... I could've done this all night.

The Department of Homeland Stupidity

So now that we've provide airline customers with 3 years of aversion therapy in the form on bullshit security messures, things suddenly become a little more clear. The media is clamouring to shower praise on the new "registered traveler" plan. You'd expect as much from such bootlickers.

Let's see... Pay a fee, and submit to an "intense" background search, or subject yourself to humiliating searches, illegal siezures, long lines, and idiot security workers. Our freedom loving government has come up with an excellent means of spying on its citizens. Far more ingenious than the Nazi tactics.

Mark my words, once this is fully implemented, the horror stories from the security gates will come flooding in. And why shouldn't they? The sheep will have no sympathy for anyone who complains because they must have something to hide. Otherwise they would've submitted to a background check.

So... In one tidy little package we get a new tax, and an excellent way to get out citizens to volunteer for background checks. Classic.

A people always end up with the government that they deserve. Truely, we are a nation of cowards and sloths.

Saturday, June 12, 2004

Save a Horse...

So lastnight Julie and I went to this highbrow dinner at this fancy hotel. Hotel Morgan they call it. Not my kinda deal, but I enjoy it a little, on account of me and Jeb get to put on our boots and big belt buckles and go laugh at the other guys who are trying to not look uncomfortable in their silly little suits.

Anyway, you can imagine. Everyone's prettied up and I show up wearin' a cowboy hat, battleflag belt buckle, western shirt, and blue jeans. Just as well though, cause me and Jeb spent most of the time out on the balcony talking to the old fart who used to own the hotel. We just bullshitted the night away, watchin' jeb through rocks and splash in puddles. Not a bad deal when you consider the Corona was free.

Anyway... I dropped Julie and Jeb off at the house and then went to the grocery for some stuff. On my way out... these two cute little 20-something blondes saw me. I tipped my hat to one and said, "Howdy darlin'".

They smiled and walked on by gigglin'... Then I heard one say to the other...

"Save a horse... Ride a cowboy!"
A Religion of Peace

What a bunch of crap that is. Muhammad was a war lord for crying out loud. I'm sure he was conserned about peace when he conquered Mecca. Today, during a discussion about the so called "War on Terror" one of my friends made a completely ludicrous statement. Maybe the most idiotic statement I've heard to date on the topic. He said that if we are at war with a religion we must kill all American Citizens of that religion, because you can't be at war with just part of them.

What silliness! He even went on to argue that Islam is not a nation state, and therefore we can't be at war with it.

In fact, Islam for all intents IS a nation state. It's head is Saudi Arabia. Iran, Syria, and Egypt are all parts of it. Like Texas, Arizona, and Ohio are parts of the US. These countries act in unison and take orders from Saudi.

Twice before Christianity has pounded Islam back into it's litter box.

This is the Third Great Expansion, and it must be followed by the Third Great Islamic Defeat.

Friday, June 11, 2004

Rambo Granny

Thanks Bill!

The Rambo Granny of Melbourne, Australia

Gun-toting granny Ava Estelle, 81, was so ticked-off when
two thugs raped her 18-year-old granddaughter that she
tracked the unsuspecting ex-cons down - and shot off their testicles.

The old lady spent a week hunting those men down - and when
she found them, she took revenge on them in her own special way, said Melbourne police investigator Evan Delp.  Then she took a taxi to the nearest police station, laid the gun on the sergeant's desk and told him as calm as could be:

'Those bastards will never rape anybody again, by God.'
Cops say convicted rapist and robber Davis Furth, 33, lost
both his penis and his testicles when outraged Ava opened
fire with a 9-mm pistol in the hotel room where he and
former prison cellmate Stanley Thomas, 29, were holed up.

The wrinkled avenger also blew Thomas' testicles to kingdom come, but doctors managed to save his mangled penis, police said.  The one guy, Thomas, didn't lose his manhood, but the doctor I talked to said he won't be using it the way he used to, Detective Delp told reporters.  Both men are still in pretty bad shape, but I think they're just happy to be alive after what they've been through.

The Rambo Granny swung into action August 21 after her granddaughter Debbie was carjacked and raped in broad daylight by two knife-wielding creeps in a section of town bordering on skid row.  "When I saw the look on my Debbie's face that night in the hospital, I decided I was going to go out and get those bastards myself 'cause I figured the Law would go easy on them," recalled the retired library worker. "And I wasn't scared of them, either - because I've got me a gun and I've been shootin' all my life.  And I wasn't dumb enough to turn it in when the law changed about owning one."

So, using a police artist's sketch of the suspects and
Debbie's description of the sickos', tough-as-nails Ava
spent seven days prowling the wino-infested neighborhood
where the crime took place till she spotted the ill fated rapists entering their flophouse hotel.

I knew it was them the minute I saw 'em, but I shot a
picture of 'em anyway and took it back to Debbie and she
said sure as hell, it was them, the oldster recalled.

So I went back to that hotel and found their room and
knocked on the door and the minute the big one, Furth,
opened the door, I shot 'em right square between the legs, right where it would really hurt 'em most, you know. 

Then I went in and shot the other one as he backed up
pleading to me to spare him.  Then I went down to the
police station and turned myself in.

Now, baffled lawmen are trying to figure out exactly how to deal with the vigilante granny.  What she did was wrong, and she broke the law, but it is difficult to throw an 81-year-old woman in prison, Det. Delp said, especially when 3 million people in the city want to nominate her for sainthood and a medal.


Thursday, June 10, 2004


I despise all aspects of society that have no foundation beyond what someone said. Sociology, Psycology, Law... It's all crap. It all comes down to, "John said X, and it made sense. So it's now fact." It's all just subjective crap. Crap I say! It's no more objective than poetry!

In psychology it manifests itself as the worship of Freud and Jung. Freud and Jung didn't prove anything. They just made compelling arguements. In other words... what they said sounded good to someone. People pass and fail classes, based on how well they regurgitate what so-and-so said. None of which is provable or even demostratable on a large scale.

The Law is the worst though. It's not enough for a judge to say what he thinks. He has to look around and find out where someone else said something similar. One wonders how James Madison ever decided anything! THe law doesn't mean what the words say. It means what a judge says the words say. That boys and girls undoes all that we gained with written law in the first place, and puts us back in the Dark Ages.

Psychology is the Bastard of Science. Sociology is nothing more than the study of the liberal world view. And Law...

Every law school in America should be burned to the ground.

Wednesday, June 09, 2004

First Motorcycle

There's been some bike talk around so I thought I'd throw out some thoughts on the subject. There's a lot to consider.

The age old debate of cruiser vs. sportbike is not going to be solved today. However, as a guy who used to mock crotchrockets mercilessly, and now rides one, I can tell you what I know. What I know is, most people who make fun of crotchrockets have never ridden one. They think they look funny, or the seating position looks uncomfortable, and that's that. Well... I've ridden both. This is what I can tell ya:

1) Under 40 miles per hour, cruisers are more comfortable.
2) Over 40 miles per hour, crotch-rockets are WAY more comfortable.
3) Cruisers are not nearly as fun to ride. They are weak, heavy, and are a bitch to turn.
4) Crotchrockets are light, insanely powerful, and turn on a dime.

It's pretty simple really. If you are leaned back, or sitting straight up, you are fighting the wind. If you are leaned forward, the wind actually supports your weight. It feels like you're laying down.

Cruisers look cool. No doubt about it. So if you want to wallow around town at 20 mph, then by all means, by one. IF however, you have even the slightest notion of taking the bike on a long road trip, buy something else. By something like what me or JACIII have.

Besides... it's so much fun to laugh at the harley boys when you find them on the interstate. They will ring their backs out trying to stay ahead of you... and you don't even have yours in 4th gear yet... You just ride up beside them... laugh... coast back until they are about 50 yards ahead of you... then you crack the throttle wide open... their "loud pipes" suddenly are drowned out by the roar of demons decending on the earth, and you blow by them so fast they actually make a "thump" sound in your helmet. hehehe..

Anyway... Here's a great list for first bikes:

Kawasaki Ninja 500
Kawasaki Ninja 250
Honda 599
Yamaha YZF600
Suzuki Katana 600
Suzuki Katana 750
Suzuki GS500

Tuesday, June 08, 2004

Wife 101:

There are women in the world who are raised to be slave drivers. They are not happy unless their husband spends every waking minute working on something. If he's not at work, he's working on some chore around the house. If he's watching a game, she's gonna be unhappy. If he's out on a motorcycle, she's unhappy. If you recognize this in yourself, then you need to fight that, because this is the single fastest way to make your husband hate you. I've seen women kill men this way. The guy will be 80% done with some enormous task.. like say.. remodeling an entire bathroom by himself. At this point he's starting to be proud of what he's done and he's looking forward to some job satisfaction, and some time to play. Right then the wife comes in, see's he's about done, issues a tolken compliment... then immediately begins talking about next he can finish the entire attic, and turn it into their new luxury bedroom suite.

So if you are like this, why? Most of the time women feel this way because they are doing dishes or laundry, and they see their husband sitting on his butt. They get angry because it's not fair and start finding him work to do too. Typically, they never see the work that he's just finished doing, or they take it for granted.

Suggestions: Ok so let's say you know that you get this way sometimes, and you don't want to be that way. What can you do? Here are some basics.

1) First of all, try to let your husband finish a big project before you start dreaming up something else for him to do. If your husband starts to think work only leads to more work, guess what he's gonna do?

2) Most importantly, find something that your husband enjoys to do, that you also enjoy, or that you can learn to enjoy, and for God's sake, do it! Go shooting. Watch the race with him. Watch the game with him. Anything. Whatever. Just do it.

Now... I avoided this all together by wisely NOT marrying a slave driver. If your husband was not so wise... help him out. Otherwise, I promise you, he'll eventually figure out the game, and then you'll lose. He'll simply stop buying tools. He'll stop working totally around the house, and then what will you do?

Monday, June 07, 2004


Get your minds outta the gutter! Geez! Me and Julie are looking to buy a boat man! GAH!

Ok so here's what we're looking for... Open-bow, 19ft or so, good to excellent condition, prefer an inboard... We've seen several in our area for 4 grand or so. We're looking at renting a slip for it... the whole 9 yards. So let's talk boats boys. I would love a master craft but for now it looks more like a late 80's early 90's capri. We're just looking for something to ski and tube with. What y'all think?

Sunday, June 06, 2004


Pardon if I ramble a bit here... I have been terribly ill and this is my first shot at posting since my slight recovery.

Its funny how perceptions are formed. I've been thinking a lot about what kind of things are taught in the government schools, and how that, and the social enviornment we grow up in affects us. No no.. seriously... dont yawn yet... this should be more fun than it sounds... give it a chance.

Let's look at environment first. I grew up in Owensboro, KY. The place is, and has been, run by democrats as long as anyone can remember. I can't remember when anyone other than a democrat was elected to any position. There are plenty of little pockets like this throughout America. Was Democrat, Is Democrat, Will Be Democrat. No think. Pull D Lever. Now when I lived there, Owensboro had the one of the highest unemployment rates in the country. The town had more problems than you can shake a stick at, and all of them, were the Repulican's fault.

Now I was a just a kid, but even then I was starting to wonder. I mean... How can this all be the Republican's fault, when there ain't no Republicans running anything?

My whole life I had been told who and what Republicans were by Democrats. Mind you this was back in the 80's... Everyday I had someone making fun of 'trickle-down economics'. In the 5th grade, the teachers asked all of us to vote for either Mondale or Reagan. This is how they defined the men for us: Mondale is a liberal. That means he's open to new ideas and is will to try new things. Reagan is a conservative. That means he wants to keep things the way they are.

Click. That's the sound of 30 young minds snapping shut. Predictably the whole class voted for Mondale.

That definition of liberal and conservative was reinforced weekly in the government schools, and it is perpetuated today.

So you see how confused I was. Democrats favor change... but democrats had been in power for the last 50 years... and nothing had changed. Democrats where for the common man... but the common man was unemployed, and no one ever seemed to be able to help him. All because of those evil republicans!

My freshman year we moved to Nashville. My dad went from making 25 grand a year to 60, doing the same work. The unemployment rate in Nashville was something like 2%. Everyone had money, everyone had good jobs... This was the opposite of Owensboro.

That's when things started to click for me. Moving to West Virginia... I feel like I tripped and fell back into Owensboro. All these problems caused by these evil Republicans, who haven't had a majority in either house in the last 80 years. On one hand they beleive the Republicans are to dumb to run things, on the other hand, they'll tell you how Republicans are evil masterminds who can always find a way to foil the latest democrat plan that would have solved all of our problems.

Rest assured... somewhere in West Virginia... there will be teachers defining Bush and Kerry.

Friday, June 04, 2004

Double Standards

Let me get this straight... If you piss and moan about someone smoking, that's ok. Smoking is bad for them, and its offensive to non-smokers. However, if I piss and moan about some morbidly obese creature delaying my elevator ride, and stinking to high heaven, both of which offend me, I'm a jerk?

What's the difference? Someone decided fat people are victims and smokers are the devil. Well ya know what? Someone can kiss my white ass. If you get to whine about smoking becuase it "stinks" then I get to whine about fat people, because they damned sure stink worse.

If a smoker chooses to smoke, the a fat ass chooses to stuff his face.

I didn't say anything that a million other people haven't wanted to say a million different times, I just have the balls to say it. I suggested the woman could benefit from walkin' down a flight of stairs. She got offended, then lied to me. I called her on her lie.

Call it mean, cruel, heartless, uncarring or evil, but most of all... Call Richard Simmons cause I don't give a damn.

Jason 'By God' Graham

Jason is a dear friend of mine, another fella Julie went to med school with. I have more Jason stories than you have time to read... but I figure I should provide you with some character developement before I jump right in. First of all, you have to understand that Jason just can't stand the thought of puttin' his foot in his mouth. If he knows ya, he'll say anything to ya and go on about his business and never give it a second thought, but if he don't know ya, he tends to be ultra polite and on his best behavior. I could take a lesson or two from the boy in that regard... anyway...

One day Jason stopped for gas up at this little shop in Sparta Tennessee. He walks in to pay, and finds himself looking at a cashier with a freakish facial deformity. One eye was literally sticking out of the socket. I mean an inch out of the socket. Granted, I tend to be a little skeptical about this sort of thing, asuming that there is some exajuration involved, but the fact is Jason can't tell this story without drinkin', so there must be something to it.

Anyway, the poor guy, he's standing there trying to pay... doing everything he can to NOT look at the freaky eye woman, but despite his efforts he keeps looking up at it. The woman, bless her heart, is going on and on about people drivin' off without payin'. Jason's just looking at the counter and nodding his head... "Yeah... Uh huh.. Yup..." Of course all the while he's thinking... "HOLY CRAP!! LOOK AT HER EYE!!!!"

Finally she hands him his change and says, "You just wouldn't believe how many folks will steal from ya!"

He looks her in the eye and says...

"yeah... Gotta keep an eye out for that..."

Thursday, June 03, 2004

It ain't your thyroid

I just hate elevators. Mostly its not even the elevators fault. In truth what I hate is the people in the elevator, and the close proximity that I am forced to share. It's also a proven fact of physics that time actually slows down in elevators, particularly when the people I share the ride with are fat, foul, or freaks, or some unholy combination there of.

Back in 2000 Julie and I lived in Knoxville. Try to imagine this; I lived in a high rise. Me. Mr. "I want no one within 1000 yards of my house". Not good. Anyway, we had to use elevators to get to our 10th floor apartment, and these elevators became the bane of my existence.

One day on my way out to work, I remember being particularly pissed at the world. Who knows why. Anyway... God smiled on me and I had the elevator to myself. Until...

7th floor. On shuffles this great bloated sow. She must've been 425 pounds... maybe 5'4" if she was lucky. The elevator felt like it dropped 6 inches when orca shuffled her lazy ass in. She stank to high Heaven... as you would expect... after all.. the poor woman basicly had armpits all over her body.

I was thinking about how discusted I was when this foul creature reached over and pushed the button for the 6th floor. 6. 1 less than 7.

As the elevator door opened for her I lost it...

"You know... Judging by your current condition... I don't think one flight of stairs would do you any harm."

The swell had just cleared the elevator door when she heard those words. She somehow managed to turn around and smarted off.

"I have a gland problem."

I just couldn't let that go..

"Oh... a gland problem? Really? Cause I would've sworn your problem would have been the pound of bacon, dozen eggs, gallon of milk, and two whole chickens you ate for breakfast this morning!"

The elevator door closed just as her eyes were going wide... Just in time...
So what do ya want to do?

That's a big question. One that most of us never really put a lot of thought into until it's already to late to do most of the stuff on the list. Here's my list...

- Ride a motorcycle offroad, all the way across the US
- Go horseback riding at dawn by the Pyrimids
- Stand in the Gap that ruined Xerxes
- Take the big bike up to the Alaskan Highway
- Take the family to Daytona in an RV
- African Safari
- Mountain Hunting in Mexico
- Bear Hunting in Alaska
- Moose Hunting in Canada
- Pilot a trans-atlantic trip on a ship
- Take Jeb to see the DrumCorp International Finals
- Take Jeb to see the Titans play at the Coliseum
- Run in a local election
- Drink a beer with Vox, Resispa, Bill, Jamie and the boys.
- Subadive
- Travel from Nashville to New Orleans by river.

I guess that's enough for now.

Wednesday, June 02, 2004

Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you...

The RailGun. One of these weapons has 36 barrels and can fire 1 million rounds per minute. To say that this type of technology will change warfare... is an understatement. The mere presence of one of these things would end siege warfare as we've known it for the last 3 thousand years.
Re-opening the proverbial Can of Worms

L writes:

amusing…all of this really. i haven’t run away or gone home crying to my mother or anything of the sort. i’ve been at work. it’s what i do during the day.
i’ll state my position in the affirmative. i am a feminist. and by feminist i mean, one who believes in the political, social, and economic equality of men and women. yes, the feminist movement grew out of issues like voting and property rights. and yes - women now have the right to vote (in the USA). women now have the right to own property (in the USA). but does that mean that all semblance of inequality has been completely eradicated from the world? no. the reason that feminism still exists is because unequal treatment still exists. things seem to be improving, but there is still ground to cover. women who have the same credentials and the same responsibilities as the men in their fields are often paid less than their male colleagues. women are often denied promotions and tenure. women are often denied the opportunity to attend school. women are often subjected to the decisions of the male figures in their lives without ever being given a chance to think or to speak or to express their own opinion. women are often subjected to brutality and violence committed against them simply because of their sex…because they are viewed as somehow less than men.
i did not lie about claiming that extremism is dangerous. i took nate’s wording, carried it to the extreme, and wrote with the sarcastic comment beginning, “gee…I would LOVE to live a life…”
nate writes, “few things are as repugnant to a woman as an insecure man” and then goes on to say that if a wife ever talks to her husband about another man being hot, the husband should act like he is not bothered, especially if he is. that seems to indicate that he believes that in such cases, men should lie to their wives.
nate writes “women are confounded by machines” and goes on to say that they need machines to be as simple as possible. that seems to indicate that he believes that women are perplexed, baffled, confused, and/or puzzled by machines and are not capable of understanding complexity..
nate writes, “it’s up to the boy to make it right” and that it is the man’s job to provide for the family. i realize that nate is a house-husband and that his wife is currently the breadwinner in his family. thank you for making that clear. the paragraph, however, seems to indicate that it is somehow ingrained within a man’s nature to be able to bring home money over and against that which is ingrained within a woman’s nature
nate writes, “Responsibility: Any ultra-huge decision is ultimately the boy’s job. This isn’t because we’re smarter, it’s again, because she doesn’t want it. if she has it, it’s because you mistakenly let her take it from you, when really she didn’t want to take it in the first place.” that seems to indicate that he believes that women don’t want to make decisions and would prefer that men make decisions for them and that it is a mistake for a woman to hold responsibility in the larger things of life.
nate writes, “she wants you to grow a pair of balls and make a decision, and preferably one that she doesn’t have to put that much thought into.” again, that seems to indicate that nate believes that women really don’t want to think because they’d rather have a man do so for them.
hence my sarcasm. it is dangerous to take these things to the extreme because doing so seems to require women to silently busy themselves with what is simple and to ignore the realities of life. because the reality is that we are all human. we are all insecure at times. we are all wrong at times. yes - some more than others, thanks for pointing that out. we are all indecisive at times. we are all confused at times.
my comment - “dialogue and communication are essential in shaping who we are, what we think, and how we live. learning from each other is good, but that doesn't often take place when we attack people we don't know.” is of course an “estrogen raddled sentence.” there is estrogen flowing through me, and i make no apologies for that. pointing that out as a means of refuting my statement asserts that an “estrogen raddled sentence” is somehow less than some other type of sentence (though there was no delineation as to what that other type of sentence might be). that is silly. as i cannot remove the estrogen from my body, i cannot extract it from my thoughts. again, i make no apologies.
the exaltation of human thought, logic, and scientific observation as all that is high and supreme is asinine. such things are important, yes, but they are not the end-all, be-all. logic has led to things like colonialism and millennialism. logic has led to things like ethnic cleansing. logic has led to things like persecution and discrimination. logic is not always right. emotion is a part of human life and of the human experience. to feel is a part of what it is to be human. that, folks, is ingrained deep within us.
a person’s head cannot be separated from his or her history. a person’s life and story shape the way that person thinks. what we experience in life will inevitably have an affect on how we develop and process thoughts and ideas. thoughts and ideas - as well as feelings - always come out of some context.
i can go on and make a case about why extremism is dangerous. i can make a case explaining that Christ is a feminist. i can use big words and exegetical analysis. i can use rhetoric and persuasion. but i’ll spare us all. i’m sure you’re glad.
i am certain that most of you will continue in the same manner of thinking that you did prior to the beginning of this little episode. i am certain that i will as well. we seem to be a bunch of absolutists (albeit with differing absolutes) who do not at all speak the same language. accusing each other of this or that, claiming our own intellect as superior to that of everyone else, and being proud of our ability “destroy” (as was stated) the thoughts of others is a waste of time.
i purposefully posted my original comment on shawn’s blog, again, because i know shawn. i thought maybe there might be room for dialogue. i still think so. nate is the one who brought me over to this blog by posting my words here. i don’t know any of you. i never claimed to be superior nor did i have the desire to convince you of what i believe. i am quite certain that’s an impossibility…as much of an impossibility as it would be for you to convince me of what you believe. and so we are at odds. you can live in your bizzaro world, and i can live in mine. i’m sure none of us will lose any sleep over it.

So all that... just to say, "I could argue my point, but I'm not going to. Nyah Nyah Nyah!" Typical. Here's a clue honey... We aren't like Shawn. We expect you to back up your claims. You can make any statement you want, but you better be prepared to have it questioned. For now, all you've done is demonstrate my points over and over again. What is so infuriating about this, is people like L here claim to be open to other ideas, then when confronted with some, they urinate themselves. We are said to hate those who disagree, because we dare require someone to backup their claims with something beyond emotion. We have a word for that... We call it "Hypocracy".

I came so close to not even bothering with this... but hey... there is obvious interest. Shame you didn't send a picture for the Harem though.

Family Cruelty

It's commonly known that few people can abuse you like your family can. This little tale is the proof of that. Now remember, this happened when I was very young. I may get a fact wrong here or there... but the main point remains true...

I've got two brothers; Jim, the eldest, and Rob. For those of you keeping score, that makes me the youngest. We lived in a little neighborhood right on the outskirts of town, with lots of kids the same age. One of which was a really fat girl named Carrie who had a crush on Rob... but I'll get to that later...

Now even when Jim was still in high school, he was not the type of kid you would screw with. When you did, you'd quickly learn that his response would be totally out-of-porportion.

Rob however, was full of piss and vinegar. He thought he could kick bruce lee's ass. He honestly beleived himself to be indestructible. He would smart off to anyone.

Ok so on with the tale..

Jim and a bunch of his friends are over at the house just hanging out. They were just coming from somewhere and they were fixing to head off to some other somewhere. Well... Rob and I were home. Being 4 years younger, Rob desperately wanted to hang out with the older types.

Typical hyjinks insue. The younger kid tries to fit in, but ends up just being annoying, and when told to bugout, he smarts off. I'm sure you've all been through this. You are trying to get rid of some kid and he just keeps gettin' in your way. Finally Rob went to far. He started cussin' them and realy showing his ass.

That's when they decided he needed a lesson in humility. Now mind you, I was just a spectator... well... a very entertained spectator. So first they strip him naked. They then carry/drag him outside... while he's kicking and screaming and calling Jim everything but a white christian. I was laughing my butt off. I figured they would leave him outside or something.... I had no idea how creatively cruel these guys could be...

We had a basketball goal setup in the driveway... and there just happened to be a car parked under it. So... They climbed onto the car, and set Robert, who by the way was still bare-assed, in the basketball hoop! They then backed the car out... stranding the boy 10 feet off the ground.

All of this would've been enough... but to make matters worse... Carrie... the fat girl from across the street.. she had a crush on Rob. So of course, she had to be summoned. She waddled over and stood underneath the boy. Lookin' up and commenting on his... parts...

Rob eventually got down. He was so pissed he ran straight inside and grabbed his pellet gun. He didn't even bother to put on underwear. He just ran outside, hell bent on killin' all of 'em!

Nobody died... but I 'bout died laughin'.

Tuesday, June 01, 2004

Miss Me?

Damn Y'all its good to be back. I'm still unpacking and likely will be for a few days. Rest assured though, I shall resume my standard blogging habits now that I've returned. For now... let me tide you over with this...

Are you familiar with tubing? Its a sport involving a rope, a ski boat, an innertube, and a dumbass willing to be abused. Turns our for several minutes... that dumbass was me!

Now first lets talk protocol. I know you may have seen some people sitting on tubes, happily bouncing along behind the boat. That's not tubing. That is however, an excellent way to get a forced water enema.

Ahhh well.. to make a long story short... I was bamboozeled. Before I mounted the accursed tube I was advized to attempt to steer it by leaning one way or the other. I, an idiot, beleived this and, being arrogant, attempted it. The result was predictable. I was on the tube about 25 seconds before splashing rather terribly.

Next try... I learned my lesson... OK... back on the tube... boat takes off. One of the interesting things about tubing si the relative speed. You really don't know how fast you're going. I remember the boat start doing S turns. This throws you all over the place. You end up jumping your own wake. Not good! On this second run I was holding my own though. I even managed to give the "speed up" sign. FOOL!

I could tell we were going faster now... but not how much... the only way I knew was... sometimes the tops of my feet would skip across the surface of the water... and it felt... really really hot... lots of friction... or maybe... I was loosing a layer of skin... Anyway the ride seemed to go on forever... the I saw the boat make a hard right turn, and the rope went slack... then the boat made an immediate hard left.

Now I ain't got no physics degree... but I was shakin' my head just the same... cause I knew damned well what was fixin' to happen to me.

Well the next ten seconds were a blur. think of it like the roller coaster from Hell, sept you really can die. In fact... at some point, you may wish for that very thing. I made it a lot longer than anyone expected though.. and in the end, I got to go skipping 35 feet across the water! now if you can slide 35 feet on top of water at 30 miles an hour... how far do you skid on concrete at 130???

Despite the tone of my lament, I can assure you that DrWho and I had a blast with the Lengendary Shane Smith and his people. Good on ya Boys!