Paddling.....

.... good morning, rubberneckers........ I trust that you all are preparing for a lovely, pre-back-to-school morning of quiet reflection and/or fun frolics with your kiddies or significant peripherals.....

... as for me?.... no such luck, I'm afraid.....

.... for it has been handed down From Upon High that I am to spend the better half of today practicing my Ben Hur impersonation and manning an oar.....(.. the middle part of Ben Hur, of course.... goodness knows that I'd be absolutely dangerous in a chariot..)

... and so we're off to The Ocoee River where a rubber raft & roiling Tennessee waters shall stage today's scene......

..... my goodness....... were I feeling remotely Shakespearian this morning I would wax on and on about the majesty of Nature's tumult and the beauty of an obscuring turbidity...... but, no.... I'm off to search for sunscreen instead.....

..... hey, at least I know that I am a very, very hard person to drown!..

.... just look at those guys!...... I think the one way in the back at 1:11 even has an "Adventures Unlimited" baseball cap on!......

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Service.......

..... The Missus and I took a fieldtrip into town today to have her vehicle (Cary) serviced.... her service rate for Cary is about every 8,000 miles - which seems a bit whacky to me, but hey, I'm no mechanic.... anyhoo, Cary happens to be a 2004 Cadillac CTS-V with roughly 16K miles on him..... not that that really matters, well, except for the Cadillac part, but anyway....

.... so, we drive up to the Cadillac dealership where we bought Cary back in 2004 and the baldheaded guy behind the counter is animatedly chatting away on his cell phone about some luncheon engagement he's organizing with someone named Ted, another guy named Roger, and "Ed can't come because he's golfing in Niota"...... so after he finishes organizing his lunch, a sudden tsunami of deep-brooding glumness overwhelms him, and he turns to us......

.... needless to say, I was rather unimpressed with his attitude towards us as customers, his choice of hairstyles, and the fact that we had to wait even one nano-second while he laughed and giggled to some cretin about how Ed should have been at work today instead of sneaking off to golf while The Boss was in Daytona Beach for the week.....

.... anyway, I let the whole thing slide, tossed him the keys, and got out of there as painlessly as possible.....

.... so we lunched ourselves, wandered around Lowes, meandered around the grocery store, hit the folks at H&R Block for out yearly taxes, and basically killed time in town while waiting for Mr. Chromedome to call to say that Cary is ready....... after four hours, The Missus gave up hope and asked me to just drop her off at the dealership to wait so that I could run the groceries home before they spoiled in my trunk....

... but as I pulled into the parking lot, there sat Cary..... his platinum-colored paint hazed with the green East Tennessee pollen of early springtime, his V-series alloy wheels caked with a wintertime's worth of brake dust..... I was not amused that the fellow had not bothered to call us to let us know Cary was ready.........

..... folks, Cary is an American car..... serviced by an American dealership.... the very dealership where he WAS PURCHASED...... and to the best of my knowledge, isn't Cadillac supposed to be a "luxury" car?.... where's The Treatment that one would expect to get when you pull a 65K dollar car into a service center?.....a service center that you have visited LOYALLY for four years since purchasing the vehicle?.....

.... hey, I know that it isn't MY car.... it's hers.... and thus it is her responsibility to deal with the folks at the Cadillac dealership..... truly, it isn't my business - unless she asks me to intervene.....

.... but me?.... I drive a little convertible Audi A4 Cabriolet named Sylvia..... nothing fancy..... but she's cute, and I love driving her..... a beautiful little piece of 2006 German engineering..... I have her serviced regularly at the Audi dealership in Knoxville where they not only sell Audis, but also Porsche and Jaguars....

.... when I arrive there, I am treated very well.... I'm offered a rental car to use while they tend to Sylvia.... I'm offered free coffee, tea, water, or sodas if I choose to wait in the comfortable waiting room....... and if I choose not to risk driving a rental car, they'll have one of their mechanics drive me to the mall and then come to fetch me when they've finished with my car....... and not only that, but when I am finally reunited with my beloved Sylvia?..... she's still dripping from the washman's ministrations..... vacuumed, pressure-washed, and truly serviced... inside & out.... and she rolls off that dealership lot and into the Kingston Pike traffic looking like a million bucks...... and she only cost just over 45,000....... THAT is a service, ladies & gentlemen.........

.... so can you see a difference in the service that my Audi dealer gives me, and how the Cadillac Man treats The Missus??...... I certainly can......

..... sure, the Cadillac place is local - and it is definitely a pain in the ass for me to drive all the way to Knoxville for a service on the Audi - but you know what?..... I think it's worth it.....

.... and The President wants to bail out the auto industry..... well, I don't know if any attitude adjustments will ever filter down from The Manufacturer to The Dealer, but if that's the way they treat a Cadillac customer?..... I can't help but wonder how they'd treat the overworked salesman who shows up to get his Ford Taurus serviced.....

..... I just don't know... and yes, I'm in a bit of a bitchy mood..... but as of right now?.... well, Cary is slated to be paid off by the end of the year...... and if I had MY way, his ass is getting sold off and she's getting a Porsche..... it'd only be an extra 15-20K more than what she paid for Cary..... at least I know that they'll be treating her like a Queen every time she rolls it in for a check-up.......

.... if you're going to drop some serious cash on a car, the very LEAST that the manufacturer and dealer can do is seem THANKFUL that you bought their product.....

.... I have a feeling that any problems that the auto industry has aren't going to be solved by throwing wheelbarrows full of cash at them......

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Frogs......

..... after a looooong night of rewatching "True Grit" for the thirtieth time last night, The Missus woke up in an absolute whirlwind of motion this morning.......

.... once I calmed her down (and after I thoroughly thrashed her at a game of Scrabble-over-Breakfast), she definitely needed to burn off some energy, so she decided that it was necessary for us to digest our buttered toast & pate while circumnavigating Eagle Glen afoot.....

.... I was dubious at first..... but eventually I grudgingly laid my plans aside and headed out with her for a walk......

.... at first, everything was peaches and cream.... (figuratively, of course, not literally - since we were walking, sweating, and generally exercising at the time).... but then the puddles we passed began yielding hundreds - or thousands - of tadpoles......

.... and they scurried here and there as we plodded past...... causing the very surface of many of the puddles to resemble those horrible Discovery Channel clips where the Great White leaps from the air after having mistakenly tried to bite a bit of seal-shaped carpet that was being dragged behind a boat by busy-body researchers.....

.... the horrible thing about the whole incident?...... just LAST WEEK one of those puddles was absolutely teeming with tiny little fish fry...... and today?..... nothing but churned up tadpole turds, murky water, and the large, bulbous, fleshy bodies of half-grown froglets wiggling to hide under sunken leaves that were half their size........ wha??..... what happened to the cute, baby fishies?!?......

..... tadpole dung, that's what......

.... I swear, it was a depressing scene....... almost enough to make me fashion myself a gig, and don my Petzl head lamp in a few months to harvest a few of those jumpy little creatures for the skillet.....

.... almost, that is..... but not quite enough....

... hell, I've seen where those slimy little bastards have grown up....... and that there is enough to quell the appetite of even the mightiest of carnivores.......

.. but still, they DO deserve some sort of karmic payback for having descended on those poor minnows with such a gnashful vengeance.... I mean, why can't we all just get along?!?........

...... however, I will say that all was not completely lost..... after today's day of sunshine?...... both the peach tree AND the teacup magnolia are in full bloom....... and they are stunning to see......

..... but I did imagine - as I made the last few strides up my driveway - that in some small, tiny way, those trees were not merely blaring & advertising to the world that they were ready to be bred as this Springtime rushes in on us........ but that they were somehow offering a little something up In Memoriam to those poor departed fishies.......

..... I suddenly found myself quite hungry for fishsticks, though, and scratched that itch as best I could once I was back inside the house.......

..... it certainly is true, though, you know?......The Lord surly surely works in mysterious ways, boys & girls........

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Exploring......

..... do those guys at 'MonsterQuest' ever actually find evidence of anything, or is that show simply the biggest tease since that whole Joel/Maggie thing on 'Northern Exposure'?..... I mean, giant eels in The Great Lakes?..... a giant octopus lurking out in the Pacific?...... Big Foot supposedly sighted in nearly every state?.... a friggin chupacabra in Texas?....... after an hour spent watching that crap, they never, ever find it!.....

... Jesus Christ, it's worse than spending 1990 to 1995 waiting for Joel to get Maggie damp enough to mount on prime-time TV......

... having said that, though, MonsterQuest is not without its moments..... for instance, I just overheard some bespectacled expert say, "the oceans are our last great wilderness.... with depths exceeding 30,000 feet, 97% of our ocean's & seas remain unexplored.."

.... 97%.... great, holy Mother of God, people..... why are those idiots hiding in the bushes in Saskatchewan, living on stale peanut butter & jelly sandwiches, and waiting in vain for a 9-foot Big Foot when there could be GODKNOWSWHAT swimming around in the middle of the Pacific Ocean?!?....

.... I know that I'm a bit excitable tonight, and I apologize.... it's just that I have always been a fan of all creatures, great and small..... sure, I hunt them & enjoy eating the occasional one, but I do love to learn about them as well..... I'm the guy who always gets the video bonus questions on 'Cash Cab' about critters.....

... even when I was just a pup, I wanted to be a zoologist..... (an aspiration that was quashed when I first caught sight of an elephant taking a dump at the Knoxville Zoo, but that's for another time.)..... but now?.... I can still see a spotted jungle cat and say, "ooohhh... that's an ocelot!"..... I've even been known to stop while channel surfing and surprise The Missus by saying, "wow!.... what a beautiful Malaysian Honey Bear!"..... her: "WTF is a honey bear?"......

.... so, yeah..... I know a bit about the animals that roam around this planet we share...... and while I am absolutely in love with the whole idea of Stanley wandering around Africa and the whole "Dr. Livingstone, I presume?", those days have passed now...... but I still do love the idea of wandering a jungle - clad in the finest khakis - just to see what is around the next corner....

.... but you know what?..... whatever I found?.... it most certainly isn't going to be a damnable Big Foot, Yeti, Vampire, or chupafriggincabra.....

... the mind boggles, truly....... and I suspect that - in all honesty - the vast oceans are the only place left on earth where we might find ourselves wandering around, exploring, and have the Honest Chance of double-checking our digital camera and screaming, "what the FUCK was THAT?"..... and "that" being a real something that we've never seen before.......

.... but then again, I haven't spent much time in California..... so I might be wrong on the digital camera thing.....

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Closet.....

.... much of this morning and afternoon has been spent attempting to clean out the closet here in the manroom/blogroom..... and so far, I sadly report, the operation has been a complete and utter failure... the resulting piles of junk have overwhelmed me..... and I now have to climb over a mountain of climbing, hunting, camping, and military stuff just to reach the safety of the blogroom chair........

..... it's absolutely amazing how much I managed to cram into that poor little closet..... and now all the crap that was heaped in the closet is scattered all over the couch, desk, and floor.... I have no idea what tangent that Tsunami of Optimism swung in on this morning, but it picked a poor target in little ole me.....

.... I mean, honestly, why do I even OWN a three-piece, sniper's ghillie suit?....

.... so..... apart from the old uniforms, hangers full of hunting clothes, boxes of cigars, baseball gloves, an old lava lamp, boxes of ammunition, a tree stand, backpacks, sleeping bags, headlamps & flashlights, thermarests, stoves, cooking utensils, a compass, ropes, first aid kits, boots, boxes of photographs, and my old collection of Playboys, I found three CASES of MREs & two cases of bottled water....

.... if I included the contents of the gunsafe in the garage?..... the AR-15, 30-30, .280, .44 magnum rifle, .22 magnum rifle, .22 rifle, the combat .12 ga, the pump .12 ga, and the two single-shot .12 ga?..... and that's not counting the handguns........ I'm figuring that I could easily outfit a full squad of rubberneckers - armed, ammo'd, camouflaged, fed, watered, and fairly well-equipped for a five day combat mission.....

... good god.... it is insane that I have this much stuff.... next October during the blogmeet here, I think I'll ceremonially hand out a set of cammies to everyone who shows up...... that'd make an interesting photo-op, I think.....

.... now I just have to start trying to organize all this crap and get it put back away...... I'm thinking a gin & tonic is in order.....

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Stars......

..... Bette Davis & Joan Crawford, I just don't get it.... one of the classic movie channels is airing back to back flip-flops of their movies today.... one Davis, one Crawford, one Davis, etc.....

.... it is now 2:39PM and I have heard The Missus snuffling in the living room as the credits roll at least twice now.... as I said, I just don't get it....

.... currently playing is 'Possessed' and it's a real humdinger.... lots of screaming, shrieking, maniacal laughter, and crying...... I happened to walk through just as that Osborne fellow was laying out the pre-movie scoop.... "This performance - of a woman driven insane - is thought by many to be Joan Crawford's greatest role," he said.....

.... so on the one hand we have that egghead, Bette Davis.... no chin, completely popeyed, and over-pronouncing everything she says...... and on the other hand we have a woman with caterpillars stapled to her forehead, the square jaw of a lumberjack in drag, and whose best performances come from the fact that she was a psycho in real life and happened to be given roles that allowed her to let it loose on screen.....

.... Bette Davis & Joan Crawford, Jesus...... I just don't get it..... now Jane Powell, Liz Taylor, or Rita Hayworth?..... infinitely more watchable, if you ask me..... and with a lot less screeching....

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Wrap up and roll out?

Well, apparently Elisson has a better grasp on Eric's social and vacatin' calendar then I do. Sumbitch ain't back yet. I'm, uh, glad, he was out of country when my team had is ass handed back to it in a helmet last Saturday night. Can't believe I stayed up to watch that assassination. But I did. I even "dvr'd" it. Glutton for punishment I reckon.

When I drag my stankin' ass outta here... I'm gonna miss the pleasant smell of gun oil, and ol' scotch. It's hard to beat that combo, 'cept for maybe bacon and eggs in the mornin'.

I hope he had a good time playin' jet setter. I'd imagine he's gettin' pretty good at it by now, but lordy lordy lordy, who in the hell wants to spend that much time in an airplane. That's a lot of time now. You've got to leave last week to get here by today.

I've had some fun, only told half my crabbin' story, 'cause, well, I guess my coherent thoughts were rendered useless after last Saturday night. Like I ever had any to start with... Havin' to face "Trojans" twiced on consecutive Saturday's could give a team a "Singapore Whore" complex. It has me... I want one. ;) Either one. Or both of 'em. It don't matter at this point.

I'm sure his return will result in "daily postings" of all things "good and right" with the world. Hell, in the end, that's why we stop by here ain't it? Hell, you can read "the news" all day long, and say WTF? Then, you roll through here and when he's not jet settin' somewheres, he describin' a sunset or sunrise like it's the first he's ever seen one. Or spiders screwin...

I am glad(kinda) that he stopped writin' 'bout squirrel copulation though. Anybody can look out their window and see one ... animal doin' another. Even if it's spiders...

Are you scared bitterman? I remember readin' somewhere around here, you two were quite the spider hunter-killers...

Lord knows what new torture implements he's learned of 'crossed the pond, but I bet he took notice of one or two. In case of emergency, of course.

Welcome back Eric, if you're in fact comin' back today. I think Elisson might be pullin' our collective chains on that one but what do I know. Maybe 11-1. Wishful thinkin' at this point.

Birthday present suggestions for Eric: Sarah Pailin Doll. He'll either treat it like a Voodoo doll, or worship it as the best damned librarian lookin' moose huntin' veep canditate in the worl'. Trust me, one of those is gonna be hotter than a early model StarWars figurine.

I reckon it's time for me to mosey on down the road...

This post in no way reflects the opinions of the owner of this blog. Especially if scribbled by 'Neck, but it might.

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Shovels...

There was something about this old Spike Jones video that seemed so right...

...enjoy...

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Ramblin's... Get 'em here

Well, I ain't lettin' 'em fly at my place. I'm savin' my best for JarHead palace. My best probably won't be good enough, but hey, when your 40+, you get used to that line. Probably in a similar way to a 3rd week BT Marine does in boot camp. Except without all the hollerin' and push ups.

If I offended any Marines with the JarHead term, I eternally apologize. I did not mean any such thing. JarHead was a local term I had to enquire about because, I did not get it either at my age. I spent many of my summers in Norf' Calina close to Jacksonville and had a grandmother who spoke her mind and was the antitheses of politically correct. God bless her soul. She taught me some damned good lessons growin' up.

It's true, you can rip a crabs arms off while pinnin' it down in the bottom of a tub with a six and a half ounce co-cola bottle. One at a time. I've seen her do it. With extreme prejudice. She threw back those cokes like I do Budweisers's so there was never a lack of coke bottles layin' 'round. Arms in one tub, bodies in the other. Now that's segregation...

She looked after us youngin's really good now. Candy, cokes, cakes, to our hearts desire. She was one hell of a woman. What the hell, she wasn't payin' the dental bill though.

Lord knows, I don't know when she took time to pee. I do know when she farted though. She'd whip my ass if she knew I was writin' this. When I get to heaven, which, lets be real here people, take a vote, which of you really thinks I'm goin' there. I'll get lost in the titty bar on the way up. Trust me on that one.

Anyway, back to the fartin' thing. After the day was done, everybody would be bedded down. I'd be in the "middle bedroom", mom and dad in the "front bedroom", grandma and grandpa in the "back bedroom". It'd get quiet. The sun takes it's toll on a body. It wasn't the Walton's. There wasn't no 'night grandpa, 'night grandma, etc, etc, etc. Granddaddy would rip one off. And he was spent. Next thing your heard... Man, I ain't sure how to describe this, but grannie would squeak two or three out. As a kid, I knew it was a fart, but, I didn't know what to compare that sound to. Now at an advanced level of stupidity, I do, it sounded like cats copulating. No, I don't think it was "that" kind of fart, just a regular pass wind thing that had an odd sound to it. Once that was over with, it was nighty night time. Cheese biscuits, grits, oatmeal and bacon in the mornin'.

I don't know where this "Dreams of Sugar Plums danced through his head" horseshit came from. Damned Yankees.... I want a cheese biscuit now, and I ain't lying...

Back to crabbin'. Granddaddy worked his truck stop. He owned it. He used to let me work there when I was a kid. That was hellacool. I could eat and drink my ass on. Yeah, I mean on. They didn't have microwave ovens back then. You put your cheeseburger in a glass box that got hot as hell, and when it went "ding"... your food was ready. Weights... we didn't buy weights for the crab lines at the bait store. We used, used spark plugs for that. Bait was chicken gizzards purchased packaged at the Piggly Wiggly.

Part two later if I can be semi coherent for that long...

This post in no way reflects the opinions of the owner of this blog. Especially if scribbled by 'Neck, but it might

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Buffet...

I related a story over at my place this afternoon, one that cried out for the SWG treatment...

...we were buying a few odds and ends up at Harry's, the local high-end farmers' market, when the Mistress of Sarcasm called my attention to a woman who was in the midst of committing an Antisocial Act...

...she had seen many a springtime come and go, this woman...well past her prime, you could say...stringy grey hair framing a face with a wan, yogurt-like complexion...an off-kilter look in the eyes, which were shielded by a pair of oversize welder's glasses...at first glance you would think "hmmm...something doesn't quite add up...a few olives short of a martini, this one..."

...the Antisocial Act to which I refer was no less than a gross violation of the Social Compact, rubberneckers...

...at the various and sundry prepared food stations scattered throughout the store, she would take a spoonful by way of camouflage...then she'd dive in to the trough with her fingers, grabbing the morsels and pressing them unto her cracked and stained lips...a quick lick of the fingers, then back for more...it was a revolting spectacle...

...I began to wonder. Was this a routine activity? A lifestyle choice? Was the woman hungry and penniless?

No matter. Dipping into the Public Food Trough with one's fingers is not merely nekulturny, it is downright unsanitary....and this woman looked like she and Personal Hygiene were not exactly on a nodding acquaintance...

...I called bullshit on her, rubberneckers, like a good citizen...by rights, I should have had her hauled off to the pokey as a public health hazard, but I am sometimes too kind-hearted for my own good...

...had I been the SWG hizzownself, I would have been tempted to show her my Cold Steel...lucky for her, he is still away, enjoying the mellow whisky and unctuous smoked salmon of the Highlands...and luckier for her, she was not dipping into the Indian Buffet...

...woe be unto her that fucks with Erics chicken korma...he'd take his weapon and deforma...

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Bark Like a Chicken

So I was bored and getting ready for bed when I posted the rant below at my site. Then it hit me. "Eric's out of town and I haven't posted any manboobs pictures in quite some time!"

Rather than damage any further his degraded image I decided to just cross-post the following from Shadowscope...

So I check and whaddayaknow, my keys still work! Even more amazing than that is the fact that I still had my password saved since I damn sure can't remember it. I know I am an uninvited guest this time but I never let that stop the party crashing.

Having my blood drawn seems to have turned into a full-blown goatfuck ordeal over the last few years.

The last few times I have gone they have had to stick me several times and after four or five times digging around in my arm with a needle they take it out of my hand. Shit, they can stick one right in a vein and no blood comes out.

Guess I am actually dead and just don't know it...

Anyway, I made sure to drink a big glass of water prior to going to bed last night and then drank two or three more when I got up this morning so that I wouldn't be dehydrated when they went to poke me.

Fuck all, it still took three times. Here's this woman digging around my fucking arm with a big old needle saying "tell me if it hurts". Shit, unless you rip something loose I'm not saying a damn thing, just get the blood.

She finally stuck one in the top of my hand and it came right out.

Either I need to go in and just slash away with my pocket knife to help them out or start drinking water like a week before hand. My arm is still sore where she jammed the gottdamned needle into my arm.

All to get my cholesterol checked so my Doc can renew my prescription next month. What a damned dog and pony show.

....

So I am still fighting the smoking. I cut down to almost nothing and finally quit for a couple of weeks and then started having one or two here and there. I have had a pretty hard month at work. Not an excuse but I guess working 17 days straight kicked my ass because I have purchased cigarettes twice.

Haven't had one in two days now and it sucks quitting again because I am going through the same damned withdrawals I went through last month. Doh!

I am starting to seriously consider getting hypnotized but I am afraid that I will come out of there barking like a chicken or whatnot...

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Flash.....

..... you know, it was ok to watch "Flash Gordon" when you were ten and it had just come out..... it might even have been ok to watch it when you were 16 and it first appeared on the big screen..... but to watch it when you are over thirty is just bone-crushingly surreal.....

.... a few notes....

1. I cannot believe that they ever let some hammerhead who was a main character in "Flash Gordon" end up playing James Bond..... good god, the horror..... that just isn't right, I'm sorry.... someone should be dragged off and shot for allowing that to happen....

2. What's up with the scorpion-thingy in the stump?...... when I was 8, that scene scared the shit out of me...... but now?...... what a bunch of dimwits...... like we're supposed to believe that there is a race of people out there with space travel, telepathy machines, and ray guns?.... and they still feel the need to make some young person stick his arm randomly in a stump containing a deadly scorpion-thingy to make sure he is "man enough" to live in a world that won't stand up to Ming The Merciless when they aren't 'standing up' in the first place?.... how the hell did those idiots survive before Flash showed up to 'save' them?.....

3. Those guys with the wings are just plain funky..... how do they fly around like birds when they never flap their damned wings?..... and hey, trust me, I've been WATCHING birds for the past three months...... you don't just hover around up in the sky when you're flapping like a bored Fatima of the Seven Veils holding a limp palm frond......... if there isn't a breeze, you plummet!.... plummet, I say!.......

..... and hey, any movie where Brian Blessed gets to wear a mini-skirt AND carry a sword is just plain odd...... don't get me wrong, I like Brian Blessed just fine..... I'm a fan....... he's a helluva actor...... and he can act "batshit-crazy psycho nutjob" better than anyone that I can imagine... he was brilliant in 'Henry V' with Brannaugh playing lead..... but to see him flashing those teeth of his and sporting those huge fake wings?....... let me just say, I could go the rest of my life without ever seeing Brian Blessed's bulging thighs again.....

4. ..... sorry, I still can't get Brian Blessed out of my head right now.....

5. ... ok, he's gone for a minute.... what's up with that elixir that they kept spoon-feeding Dale?..... so far, from all that I have seen in ANY science fiction flick EVER, that stuff has to be the greatest invention since the wheel....... "drink this, my dear..." ..... "will it help me to forget?"..... "no.... no, it won't.... but it'll help you to not mind remembering.."...... that's just kinky, folks..... deeply, deeply kinky......

6. .... why was Flash Gordon a football player?..... and a quarterback to boot?....... I protest that fact on behalf of every former baseball player on the planet....... you want someone to save the planet?..... pick a second baseman, a pitcher, or a catcher....... them's the facts........

7. ...... can you imagine what the band 'Queen' was smoking when the decided to do the soundtrack?..... good god...... sure, the music was ok...... but screaming "Flash!!... aHHHAAA" every thirty seconds for two hours just had to crush their artistic genius into teensy little bits of "I wanna die" dust......

...... sorry for the foul mood tonight, guys....... but hey, everything that I've said is the absolute truth...... and the truth shall SET YOU FREE!...... right?.......

..... so if you are so inclined to revisit that old flick from your childhood, a word of warning...... re-rent "Jaws" instead...... I know, I know.... but just trust me....... I hate scary movies as much as the next guy...... but in the long run, you will thank me...... it's always better to watch Richard Dreyfus fling chum, and lose the battle when comparing scars with The Captain than it is to have two decades of loving memories crushed by the awesome reality that is achieved by re-watching 'Flash Gordon' as an adult.........

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Cunning....

.... well, tomorrow is the day of the coyote hunt.... it'll kick off around 8:30 in the morning..... I have a sneaking suspicion that my "hunting partners" will get bored fairly easily and I'll end up hiding in the bushes make wounded rabbit noises all by myself..... oh, and there is an 80% chance for rain..... I called them earlier (since they own the 3,000 acre property) to make sure that we were still a 'go' for tomorrow, and they mentioned the rain.... followed by something about, "we might just stay in the truck and shoot from there".....

..... that's cool with me, actually..... I volunteered to do the calling and let my cousin be the trigger-man.... he's been ill and this is mainly just a reason to get him out of the house and into the woods.... so hanging in the truck in a late-March drizzle will probably be good for him..... as for me, I'll be camo'd to the max and sopping wet by lunchtime...... oh, and I'm toting an old Winchester 12 gauge pump loaded with 00 Buck...... the "truck brigade" will have long, mean, scoped 7mm magnums.... ahhh, truth be told, I don't mind doing the grunt work.... a little rain, a little fog, and sneaking through the underbrush is good for the soul, I suppose.....

.... pictures to follow if I bag anything....... and depending on how soggy I am (even if I don't take a shot), I might provide photos tomorrow anyway..... just so y'all can see that I really DO get out of the house once in a while.......

... all in all, though, I am hopeful....... with rain, our scents will be covered a bit better than if it were dry and windy..... and we're approaching the end of their mating season...... so daylight activity is at a high right now...... every coyote in eastern Tennessee is looking for a hot meal and a hot date..... and if I can't pretend to be one, I might have luck at pretending to be the other.....

.... but what a way to go, eh?...... to come charging in like Patrick Swayze at the end of 'Dirty Dancing" because you think some redheaded hillbilly hiding in the underbrush is actually a sexed-up female that's ready for love?...... it's a purely evil thought, I know, but I do so love it....... yip! bounce! yip! yip! BLAM!..... no nookie for you, bird-dog..... you've just been well and truly had......

... more likely than not, though, I'll just end up sitting in a pile of leaves in the cool rain and catching a cold.... so, there is that.....

.... but the good news is, if I am successful, I plan to have whatever beast that ventures near enough to blast sent immediately to the nearest taxidermist...... y'all can pet it when you come for the barbecue in October......

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Time....

.... planning is currently afoot via telephone in the living room..... that yearly, traditional international call, ladies and gentlemen..... and if my tender ears do not deceive me, the current wind is blowing towards departing Tennessee on the 6th of May and arriving at our snug Grampian chalet after lunchtime (local) on the 7th of May.... tis a Wednesday, I do believe...... which means that we'll only have four days at The World's Smallest Hilton before heading back down the mountain to the seaside for the remaining six days....

... during those six days, I've requested only two things from the "vacation planners".... number 1 - the highest priority - is that I be allowed to lunch at least two consecutive days at 'Candy's" in Montrose.... a tiny, friendly, and extremely generous little hole-in-the-wall sandwich shop located just near where the highstreet narrows..... they do a Cajun chicken baguette that will curl your hair..... and their bacon baguettes are legendary.... my taste buds literally dream of those bacon (British bacon, not American bacon), cheddar, onion, and mayo works of art at LEAST twice a month.....

... secondly, I wish to visit Melrose Abbey - down in the Scottish Borders region..... I recently read about how the Black Douglas died while locked in battle with the Saracens as he attempted to take Robert the Bruce's heart to Jerusalem for burial..... and how the Bruce's heart was carried back from southern Spain and buried under the altar at Melrose Abbey..... that's just plain old-school hardcore, people, I don't care who you are...... and I want to walk the same grounds as those guys in the 1300s...... maybe even while munching on a luxurious treat from Candy's sandwich Shoppe......

..... perhaps I can persuade the Powers That Be that we should visit the location in Switzerland this autumn where an Irishman busted a cap in one of my GGGGGGGGGGrandpas back in 1664..... that'd be kinda interesting......

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Bending....

..... I dreamt violent dreams last night and again early this morning, and I cannot understand why......

..... there are themes that run through them all that seem to tie them bindingly together.... but remembering back upon them during the early morning doesn't seem to pan them fully-out as the crisp light of day dawns.... but yet, they were.... and they are.....

.... I dreamed of the racked billiards balls being broken by a powerful breaker...... that 'crack' that you hear when everything explodes around you and chaos ensues......violence, pandemonium, misdirection, terror, anger, lustful action & reaction....... but even then, there was a certain calm that I felt when I sat upright in bed - sweating......

...... I've had that dream a hundred times before......

..... I got up and found myself a glass of water, checked the clock, and burrowed back under the covers...... and was asleep in five minutes.....

... the next two hours were filled with the strange, half-asleep dreams that woke me every ten to twenty minutes...... and at 7:15, I finally abandoned any thoughts of sleep and rose to greet the day....... cold, dreach, and misty..

...... but I awoke tired, angry, sad, and confused..... how is one supposed to function after a night spent dreaming like that?...... and why does a mind work in such ways in the quiet, pre-dawn hours?....... sure, I have been to scary places, but how do you reconcile that with what you wake up to?..... calm quiet, peaceful?....... but hey, check this out.......

..... if you sit on your floor with your legs out in front of you and raise your knees up so that they are nearly level with your pectoral muscles, lay your right arm forward across your knee...... so that the upturned elbow joint creates a fulcrum against your bent leg (at the knee)...... then reach out and press your wrist downwards with your other hand....... feel the pressure?...... feel the tightness of a bend that was never meant to bend?....... that is what I dreamed of this morning..... and it scares me every time that I think about it...... and I have no idea why that dream scares me so much.......

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Leotards......

.... I've just spent most of the evening reading from my "Gaming & Idling Miscellany" while Gershwin's tunes belted forth from the living room accompanied by gleeful peals of laughter.... "An American in Paris" and Gene Kelly have been the culprits, I'm afraid......

.... but you know, I've always liked ole Gene...... in my mind he was infinitely more masculine that Fred Astaire - that egg-headed Nebraskan who wouldn't have been crapola if it hadn't been for Ginger's fawning all over him..... and hey, while we're at it, Ginger Rogers just never did anything for me whatsoever... she was too square-bodied........ so this gentleman, dear readers, most definitely does not prefer blondes......

... but be that as it may, I was still shocked by the scene I was presented with when I wandered through to refresh my Scotch a few minutes ago..... for on the television was Mr. Kelly wiggling through the final scene of the movie and garnering 1000% of The Missus' attention..... I was shocked and awe'd, folks..... behold what I was greeted with, hammerheads.....

..... I looked at the TV..... I looked back to The Missus...... and no heed was paid to my approach.... instead, she simply sat there with both of her goggles latched firmly onto the glowing screen (and Gene's muscular buttocks as they swayed).......

.... I tell you, folks.... it's hard to live around these here parts and maintain a shred of dignity with any sense of constancy........ life here, well, it's like The Tide..... it ebbs and flows..... ebbs and flows.....

.... I think I'm going to go and have her go and make me a sandwich just out of spite...... I'm in the mood for a grilled cheese anyway...... but wow, Gene Kelly's ass, indeed....... perhaps I should buy some sort of sand-colored leotards....

..... no, wait.... on second though, I dont really think that is such a good idea...... I think I'll grow a beard instead...... I certainly can't learn to dance..... and I'd look pretty damn funny in leotards.......

.... those girls dancing with their skirts up, though, they were quite interesting on the return trip to the blogroom...... but by then?... well, the damage had been done.....

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Puddling....

.. when the chips are down and everything goes sideways, I am actually a fairly brave fellow indeed, I have been part in quite a few touchy moments from European bar fights to the occasionally homicidal rickshaw driver deep in the Indian sub-continent, I have held my own and given as good as I got.

but put me in a damnable dentists office with a filling, crown, etc. on the schedule, and I turn into 198lbs of pure USDA Choice Crybaby.. Grade A.

it is completely embarrassing, it truly is. every muscle in my body tenses as I close my eyes and focus, focus, focus on keeping my jaws spread as widely as possible and when he nods down at me and says, alright, Eric rest for just a moment. . I swear that I go from imitating a surfboard to actually puddling into the conforms of the dental chair.. by the time the procedures are over I feel like Ive been a losing participant in a marathon..

the real kicker is that my dentist is an absolute saint of a man. been my tooth-doc since my first tooth sprouted from my gums. and known me for over 30 years so I KNOW that he isnt going to hurt me.and yet I am filled with panic every single time it is 100% irrational and I know it. but I just cant help myself..

. And the assistant treats me with such kid-gloves. she starts with the numbing swabs and puts on the laughing gas. then more gas and more. and then the injections once the swabs have been removed. And then more gas as he does his work.. and I feel no pain whatsoever. but even under the influence of the gas, I am still a fucking basketcase. good God, it is embarrassing. After the first set of injections (which I hardly felt), I actually showed her the palms of my hands. they were drenched from the nervous anticipation..

here is a snippet of the conversation I had with Dr & assistant prior to reclining back for them to begin..

Doc: Hey!... Good to see you!.... You are looking well!
Me: . thanks.. I have to tell you though, this room is my least favorite place in the universe
Doc: Ahh, well, well take good care of you. youve got nothing to worry about.
Me: . oh, I know and trust me, it isnt you guys.. it is just one of those things..
Doc: ( preparing his gigantic thingy of Novocain and humming slightly to himself)
Doc: Yeah, I know what you mean. I suppose that youd rather be out hunting or fishing or golfing.
Me: . Sir, I would rather be surrounded by Zombies and armed only with a cricket bat than be sitting here just at this very moment..
Doc:
Assistant: Well, Halloween is over, Eric. No more Zombies until next October!
Doc: Alrighty, were all set. Lay on back here, Eric. I will be finished with you in NO time!

. Having not read my blog before, the reference to being surrounded by Zombies was completely lost on them. especially in regards to the sheer, shitting-ones-pants, frightening-ness of being in such a situation when one is burdened with my accursed phobias..

so happy November 1st, folks. See?.... didnt I tell you guys just YESTERDAY that November was going to suck?.....

and while I am thinking of it, why isnt puddling a word.. it certainly should be. But spellcheck keeps freaking out over it like it is one of those little white cards with the date of your next dental appointment printed on it.

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Mowing....

after six glorious years of happily forking over cash to the local, hard-up sixteeners for mowing my lawn and trimming with a weedwhacker, the well has finally run dry..theyve all finally gotten to college age and decided that they no longer wish to drench their Abercrombie & Fitch jeans in sweat for a mere 60 bucks..

.. indeed, folks, times are getting hard around the compound here

. So, as you do, I trekked over to the local Lowes yesterday to shop for a lawn mower good God, almighty!....

it seems that lawn mowers have gone out of fashion since I last had need for one. And they have been replaced by something known as a garden tractor. 2 grand, people.. throw in a 4-cycle weedwhacker, a gas can, a sweat rag, and sundry consumables, and you have the occasion to throw quite a curve ball into the old savings account

.. yes, indeedy, I now own one big, honkin, orange Husqvarna garden tractor. and a Homelite strimmer.. now I just need to find me someone to drive it around and around my yard while I watch

.. truthfully, though?.... why a lawn mower needs a headlight, bumper, cup holder, cigarette lighter, and cell phone charger, well, I just dont know.

. I did skip the model that had air conditioning and a six-CD changer though.. that just seemed like overkill

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Fake....

. You know, I still have one of the original copies of Annas appearances in Playboy buried somewhere deep in the blogroom closet. I initially bought it because she parlayed something very basic about humanity. She was, after all, the modern day Marilyn for a split-second.. well, except that Monroe left a body of work (in the classical sense) and Anna just left a body oh, and that Marilyn had natural tits.. but I digress.

.. still, though, she is dead.. and that is a tragedy.. 39 is just too early to pop your clogs, look towards heaven, and moan through your red lipstick take me home. even if you do have monumentally-stacked fake breasts. 39 is just too damn early.. hell, she could have at LEAST survived until she got those Texas Billions that she was promised by her ancient lover and the Texas courts..

but hey, life rains on everyones parade sooner or later for me?.... give me Penelope Ann Miler shaking her ass in Carlitos Way any day rather than Anna rolling around in a tub of bubble bath for Hefner.. Hell, ever since I watched Kindergarten Cop Ive been a Penelope fan.. goodness, Arnie should have kicked that Kennedy to the curb back then and screamed Penelope from the very top of his Austrian lungs. but that is a story for another day.

. Lookit, people.. talent and beauty do not walk hand-in-hand every day as a matter of fact, rarely do they meet each other at all..and Anna?.... hey, I am sorry that she is dead. And I wish that shed had a better life.. but flicking the channel today between Fox AND CNN gave me a wonderful barometer on the state of our union.. and in short?..... were fucked.. well and truly fucked

the day that the death of a fake-titted, methodone-addled, Playboy model/Golddigger takes preeminence over our continuing battle with terrorists, a nuclear-armed North Korea and Iran, and the downplay of the Colts winning the Super Bowl, well, just stick your heads between your legs now, rubberneckers.. because it is time to officially kiss your ass goodbye.

. But hey, Im still keeping those old Playboys maybe one day theyll be worth something again..

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Old....

. my workout partner bailed on me today and sought greener pastures instead.. its a good thing, too, because he would hated the scenery at the YMCA today

as for me, I do believe that I have found my timeslot. evidently 1-2pm is octogenarian hour. Boys and girls, it rocked. No suntanned cheerleaders sweating on the treadmills, no football beefcakes grunting as they pushed 300, just little ole me and a bunch of geezers who were feebly leaning on their walkers as they ambled from machine to machine I really felt at home..

of course, the only downer about the whole thing is that it is a bit disheartening when the guy finally lets go of his walking frame, sits down at the flat bench, and presses 100lbs more than youre currently working out with..

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Power.....

my little Brother and I are complete polar opposites. its incredible. the man just has an aura about him.

.. take today, for instance. Im piloting Sylvia into the turn-off lane at a red-light in Athens there were a few cars in front of us, so were sitting back a bit.. hes in the passenger seat in his smoky-hazed pimp sunglasses and white under-armor shirt, shaved head, diamond earring, and neatly trimmed goatee.

Ive my head turned to speak to him and I happen to catch sight of two young ladies sliding past us in a Toyota Avalon towards the red-light. and they are both checking him out as they slowly roll past.

says I, did you see that?

. says he, ooohhhh yeah hey, check this out

what?

. He coolly takes off his glasses and says out loud, turn around, darling you know you want more the windows are up and the Avalon is thirty feet away, mind you..

.. and no bloody sooner than he says that does the passenger at the red-light two car lengths up slowly turn around in the seat and look at him.

he raised his hand and waved as he smiled out hello, babydoll where are you going?.

and to my utter amazement, she waved back and winked at him.. with him sitting in my passenger seat looking like some weird mix of Mr. Clean and Snoop Dogg..

... luckily the light changed and I sped away before he was dragged off to some apartment by those two and ravished senseless....

but I tell you, people, it was an remarkable thing to witness and there is no way in Hell that Im ever letting him borrow my car..

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Reliability....

.. Im a huge fan of reliability huge I mean absolutely enormous in machines, in software, and in human beings, I just adore reliability as a matter of fact, it is probably one of the greatest traits that one can possess but Im not talking about ole Roger?.. yeah, hell be on time. reliability. Im talking about emotional reliability as in, yep, ole Roger?... when he reads this hes gonna flip out. and what does Roger do when he reads whatever it was?... HE FLIPS OUT!.... see?... THAT is the kind of reliability Im talking about.

.. and that is precisely why modern actors piss me off so much like Dustin-bloody-Hoffman. One minute he is a gimpy New Yorker dying on a bus to Florida and the next minute hes a hand-wringing middle-aged autistic guy. the whole thing just pisses me off. sure, sure, it may be High Art and he may be Talented, but what it screams to me is unreliability!...

give me John Wayne any day.. sure, he may not have been the greatest of Actors, but by God, you knew what you were going to get when he walked across that big screen. nobody was going to push him around. hed probably pull out his musket/knife/pistol/boxing gloves and blast/cut/shoot/punch some uppity Mexican/Texican/Indian/Irishman, get the girl, save the city, win the battle, and swagger off into the sunset with a cheesy one-liner as a parting shot.. he did that shit in every single movie. THAT is reliability.

I know you guys probably dont get what Im talking about and hey, thats ok. but what really got this ball rolling happened last night when my Missus forced me to watch The Adventures of Priscilla, Queen of the Desert. good Lord, save us. Ill never EVER watch The Matrix the same way again.

. Hugo Weaving, people. watching him sing Mama Mia in drag has forever changed my view of Agent Smith sure, the film was pretty funny and I laughed a lot (in between cringing and plugging my ears every time an Abba tune came on) but ole Agent Smith just isnt as scary as he once was.. now?... every time I see Agent Smith, I cant get that picture of Hugo in his purple frock out of my head. and let me be the first to tell you, nothing takes the meanness out of a Villain like remembering him in lipstick and pantyhose..

. reliability, people. I miss it.

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Skating.....

. today I was afforded my first opportunity ever to inspect a set of ice skates up-close and for any great amount of time.. and a helluva thing they were, people. hard, polished leather. form-fitting heel. a shiny, sharp blade on the bottom. they were a size 8 set of fearsome implements. Honestly?... I never would have imagined that they would be so hardcore.. those babies were designed for one thing function and I watched The Missus use them - just as they were intended - this afternoon..

and I have to admit another thing as well. I have always held figure skaters as a wee-bit weird. a strange lot that I just didnt understand. and just how could ice skating be a real sport anyway?.... but not anymore. Nope, consider me converted. Hey, you show me an ice skater, and I will show you one really, really fit athlete.. physically fit, wonderful balance, graceful with every movement, and with a sense of space and timing that would rival any sportsman in any sport..

I think that it is one of those things that you really just have to see in person feel the whoosh as the skater zips by hear the ice being shaved as their legs propel them forward. watching some guy, girl, or couple curve around a rink on television just doesnt work. You sit there on the couch eating your Pringles watching it all and think, hey, whats the big farookin deal?... I could do that shit! (trust me, I thought that very same thing myself on occasion) but oh, how wrong you would be.. oh yes..

. So take it however you wish to take it, but know this now.. anyone who can ice skate is a complete badass

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Hide...

it is once again the lunching hour here and Im stoked. Ive been hankering for some Krystal chili. and I plan to be found snacking upon six Krystal Chili-Cheese pups very, very shortly.

hey, were all about the health food lately and as of right now, my body is beginning to rebel against the salad avalanche that has hit here since Boxing Day.

hard times, people. hard times. woe betide the bringer of green veggies.

so the plan for today since the Missus is away is to jam as many chili-cheese pups down my throat as I can in the quickest possible time, hide the wrappers, and be angelically awaiting her broccoli & cheese souffl come dinnertime like a good boy..

. Im pretty sure that Ill be able to pull it off. for a while, that is....

... and for those of you who are unfamiliar with Krystals?.... Velociman spoke of their effects once upon a time.....

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Despair...

. good morning, rubberneckers. todays frosty dawn finds me at a complete and total loss for words.

as many of you know, my humble home was less than 15 miles away from the horrific epicenter of the Great East Tennessee Earthquake that struck viciously a few days ago.

a few of my friends have reported in with harrowing tales of destruction. Here, here, and here.

. I know that Christmas is the giving time of year. And I sincerely hope that each and every one of you will reach out to your fellow man this year.

if anyone would like to send a care/rescue package to aid us in this time of despair, may I humbly suggest Scotch as a gift idea. It is natures true medicine, gentle people. and it is the gift that keeps on giving..

.. thank you.

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Barking....

it is dark here now and a dog is barking off in the distance. a neighbor that lives about a thousand meters away has it staked to the ground in their back lawn.. I spied upon it earlier this afternoon with my binoculars while it was being fed a monstrous bowl of dog food.

I wish it would shut the hell up..

I hates me a barking dog especially at night.

. Were I an eviler man than I am, I would plot and execute his assassination forthwith.. but alas, I suppose that my old heart grows soft these days. and besides, Im too damnable lazy to put forth much more effort than squeezing a trigger. Arthritis, you know. and a monumentally overdeveloped blas

hey, wow. just as I was typing that last sentence, the damn dog shut up..and the insane bastard has been hard at it for over two hours now thank heavens for small wonders.. why, here I was getting my knickers all in a twist and imagining murderous rampa... damnation!.... a train just whistled at the county road crossing and the dog is back at it..

that dog needs to get countrified and countrified quick.. obviously his owners have impeccable taste in canine-flesh. dumb enough to bark wildly in the night at the passing of a train?.... oh yeah, that dog is obviously a pure breed.. any garden-variety mutt has enough sense to lay down and go to sleep at night and not get anxious over a stinking train-whistle.

anyone know of a good one-liner about barking dogs?.... Ive heard let sleeping dogs lie a million times and never really caught the gist of it. I mean, does it imply that dogs are more trouble when they are awake?... that doggies who are awake are more likely to bite, bark, or want to play?.. is it a warning that dogs are dangerous?.... I just dont get it. but anyway, I would love to have a good zinger about barking dogs to cram into my neighbors mailbox in the morning.. I mean, a pet which is a nuisance to everyone within earsho

ahhh its stopped again.

.... I'm not pressing my luck.... y'all have a goodnight.....

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Liquid....

. last evening I was afforded a chance to see what many, many people have been screaming from rooftops for ages that we really ARE a civilization circling the bowl. I know, I know. harsh words?... sure but 100% justified, children.

and just what shining beacon clued me in on the aforementioned circling?.... what glorious epiphany clariond through my noggin late last night as proof-positive of our upcoming demise?....

. I watched a fully-grown, healthy man heft an elephant turd high over his head, squeeze it hard over his open mouth, and drink the juice that dribbled out. on national television.

and then he scared the vultures off of a zebra carcass and ate a few hunks of flesh himself.

I kid you not, rubberneckers. I saw it with my own two little peepers and trust me, I was shocked.

. And what amazed me most was how he chugged the turd juice with hardly any effort and nearly puked after each bite of rancid zebra. I mean, Im no survival expert, but I would have imagined that the dung-liquid would have been harder on the palate than room-temperature raw zebra.

but anyway, yeah. I figure that were pretty much done as a civilization now I blame Peewee Herman

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Lights...

as I type this no kidding - my young neighbor-lady across the way is crawling on her hands and knees across her roof with a gigantic, tangled ball of Christmas lights clenched in her teeth

originally thinking that she had completely gone off her rocker and was trying to graze on some sort of rare roof-hedge, I grabbed the binoculars and zoomed in. no hedge, people. Christmas lights..

bah humbug I only climb up onto my roof once a year and that is only to half-heartedly clean the dead leaves from the guttering. but to brave that pitch in the middle of Winter just to put up fairy lights?.... sheer craziness..

it is beginning to look like The Tree is going up the Day Before Christmas again this year

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Reinvention......

. I watched the latest James Bond movie tonight and I have two words for each of you..mainly, well, holy shit

. I will write more tomorrow about the whole affair, but right now I am without words. The initial chase scene?.... I have NEVER in all my borned days seen any man move like that that black fellow could climb walls, people it was incredible.and the gnarly old Bond kept up

. mercy..

. I will write more on it tomorrow.

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Eat....

. my old Scottish pal from over at The Groanin Jockstrap has been doing some pondering. and I have to say, the boy has an extremely valid point I agree with him unreservedly that too much of our Scientific Brainpower is being spent on trivial things..

we live in a mighty nation, us Americans and indeed, the World at Large is filled with genius minds.. but where we fail is, for lack of a better characterization, in our ability to focus on the REALLY important stuff..

. and I have a feeling that Boudicca might agree especially after reading this.

. grass roots, people. thats what we need we need us a politician who can promise us that we CAN have our cake and eat it too.. we need to organize get the word out Hell, Ive got some magic markers and if anyone has some cardboard, Ill happily draw up some placards for us to hold over our heads as we march

.... Power to The People!...

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Knuckles....

. mollycoddling the knuckleheads yes, mollycoddling. a bad choice of words, perhaps, but it still rolled easily off of the tongue this evening when I was asked by the missus to define the current United Nations policy on controlling 3rd World Despots.

. you know, it is absolutely amazing to me as I go about my daily business that I have not yet been elected to some level of public service. perhaps a Mayor of a small burgh or even a representative that is all gussied up to be sent to Washington.hey, that would work.

I mean, damnation, Im in my proverbial prime here, people.. Hell, I should at LEAST be an ambassador somewhere.

in other news, I am sad to report that T1G - from Drunken Wisdom fame - has sent me a Zombie movie on DVD. let it be known far and wide yea, shout it loudly from the rooftops - that this unprovoked attack shall not go unpunished.

I have spoken goodnight..

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Menfolk...

wow. I was just reading about this study in the apparent dropping of testosterone levels in Massachusetts men, when I found an interesting zinger. here's a snippet.

They hypothesized that the rising prevalence of obesity as well as the sharp decline in cigarette smoking might help explain their findings, given that testosterone levels are lower among overweight people and smoking increases testosterone levels. But these factors accounted for only a small percentage of the observed difference.

hey, I didnt know that!... smoking increases testosterone levels.. SWEET!... maybe if I up my smoking my once-luxuriant mane will start growing back!....

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Complaints....

you know, I tour through some pretty shady online places to find suitable blogfodder for you guys. And hey, I do it as an absolute Labor of Love. I like to keep you guys entertained

and believe-it-or-not, I find that Agony Aunt type places are always THE BEST to find bloggy ideas I mean, what is more fun that reading some mumbling whiners pleas for help?... especially when the advice is being doled out by someone named Aunty Peggy, Uncle Dave, or some crap

but on certain occasions, well, you find someones problem absolutely amazing and mixed among the is it ok for my girlfriend to suck on my toes?, the my sister is dating a total Playa how do I tell her to ditch The Pig?, and dear Uncle Dave, is it normal for me to dream of jackhammering that hot pre-school teacher as I drop off little Jenny.. even though I am happily married?, you get things like this.

the womans problem?..... check this out

thats right, boys and girls. her husband lays the whoopee down on her SO GOOD that she loses consciousness. Uh huh her partner gives her such an incredible orgasm that she actually passes out from sheer, toe-curling pleasure

good God. I mean, here is a woman who goes to bed with The Worlds Greatest Lover every single night a man who makes her cum like God himself had his tongue on her coochie and she STILL finds a reason to complain.. unbelievable.

I guess what they say is true some people just cant be satisfied

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Sally...

there are moths and there are flames and there are women and the movie Sybil. I swear, I just dont understand it.

good God I would rather repeatedly drive ten-penny nails one after the other - into my forehead with the sole of a fucking Birkenstock than suffer through another viewing of Sybil

and yet it never, ever, ever fails. if it is on, then it is watched. and hey, I do try to flee I run I blog I try to steady my nerves with outside chores or kitchen dish-work. but the primal, weaning screams of Sally Fields cannot be squelched by mere walls of brick, mortar, sheetrock, the running of tap water, or paint. no, no, gentle reader. her nasally whine can penetrate any barrier. ANY barrier. and it reverberates through my brainpan each time she squeals and lapses into yet another of her sixteen fictional personalities it echoes in my head. reverberating like the sound of a gang of violent midgets busily sawing through the back of my skull with dull hacksaws and all the while singing American Pie at the top of their little lungs

. and why that goddamn movie is FOUR hours LONG is a total fucking mystery hell, after two hours I was personally rooting for her boyfriend to wing the crazy bitch off the top of that housing block and be done with it.and that is mild, people after only twenty minutes of attempting to hide from the dialogue, I was ready to sneak into the nearest closet and drain a vein with my Cold Steel..

and on top of everything else, and in a vain attempt to maintain my sanity, I looked her up on Wikipedia while the flick blared in the background. and guess what?... most of the movie is fictionalized!... Sally Fields should be dragged off and shot

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Loops...

from my secure perch here high in Tennessee, I have observed a disturbing trend in the manufacturing community to many of you, this Great Failing will have went unnoticed and to many, many more of you, well, you could probably care less one way or the other

.. but in My World?... it is one of the few ruffles in my otherwise stayed feathers.

for instance, the jeans that I am wearing right now have a hole the size of my fist on the left calf area. The hole was there when I purchased them and I didnt mind they fit the name-brand is missing from the jeans as they are most definitely of second quality again, no biggie they fit and are comfortable, and so they were purchased for ten bucks at some bargain basement bazaar outside of Nashville when I had nothing better to do a few months ago.

the size on the jeans?... 36X32 and therein lies the problem.

jeans are my staple on any given day I can be found wallowing in the Joy that is Wearing Denim but I am finding it increasingly difficult to find jeans that properly fit and hell, Im a fairly averagely sized fella

I just checked my closet and found among my seven pairs of jeans the following sizes 32X34, 33X34, 34X34, 34X36, 36X32, 38X30, and 38X32. and all of them are Levis and with the exception of two being button-fly 501s, the rest are straight-leg 505s. so, what gives?.... you buy the same jeans model and size and they are off in both inseam and waist by 2 to 6 inches?...

and whats more, I have noticed that some have five belt loops while others have the normal seven

.. the whole thing just pisses me off I dont know what the hell they are smoking down in Guatemala, but I wish someone would put their foot down

I am sick and tired of being forced to try on jeans before buying them after jerking my legs into ten to twelve pairs of Levis every time I need a new set of jeans, it quite literally becomes a pain in the ass.

.. so explain it to me, people is 36 inches somehow longer or shorter in Central America, or are they just doing this shit to piss me off?....

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Guns...

. Rube has requested that we go and play with firearms in a field nearby. Hey, who am I to deny a guest their wishes?.... so, were off to pop balloons and punch holes in paper targets for a while.

Ill have some photos later of our afternoons fun it should be quite enjoyable....

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Downfall....

good morning, fellow travelers. I hope you are all well and getting exactly what you deserve. Me?... Im more than just a little disturbed this morning

yes, I said disturbed. but what is it that has unearthed my internal funk so early today?... what brilliant piece of journalism has harshed my mellow?.... behold..

AGEING Playboy millionaire Hugh Hefner has confessed he is bored of bonking and would rather have a game of DOMINOES with his glamour girls.

Entrepreneur Hefner, 80, is famed for bedding thousands of babes and holding hedonistic bunny-girl parties at his Beverly Hills mansion.

But the publisher who turned his mens magazines business into a worldwide entertainment and fashion empire said he no longer had the energy.

He said: Im bored of the hanky panky. Im still active but its different I like to play dominoes with my girlfriends.

Hef, oh Hef why has thou forsaken us?... at 80, you are were a shining beacon of how a perfect world could be.

and now, dominoes?....

some days the news is just too damn depressing. Im going back to bed.

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Ears...

. winding down here.. winding down its been a hectic day. and I do believe it is time to visit with the 16 Men of Tain for a while. with just a few pieces of ice thrown in

anyway, Im just in from escorting the Sainted Mother to and from the local emergency room shes fine, of course and me the worrywart caused all of the kerfuffle for twas I who screamed mini-stroke! mini-stroke! ala Chicken Little... when everyone else is lilting through their laid back drawls, no, no no shes just got her one of them inner ear infections..

and of course, they were right. which is wonderful but my overzealousness to throw Medical Muscle in overwhelming numbers has resulted in five hours wasted, much gnashing of teeth, and the demise of a huge shot of Adavan into my Sainted Mommas backside

ahhh better safe than sorry though you only go around once, so they say best to try to stick around as long as possible.

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Football....

... yesterday was a day that was completely consumed by College Football Enjoyment... and I do believe that I have wiped the slate clean of any brownie points that I accumulated over the past year.. indeed, after the fifth hour of sports, distinct rumblings were heard that involved the words tile', new bathroom', and bastard'.

... regardless of the aforementioned static, the Volunteers began the day at noon, and pure, raw SEC goodness flowed until my head hit the pillow.... Unfortunately, I drifted off to slumberland with the blissful dream of Georgia getting punked by Mississippi.... and my dream nearly came true... 5-0, my aching ass.... Next week's game with Tennessee should be very interesting....

... I watched the Alabama/Florida game too.... goodness, people.... Alabama is dangerous.... then again, just because a SEC team isn't ranked doesn't mean that they aren't passionate, mean, violent, and ready to drop the hammer on you in a heartbeat....

... anyway, today is to be a day of rest and recovery.....

... the side effects of my homemade chili are slow and prolonged.. and they usually show themselves 12 to 14 hours after ingestion.... and since dinner was enjoyed a bit later than usual last night, the guttural waves are predicted to begin hitting the porcelain shores very, very soon....

... in other news, ole El Capitan has done me the honor of acquiescing to my plea for a Napoleon and Josephine story... sure, sure, I know he only touches on the subject for a few meager lines... but, hey!.... what he lacks in Napoleonic goodness, he makes up for with home-spun, collegiate tales of debasement...

... you just gotta love that...

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Talking...

.... it never fails.... just when you begin to crush your opponents like beetles under a boot heel, someone breaks out a camera... and then, in the order of the cosmos, you miss....

miss.jpg

... word...

.... and it is my experience that the speed at which the camera is whipped out is directly proportional to the amount of smack that is being talked....

... thus, once your crow is at it's loudest and your jibes are zinging hard and fast, it is then that the camera appears and changes your luck...

... and I offer the shot above is proof... proof that sometimes I should just keep my mouth shut and win quietly....

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Hackman...

... today will find the Missus and I tooling up to Knoxville for our bi-monthly booze run.... the morning has started slowly and I predict that the rest of the day will follow suit...early Autumn... low 80s...perfect for dropping the top on Sylvia and spending a few hours on the backroads....

... I stopped on Sunday in Ellijay and dropped the top before crossing the mountain... and it was a helluva trip... after enjoying the company of my crazy blogger friends, it was a break from the norm to have the wind in my face and a clear head free from Chatham Artillery Punch and the sound of monkeys in mid-orgasm....

... blogmeets... wow... you really can't make this stuff up....

... anyway... I am off to town in search of lunch... I suspect it will be easily found....

... last night I had my arm twisted just enough to make me sit through another re-viewing of The Birdcage... and I have to say, it is really starting to grow on me... there are a million subtleties that you miss the first time you see it... like when the crying, barefoot, Guatemalan butler desperately tosses the shrimp into the soup kettle as Robin Williams slams a few glugs of Glenlivet... heh, I had missed that the first go-around... and it was pretty funny....

.... But I will say this... I am as big of a fan of Gene Hackman as the next guy... hell, apart from those Superman movies, I have loved everything he was in.... but the fact remains - and it is salient... he sure makes for the ugliest drag queen I have ever seen when he gets lipsticked-up at the end of The Birdcage.... seriously... Gene Hackman in drag is just nightmarish.... and besides, they should have made him a brunette instead of a blonde anyway....

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Uplifting...

... you know, it's hard to be cheerful in all weathers.... It really is... especially when you are watching the news or reading the paper... the waves of bad news and troubles can wash over you with a heavy weight.... and at times, you feel your gentle soul spiraling down towards doom and gloom... hey, we're all human...

... but then you read heartwarming headlines such as this, and it all seems that wee bit brighter for a while....

The dancers, who were dressed as teachers, schoolgirls and librarians, took off their clothes to raise money for the cash-strapped Clark County School District. Scores Las Vegas raised $2,500 during the event.

... people helping people, children... there is nothing more noble to see.... loving, hard-working ladies doing their bit for the betterment of their community...

... I don't know about you, but this little snippet of news certainly made my morning...

... and now I'm off to Knoxville with a spring in my step....

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Shame....

.... trekking out to visit the dentist always fills me with a deep sense of dread.... and - truth told - it is a completely unfounded terror.... my Dentist is a saint and always takes very good care of me... and apart from the five years I served the Corps and the further eight years overseas as a civvie, he has been the only dentist I've ever visited...

... he was my very first Dentist... when my first little deciduous tooth sprouted, it was he who took care of me from that day forward... fortunately I didn't need much work as a child... being relatively free of cavities and such.... but on the other hand, my Brother's dental expenses probably paid the tuition for both of the Dentist's daughters at Vanderbilt...

... I arrived slightly early for my appointment... just as the hygienists and assistants were returning from lunch... and each of the young ladies offered a fine hallo and a slight smile as they entered the front entrance and passed me... I was sitting on the comfy couch trying my best to look calm and failing miserably... so I must have been quite a source of amusement to the girls....

... but after a few doleful minutes, the game was set afoot.... the moment to flee was no longer available, and I was led gently to the surgery room... once there, I was reclined back into the chair by the helpful assistant...

... after she prepped me, she began discussing the joys of convertible travel - she having witnessed me arming the alarm on Sylvia - and I did my best to extol to her the absolute wonderfulness of driving topless Audis... (which is harder to do than you imagine when you have two pencil-sized numbing-sticks protruding three inches forth from your lips)....

... in any case, the Dentist appeared and began injecting... and knowing from past experience what a complete basket-case I become, he kept injecting... and injecting.... and then he turned on the nitrous oxide for good measure... here it is nearly 9:30pm and the numbness has only now completely passed... my appointment was at 2pm....

... the procedure took just over an hour and a quarter.... and I was completely worn out by the end of it.... every muscle in my entire body had been completely flexed for an hour and fifteen minutes.... even with the gas... even though I wasn't in pain.. and even though I knew it was completely irrational, I just could not relax...

... I closed my eyes and focused on keeping my jaws opened wide.... I opened my eyes and stared at the light... I cut them to the left and watched the serene expression of the assistant as her hazel eyes focused on the Dentist's nimble fingers.... I looked to the right and directly into the pale, robin's egg blue of the Dentist's eyes as he worked.... I closed my eyes again.... rinse and repeat....

... every fiber that holds my 200lb, 6'1" body together was taut with fear... and I could not get past it... I was as rigid as a damn surf board and I wasn't even in pain...

.... the Dentist sensed it... after thirty years in the trade, he could just tell... he stopped for a minute and asked if I was alright... I took a deep breath and said I was sorry... that I was fine.... but I just couldn't make myself relax.... he nodded and said that he understood and that he would try to finish quickly....

... I guess I can now add shame' to the list of things that I feel when I darken the Dentist's door...

... and the really messed up thing is this... I've had broken bones... I've had serious injuries.... fights, scrapes, falls... rugby tackles that have nearly killed me... been beaten unconscious... beaten others.... hunted wild and fearsome beasts... I'm no stranger to pain or fear... and I have a pretty damn high tolerance to pain....

... so why in the great living HELL am I so spastic when it comes to a trip to the Dentist?.... in the Great Scheme of Things, it is a walk in the park....

... it is really starting to piss me off...

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Help...

... the internet is littered with heartbreaking tales... and a particularly sad story was brought to my attention yesterday by my ole buddy Matt.... Here it is....

.. if you can find it in your heart to bid on the poor man's crossbow, I would consider it a personal favor...

... having your entire family and peer-group massacred by ninjas is a hard blow to endure... even for a pirate...

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Fearful...

..... last evening, in a fit of alcohol-induced abandon, I feasted upon the evil Domino chicken kickers again...

.. and as I have mentioned before, I now sit here with fearful rumblings and odors emanating from my bloated midsection...

... woe, people.... woe betide the foolish man who feeds himself recklessly....

... oops... there was another odor-release... good God....

... I know the time is coming to evacuate, gentle reader.... It is drawing nigh - I can feel it... and yet never have I felt such a complete wash of dread passing over me...

... there will be wailing... and probably some teeth-gnashing.... I will sit and wring my hands.... and stare towards heaven with a strained and sweaty brow... woe... it is in my future and it is unavoidable....

... I should have known better.... but remember me fondly if I succumb to the event... and know that each and every one of you held a happy place in my heart....

... I'm off....

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Nunnery...

... today's Quote of the Day comes courteously via the BBC...

A spokeswoman for the home said: "She had a wonderful time and enjoyed every minute of it. She says she would like two strippers next year."

... 102 and still spunky.... I like that a lot... I sense a kindred spirit in that little British Granny...

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Sinks...

... I am king of the kitchen here in my humble habitat.... I cook 99% of all the meals served... and I'm a pretty dab-hand at it too - even if I do say so myself...

.. but my peeviest of pets - when it comes to My Domain - is seeing the sink dirtied...

... it spins me up like you cannot imagine.... verily, of all the blights to hit a kitchen, I hate dirty sinks the most... you show me a person who has a dirty sink, and I'll show you a complete reprobate... there really is no excuse... I mean, when you are at a sink you are surrounded with scrubbing brushes, rags, and cleaning liquid.... AND water....

... look, a sink and wash basin are a great social yardstick... waltz into someone's castle and spy a pile of dirty dishes cluttering the sink?... a rascal may be found lurking somewhere nearby... probably eating potato chips..

... sure, sure.. I know that there are times when other duties drag you away from the piled dishes... and that is only natural... hey, people get busy.. I can hang.... I understand.... but visiting someone who has dishes from a meal two days ago languishing in crusty, abandoned purgatory is just plain disgusting... and hey, after two days?... I'm sorry to report this to you, but you are a comprehensive degenerate... and desperately need to be dragged off and shot.... multiple times..

... personally, I'd rather see a steaming pile of fresh shit on the rug than a dirty sink... because, well, you aren't going to be eating off the rug... but you use that sink to prepare you meals!...

... a clean, sparkling sink is a sign of a pure heart, children.. and hey, I may not vacuum worth a damn, but by God, my sink is clean....

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Two....

... good God.... the world's luckiest man is alive and well in India....

... sure, I know that humans mutate from time to time... and that we are all continually evolving.... but wow... I wonder which one he'll have cut off?.... t'were it me, well, I can't say I'd part with either of them.....

... I'm off to town to buy some nachos.... holy shit, people... what a strange and interesting world we live in.... wow....

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Night....

... a minor emergency with my sainted Mother belayed the chili consumption for a while last night.... a drop in her blood sugar resulted in a late-evening ride over to her house for a few supervised glasses of orange juice... all was well after a while, and as I left to head home I was afforded a new experience....

.... driving at night with the top down...

... in a word?... Wow... driving through the warm, dark air was amazing.... the feeling is completely different than the one you get from driving the convertible during the day.... it was like being naughty, almost - the feeling.... places at night take on a different aura, I guess.... and as you quietly round those country road corners, you just feel... well, wonderful.... like every new curve is a place you have never been before...

... anyway, I just delivered my Mother back home... we had a standing lunch engagement from a week or so previous, and today I paid the bill.... I grilled three pounds of boneless pork ribs, baked some beans, and tossed a salad.... she brought over a dozen or so deviled eggs... and a mighty feast was enjoyed... and just as I pulled the perfectly-sizzled ribs off of the grill, a thunderstorm struck... so we sat at the kitchen table dining on some exquisite grub while lightning flashed and thunder rolled....

... all in all, not a bad way to spend a Sunday afternoon.... and I really, really, really can't wait to drive at night with the top down again....

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Itching....

... something weird is going on... the scar from the knife wound on my left arm has begun to itch two or three times a day..... and if I rub it, I can feel my middle and ring fingers flex a bit as the tendons respond to the pressure.... it's strange..

... it's closing in on two years since I got cut.... and all this time, the five inch scar has given me no trouble at all... and now it is starting to itch.... weird....

... anyhoo, I'm off to drink coffee on the patio and watch the Missus swing in her hammock.... enjoy your Saturday, boys and girls!... play nice and don't feed the animals!....

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Hips....

... BREAKING NEWS!... I just heard on Fox that Barry Manilow has had to cancel a bunch of his shows in Vegas because he has torn the cartilage in both hips...

... I immediately thought, "huh?.... what has that bad, bad boy been up to?"... I wonder if it is true what they say about the size of someone's nose in relation to other parts....

... scratch that, I don't want to know.... but both hips??... wow... that must have been one helluva session....

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Stung...

... whoa.... this sunny Sunday morning brings shocking news from Akron, Ohio....

.. be careful out there, people....

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Shopping...

... I was dragged all around town yesterday in search of a new pair of swimming trunks... evidently the old Umbro soccer shorts I normally swim in are deemed unseemly at certain angles... especially when not actually in the water, but sitting sprawled on a comfy chair beside the pool.. anyway, I was asked - ever so gently - to find myself a pair that had some sort of integrated internal knickers...

... finally finding a suitable pair at the fifth shop I entered, I'm now confident that all bathers far and near shall be spared the accidental injury of glimpsing The Boys as I sip my Gatorade by the local swimming hole...

... there was one thing of interest in my search yesterday though... namely that I laid eyes on a young woman who was a complete work of art.... Sapphire blue eyes that were wide and confident and seemed to pierce your soul when you fell under her gaze... bronze, flawless skin... and long, dark hair that slightly curled - pulled back in a ponytail and tied with a red ribbon... a small, straight Caucasian nose... pink lips.... And not a hint of make-up on her mannequin-like body...

... I entered the shop and approached the counter she stood behind; she smiled sweetly, tilted her head inquisitively, and asked if she could help me.

... the Wife and I inquired about swimming gear to no avail... they had sold out... so in less than 30 seconds, we had turned and were outside walking towards the car...

... I bumped the button to unlock the car, and the wife spoke. "What a striking young woman that was.. did you see how blue her eyes were?".... "uh huh.... And her skin and hair were so dark... an incredibly odd combination.... " ....

... "I know.. but her face gave away no hint of ethnicity... she didn't look Italian, Eastern, or Hispanic.." ...

... "do you think it was a tan?"...

.... "no, I think that is her natural skin.." ...

.... "well, she certainly is unique... I've never seen ANYONE who looked like that before.. "...

... ".. me neither... she reminded me of Halle Berry in that X-men movie.. the one where she has perfect brown skin and those crazy eyes "....

... "heh heh... perhaps she's a mutant then?"...

... "I wouldn't doubt it one bit... it's just not natural for a woman to be that beautiful right out of the box... "....

.... ".. we're all created differently, that's for sure... but beauty is subjective, isn't it?.. " ....

... buckling her seatbelt, the Wife flashed me a grin and punched me in the arm... "you totally missed that, didn't you?...

... "OW!... what?"...

... ".. Men... wow... that stuff doesn't even register to you, does it?... see, you were supposed to tell me that I was prettier than her.. "..

... " ... you know you are... " ...

... "nope... nope... too late now, buddy.. just drive, big guy... " ...

... and with that, we pulled out onto the road and continued our search for the elusive swimming costumes.... I wonder if the helpful clerk in that shop realizes that innocent husbands are being punched because of her...

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Chicken...

... drove into town this afternoon after a vigorous workout, and settled in at the local Chinese eatery to quell the beast.... I had skipped breakfast owing to an early-morning appointment at the dentist, and I was hungry..

... I ordered off of their buffet and ate my fill... noodles, fried rice, honey glazed chicken, sweet and sour chicken, a few spring rolls and a crab triangle-type thing stuffed with cream cheese... it was regal.... all topped off with a sweet iced-tea...

... by the time I arrived home, I was down for the count... I could hardly keep my eyes open... so I power-napped on the suede couch in the blogroom for a few hours...

.. now I'm up and my original plans for grilling ribs have been switched to tomorrow... but what gives about lunch?... did I slam my body with too many carbs and sugars because I missed breakfast and had lunch at 1:30?.... or is this a Chinese conspiracy to further lethargicize the population of America?.... the sign outside said "No MSG"... but who can you believe these days?...

.. come to think of it, the chicken tasted exactly like chicken... so, wow... it could have been any number of unknown varmints that I was chowing down on...

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Sleep...

... up early here, folks... and I'm off to town to get a sensor replaced on the Wife's ride.... But I'm a very bleary-eyed camper today...

... I woke up at 4am drenched in sweat from a horrible nightmare.. I had been a fly on the wall while a rampaging Kevin Spacey ripped the heads off of live kittens and hurled their blood-squirting corpses at a public restroom stall...

... his bellowing - mixed with the gurgled mewlings of the poor kitties - is still fresh in my brain...

... and twice during the morning's shower, I ripped back the curtain fearing a replay of the shower scene in "Psycho"..

.... I think my new vitamins are making me a bit paranoid....

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Updike...

.... The rope that I braided a few weeks ago is being put to very good use... and I could not be more happy with the primitive results.... Indeed, my plans for complete hillbillification of the European Missus continue at pace...

... it has not all gone according to schedule though... the occasional hiccups have happened, of course... but there always are hiccups when one attempts such sweeping societal changes such as this... but I fight each battle in a new and cunning way.... for instance, she continues to loathe pinto beans & diced onions.. and will not touch a pone of cornbread were her very life to depend upon it... but I HAVE managed to force skillet-fried okra and yellow squash down her neck often enough that she now actually asks for it every-so-often... so, as you can see, we are halfway down the gnarly path already....

... but I cannot express fully enough the great feeling of pride I have this afternoon...mercy.... It all happened when, quite accidentally, I chanced to look out the glass dining room door and see my Scottish Lass reclining in the hammock.... absolutely replete.... fluffy cat curled at her sprawled knee while she swayed... tumbler of Merlot sitting just within rocking-reach on the grassy ground... book turned just-so... angled perfectly to allow her to scan the sunlit pages through her Jacqueline Onassis replica sunglasses..... all the while wearing a wonderfully politically incorrect tee-shirt.... Braless... with one arm cast back over her shoulder grasping the braided, twine line... rocking herself in complete redneck bliss...

.... Culture?... I got your culture right here, boys and girls.... John friggin Updike being read - midsummer - by a chick in her first halter-top.... Honestly, you can't make this shit up.... Sunday evenings... wow... you just never know what you'll get.....

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Cash...

... ok... I am a charitable guy... on a monthly basis, I give various amounts of cash to any number of organizations... from soup kitchens in Chattanooga.. to the USO, paralyzed veterans, cystic fibrosis, cancer, diabetes, etc, etc.... and any number of other maladies...

... and the easiest way for a charity to part me from my money is to make me feel The Love... sending me a great, heaping wad of personalized address labels as an incentive gets old after the first time... see, lookit... when you send me a sheet of a THOUSAND labels with my name on it, don't expect me to give you another 25 bucks NEXT MONTH when you send me another THOUSAND labels... why?... because I still have 995 LEFT OVER from LAST MONTH!...

.. pisses me off... and I don't want your stinking calendars either... or your little note pads with my address on the bottom of each page... I'd much rather you just send me a one-line note saying "Please, sir, may I have some more money?".... with a REAL signature at the bottom..

.. you want my money?... fine... like I said once before, do it like those Indians out in Montana... I send them 25 bucks and they send me some .50 cent handmade trinket... and I LOVE IT... hell, just last week they sent me a friggin blanket that Sitting Bull himself would have been proud to park his behind on... and the same goes for the religious charities and soup kitchens I give cash to... at least I get a monthly newsletter from Friar So-and-so who has an incredible sense of humor when he's talking about how much the winos just loved last week's chicken tenders that my money paid for...

... treat me like I OWE you money when begging for charity, and guess what?... you ain't getting anything from me... bite me... and sending me things to try to throw a guilt-trip on me?... fuck you... I've got enough homegrown guilt to do me already...

.. and today - just this very day, MADD sent me a pleading letter and a cheque for $2.50... and you know what?... I'm gonna cash it... and then send it to those Indians...

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Tires....

... while grilling up the burgers last night, I noticed that the tires on the Wife's ride were looking a bit worn down.... and upon further inspection, it was clear to see that they desperately needed replacing... front AND back...

.. so as I walk into the house with the chow, I holler through from the kitchen... "hey, babe!... did you know your tires are shot?... what is the mileage on the Caddy?"...

... "what?", says she... "Cary needs new shoes?"... (.. yeah... she named her car Cary... after Cary Grant..) .. "Ummm... I think I've done about 8,000 miles, I think.. "...

... I nearly had an embolism.... jumpin' Jesus on a pogo stick, people... 8,000 miles and she wears out a set of tires... it just boggles the mind....

... so today I drive her buggy up to the dealership to get them to do the "once over"... I mean, that's only natural, right?... 8K and her tires are bare, well, something must be out of alignment or broken or some other shit... right?...

... the Service Man duly walks out and rubs the tires thoughtfully for a few minutes... nope... nothing wrong with the alignment...

... "all is well, Mr. Eric", he chirped... "everything is as it should be, but the tires are just worn out.. beautiful car though, isn't it?.. you must really drive her HARD to have smoothed her tires like this in just eight thousand miles.. "

... ".. indeed, it is a beautiful car.... but first off, it isn't a she'... it's a he'... and secondly, it is my little Wife who rags this dude out"...

... the look of sheer amazement that crossed his face was incredible... his jaw even slackened just a tiny bit....

.... I looked back towards Cary, and continued... "so... how much to order a new set of tires and get it all fixed up?"...

... composing himself from the idea that a 40-year old woman had been manhandling one of the fastest cars in the county, he spoke...

.... "just have a seat inside, Mr. Eric.... I'll run the numbers for you.. "....

... half an hour later I dropped the Wife's car back off to her and told her the damage.. and people, it ain't pretty.... It ain't pretty at all...

... but it had to be done... so Friday morning I skip off to the dealership for an oil change, detailing service, and four new tires...

... I can hardly wait to hear how the technicians react to the Spongebob floor mats and the ceramic hula-man on the dashboard....

... and the "welcome screen" on her navigation system?... "Fiona's ZOOM ZOOM".... I shit you not...

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Heat....

... you know, you would think that someone who had been born and bred in The South would know better than to grill cheese burgers when the mercury reads 97 and the heat-index approaches 107.... Yeah, you'd think the idiot would know better....

... and no, I'm not talking about my neighbor.....

... I cracked open the seal on the garage tonight and treated my dear, Sainted Mother to a meal of freshly grilled burgers, tossed salad, baked beans, and ice cream with mango nectar poured over the top.... She seemed to enjoy it.... even though when I was finished manning the grill I looked like I'd taken the Nestea Plunge in a vat of sweat...

... be that as it may, serious things were set afoot during the after-dinner conversation..... namely, well, that her new neighbors (recently moved in from the wilds of Michigan) are going to soon be receiving a serious attitude adjustment from little ole me....

.. it is going to be bad, I tell you truly.... the vile head of Intimidation is being unveiled in my Momma's neighborhood... a neighborhood where I was brought up... a small stretch of road that I watched my Mother and Father civilize over the course of thirty years.....

... and people, this will not fucking stand.. no, Sir.... not at all... some people see my Mother and see a widow... other see her as a middle-aged woman living alone on more land than she can handle.... what they do not see is that, while she is a Southern Woman in the highest sense, she is also a Mother, Aunt, and Sister of some people who are capable of some bad, bad things when provoked....

... I don't know how they grow people in Michigan, but here in Tennessee, well, you just don't act like that.... not without serious consequences....

... so the next few weeks will be interesting to witness, I am sure.... I have a plan... but the more I let my mind ponder upon it, the more I want to ditch the plan and start doing things more forthrightly.... yea, there will be fences built.. farm animals will die.... roaming pets (which in the past were left to roam freely) will be shown the way to Allah.... and some Michiganders are about to find out what a hillbilly is capable of.... and ALL within the law of the county..... God, I love living in the sticks sometimes.....

... it does not pay to fuck with my Mother... especially when her Son lives two miles away.... and I have a lot of numbers in my little black book....

... I am a very nice guy... but if you want a piece, you shall have it...

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Work...

.. it's just fun, fun, fun here at on The Compound today... and boys and girls, I sure wish y'all were here to help.... but what is it that keeps your intrepid, fearless host slavishly busy, you ask?...

... nay, gentle reader... a thousand times, nay.... ask not.. for the response is much too horrific... much too fiendish.... and this hellish existence of mine continues to pump forth devilish task after devilish task... yea, verily.... for is it not written that it is unto the mighty to bear the greatest of tribulations?... as Wizards in fairytales suffered the ugliest of evils so that they may emerge whiter at the end of the trial?.. thus, we must bravely soldier forth in search of our own fiery redemption?....

... but the good news is that I'm making chicken parmesan for tonight's dinner... and that's gonna rock...

... some days you just have to find the silver linings....

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Briefly...

.... today's Quote of the Day comes from the Winona Daily News.... and it is a headline, no less...

"Underwear burglary leads to brief chase, arrest"

... heh heh.... "brief chase".... Ok, I'm sorry... but that's just funny....

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Limbs....

.. oy vey!.... Abraham in an ascot!...

... goodness..... the storm that charged through last night has done a bit of pruning for me.... the tops of two dogwoods have been completely ravaged... and the patio umbrella (which I forgot to reel down and close) resembles one of Wile E. Coyote's parasols after a nuclear explosion...

.. me?... I slept through the whole thing...

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Wilted...

... today has been the type of day that just hangs.. it's almost as if the sky is pregnant with a soon-arriving thunderstorm but the weather refuses to breech... hell, it's almost depressing... no blue in the heavens and no clouds either... just a white-grey haze and oppressive humidity... even the mosquitoes are too lethargic to bite....

... on days like this, it is impossible to get excited.. not even about beer... the wishy-washy weather has created a lackadaisical day... decisions remain empty... and focus is hard to find.... and much like a shot-up B-29 over Berlin, attitude is hard to maintain....

.. and on top of everything else, I had a salad for dinner... that's right... no roast beef and gravy for me... no heaping tureen of mac and cheese sitting steaming on the stove.... a damn salad.... filled with green, leafy, heart-healthy vegetables...

... and nothing wilts my spirits quicker than a salad as a main meal...

... I can now fully sympathize with the parched and crumpled leaves on the dogwoods outside.... they look just about like how I feel... limp.. barren, even.... and more than just a little bit dejected...

... dammit, I sure wish it would rain tonight.....

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Sylvia...

... I had to say farewell to my old Audi friend today... I'd known him since 2003... he was a great pal, and he'll be truly missed.... his name was Doug and we'd shared many, many fine moments... moments that I'll long continue to remember with a smile...

... but today I had to pass ole Doug along to greener pastures... let him rest and be buffed and prepared gently for a pre-owned Audi parking lot somewhere in the southeast... so with great sadness, I tell you all that he is no longer with me.... he is gone... my little, quick, handsome silver companion is away....

.. and in a way, I am quite sad... I really am going to miss him greatly.....

... however, having said that, his replacement whispered sweet nothings in my ear all the way back from Knoxville... and guys, her voice is as sweet as honey..... her name is Sylvia... and she has the whitest, smoothest, most perfect skin...

ragtop_small.jpg

... and so far, well, I'm not letting the fact that she likes to go topless once in a while bother me too much... after all, it takes time to truly bond with a vehicle... and she and I are just now getting to know each other.... Me and Sylvia, people... I think we're going to hit it off just fine....

... you know, I really never thought I'd ever own a convertible... mercy... wonders never cease...

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Buttons...

... wow... speaking of "reactions" in the last post, I couldn't help but feel the pain of this Liverpudlian man when I read of his plight this morning....

... takes "pushing someone's buttons" to a whole new level, doesn't it?....

... seriously, you really can't make this shit up....

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Dysfunctional....

.... people, listen up..... if you don't own a copy of Brother Void's "Daily Afflictions" you are missing out... y'all know you can trust Uncle Eric... so be good to yourselves... toss yourself a treat.... buy a copy today... I mean, how can you go wrong with logic like this?.. checkit....

The Boot Camp of Life

"We delude ourselves that we want to imbue our children with honesty; instead what we want is to imbue them with our particular form of dishonesty"

Sidney Harris


Some of us are so damaged by our dysfunctional childhoods that we cannot unlearn everything our parents taught us. When this happens, you must make your dysfunction work for you. A good way to begin is to remember that your family is a boot camp designed just for you. In the heat of battle every brutality and indignity that soldiers have suffered in boot camp becomes an immediate reflex that helps them fight, kill, and survive. This is how you should feel about your family. As you move out into the adult jungle, you're prepared for battle. Not only are you ready on a hair-trigger to detonate a flexible array of adult issues, but you've been rigorously trained to handle the operational system of adult institutions, including passive-aggression in the school system, guilt bartering in organized religion, and domination-submission patterns between corporations and government.

As you look back on your unhappy childhood, you realize that your dysfunctional family has prepared you to survive in a dysfunctional world.

Thanks to my dysfunctional childhood, I am ready to kick some adult ass.

Brother Void

... I'm telling you right now, children... you guys are much, much poorer for not having a copy of "Daily Afflictions".... not that my childhood was dysfunctional, of course... but we're all a bit wobbly in our own ways....

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Dinner...

.... you know, if I ever caught a rattlesnake that was nine feet long, this is exactly what I would do with it..... hey, I'm just sayin'.... 90lbs is a lot of meat to just chuck into the nearest ditch...

... much, much better to snuggle in with an iron skillet, a few cloves of garlic, and a sharp knife... and get your "one with nature" groove on....

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Safe...

.... today has been one weird day.... I can't exactly put my finger on it, but there is a noticeable disturbance in The Force.... the natives are restless or something like that... things are quiet.... too quiet... so as you do, I'm off to hide on the patio with a six pack of Newcastle Brown and let the wind chimes sing me to a nap....

... y'all be careful this weekend... something is definitely afoot in the wind... I don't know if it is my Cherokee genes, my Choctaw genes, or that bad bunch of nachos I had for lunch... but regardless... something is twigging my delicate sensibilities... remember that Indian dude in the first "Predator" movie who stood around rubbing his medicine bag and gazing purposefully out into the jungle?...

... yeah, that's the kinda thing I'm talking about... so watch yourselves...

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TV...

... a few weeks ago the telephone rang here at the compound... upon answering what I assumed was a telemarketer, I was thrilled to find myself asked to participate in the famous Nielsen Ratings System... so for the past few days I have been religiously scribbling down each and every television show that has been pumped into my cozy living room....

... and you know, it's starting to piss me off.... sure, at first I got all warm and fuzzy with the thought that I was "part of something big"... but now it is just tedious.... I mean, times, channels, program names, are the Missus AND I watching said show or is it just me or her alone.... this crap is getting old...

... the only upside to the whole shooting match is that in my attempts to derail The System, I'm definitely getting a fine opportunity to catch up on the daily cycle of pay per view porn movies....

... there is some pretty weird shit on at 3am, people.... just trust me.... again, boys and girls, your humble weblogger plumbs the depths so you guys don't have to....

.... I wonder what percentage of the Nielsen demographic I'm going to get shoehorned into... the mind, wow... she does boggle....

... and speaking of boggling, congrats to Skippy for hitting 100K hits...

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Sweet!...

... oooohhhh yeah... I'm back from town!...

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Voicemail...

.... I gently fell asleep on the sofa last night to the light pattering of rain.... dreams of clouds, rainbows, and waterfalls peopled with scantily clad nymphs were enjoyed throughout the long night.... It was wonderful.... so I wake, slightly groggy but happy, at 4AM to find my cellphone buzzing away on my hip...

... "weird", thinks I to myself... "why would someone call me at such a late hour... 12:43AM... probably some blogger drunk-dialing my saintly ass from a bar somewhere.. "...

... so as you do, I checked the voicemail... and here is a rough transcript...

(slightly slurred East Tennessee redneck) .... "Eeeeeeerick... I've got your dog over here... give me a call at 519-XXXX when you can... like I said, your dog is over here and he's KILLED A BUNCH of my CHICKENS... and I'm pretty PISSED OFF... so you just call me tomorrow so we can settle this with a COURT DATE.... Your name and number is on his collar.... We'll settle this in court with you and your chicken-killin' dawg.... thanks".... *click*...

... ladies and gentlemen, to say that this message harshed my sublime mellow in a big, big way would be the understatement of the century... I was fucking livid.... and it is never a good thing to anger me first thing in the morning... most of the time, I am the epitome of Zenned-out Libran Calmness.... but when jolted awake by anger, threats, and haughtiness... well, I can get pretty mean...

... first off, let me preface this whole tale with the salient fact that I don't own a fucking dog... and even if I DID own a dog it wouldn't be wandering around the neighborhood at night killing chickens... and even if it WERE wandering around at night killing chickens, then the chickens probably needed KILLING... and they had probably offended it in some way and deserved to die... if I did have a fucking dog I would stand by his moral judgment to kill chickens as he saw fit....

... anyway, once my eyes stopped glowing red, I phoned my fellow hillbilly for a chat.... 4:30AM and the phone just rang and rang.... typical... so I waited.... and waited.... and waited... 7:00AM I called again... just ringing.... and ringing...

... my third attempt was at 8 and it was successful...

(slightly sleepy/drugged/hung-over voice of the same asshole who left the message for me at 12:43AM) .... Uhh... hullo?...

Me. .... Good morning... I'm Eric... you left a message on my phone last night about my dog....

Hillbilly: .... Huh?...

Me: ... you said that my dog had killed your chickens... you left a message giving me this number...

Hillbilly: .... Who is this?.... I didn't leave a message for you...

Me: ... my name is Eric.... how did you get my number, Sir?...

Hillbilly .... Huh?... I don't know what you are talking about...

Me: ... do you own chickens?... is my dog there?... are we going to settle on a court date or what?...

Hillbilly... Eric?... COURT DATE?!... I don't own any chickens...

Me: ... well, that's a good thing... because if you did, I would drive to your house and shoot every goddamn one of them... THEN we could set a court date, motherfucker.... Never call me again... and I'd watch about huffing on that pipe and then calling people you don't know and threatening them... as a matter of fact, I'll bring my State Trooper neighbor with me when I come to shoot your fucking chickens so he can help us with the court date after I'm done.... where the fuck do you live, asshole?...

Hillbilly: ... Mister, I'm sorry... please don't call the cops..... *click*...

... so it's 8:32 now and I'm feeling a bit better.... that man must have been stoned to the Moon to have dreamt up a whole flock of chickens and a chicken-killing dog.... but coffee and nicotine are balming me nicely... so how was your morning?....

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Fertilized...

... the wild, oriental beetle pleasurefest that has been taking place in my ferns has spilled over... they are no longer content to have me massacre them by the bushel basket in only one location....

.... this morning the blooms of the climbing pink rose at my front door were coated with munching, writhing, humping Japanese beetles.... and my crepe myrtle isn't faring any better... little bastards...

... one would think that the Birds of the proverbial Field would at least be trying to help me out by filling their little gizzards with freshly fucked fertilized beetles... but no... the birds are too busy preening themselves in the birdbath to worry about helping out the likes of me....

.... so I must go once more, girt for combat... and armed with my trusty Windex bottle filled with dish detergent-impregnated water... and lead the squirming masses onward towards their buggy oblivion....

... gah!... bah humbug!.... it's almost enough to make me spring for paving the lawn... it really is....

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Hotdogs....

.... in Cleveland, TN there is a small, Yankee-operated deli located on the eastern side of the town square..... proudly serving excellent hotdogs within spitting distance of the old Confederate Memorial statue... it is there, sitting on the street corner and gazing upon the flag-draped stone man, that I plan on having today's noontime feast.... a tall glass of sweet iced-tea... a Cadbury's Flake... and a plump wiener on a soft bun with onions, sauerkraut, and mustard...

... don't wait up for me, children... I may be gone for some time....

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Wow....

... you know, I'm a pretty nice fellow... quiet, shy, retiring... one might even say meek'.... and as I am so sensitive, I am often drawn to sad stories such as this...

... but I do also have a curious side - even in the face of such sad circumstances... so as I was reading the article on the suddenly brain-damaged and sex-crazed young British trooper, I could not help but read these lines and sit in amazement.....

We were told that the brain's frontal lobes play a key role in personality. This was discovered about 160 years ago when a railway worker, Phineas Gage, accidentally drove a metre-long metal pole through the frontal lobes of his brain.

Gage astonished doctors by making a full physical recovery. But his character had changed: he became quick-tempered and foul-natured very different from his former self.

... "foul-natured"??... well, you don't say.... having accidentally driven a metre-long metal pole through one's frontal lobe might do that... no?.... and that 600 pound sterling internet porn bill?.... Alexander, I definitely feel your pain...... I hope those beta-blockers work..... God knows, suing the MOD surely won't....

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Safari...

.... well, I said my farewells to Joe about noon.... we lunched on bacon, cheddar, and mayo sandwiches while he packed... mercy... a pound of bacon on each sandwich.. hey, I know how to treat guests, people.... nothing says comfort' like a half-pound of crunchy bacon.... anyway, I surely do not envy the man his journey northwards... 11 hours on the road is a mighty task... and too damn much like hard work, if you ask me....

... but yesterday's safari was damned exciting... we prowled the garage, peeped deeply into the shadowy corners of the house, and lifted various pots, boxes, and lawn implements in search of our wily target... all to no avail.....

... of course, we fortified ourselves for the hazardous duty with some fine 18-year old Glenlivet before setting off... (a gift from Joe that was greatly appreciated)... it was hotter than darkest Africa as we made our way around the lawn... but we eventually sighted the signature web of a black widow down in the front yard by the mailbox.... we were stoked.. closer inspection revealed the dried husks of many a hapless varmint laying scattered on the dry ground beneath the crevice.... it was a moment of high drama, to be sure.... but we kept our nerve.... hey, check it out... here's what a black widow's casa looks like....

black_widow_web_small.jpg

... we finally tracked a large female down, but she had backed up to the very back of an 8-inch crack in the creosote-covered timbers... with the aid of a fairly large twig, we both made attempts to dislodge her for her photo-op... but sadly this was all in vain.... she was simply not in the mood to be trifled with by two buzzing Mutual of Omaha rejects..... still, I took a few photos with the flash on.... but the whole image ended up out of focus.... so there you go... spiders 1, Eric and Joe 0....

.... I will say this for Joe, though.... while the man is a complete nancy when it comes to snakes... he's a veritable "Tarzan on a vine" when it comes to spiders... fear is a four-letter word to that boy... he spent the entire hunt talking about how he wanted to hold a black widow in his hand and have me take a picture.... I tell ya, the boy has nerves of steel on occasion....

... you know, I am continually impressed by the absolute fearlessness of the bloggers who visit my home... I probably need to work on thinking up scarier shit for us to do when they get here....

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Spiders..

... today, just to prove a point, I am off on a mini-safari with Joe of Drunken Wisdom... I promised him a while back that when he next visited me, we'd endeavor to scare us up a snake for the sake of good blogfodder... but being the girlyman he is, he squeaked like a squished mouse and fled into another room... so today, well, we'll safari for something different... the target?... a nice, fat, juicy black widow spider... surely the man isn't scared of spiders too...

.... the goal is simply to photograph a large female in her natural habitat and then leave her in peace... and, of course, gauge the reaction of my fellow blogger whilst we are on the hunt...

... the scary thing is, I feel quite confident... oh no, not that Joe can handle it... on the contrary... I feel quite confident we're actually going to find a black widow...

... I'll be sure to keep y'all posted... and just in case he faints or gets heart palpitations, I laid on two cases of beer yesterday evening... it's chilling nicely in the garage fridge... and it should be tasty and cold by the time he needs medical attention....

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The Truth...

.... you know, I am the most law-abiding citizen I know of... no, seriously.... I am a veritable pillar of the fucking community compared with most of the people I hang out with.... trust me, people... I am on NO ONE'S criminal radar.... and for that matter, I never HAVE been...

.... and yet I know there are going to be some stories about my moving violation... especially since there were three distinguished gentlemen in the car with me when it happened... add to that the fact that they are bloggers, and well, there you go... by the time the tale is twisted and blogged, I will have been fleeing the scene of my most recent 7-11 heist at high speed or something....

.... however, believe nothing of what they tell you (if they mention it at all) as their jaundiced views and advice are what contributed to me breaking the law to begin with.... and personally, out of all the ones in the peanut gallery who were egging me on, I lay the largess portion of the blame on Yabu and his Bad Bad Juju.... him sitting in the back seat of my Audi ripping loose with rum-fueled howler monkey cackles broke my concentration....

... anyway, here is the real deal as best as I can recollect it....

The Cast: Me, Elisson, Yabu, and Denny....

Scene: ... pulling away from the funeral home....
Me: .. you guys cool enough back there?... I turned the air down as low as it would go...
In unison: ... I'm fine...
Me: ... cool... so... we make a left, a right, and then a left to get back to the hotel, yeah?....
Elisson: .... That's right... I'll show you where to turn... damn, you are a bumpkin..
Me: ... bite me... I don't like cities with more than two stoplights....
Denny: ... hahahhahh..... Eric is a bumpkin...
Yabu: ... what a service.. it was nice.... Fucking-A, man... Acidman is gone...
In unison: ... I miss him already....

Scene: three minutes later as we approach the hotel...
Me: .... Ok, there is the hotel... so do I circle the block, or what?...
Yabu: ... naaawww, man... just pull a fucking u-ey... I've seen these Savannahites pull that shit all the time...
Me: ... (stopping at the light and ensuring that there is nothing coming) ... so, I just turn around right here?.. is that legal?...
Yabu: ... Fuck legal... I want to get out of this fucking suit... fuck, man... C'MON!...
Me: .. (sitting stoped at the traffic light) ... well, nothing is coming.. is it ok to go?... hey, Elisson... is that a cop car coming in the distance?...
Elisson: ... hmmm... could very well be, my boy... it's still too far away to tell...
Yabu: .... The Fuzz?... Fuck a bunch of Fuzz...
Me: .... Ok... alright... here goes... are you guys sure that guy isn't a cop? ...
Denny... hehheeh... heh heh... heh heh...
Me: .... (pulling a perfect u-turn) ... see?.. I told you this car can turn on a dime...
Elisson .... Dude... that IS a cop...
Yabu: ... BWHAHAHAHAHAHA... he's GOT YOUR ASS!!.... you waited until he was right there, man... BWHAHAHAHAH....
Elisson: ... oops... sorry, Eric.... I just couldn't see that far...
Me: .... DAMMIT!!... he's got his lights on!... Yabu, you dirty bastard....
Denny: ... BHWHAHAHAAAHHA....
Yabu: ... Dude, you are so busted.... Quick, HIDE YOUR GUN!!...
Me... SHUT UP!!... he's at the damn WINDOW... ummm... hello, Officer....
Denny: ... wow.. Eric, you are a monumental dumbass....
Me: .... thank you, Denny... thank you.....

... at that point, well, I had three guys sitting in my car with shades and black suits on laughing their asses off as one of Savannah's finest wrote my ass up.... but at least he was nice about it all.... I mean, I was guilty as hell... and I didn't even SEE that red arrow...

... and that, dear friends, is the whole truth... the true story of how I got my FIRST EVER ticket... I could blame it on nerves... or being distracted by just coming from Rob's funeral.. or just not being used to so many one-way streets... but you know, really and truthfully?... I blame Yabu... his Bad Bad Juju is contagious.... Yabu is the type of guy who can wander down a street at night pulling an arson job on every third house for ten blocks and never get caught... me?... the first time I commit a traffic offense, I get a ticket... that's just not right....

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Tickets...

.... as I am readying myself to slip quietly into re-charge mode, I see that Redneck was sneaky last October.... and he managed to snap a photo of me doing exactly what I'll be doing again in a few hours... but not with pork ribs this time... chicken breasts have been requested instead...

... so I'm off to the grocer to fetch some yardbird.... the past few days have left me needing something and yet strangely content and filled at the same time....

... and I also need to figure out what I'm going to do with this Savannah traffic ticket I have.... can you believe that?... after 33 years on this planet, I FINALLY get a ticket.... Dammit....

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Shoes...

... the Wife and I zipped down to Atlanta over the weekend for her birthday get-away, and we had a great time.... initially I was dragged - kicking and screaming - into the murky depths of Lennox Mall at mid-day on Saturday....

.... the place was packed... after a few exhausting hours of walking around aimlessly picking up random plastic objects, inspecting them, and placing them casually back onto their shelf shopping, I finally managed to break free.... and in a quiet moment of alone-time, I reclined back against a pillar near an indoor fountain, sipped my blueberry slurpie through its thin straw, and telephoned Elisson....

.. I nearly choked on a mouthful of frozen, blueberry-flavored goodness when Elisson's smarmy guffaw hit my ears....

... it seems that I was visiting Hotlanta right smackdab in the middle of Gay Pride Week... the man seemed to think it was quite funny... especially considering my Knoxville trip from a few weeks ago.... But me?... I just looked at it as another opportunity to witness life in all its variety.. life like it always is.. full of complexities, weirdness, and humor out the ass...

... later that night, I met up with Denny, Thunderman, and Elisson for a few rounds at The Palm... and then off to an Indian restaurant for some korma and naan....

... the whole meal was pretty cool, actually.... I had told Denny earlier that a surprise was awaiting him back at the bar, and he was busy all night trying to guess the identities of his "surprise"....

.... People, y'all should have seen his face when Boudicca's babysister locked her pretty eyes with the Grouchy Old Cripple's feeble peepers... the man melted into a little puddle of the most un-grouchy goo you could possibly imagine... Morrigan is an incredible sweetie, and she treated Denny like a King all night... even considering that her Beauhunk was sitting right beside her!...

... we laughed and drank and probably made too much noise for The Palm's crowd... but it was a good night with some fine people.... the Wife and I even received an invitation to visit the Highland Games at Stone Mountain with Morrigan and Beauhunk.. and possibly catch TGOO playing the pipes.... now, I ask you.. how can anyone turn down an opportunity like that?....

... anyway, Saturday evening was incredible.... Saturday night was even better... but this morning?... well, after a shining breakfast of steak and eggs, it all fell apart.... I took the following photo with my handy-dandy cell phone to show you just a small part of the Hell I endured from 11:45 to 3 today....

shoe_sale.jpg

... just between me and you, well, I'd rather have faced a screaming horde of rabid chipmunks.... naked... and hogtied.... and coated in some substance that chipmunks like to nibble.....

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Grilled...

... the differences in cultures is often quite striking... and nothing brought that closer to home today than when The Wife decided she would make grilled cheese sandwiches...

... after cleaning myself up, getting some water into me, and letting my heart rate drop back to normal levels, I was given a treat that I don't often get...

... simple, elegant, and just plain good... she prepared one Scottish family's version of a grilled cheese sandwich...

... now it is hardly recognizable as a "sandwich" since it only has one slice of bread... but I'm not one to quibble over details.. besides, the little thing just oozes goodness...

... she turns the oven on 350 and places a piece of sandwich bread on the tray... once one side is toasted, she removes the tray, turns the bread over, and drizzles the soft side with plenty of Worcester sauce... then, copious amounts of extra sharp cheddar cheese is layered across the sauce-laden bread... the whole thing gets popped back in the oven until the cheese bubbles and begins to brown...

... you simply take it out of the oven and let it cool for a bit... and then eat it like a piece of the most tasty toast you've ever slobbered on....

... back when my Momma cooked a grilled cheese it involved butter, two slices of Kraft singles, a frying pan, and two pieces of sandwich bread... and that baby got fried... and when it got tossed out of the frying pan - all limp with melted butter - it looked like a sandwich.. sure, it wasn't grilled, but saying "anyone want a pan-fried cheese sandwich" just doesn't roll off the tongue properly...

... I'm not going to say which one is best... hey, I'm all about diversity in the grilled cheese arena... but one thing is for sure....

... it is damn-near impossible to screw up a grilled cheese sandwich.... no matter what you do, it's still gonna be tasty... and if it is hot and cheesy... well, that's good enough for me....

... but now that I think of it, it does beg the question... why they are called "grilled" cheese sandwiches to begin with?.. I mean, does anyone actually grill their grilled cheese sandwiches?... weird...

Update: ... after further consideration, it kinda makes sense to call them grilled cheese sandwiches if it is referring to the "grill" in a diner...

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Time...

... well, the day is here.... and you people really let me down... the Sun is shining and the birds are chirping... and there isn't a damn cloud in the sky... I said pray for RAIN, people...

.. anyway, I'm still optimistic that this will fall through... and since I have nothing else to write about, I'll keep a running record of today's non-tennis events....

8:30 - made coffee.... no sign of movement from the master bedroom....

10:00 - made second pot of coffee and jumped into the shower... she's still sleeping...

10:23 - (that's now)... put on shorts, tee-shirt, socks, and sneakers... you know, just in case... bedroom door remains closed...

... updates to follow...

10:40 - ... uh oh... I just heard the toilet flush.. I may be in trouble...

10:48 - ..... all is quiet again... I'm safe... I peeked in the door and there was a giant wad of bedclothes in the center of the bed with brown curly hair sticking out the top..

10:54 - .... damnation... I think hearing the door click shut woke her up... she's moved through to the couch and is watching American Movie Classics on tv...

11:26 - ... ooohhhh yeah... TNT has old episodes of "ER" running back to back.... this is going to take a while.....

1:03 - .... it is done... an hour of bouncing a little yellow ball back and forth on the deck... it was quite fun... well, in a "bouncing a beachball" kind of way.... the thought being that we need to practice our skills in private before hitting a pubic court and looking like morons... (it is debatable if that is ever going to be achievable)...

... now I just need to find a shady spot and re-hydrate... oh, and another thing... is it ok to take smoke breaks between sets?... I did and I think it improved my game... then again, this was my first ever attempt at "tennis".....

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Rain...

... sitting here waiting for the pool-shooters to show up, I noticed my day's purchase wasn't put away... so I walked them through to their new home and closed the door... the Utility Room....

...you know, I spent quite a lot of time in the delayed-entry program before hitting bootcamp.. and I used that time to try to get in shape... lots of hikes, pull-ups, and push-ups... I even wore a pair of old combat boots for a little while every day to try to toughen my feet up...

... it didn't work though... and the first forced-march that 3rd Battalion dropped on me cut my feet up pretty bad... but you know, that is how you develop calluses... but by the end of 13 weeks, my heels were as hard as my noggin...

... they issued me a pair of running shoes too... New Balance, I believe... light as a feather and truly excellent shoes... of course, by the end of training they were a complete wreck... the heat and humidity of May, June, July, and August at Parris Island - combined with the sweat from running, the constant soakings from running underneath the sprinkler arches to keep from heatstroking, and the continual sandy runs - well, those sneakers were well and truly done-in by the end of bootcamp....

... while on military leave before heading to my first duty station, I picked up a pair of Nike's new running shoes... Air Pegasus, they were called... I ended up owning two pairs of those... both ended up being tossed in the dumpster because my big toe had worn a hole in the fabric at the top of the shoe... miles and miles of running, they endured.... and then were unceremoniously shit-canned... pretty good shoes though...

... after de-mobbing from the Corps, I bought one more pair of "sporty" shoes... black Adidas Samba Classics.... a hideously ugly shoe that was intended to be used for indoor soccer.... not exactly being the stylish type anyways, their ugliness suited me just fine and I bought them... they finally bit the dust a couple of years ago after almost ten years of faithful service...

... since then I have remained happily without "sporty" shoes...

.. I currently own and wear two pairs of H.S. Trask saddle-shoes (which fucking rock, by the way)... one pair of black wingtips.. one pair of black cold-weather Danner Ft. Lewis combat boots... one pair of black leather hot-weather combat boots... one pair of some weird moccasin type shoe... and one pair of brown Justin cowboy boots.... oh, and a set of flip-flops that I got for Christmas one year...

... to be honest, I don't own sneakers for the same reason I don't own a pick-up truck.. if I had one, I'd be asked to HAUL stuff... and if I had sneakers?... well, the next thing you know I'd be RUNNING AROUND.... homey don't play that... I hate running around worse than I hate hauling stuff...

... needless to say, I now own a pair of sneakers... bought them today in Athens... New Balance running shoes... $59.99.... so it appears my sedentary days appear to be approaching their end....

... the REAL punchline is in what else I purchased today at the behest of my Missus... behold:

tennis_small.jpg

... I know, I know... I can hardly believe it myself.... but tomorrow, we play tennis..... 96 degrees and we're going to play tennis because we "need the exercise"... shit... I'd rather put my sneakers on and kick a beehive than ponce around on some melted hunk of asphalt twirling a tennis racquet like JohnfuckingMcEnroe....

... having said that, I have a sincere favor to ask you rubberneckers... and I hope that all of us combined can pull it off.... tonight, as you settle yourselves into bed... or say grace around your evening meal... or dance naked in wild, heathen celebration of The Goddess' Solstice Day.... please pray for rain tomorrow... lots and lots of rain.... I would consider it a personal favor....

... anyway, now I'm off to preside over a meeting of the newly reconstructed Eagle Glen Social Club.... and yes, there will be pizza...

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Age...

... this morning I'm off to the patio... coffee and magazine in hand... to contemplate the wisdom of Big Stupid Tommy... and then, maybe later I'll go swimming...

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Caps...

... you know, it really sucks when you do research, take the time to try out different models, and finally make a purchase... only to complete the setup perfectly under a lagging dogwood tree and find that you can't USE the damnable thing because it is hotter than the surface of the Sun outside...

.. bugger...

... it appears as if yet another evening of my life will pass without finding me swinging with a beer in a backyard hammock... and dammit, if anyone deserves to be chilling back in a hammock, it's me.... especially after my monumental achievements today...

.. in slightly more happy news, I saw this morning that AMC was airing "Cat On a Hot Tin Roof"... on Father's Day.... and that's just charming, no?... Tennessee Williams' great tale of an uncaring, overbearing Father and two sons... Brick and Goober... (you know, only a genius like Williams could get away with naming his characters Brick and Goober)... Brick was a torn alcoholic who only wanted Daddy's love... and Goober was a sanctimonious vulture who just wanted Daddy's money... but any way you look at it, it seems a highly strange choice for Father's Day viewing...

... I watched it anyway, of course... mainly because Liz Taylor rocked that little white dress she had on... and I just couldn't pass that up...

... anyway, as I was just reading about Tennessee's life on ye olde wikipedia a few minutes ago, I read the following line:

Tennessee Williams died at the age of 71 after he choked on a bottle cap

... man, what a way to go... a flamingly talented writer whisked off to eternity by a bottle cap.....

... most of the time, believe it or not, life is just fucking weird...

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Watched....

... sometimes it is a violent place here, people... foreboding almost... even the birds tweet nervously with a certain knowledge of approaching doom... indeed, sometimes you can just feel it in the air...

... a few days ago, Acidman showed us all a photo of a palmetto bug he squished in his house...

... well, today I have been thinking about that bug... and the fact that it was alive and scurrying freely about his crackerbox..

... in one aspect, that palmetto bug had no idea (before it was ceremoniously smashed) how very, very lucky it was....

.. here?... I live in a true corner of the savage garden... everything is at risk.... and all who come here are lost at one point or another... it is dangerous... beautiful and enthralling, but deadly... each bush, insect, or critter is either hunting, hunted, or is generally unpleasant... and most forms of life in my back lawn end up being either feasts or devourers... plants and animals alike....

... case in point.. while relaxing on my deck earlier this evening, four different species of spider eyed me with their bulbous projections... sizing me up, undoubtedly.... and were I to be suddenly downsized to their world, I know I'd have been lunch.... but I even managed to capture two with the camera while I was being gazed upon.... check them out... first we have a mutant seven-legged green spider who spent his time leaping from the patio furniture to my knee and back... impressive, no?....

predator_green_small.jpg

... and then we have a very inquisitive jumping spider.... looking a lot more butch that Mr. Green, for sure... just chilling on the iron patio table.. waiting for his next victim to wander by...

predator_jumping_small.jpg

... but oh no, that's not all.... I snapped a real badass the other day while he was hunting on my deck... one that would definitely have bitten me if I'd pissed him off... a Six-spotted Green Tiger Beetle....

predator_beetle_small.jpg

... pretty, yeah... and one hell of a killer...

... a fat, juicy palmetto bug wouldn't last too long around these parts....he'd be hemmed in at every angle by hungry beasts in two seconds flat.....

... I'm telling you guys, it's a tough life I've got.... this is a dangerous place... hell, a weaker man than I wouldn't even step foot outside...

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June....

... times are hard around these parts, children... scant rains have left dry grass fearing the morning's sunrise.. beetles march across the arid landscape hopelessly... wasps buzz from desiccated branch to desiccated branch... parched toads hop and blink through crunching leaves... ants dismember the weaker varmints who have fallen to the drought... secreting their slaughterhoused remains deep into their underground homes..

... moisture-less...

... I really need to buy a sprinkler...

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Shakespeare...

.... I had the television on in the background most of the day yesterday... not really paying it much attention, it was just noise... but as I headed into the hallway, a phrase caught my attention... it was Shakespeare... so I strolled back through and paid a little attention...

... it was one of the Star Trek movies... Kirk's ship was disabled or something... and there was a Klingon captain shooting at the Enterprise... and each time he'd volley a shot, out would come some random Shakespearian quote... I was mesmerized... I mean, since when do the Klingons go around memorizing Shakespeare?...

... then I remembered when that dude Khan quoted Herman Melville on his fiery deathbed in that other Star Trek movie....

... you know, the one where a mentally disturbed Kirk bellowed "KHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAN!!"...

... Star Trek sure has some well-read bad guys.... It almost makes me want to dig into some Willie Shakespeare and bone-up....

.. I mean, if I were ever in a hairy situation, it'd be so much cooler to say something like... "if you cut me, do I not bleed?" just before pulling out my pistole and blasting someone to smithereens.. just screaming "Die, Motherfucker!" doesn't sound nearly as cool...

.. I think we all need to read more books... you know, just in case we're ever in one of those scenarios... besides, we'd all want our last words to be memorable...

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Bugs...

.. near the end of last summer, my Mother insisted that I take two giant ferns she'd hand-reared the previous season... and they were beauts... each of them about the size of a 55 gallon drum with a green, leafy, perm... she warned me as I stowed them for the winter in the garage... "make sure you spray them everyday when summer comes... the Japanese beatles beetles LOVE them... don't let'em get eaten up.." ...

.... well, boys and girls, she wasn't just whistlin' Dixie.. I made myself a turkey sandwich a few minutes ago and wandered out to the deck... and that fern was infested with wildly-humping pairs of Japanese beetles... there were probably 75-100 mating pairs that I could see... and I hate to imagine how many more pairs (that were less-enthusiastic about being sexual exhibitionists) were nooked away somewhere deep within the fern's curls...

.... Damnation... no wonder my poor widowed Momma wanted rid of those ferns... I'm going to be faced with this writhing mound of sexual depravity every day... all summer...

... be careful of people offering gifts, children... there is always a catch... always... and sometimes, well, even your Mother will pull a fast one on you...

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by Eric | Permalink | Bullshit(11) | TrackBack (1)
» Gut Rumbles links with: i may crap-blog...

Taste...

... you know, the personalization of an automobile is a time honored tradition... back when I was just a nipper and tooled around in my 51 Merc, I had me one of them black leather jackets like Elvis wore in his comeback concert tossed in the backseat as decoration...

.. but today?... all that is in my ride is a red plastic bracelet from the VFW.. dangling haphazardly from the rearview mirror... and on the lid of my trunk, a "Support the Troops" ribbon magnet.... but other than that, it's all fine lines and German engineering... unless you count the well-worn patch my ass has rubbed on the platinum leather seats as personalization'...

... the Wife though, she's lost it... it all began strangely enough... but now it has spiraled down to such a level that it leaves passer-bys with jaws slack and eyes bulging...

... the day-glo Sponge Bob floor mats were bad enough.. but at least you could only see them once you were actually IN the car... this morning she has gone that teensy step too far... where she found it, I'll never know... and I shudder to think of the backroom novelty shops she scoured through in her dogged search... but her car now is "complete", I'm told..

... she now owns a ceramic "Hula Guy"... and his little ukulele-carrying ass is ensconced securely above the navigation system on her Cadillac...

... if I didn't know better, I'd think living in the South is corrupting her... I'm going to have to perform an intervention if this goes on much longer...

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Sins...

.. for those unwashed heathen readers that I have, here is another of my purchases from yesterday.... not that I need it or anything... but it'll look nice sitting in the guest bathroom...

sins_small.jpg

... a handy thing to have around the house just in case, you know....as I've said before, you just can't be too careful these days...

... AND it says it "reduces guilt by 98.9% or more!"... goodness... some products just sell themselves....

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Poe...

... listen up, people... Market Square in Knoxville is home to a shop that has Edgar Allen Poe action figures... complete with a raven that perches on his shoulder.... Poe and a removable raven... well, I just couldn't resist...

.. I bought one...

.... and man, what a difference.. my life is so much more complete now than back when I was Poe-less... I honestly have no idea how I coped before...

.. I never would have believed it, but it truly is amazing how much eight five inches of plastic can change your life...

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Scrums...

.... so the missus wakes up early today and wants to loaf around Knoxville.... brilliant idea... I drove her down Neyland Drive and showed her where the Vols play... we parked over at the Museum of Art and then hoofed it down onto Gay Street... and everything was going just dandy until she asked the bartender at the Downtown Grill where Market Square was.... he was helpful enough, sure... but then he mentioned that Market Square should be really interesting today... it seems that a "Gay Awareness" demonstration was taking place...

... well, boys and girls, we went... and I had a blast...

... I was even sprinkled with "fairy dust" by a fine gentleman on rollerblades... check him out, he was stylin'...

fairy.jpg

.... I leaned against a building and listened to a few of the speeches, and I think most of the speakers did a pretty good job... not that I really paid that much attention to the speakers though... see, there was a guy with a boombox playing some hip hop music and the women dancing kept distracting me.... sure, I know you guys don't come around here for your daily dose of political rally rundowns, but hey, give me a break... I spent the afternoon surrounded by hundreds of extremely happy gay, lesbian, transgendered, and bi-sexual people.. I'm drained....

... oh, and I saw two young women with the most kickass tee-shirts... I didn't take their photo though... I was a bit afraid that they would beat me up... neither of them could have been older than fifteen and they were both pretty slim, but their shirt kept me from getting too close.... emblazoned across the front?... "I know how to scrum"... those two girls are living life right, people...

... anyway, I'm off to sit on the deck and kick back.... I'm totally a victim of Kingston Pike traffic today and I needs me some liquids....

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Dust...

... yesterday while getting dressed, I noticed a moth in the walk-in closet... he launched himself off of the Wife's silk sari and headed straight for the light when I flicked the switch... I batted him to oblivion with my fatigue pants before putting them on... but that got me to wondering.. where you see one, there must be others, hundreds perhaps, that are unseen.. quietly munching on the exotic threads in my closet... and the thought of that just wasn't acceptable...

...so this morning I decided it was time to take action... and buoyed by the news of Zarqawi being blown to smithereens, I waded into the closet with a cup of coffee... and a mess met my eyes... suits that have hung on hangers unattended for ages now have a fine layer of dust on the shoulders... my tuxedo - which hasn't seen the light of day since I donned it to sip martinis during an evening with Pussy Galore - was dusty too... even my Punjabi was looking a bit ruffled... my dress shirts hung proudly starched, but were also showing signs of being ignored for far too long...

... the result?... today I am off on a fieldtrip to the dry cleaners... I'll let the kind people behind the friendly counter breathe a little life into my old gladrags... and when I pick them up in a few days, they'll be sealed up in handy-dandy moth-proof plastic...

... besides, it'll be good to have the tux ready for action again... you just never know when a James Bond movie marathon will tug at you to dress for the occasion...

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Stingers...

... the myriad of insects inhabiting my little patch of Tennessee never ceases to amaze me.. take this little fella, for instance... I have absolutely no idea what it is, but it performed some incredible fly-bys around my noggin yesterday afternoon whist I sipped my tea...

bug_small.jpg

... oh yeah, curiosities abound around here, people... other than his obvious affiliation with the Imperial Japanese, he offered little data on his backyard function... he does kinda remind me of a souped-up mosquito that has had his ride pimped though... but does anyone have any idea what it is?... I have none... and he buzzed away before I got a chance to smash him, so he is still happily roaming somewhere in the woods...

.. if I see him again, I'll attempt to see if that pointy thing on his rear end is a stinger or not... I'm sure y'all are riveted, so I'll be sure to keep you informed...

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Frogs...

... I spent most of yesterday evening tending to three pounds of ribs and a pot full of baked beans... and the results were fantastic... there was much rejoicing when the meal was served.... after dinner, the Wife channel surfed onto Shrek II and settled in for the night.. that movie is quickly becoming a favorite around the SWG compound... and personally, I find the story pretty endearing too....

.. but you know, the more I watch Shrek II, the more empathetic I become towards the King of Far Far Away.... and not just at the end either when he gets all sentimental and does the right thing... but right at the beginning of the movie... even where he and Shrek are giving each other the Evil Eye over the roasted suckling pig and casting insults at each other....

... sure, it is easier to get all warm and fuzzy over Shrek, The Princess, or Donkey... after all, they are the central characters... but me, I just feel an affinity towards the inner glow of the King... there's just something about those shifty, beady eyes and John Cleese's voice.... besides, it's always cheering to know that the Frog/Princess story is true..

... and when you think about it, it is always more fun love a character who has a slightly evil side....

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Family...

... good morning, rubberneckers... today's quote of the day is a real keeper... especially since today is 6/6/06... so here's the heartwarming article... and here's the quote...

"Tiffany nods. He used to get lap dances from Peggy. Now he gets them from her daughter instead."

... goodness.. how absolutely marvelous... isn't it nice to see families living and working together in these trying times we endure?... you know, it is articles exactly like this that cheer my tiny black heart and renew my faith in humanity... they really do...

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Sunday...

... this morning was relaxed and comfortable... just as a Sunday should be.... around noon, I drove into town and picked up a Big Mac before hitting Mecca Pike... the drive is a good one... a favorite of motorcyclists... Hell, people haul their bikes in from thousands of miles away just to wind them out on the backroads near the National Forest... Mecca Pike winds around the foot of Starr's Mountain in a series of tight hairpin turns... many times with Conasauga Creek bordering one side and the steep rise of the ridge on the other.... so the bikers visit in droves and can't get enough of it... and that is what I wheeled today with the sunroof open and Zevon cranking...

... arrived slightly later than I had expected, but found the gunsmith relaxing on his deck with his wolfdog at his feet... his deck is incredible... shaded by huge Oaks and Walnut trees... so there was where I supped my Big Mac... properly shaded and in good company...

... here's the wolfdog, by the way... Blake, you paying attention?....

wolfdog_small.jpg

... all in all, not a bad day... my pocket knife is freshly sharpened and serviced... the gunsmith and wife are in fine form... and I enjoyed a great drive both too and from....

... and now the ham is baking in the oven... the steamed potatoes are awaiting mashing... and corn on the cob is preparing for a visit to the steamer.... Mother is coming over for dinner and it'll make a proper end to a pleasant day...

... and God, it's good to have my knife back....

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Safe...

.... you people amaze me... I mean that... I never would have imagined that so many people would step up to bat for a deformed Dogwood tree.... I guess I underestimated your caring and gentle sides... so rest easy... Mr. Dogwood's willie is safe for the time being....

... I'm off to the mountains to visit my gunsmith and grab some lunch and try out my new camera... it should be exciting...

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Wood...

.... there are some things that you encounter in life that you just can't make up.... and one fine example just happens to be in my front yard...

... see, last summer the guys who maintain my lawn decided to cut back an overgrown bush that was located between three trees.... a fine Poplar, a slowly fading away Sweet Gum, and a half-grown Dogwood... the idea being that if the bush was trimmed, then the trees would stand out more... ok, fine... I let them get to their task...

... but what they found when they finished was astonishing.... while two of the trees were perfectly normal, the Dogwood, well, had wood.... and it was a sight to see... behold, gentle readers... my very happy tree....

dogwood_small.JPG

... I know, I know... I have never mentioned this on the blog before... and it is a sensitive subject with the neighborhood committee, trust me.... but what would you guys do?... would you snip it off?... would you build a flowerbed of petunias around the trunk to accentuate it?... as for me, I just don't know... I'm completely torn...

... I mean, surely if God created that tree with his almighty powers, then it is good... right?... and who am I to find one of God's Creations perverse?... hell, I don't really find it perverse at all... I find it kinda awe inspiring.... and back in October, I pointed out Mr. Dogwood's daunting package to Redneck and Harvey and they were suitably impressed too.... so why should my neighbors be offended?.... (oh, and by the way, I dared not point it out to any of the womenfolk back in October lest they swoon.. I already had one guy laying out back puddling blood on my deck...)... but like I said, I'm swiftly approaching either a point of action or a decision to desist... but I'm torn... and deep down, part of me really enjoys having an extremely well-hung tree standing proudly out in plain view of my neighbors....

... sooooo... I plan to let you rubberneckers be my guide... my Magic Eight-ball of sorts... I'll let you ladies and gentlemen wield the Mighty Power of Judgment.... and use that power to pick the fate of the Dogwood's prick....

.... the question at hand?..... what should happen to Mr. Dogwood's massive erection?... should he be left to live his leafy life in happiness?.... should the offending appendage be whacked off unceremoniously with an axe (... no pun intended on the whacking-off part, people...)... or should a privacy fence of some sort be built around him to protect his manly bits from prying eyes... some kind of hedge, perhaps.....

... anyway, with all of this I throw myself - and the future of my lawn plants - upon your tender mercies..... and I await your guidance and sound wisdom... I have every faith in you guys... I really do....

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Wiggling....

.... a ferocious rain hit a few hours ago... the Wife and I had just gotten back from having lunch at the Fox and Hound in Chattanooga, and the weather had been beautiful.... but this storm, well, I'm just glad I wasn't driving when it started... standing in the living room, I tried to take some photos of it... at times, the mist created by the fat raindrops hitting the driveway was caught in a gust of wind... creating little sideways walls of water that were pushed across the lawn... flying horizontally and then upwards before smashing into the stand of trees to the right of the house... it was pretty impressive to watch...

... but now the Sun is back out.. everything is still slick with rain, and the leaves are still dripping... the sky is bright and you can taste the humidity in the air... you can smell the dampness in the grass and gravel... it's strange to see the world this wet with the Sun beaming so...

... one thing was noted, though.... tomorrow I'll be cleaning my gutters.... after two minutes of violent rain, they were overflowing... but damn, I hate cleaning gutters.... maybe I can find some way to wriggle out of it... or wiggle even.... wiggle or wriggle... wait... which one is the real word?... I'm so confused..... but y'all get my point... I'll try to wriggle/wiggle... wiggle, wiggling.... wriggle, wriggling... wow...

.. in other news, I finally bought a replacement camera for the one that went MIA at the Wreckyll in Jekyll... and boy howdy, it's a sweetie... there will be no losing this puppy... trust me, it's about the size of my fist... the other one wasn't much bigger than a credit card.... it really was a tragedy that I lost it though... there were some serious blackmail photos in it... I could have made a bloody fortune if I hadn't misplaced it...

... probably serves me right, really... losing it was probably pre-ordained by some cosmic force.... after all, blogmeets and cameras just aren't meant to go together.... anyway, I'm off to get to the bottom of this wiggle/wriggle thing... you guys have a good day...

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Lamb..

.... alright... as promised to Marcus - and because he is a nagging little perv - here is a photo of a freshly spray-painted Scottish lamb.... his little brother and Momma are visible in the giganto version.... Jesus, the lengths I go to fill some people's fetishes...

eights_small.jpg

... good God, this blog is circling the drain.... oh, and I have no idea what the importance of the number "8" is.... I suspect that newborn sheep are forced to perform in some kind of race or something....

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Sauce...

... well, last night rocked... in between peals of primeval thunder, my pool skills knew no match... my break-shots - often illuminated brightly by God's Own Lightning - were things to make men cower in abject submission... quivering and whimpering at the sheer amazingness of my heavenly cuemanship... that's right, people.. the planets aligned, the heavens boomed, and I found my groove...

... it was a beautiful thing to see... y'all really missed a good time..... and a total fluke... next time, I'll get my butt whipped....

... anyway, enough of all that... I am cooking spaghetti today and I have to start my sauce...

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Curls...

.... earlier today I picked up a few boxes of photos from my Mother.... stuff that she has been keeping for years and years finally became too much for her, and she purged.... and I'm the lucky beneficiary....

... so I have spent the last few hours going through about 75,000 photos of family, friends, and people that I have never seen before in my life....

.... random bits of photographic evidence are emerging though... proof of things that I long ago buried deep in my childhood psyche.... crazy stuff, people.... shocking stuff.... scarring images of little toddler Eric that should have never been seen again are now lying scattered across my living room carpet...

... the horror... the horror... Colonel Kurtz didn't know the half of it, gentle reader...

.... and just for the record to all Mommas out there, it is NOT OKAY for a Mother to test out perms on HER MALE CHILDREN before deciding that they are of good enough quality to recommend to the Lady's Circle the next week.... and it is DOUBLE not okay to test them on a REDHEADED KID!...

... yes, yes... I was eight... and I had managed to forget about it until just a few minutes ago... bloody hell, just imagine Opie Taylor in Technicolor with an afro.... Jesus Christ, and people wonder why I turned out the way I have.... well now I have proof that it wasn't my fault.... I am the VICTIM here!....

UPDATE!: .... lookit... even before I got perm'd against my will, I was STILL being ABUSED!... check this out... I don't care who you are, this is just wrong... sure, I know that my Momma and Daddy lurved me, but WTF?... I look like I'm John Travolta's lovechild...

wrong_small.jpg

... and THAT just ain't right...

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Cooler...

.... the bears around these parts are getting uppity evidently....

... while filling my glass with iced tea yesterday, my Uncle pointed to the cooler he had brought... "see all those teeth marks, Eric?... a bear did that...I was camping up at Santeelee last week and while I was out fishing, a big sow-bear came in and tore up camp... she finally chewed the cooler open and ate two dozen eggs, three pounds of bacon, two venison tenderloins, two pounds of sausage, and all of my pickled okra.. "

... "damn," says I sipping my tea and wiping the sweat from my brow... "what did you do, Uncle Mick?"...

... "well, I came back just as she was finishing up and I ran her off... the next night I put all the food in the back of a van and it was alright... but the bears sure are getting uppity these days.. "

... mercy... uppity bears, indeed...

... a few minutes later, I listened as my Cousin's wife told of sitting in traffic at a roadblock near downtown Madisonville... a few weeks ago, she watched on as the county police tried to capture a big bear that was running up and down highway...

... oh, and don't forget that we had a mauling-death last month about ten miles from my house...

... perhaps I need to rethink which firearm I keep in my car... and maybe switch out the Beretta .380 for the S&W .357...

... see?... like I keep telling you people, it's a jungle out there.. and you guys wonder why I carry a .45 everywhere I go.... around here, it's not just bad people you have to worry about.... there is plenty of wildlife that'll mess you up too...

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Mailcall....

... I've just spent two hours of my beloved Saturday afternoon going through three weeks of unopened mail... 90% of it was either credit card applications or charities begging for donations... but buried deep in the massive pile were a few real gems...

.. for instance, the Franciscan Friars of the Atonement still want to make me Catholic... which is pretty cool, I guess.... and now I have strange sort of necklace to go with the rosary they sent me on Easter... I think it has St. Anthony on it... hey, at least they want me on their team... and they are persistent too.... if they keep this up, I am going to send them a cheque for ten bucks...

... next up, the Indians in Montana that I have been helping out sent me an invitation to their high school graduation... complete with a photo of their senior class... look, like I said before, if you are going to ask me for money, follow their example... SASE and personal messages about how wonderful I am will definitely result in me sending you at least five bucks per month... and sending me a photo of young Indian lasses smiling sweetly is always acceptable...

... and lastly, well, y'all are really not going to believe this... I found a letter from the Department of the Army addressed to the Missus.... I looked up from the cheque book and remarked about it... she came through and opened it up...

.... evidently the Army wants her to join.... they need people in her occupation... for the occupation.. heh heh... sorry...

... I told her she should consider it... I mean, I've already taught her how to fieldstrip my AR-15... and she's a pretty good marksman.... she certainly knows how to give orders, too.... we'll see, I guess... I told her that they'd let her eat as much bacon as she wanted in the chowhall for breakfast, and I think that might have swayed her... she does like her some bacon...

... I'll be sure to keep y'all informed...

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Reflections...

.... because I have no content lately, here is a shot from yesterday... see, I was sitting in the garage with a steak on the grill and a icy Newcastle Brown in my content little paws when I happened to look up towards the ceiling.... you know, as you do... and THERE I was!... neatly reflected in glorious repose on the glass of my raised garage door.... goodness... the world is just full of small bits of wonder...

shoes.jpg

... and you know, I'm certainly no artiste... but I do feel that I captured the complete essence of my existence with that shot... sitting cross-legged in the sunshine quietly surveying my domain... and watching the young mother across the street mow her lawn while her baby daughter played with a puppy... sipping my beer and listening to the steak sizzle over the melodic finger-picking of some John Prine...

... I'm telling you, you really have to have nerves of steel to wear my shoes... it's a wonder I can get out of bed in the mornings...

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Rain...

... it's overcast here with thunder in the distance.... the wind is stirring the tops of the trees in the back yard with warm, heavy air.... there is a rain coming... you can smell it...

.... I'm off to the shops before it hits... steaks are to be grilled and potatoes baked for lunch today...

... standing in the garage grilling in the rain... my afternoon is planned....

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Decisions....

... in two months, it'll be decision time... that's right, kiddies, it's almost time to turn in the old Audi and pick a replacement.. a few options are laid out before me too, but I am finding myself in a bit of a quandary.... according to the astrologists, Libras are notorious for being indecisive... who knows, maybe they are right... then again, maybe I'm just too full of "relax, it'll be all right" to worry about it...

... but time is ticking and I have to choose... there is just no getting around it.... as they say in England, this is promising to be a sticky wicket....

... anyway, as I see it my options are as follows:

1. Buy the car that I've been driving for the past three years.. (it's not even broken-in, really... and it has been a good ride)...

2. Pick up a new A4 exactly like the one I'm turning in... (but that sounds a bit boring)... but here's what she'll look like if I pick her....

audi.jpg

3. Go with a Jaguar instead... (the prices are about the same... but I just don't know if I could wear a Jaguar properly... I mean, it takes some fairly serious pimpin' skillz to properly drive a Jag, doesn't it?)... anyway, here's the baby-Jag I would go for....

jaguar.jpg

... nice, no?... now you can see why I am having a hard time deciding...

4. Or I could always do like the Wife keeps saying and just buy a bicycle... (.. this option would severely hamper my ability to roam about the countryside while you rubberneckers are at work... which I think is her point... )

... but damn, I'm torn.... I really hate making decisions... so point me in the right direction, people... show me the way.. lead me home....

... ahhh, screw it... I'm off to sit on the deck and watch the grass grow... it's an incredible day here and I should be outside.... and the last thing I need is sitting in here wondering about things that are two months away....

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Mud...

... well, the thunderstorm last night didn't do too much damage to the ranch as it flickered though... a few twigs down on the deck - no big deal... surveying the rolling countryside this morning with a cup of coffee in hand, I noted that the lawn pixies have been busy while I was away... the grass was freshly cut and the flowerbeds were notably weedless... damn, I do so love it when a plan comes together...

... the jungle on either side of the house continues to encroach, though, and I could sense the eyes of the local fauna upon me as I stood commandingly on the deck a few minutes ago... eyeing me as I paced unwashed, unshaven, and unashamed... but that is the nature of my patch, I suppose.. it is bursting with wildlife.... and the furry forest animals can home in on a deserted homestead like a shark to a menstruating surfer... and their little tracks have made a muddy path across the deckboards right up to the back door...little bastards...

.. get ye away from here, vile varmints... I'm home...

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Waaay back...

... ten years and fifty pounds ago... top-roping in Friockheim at Legaston Quarry...

reaching_small.jpg

... wow... I've packed on the weight since then...

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Hope...

... today's light reading has been focused on the mythical First Woman On Earth.... Pandora...

... now, like most peeps, I've gone through my quiet little life knowing very little about Pandora... the most famous thing, of course, is her infamous box.. (it seems stange to think of that, doesn't it?... "hey, bud, what do you know about this Pandora chick?"... "not much, man, but she has a really, really famous box..) ... is "box" on your list, Elisson?...

.. anyway, I digress... so, Pandora was created the gods on Mt Olympus as a punishment to mankind... the world back then was totally populated with Men, evidently, and Prometheus was responsible for that... Zeus got pissed and told everyone to get together and create a woman to irritate all the men... bingo, up pops Pandora... pretty bad rap for the First Woman On Earth, eh?..

... so last night over a bacon sandwich, I asked the classically educated Wife what was supposed to have been in Pandora's Box.. her answer was telling, people, but wrong... she cocked her head and thought for a second or two as finished her mouthful of bacon, and then said... "all of the temptations of the world"... good answer... and delivered with a self-confident certainty...

... I was impressed... some box, I thought... no WONDER she peeked inside...

... but today I found the real answer... it wasn't temptations at all... but all of the bad things that mankind had yet to deal with... plague, death, crime, bad breath... and lastly, hope; the reconciler....

... pretty cool tale when you stop to think about it... all that nasty stuff crammed into the same box with "hope"... as if the mere idea that "looking on the bright side" can conquer all of the other bad shit in the world....

... those Greeks, they could talk a good talk... I hope they are right about hope, though...

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Hair...

... sitting out on the deck just now enjoying the sunshine, I noticed that the breeze was tickling my shoulders slightly... at first I thought it must have been an insect that had lighted there... but as I craned my neck around to look, I noticed that my shoulder was covered with extremely short, fine hair....

... amazing... I'd never noticed that before....

... so I began scoping out my chest and arms... and sure enough, they are all covered with the same fine hairs... except for the area of my arms down from mid-bicep.. there the hair is nearly an inch long.. but still very fine and blondish-red... in the sunlight, the almost appeared as copper...

... my chest is barren like my shoulders... excepting for the tiny hairs that I didn't know existed until a few minutes ago.... my abdomen, too, is relatively hairless... until the northernmost beginning of the Happy Trail just above my navel...

... and it was at this point in my observations that my finger absentmindedly found its way to my left nostril and explored slightly... nudging an errant hair back into line, grasping it, straightening it, and then plucking it out.... and as you do in situations like that, I inspected it... coarse, wiry and dark red... totally opposite to the baby-like ones being touched by the wind on my shoulders... it was pretty damn interesting, let me tell you...

.. obviously this led me to explore further... so I dropped trou out on the deck and compared the nasal hair to my pubic area... not a match, I'm happy to report... but then again, the hair in that area was totally unlike either my shoulderhair, armpit hair, chesthair, or armhair...

... it was quite perplexing, standing there with my pants down on the deck with the breeze tousling my fuzzy body... I mean, does anyone know about this?.. exactly how many different types of hair do us humans have on our bodies?...

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Other people's pants...

... a few things that have been bouncing around in my noggin as the birds fight in the back yard and I drink coffee and laugh...

.... first, Big Stupid Tommy and his bees... the boy just ain't right... then again, most people in my general vicinity ain't...

... secondly, I can cook one helluva porkloin...

... and lastly, I'm finally wearing those jeans I bought at a yardsale last summer... and it really feels strange to be swinging around in someone elses pants... but they do fit pretty good... and they were only five bucks.... of course, I had to take the scissors to the legs though and chop off about two inches... hey, I'm stylin'...

... well, not really stylin'... but as good as I can be with five dollar pants on a Sunday morning...

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10:29AM...

... damn, I'm really hungry... I think I should probably eat something...

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Blame...

... wow... a few minutes ago I was sure I was dying.... I was picturing it all... Bird Flu!... Ebola!... Heart Attack!... Blood Clot!.... and now I'm being told it's just a rash... and that I should just take a Benadryl and hush...

... oh yeah, I'm feeling the love...

... but hey, if I DO die, be it known that the blame rests solely on the shoulders of The Wife and RSM... she made the diagnosis and he backed her up via phonecon when I didn't believe her...

.. so when I start hemorrhaging from every orifice later tonight and coughing up hunks of semi-liquefied internal organs, be sure to tell the CDC investigators that it was their fault....

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Smoked Turkey...

... a storm thundered through a few minutes ago and I went out to the garage to commune with it... as I pressed the button that slides the door up, a gust of wind pushed a few discarded dogwood blossoms across the cement and underneath the pool table as I watched on... warm and moist, the air was.. and then the rain came...

.. it fell slowly at first, but landed hard... huge raindrops that swooshed as they flew... and then they arrived faster and faster until the first furtive thumps became a roar of water meeting soil...

... I pulled a lawn chair open and sat it just out of reach of the splashing... and I lit up a cigarette just as the thunder started....

... smoking in the rain is a strange thing... the air seemed to grasp the smoke and hold it still.. impregnating it with moisture and then dragging it towards the ground, heavy... as if nothing could rise up through the falling rain...

... coffee and cigarettes and rain... and now the sky is clearing and I've just come inside... the storm is gone..

... I think I'll make a sandwich...

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Dreams...

... last night marked the end of an era.... the passing of an age.... my days of wallowing in the restless sleep of a deviated septum are at an end.... or so I am led to believe...

.. .that's right, kiddies... tonight the technicians visit my humble home bearing a sweet, sweet gift... and much like Balthazar leaning over the infant Jesus, I too shall be presented with an offering from a magician... one that will carry me away on technological wings to the Peace of Sleep... and I shall dream heavenly dreams....

... so yeah... the guys are installing my CPAP machine today at 4... and with any luck, I shall snore no more forever...

... I'm stoked... can you tell?...

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Creme....

... earlier today I ventured into the town to do some husbandly shopping.... groceries, people.... jam, peanut butter, bread, luncheon meat, fresh flowers, washing liquid, beer, tonic water, sweet pickles, a bag of onions, milk... you know, the usual stuff...

.. but knowing that my Beloved was working her little fingers to the bone only a few miles away, and surrounded by her worker colony of females, well, I caved... and I bought a fresh Boston Crème Cake from the deli of the supermarket....

... you guys have no idea how many tiny orgasms were triggered by me walking into the shop with that cake in my hands....

... it was amazing..... worker-women appeared from every aisle... every corner....and some even snuck up behind me....

... I don't think they get out much, honestly.... I mean, by the way they acted over me randomly bringing them a sweet cake, you would think the poor darlings had been sugar-starved for weeks....

... still, it was nice to know that I could create such a pleasurable working environment by just bringing in a five dollar cake... and the chocgasms that followed were only a bonus....

... sheesh... and you guys think I live a boring life....

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by Eric | Permalink | Bullshit(6) | TrackBack (1)
» Tammi's World links with: Food Talk

Limp....

... yeah, yeah... I know you guys were worried sick... wringing your hands and nibbling your cuticles in anticipation of my demise at the claws of a wild beast...

... fat chance... the varmint has not yet been hatched that can tree me, folks... especially when I'm packing heat...

... nah... actually, that's not true at all... when the moment of truth came, I decided that discretion was the better part of valor and beat feet back inside to download Eastern European porn.... what?... hey, I had to do something to keep my mind off of the unknown beast that was lurking under my floor boards...

... anyway, whatever it was is gone now... if I had to guess, I'd say it was a bobcat... I caught a glimpse of it last night as it dodged my flashlight beam and it was definitely a lot bigger than a house cat...

... so, as much as I'd like to report that I bagged the culprit, I have to say instead that no animals were harmed in the making of this blog entry...

... oh, and another thing... I'm beginning to see a worrying pattern emerging here at the SWG Compound.... not only did I chicken out when faced with the prospect of wrestling a bobcat bare-handed, but I just had a salad for lunch too... I'm telling you, people, it's all downhill from here... next thing you know, well, I'll be getting a manicure...

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Flashlight...

... it is dusk... something is under my house... and it is really, really pissed off...

... it screamed at me as I was unloading the dishwasher a few minutes ago and scared the Jeebus out of me... it sounded like it was right below me... just under the floor...

... so that rules out a possum, as they normally just hiss... and 'coons just chirp and gurgle and chatter.... and both cats are in the garage looking frightened.... so I have no idea what it is....

.. we'll find out soon enough, I guess... if y'all don't hear back from me, then it was a bobcat and I'm under the floor bleeding to death...

... damn, maybe I should take my new Rosary with me...

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Hose...

... one of my labors today was to hose off the deck and prepare it for this season's sitting.. and the job is done... two things though, were noticed as I stood bare-chested with hose in hand... firstly, there is a species of tree - Tennessee's state tree - whose seedpods are the most irritating shape that I have ever seen... and they jam themselves perfectly into the gaps between my choicedek planks and have to be removed by hand....

... and secondly, it is a miracle that there are any species of butterfly existing on the planet... seriously... have you ever watched one fly?... see, today has been windy and hot with a steady 20mph breeze pressing in from the west... and as I stood out there hosing down the World, all these butterflies were attracted to the mist being kicked up by the wind's buffeting of the streaming water...

... so there I stood while these giant Monarchs and Zebra Swallowtails drunkenly dive-bombed into the swirling mist... and just as they would emerge from the rainbow, the wind would hurl them up through the trees... and as if by magic, none of them got smashed into a branch... it was amazing... and then - at forty-feet - they would spiral back down towards Earth against the wind for the scene to start over...

... I swear, those varmints must be protected by a higher power... because, well, they certainly fly with a deathwish...

... anyway, I washed off the deck today.... I just thought I'd let y'all know...

... oh, and was it wrong of me to make the wind possesive in the run-on sentence at the end of the second paragraph?...

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In the Mail...

... mercy... I now own a Rosary... it arrived in the mail yesterday from somewhere in Indiana... the box had a color photo of Pope John Paull II on it... and the rosary itself is decorated with red beads and medallions featuring John Paul II... and as a complete kicker, there was a handy-dandy booklet enclosed that provided the proper directions for saying the Rosary prayers...

... are the Catholics looking to sign me up?... wow... I kinda like being actively recruited by a religion... and I guess this means I can stop trying to learn Yiddish now... hell, those bastards never sent me shit....

... but the Big Question does remain, though... who sent it to me?... perhaps I'm on some charity mailing list... then again, maybe it's from an anonymous blogreader who is feeling my need for redemption... but having it arrive the day before Easter?... talk about a good marketing campaign.. it even came with a little leather bag (with zipper) to keep it stored it... "My Rosary" emblazoned in gold lettering across the leather... you know, just in case you forget what's in the bag...

... I am thankful, though... as my collection has been lacking a Rosary ever since I began it... it'll make a nice addition... and at long last my Ponca Indian war-rattle, embroidered kippah, and hand-filled mojo sack will not be alone...

... any port in a storm, people... you can never be too careful these days.... besides, it is best to keep your bases covered just in case you were mistaken...

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Lunch....

... you know, say what you will about all the illegals in our country, but I can only speak for myself...

... see, my sleepy county here in East Tennessee is home to quite a few fence-jumpers and some of the best nachos north of Guadalajara..

... and were someone to round up all of these wily culinary conquistadors, well, part of me would be deeply, deeply sad to see them go....

.. I mean, just imagine a world with no nachos... we'd be forced to start eating those round tortilla flakes with the melted cheese whiz that they serve for 99 cents at the Mr. Zip....

... and that would be horrible day for this American...

... look, I'm no politician... but it seems to me that our priorities are just totally messed up when we talk about immigration... and as for me, well, they can take my nachos when they pry them from my cold, dead hands...

... and that's all I have to say about that...

... and by the way, I will be recycling some old posts over here for Bejus this weekend...

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Digging...

... lawn work is not my strongest suit... and that is putting it mildly... but today is the day for some major reconstructive surgery... out with the old, gnarled, and dead... in with the new, fresh, and perky...

... damn, I can't believe I just used the term perky'... I really need to expand my vocabulary more...

... ahhh... there is something wonderfully reaffirming about getting a little dirt under your fingernails from time to time... not that I'd want to make a habit of it, of course, but I'm just saying... it's good for The Soul... in nice bite-sized chunks of moderation... oh, and when there are lots of breaks for iced tea and cigarettes in the shade...

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Leigh..

... a few weeks ago I was forced to sit through Hitchcock's "Psycho" again... the Wife being a huge fan of anything remotely Hitchcockian, any time his stuff comes on the television, well, I'm forced to watch...

.... I found it really interesting that she commented on how pretty she thought Janet Leigh was when she was checking into the Bates Motel - just before she was brutally stabbed to death by a cross-dressing serial killer.. I told her then that she just didn't do it for me....

... but this morning as she was eating breakfast the television was playing "Two Tickets to Broadway", and who should be appearing as a fresh-faced brown-haired beauty?... Janet Leigh... check this out... here she is as a blonde in the same 1950's timeframe...

janet_leigh.jpg

... not bad, eh?.... she looks a lot more sultry ala 1951 than she did when checking into that roadside hotel.... oh, and I had no idea that she was Momma to Jamie Lee Curtis!... by the way, did y'all know that genetically, well, Jamie is actually intersexed?.. after watching her dance on "True Lies", I could have sworn that was 100% woman...

jamie_lee2.jpg

... could have fooled me...

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Half-Nekkid Monday

.... If it is good enough for Elisson, well hey.... it's good enough for me... behold the product of a mere two months of playing with Helga the Nordic Trak, chain smoking, and eating at least one fresh garden salad a week along with my cheeseburgers... sure, sure... no visible muscles yet... and my love handles are still in need of adjustment... but here you go... hell, give me another six months, people... I'll shape up nicely...

xtorso1.jpg

... and by the way, Elisson... what are you, sixty?... Jesus, man... I'm impressed, you big Jew Stud Hoss... I hope I look half as fit as you when I hit your age.... I seriously doubt it though... I mean, I imagine that the Wife will have strangled me in my sleep before I ever hit 40... or even 35, for that matter....

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by Eric | Permalink | Bullshit(14) | TrackBack (3)
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Wind Tunnels....

... g'night, gentle ones... I am off to spend the night with a CPAP machine... constantly under the gaze of a large and friendly man named Stan...

... I tell ya, it's sure hard to have fun in a place like this, but I give it one helluva effort...

...so y'all play nice while I'm away... and I'll tell you all about it when the Sun comes up....

... oh, and Liv?... call me first thing in the morning, please...

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Weird....

...I am not a huge fan of feet... in my view, they rank right up there with ears as the two greatest abominations God laid down upon us mortal humans back in the day... feet and ears, people... when the Great Creator was patching our bodies together, I suspect that the feet and ears were designed late one night after he'd been juiced up while watching old re-runs of Celestial Saturday Night Live...

.. after all, today is Sunday... and as I sit here reading from the Book of Tom Waits in quiet introspection, my eyes have just fallen onto a gem from "Heartattack and Vine"...

... all rise..

"Don't you know there ain't no Devil, that's just God when he's drunk."

.. be seated, please...

... indeed, there may be some wisdom there from old Tommyboy... at least it would explain the huge jokes that are our feet and ears....

... anyway, in other news, the Wife informed me last night that I have prehensile toes.. I was sockless on the couch and performed a mighty stretch last night - the kind where you do the whole-body flex/writhe - and she barked, "EWWW you should have seen what your toes did!"... ahhh... the bliss of married life....

... and it was at that point that last night's weirdness began in earnest... suffice it to say though, yes, it appears that I can perform many tasks with my bony appendages.. everything from flipping the bird to sloppily picking up small objects and putting them on the ottoman...

... hey, who knew?... I sure didn't... but I always have imagined I was a man of many talents, I just never knew how strange some of those talents would turn out to be...

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Limbs....

... ouch... looks like Middle Tennessee got pummeled last night... here in the East, I went to sleep to thunder and lightning and high winds.... and this morning I wake to find that the storm didn't even blow the blooms off my magnolia...

... storms are funny that way... two miles from here there are trees down and limbs on the roads...

... hey, say what you will about hurricanes being massive, strong, and prolonged... but at least you know they're coming... tornadoes just sprout out of the sky and reach down indiscriminately... smashing the ever-loving crap out of whatever they hit in an act that seems purely random...

... and at least you can run from a hurricane... with tornadoes, you never know which direction to skedaddle towards...

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Nature....

... storm is a'comin'.... be back later... maybe....

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More on my crotch...

... success, she is sweet... a few weeks ago I was pretty damn bummed over the impending loss of my favorite jeans due to testicle-rubbage.... but today while sitting in the sunshine with The Wife on the deck, all is well...

... as I was cradling an assault rifle in one hand and a can of Balistol in the other, the Wife peeped up from her book and let her gaze slowly drop to my crotch... and then, of course, she laughed and went back to reading her book...

.. but hey, I know that you were worried about my jeans... and probably wondering how I would ever either 1.) fix the air-conditioned crotch, or 2.) live without my favorite denims....

... well, wonder no more, rubberneckers.... all is well... and you know what? ... I am pretty impressed with myself over coming up with the solution all on my own... yes, indeedy.... you guessed it, I now own a pair of underwear!!...

... and don't worry too much this time... I know last time a bunch of y'all freaked out... but this time, it is safer... Petey was tucked snugly beneath my hand...

xcrotch_fixed.jpg

.. anyway, at this rate I'll get at least another year or so out of the jeans.. and I'm one happy camper.... now all I have to do is get all of the gun oil stains off of them, and I'm set...

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by Eric | Permalink | Bullshit(9) | TrackBack (1)
» Key Issues links with: Good ol Rocky Top

Work...

... with Spring comes cleaning... or so I am told.... and today is Gun Day....

... I've got to empty out the gun safe, gather all of my beloveds onto the deck, and give them all their springtime once-over...

... and just in case y'all think it is an idyllic thing, me sitting outside in the sun cleaning weapons, just trust me... it isn't... the following Works of Art are scheduled for their bi-yearly baths...

Rifles
1972 Winchester Model 94 30-30
Ruger .44mag Carbine
1967 Mossberg Model 640K "Chuckster" .22mag
Remington Model 700 "Mountain Rifle" .280
Busmaster AR-15 .223

Shotguns
Four damn 12 gauges

Pistoles
Beretta Cougar .45ACP
Beretta Model 86 Cheetah .380
1978 S&W "Highway Patrolman" .357
1990 Taurus Model 92AFD 9mm

... and that, children, is a lot of gun oil and elbow grease...

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H&R Block...

... well, today is tax day here at the house.... and I've spent the better half of the morning scrounging through various cupboards and drawers gathering up the Imperial Paperwork for inspection..

... this should be fun, actually... year before last, we were slam-dunked by the Taxman... last year we broke even... this year?... it should be interesting....

... there is nothing like watching a heavyset, spectacled, retired white woman diddling your numbers under Penalty of Law to get the old heart a'pumping... I'll be sure to let y'all know how it turns out...

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Blue...

... up this morning early and greeted the dawn... watched the sky blue as the Sun came up over the mountain... an amazing color... and now that the ibuprofen has kicked in, I'm off to the nap on the couch... five hours of sleep just wasn't enough today....

... but looking at the sky just now, wow... I bet God has blue eyes...

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Clarity...

... so yesterday as I was thinking deep thoughts and soaking up the sunshine, a sudden wave of depression swept over me... the finality of resolution, people... the crystalline realization that I have been trying to fool myself all these many years... hiding behind lies... making excuses to the mirror... forever wearing long britches even during the mightiest of Summer days...

... yes, I finally concede defeat... I will never, never, never get a suntan.... no, not ever... and it is a sad thing to say.... I have tried so hard for so long....

... so, behold... the drumstick of the whitest blogger I know... namely, well, me....

xleg.jpg

... and I do so envy you people who brown on the first day of spring.... you bastards...

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by Eric | Permalink | Bullshit(14) | TrackBack (1)
» phin's blog links with: Fashionistas

Grable....

.... I've just spent the bulk of my afternoon sitting on the deck cloudbusting up through the poplar trees.... hey, someone has to do it.. you don't think those badboys just break up all by themselves, do you?.... oh no... it takes individuals like me, people, to keep our skies blue and free of cloudjams....

... anyway, I managed to break a few of them up pretty good... but my skills ain't what they used to be.... of course, everything comes with a price... everything.... and the byproduct of today's creative loafing is that I have a nice, pink sunburn over most of my lily-white body... being a redhead truly sucks sometimes....

... overall, though, today has been a pretty good day... earlier, I suffered through "Mother Wore Tights"... goodness... and for 1947, one of the opening scenes totally took my breath away... I found it incredibly erotic... the Wife?... nada... and when I explained it to her as "I" saw it, I got the usual smack to the back of the head...

.. check it out...

... three hot little school girls (who graduated from high school the previous day) are off to the Big City... set in 1900 San Francisco.... they figure they can score some free tickets to a show and start needling the geeky guy who mans the counter... flashing their eyelashes and cooing - trying to get their way... so the Big Bossman overhears the geek saying "If I get caught doing this..."... so, yeah, he's busted... .but he recovers nicely and tells the Big Bossman that the three young cuties are actually wanting to audition as chorus girls...

... next scene, cut to the three young ladies... standing shoulder to shoulder in ankle-length Victorian dresses right in front of the fat, bald Big Bossman... awesome...

... he lights a cigar and eyes the girls for thirty seconds or so... obviously with a heart filled with lust... and then says... "AWWRIGHT, girls.. show me your legs..."... two of the three run screaming like banshees towards the door and disappear... Big Bossman is rolling around in his chair laughing his ass off... and then he stops.... see, he had just noticed that the blonde was still there... feet together.... gloved hands hanging just below her crotch... the prim dress bunched in each fist... showing off her perfect legs from knee to well-turned ankle... and people, it was Betty Grable...

... the Big Bossman nearly had a heart attack... (and probably a stiffy).. and he circled Grable a few times before the scene ended... needless to say, she got the job....

... 1947, people.... wow.... and a fat old man giving casting directions to Betty (who, by the way, did I mention she is pretending to be a shy little schoolgirl who wanted to be a cabaret dancer?) ...

... alright, I'm sorry.. but the whole thing just totally turned me on... Betty Grable standing there doe-eyed with her dress bunched just did it for me... and hey, I don't normally go for blondes... but there was something deeply seedy about the whole scene... the young girl doing as she was told by the Big Bossman...

... of course, the rest of the movie sucked... but if you get a chance to see it, that one scene makes the whole movie worth seeing....

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Sore...

... damnation, I am sore today... my shoulders, neck, and thighs ache... my lower and mid-back is tight and attempts to spasm when I twist... good Lord, even my butt cheeks are sore....

... my once proud body used to be built for marathons... now, alas, the occasional sprint is about all I can physically handle.... but the problem is that my mind still thinks I can pull the long hauls and overrides the flesh... mercy...

.. it could always be worse, though... I mean, I could be dehydrated too... I mean, after yesterday, I should be dehydrated....

.... I think my lips are chapped too...

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Cheap...

.... you know, I am very, very proud to be a Tennessean... I really am... it is a fine state with a great history.. full of beauty and grandeur.... and evidenty, criminals who give kidnapping a bad name....

... but there are days when I read stories like this and, well, I am torn... I don't know if I should hang my head in shame... or laugh myself into a stupor...

.. Ronnie Ellis and Steketra Donsha Garrett.... look, I am sure they are both traumatized... but still.... I mean, c'mon....

.. I can't wait to see this story come out on "Cold Case Files"....

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Getting Ready...

... drove into town this morning to pick the steaks up from the butcher... and five beautiful fillets were lovingly selected... had the sunroof open and Dire Straits blasting during the ride back.... Tunnel of Love... excellent stuff...

... now the steaks are cooling themselves in a puddle of Worcester sauce in the fridge... the Wife is curled up on the couch watching "Mr. Smith Goes To Washington"... and I'm about to settle myself for an afternoon on the patio...

... Spring is finally here and it's awesome.. it's been a long time coming.... at least it seems that way.... I noticed that the camellia I planted beside the steps out back is blooming.. as is the Tulip Magnolia in the front yard... pretty soon the dogwoods will be too...

... as for me, it's certainly time for a cool change... time to shake things up a bit... make a move.... stretch a little... this is going to be one interesting Summer...

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Missing Shots....

... seeing as I am in a sentimental mood tonight, I feel like sharing.... and since I have nothing to talk about except the old re-runs of Sanford and Son I've been watching, I guess I'll throw y'all a picture.... sure, I could tell you about the awesome nachos I had for lunch, but it seems pointless now... after all, those nachos are history.. and one should never look back... and even though I have nothing much to write about, I am don't feel the least bit guilty....

... anyway, here is yours truly and my Brother from Another Mother, Biker Steve.... taken last summer during a quiet moment of high drama... (before the whole knife-wound incident, of course)... but just a random Wednesday Night shot....

xedited_pool_small.jpg

... and by the way, Steve was grinning because I had just missed.... hey, it happens to us all... drama can be found in many, many places, people.... it's always good to remember that.....

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Envy...

... I stopped in front of the living room window this morning, with coffee in hand, and surveyed the spring morning... and as I viewed my domain, it suddenly hit me.... damn, I do so hate my neighbors...

... well, perhaps hate' is too coarse.... maybe despise' is better... after all, the great poets and philosophers have said through the ages that the seeds of a passionate hatred are often planted by envy or greed.. so I suppose I shouldn't really be surprised by the coffee-coated angst I felt this morning...

.. not that they are bad people, no... not at all... they are fine people... upstanding, quiet, courteous, friendly... and the Mother of the House is quite fetching as she tends her flowers occasionally... so some of you may wonder why I harbor such malice with them while gazing towards their idyllic familial home this morning...

... in short, well, they have my topsoil... all of it....

... lookit.. Hell's Half Acre is positioned on a gentle slope at the very back of a small subdivision... my lawn is bordered on three sides by woodland... and my front yard meanders gently down towards the road... falling fifteen feet in the 150 or so it takes to reach the mailbox.. the powers that be cleared all of the lots five years ago ala' bulldozer... low spots were filled... high spots were knocked down...

... this resulted in my beloved grass being forced to eek out a living on raw, hard, red clay ceramic.. front and back....

... my neighbor?... his grass looks like someone hand-painted each blade with the Brush of Health and Vitality... his lawn practically vibrates with youthful exuberance.. mine is brown....

... he dropped by the other day while I was slinging horse shit across my barren landscape... and he had the nerve to tell me that his contractors had an awful' time digging his home's foundation... it seems that the topsoil was almost three feet deep!..

... bastard... I hope his septic tank backs up when the rains hit....

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By Hand...

.... I live a quiet, simple little life, you know... filled with contemplative reading and meditation... smiling meekly at the passing whimsies of life... and today's passing whimsy, well, it comes from The Philadelphia Inquirer... check it out..

According to Cornell University researcher Rachel Maines, the first vibrator was invented in 1883 as a medical device. Doctors used it to give their patients "pelvic massages" to produce "hysterical paroxysm" as a cure for a disease they called hysteria. The device was designed to mechanize a job that doctors had been doing - believe it or not - by hand.

Maines chronicled her findings in the 1999 book The Technology of Orgasm. The real bombshell, she said, was that doctors had been giving women orgasms as a so-called medical treatment since the time of Hippocrates.

By the late 19th century, hysteria was hitting epidemic proportions, with women complaining of paralyzed limbs, sudden inability to speak, and other bizarre symptoms magically relieved by their doctor's touch.

But some doctors complained the technique was difficult to learn. According to one biographer, Sigmund Freud tried to learn it, Maines says, but never got the hang of it.

Vibrators made the job much easier, though some early ones ran on steam, she says, requiring the doctors to shovel in coal. They often had cumbersome but impressive power sources, and the business end looked like a ball or some other non-phallic shape.

Doctors charged about $2 to $3 per treatment, she says.

.... wow... Just Damn!... I'm off to go quietly contemplate life as a Victorian doctor with a line of hysterical, paralyzed, speaking-impaired hotties.... cheerfully providing a service for three bucks a pop...

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Rings...

... after much soul-searching, my better half finally decided on what she would like as an anniversary present.. yeah, yeah, we didn't exchange gifts yet this year..... but hey, it isn't my fault... she couldn't make up her mind..

... anyway, on our last visit to Scotland her parents bought her a silver necklace and bracelet from a small jewelrysmith in Montrose... well, you may toss up a guess as to what she wants this year... yep, a handmade replacement engagement ring....

... and I'm totally down with that.. I think it is a great idea... especially since our house was fleeced back in 1997 by some methadone clinic reject who lifted her original engagement ring.... she's only had the wedding band ever since....

... well, we'll be in Scotland on vacation for three weeks in May... visiting family and friends and just kicking back... and now, of course, being fitted for a custom ring.. it makes for something different, I suppose.... and different is always good...

... I think I'll ask for a pinky ring from the same guy... and then never wear it... you know, just to be fair...

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Skirts....

... never have I been more pegged in my life, people... guilty as charged.... what can I say?... I haven't changed a bit....

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Stick Shift....

.. wow.... I'm just back from dropping the Wife's ride off at the dealership for some maintenance... and I just have to say this... that car is obscene... 100% totally out of control...

... the growl of the engine is enough to give anyone goosebumps... even ME.... 400hp.. mercy... look, I am a slow driver... for the most part I do the speed limit... a law-abiding citizen to my very core....

.. but that beast that she drives is pure evil... sitting at a red-light and listening to the motor idle, it almost seems to chant to you... breakthelaw... breakthelaw... makemepurr... makemepurrlouder... LOUDER... youknowIwantit... Iwantyoutogiveittome... makemepurr....

... and I noticed that by the second intersection... well, I actually had an erection....

... I want my Audi back, dammit... that Cadillac is going to kill me... it's pretty damn hard to drive a stick shift when you're in that state...

... and I want my boring car back.... I am not nearly man enough to drive that CTSV every day....

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My Mailbox....

... the latest issue of Smithsonian is adorned with a lemur on the front cover... and it really is a good photo... happy little lemur hopping around.... hey, I like lemurs...

... but upon checking the mailbox and finding the current magazine, I began giggling... and by the time I had made the ninety feet up from the road to the house, I was laughing out loud... I do so love lemurs...

.. when I saw that little lemur face smiling at me, well, I couldn't help but remember a "nature" video that I once watched.... the subject was on animals who had succumbed to drug addiction... chimps who chain-smoked... baboons who would nick the Singapore Sling right out of your hand when you turned your head... etc..

... the tone of the film was serious though... it's quite a problem in some resort areas, I guess... I mean, you really don't want to take vacation on an exotic beach somewhere... only to have your cold beers stolen by a gang of snarling primates... well, maybe you do, but I sure wouldn't... besides, I wouldn't give up my scotch without a fight.. and can you just imagine how embarrassing it would be to get beaten up by a bunch of monkeys?...

... anyway, the lemurs in the video really stole the show... not only for creativity, but for pure stoned abandon... I mean, seeing a drunk monkey passed out under a picnic table is pretty funny... but seeing a lemur drool, go cross-eyed, and slump in a stupor against a palm tree is just hilarious....

... and hey, like I said, the lemurs had style.... they didn't go for drinks or smokes... nope, they went straight for the top-shelf hardcore... the crackpipe of the animal world... millipede juice...

.. see, evidently there is a species of big, red millipede that live in Madagascar... and when they get agitated they secrete a poisonous slime.... well, the lemurs had figured out that if they caught themselves a big, red millipede and crunched it a few times, it would start oozing toxins... and then if they licked that crap up, they'd get a buzz...

... have you ever seen a lemur that was stoned stiff on millipede secretions?... just trust me... it's hilarious...

... anyway, that was what I was thinking about after I checked my mail today...

UPDATE!! UPDATE!!.. here is a video of a lemur getting stoned and rubbing himself with a big, red millipede!....

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Penetration....

... well, that was fun.. a night spent being spied upon via infra-red camera... aided by 28 sensors that were taped, glued, and spackled to my frail frame... a microphone taped to my neck... and another one dangling over the bed.. and of course, a three pronged thingamabob that was magically secured just between my nose and upper lip.. it was the worst... as two of the appendages twisted their way up into each nostril... and the other coiled outwards - bending slightly - and then coming to a stop just beyond the reach of my extended tongue... "air-flow censors", I was told...

... ever try to sleep with two thin wires caressing the delicate hairs that lie inside your nostrils?... it's damned difficult, I tell you... those puppies do nothing but continually harass your sneeze reflex... almost to the point of madness...

... of course, I did take the time to examine last night for blog-worthy material... and I did come up with something totally unexpected... see, of all the various orifices that I own, I never EVER would have thought that my nostrils would be the most arguable when it comes to penetration by a foreign object...

.. hey, you live and learn every day.... self-exploration, people.. it's an amazing thing...

... anyway, no CPAP for me... maybe next time... and I'm actually looking forward to the next visit... after dealing with the Spindly Nostril Ticklers all night, that Darth Vader mask will be a piece of cake...

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Sleeping with Strangers...

.... busy day today, rubberneckers, busy day... I've got to run into town and secure my flights to Scotland in May... perform some menial errands... and mentally prepare myself for the coming torture of the night...

... yeah, I've heard the horror stories... the ominous Darth Vader apparatus... the wires and cables... the claustrophobic awakenings.... I'm not really looking forward to it... but hey, if it manages to do some good then it is worth enduring...

.. I do enough damage on myself daily as it is.. the last thing I need is for my beautifully deviated septum to send me the Great Hereafter at an earlier than planned on time....

... also, the heavily accented woman who called last night to remind me of my impending appointment must have said "Now, be SURE to wear pajama pants and a tee-shirt to sleep in... be SURE to now, ya heah?".... wow... kinda makes you wonder what most patients show up to sleep in, doesn't it?.... I mean, I sleep as I was born, like most people... but I'd not dare show up at a hospital and plan on sleeping starkers... goodness... some of you people must really have no shame...

.. in any case, it looks like me and Sponge Bob will be off to a technology-enhanced slumber party tonight... so if I ain't around, that's where I'll be... attempting to snore on-command for a bunch of total strangers...

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Crazy....

... wow... some mornings the news really just blows my mind....

... speechless... that's what I am... totally speechless...

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Woodpeckered....

... you know, woodpeckers impress the hell out of me... they have some incredible skills, children... see, normal birdies fly along dipping and diving and then alight on a branch and check everything out... but not the woodpecker.. no, sir.... he flies directly at a tree at warp speed... and then - just in the nick of time - pulls himself up from his collision course and lands perfectly on a vertical surface....

.. amazing... one false move... or even the slightest misjudgment of distance and he crashes head-first into a tree....

... other birds?... please... they've got it easy... but a woodpecker has it going on.... a master of self-control..

... you could almost use the term in conversation... of course, no one would know what you were talking about, but you could... I'm thinking you could use it as an adverb/verb... woodpeckered.. as in the conversation below....

"we were at the bar and Jimmy was hitting on this girl... he was going full-tilt, too... and the next thing you know, her boyfriend returned with her drink and gave Jimmy the evil eye... boy, you should have seen him woodpecker!"...

.. man, I really need more coffee this morning...

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Rubbed Out...

... on top of all my other worldly woes, today has just gotten that wee bit sadder.... I'm broke up, people...

... sitting here at the blogdesk typing away, I happened a casual glance at my crotch.. you know, as you do... just to check that the boys are alright... and I'll be damned... my favorite jeans are on their last legs....

... behold..

xcrotch.jpg

... ladies and gentlemen, I put great stock in the simple pleasures of life... clothes that fit.. comfortable shoes.. they're almost like old friends after a while...

... these jeans have been with me for five years now... a beat-up pair of Wranglers, they have served me very well... and now?... while their knees remain sturdy and their beltloops buxom, the crotch has given up the ghost... a victim of one too many Commando raids, I suppose... I knew I should have been wearing underwear all this time... if I had, I might have gotten another couple of years out of these loyal britches...

... damn, I am depressed... I sure hate to see these jeans go... I really, really do... anyone know if they sell crotch-mending kits at Walmart?..

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Good Morning!..

... I woke up this morning unable to open my left eye.... at first, I was confused... and then, well, I was kinda horrified.... but as I lay there reclining upon my softly cushioned bed, I was more curious than anything else... I mean, it is always kinda interesting to wake up to find a body part not working... right?..

... I rose gingerly and slipped on my Sponge Bob pajama bottoms... feeling my way towards the head for a pre-dawn eye inspection...

... and wow... what I found was pretty impressive even if I do say so myself... see, it would appear that my infected lungs bubbled over sometime during the night.. percolating upwards to fill nasal cavities... and actually bursting forth from a tear duct... hardening slowly with the aid of time and central heating.. and gluing my left eye shut with a thick layer of Key Lime Pie colored mucus...

... anyway, a dash or two of hot water loosened the lashes and my eye fluttered back to freedom.... so rest easy, everyone... we be cool...

.... but I tell you, if things get much more exciting around here, I just don't know what I'll have to write about....

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Rain...

... today is cool and rainy here in Tennessee... the light seeping through the clouds is a dull white... the view from the blogroom window reveals the gray and brown skeletonized outlines of the leafless trees.. the only other colors to be seen are that of the birds as they flitter around the limbs.... a few minutes ago it was a red flash of a cardinal... and now a red-breasted robin is on a dogwood perch... oops... he's gone... still, another bird will come by shortly...

... they're just doing their thing.... and they don't mind the rain... or the stark trees... or the cloudy sky... just another day of life... rain or shine...

... hunting bugs and worms, building homes, and searching for lovers... I wonder if they feel the cold chill of the raindrops... of if it doesn't even register in their tiny minds..

... us?... hell, we're just too damn complicated... that's what our problem is....

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Lies!...

... as you rubberneckers know, I am very picky about the news stories I point you guys to... most of the crap I read in the news is either over my head or makes me angry... so I keep it off the blog... today, however, is different...

... I have a bone to pick with Reuters over this article....

... the quote?... "Married people wouldn't probably do anything like this."

... not only is it totally false, but it is a slap in the face to married people everywhere... once more, the Mainstream Media fails to provide us with the truth... and I cannot stand idly by on this issue...

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Tonsils....

... some sort of infection is throwing a bong-party in my body.... with sombreros, tiki music, and strippers... I can hear them in there and they are really whooping it up....

.... Sudafed only serves to heighten the noise of their little germy feet as they conga-line through my lungs... the little bastards.... in short, I have been coughing up copious amounts of lime-green party sludge.. the proof of their corporeal kegger.... but at least I'm not sneezing... I hate sneezing...

... anyway, do tonsils grow back?.. I had mine out when I was ten or so... but now I have two sore lumps where they used to be... that just seems weird... I mean, if you cut off a part of your body it is supposed to stay cut off... stuff that can grow back just freaks me out...

... oh, and my ISP un-hiccupped itself... so here I is... I'm sure y'all missed me...

... I'm off to town to get lunch now... and once I'm back, I'm wrapping myself in a blanket and taking a nap.... I hate being sick... but at least I'm not sneezing...

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Staying Home...

... scalloped potatoes... medium rare filet steak... and a hand-tossed garden salad... hey, it's what's for dinner... maybe even a nice bottle of Rioja Reserva to wash it all down...

... hey, it's Saturday... why not?...

... and I'm going to do it all while happily barefoot... Hillbilly Deluxe, rubberneckers.. hell, yeah...

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Warehoused....

.... I just spent just over two hours watching Gene Hackman act as Gene Garrison in "I Never Sang for My Father"... holy shit.... have any of you people ever seen that movie?... I was ready to slit my wrists by the end of it.... it was beyond depressing... almost reaching the infamous "Just Shoot Me Now" level....

... but hey, I'm not knocking the acting at all... they all delivered moving performances... but the subject matter?... whoa.... I think the Wife and I made a mutual pact a few minutes ago.. (I can't really recall 100% since I was too teary-eyed to notice what I was signing)... but I'm pretty sure it was some sort of suicide deal... goodness... and all instigated by Gene Hackman's portrayal.... the genius bastard....

.. see, having no children, well, if I fall upon hard times in the future and kick the bucket.... she'll off herself once she becomes decrepit... me?... well, even though the idea of reneging on the deal is somewhat appealing.... I suppose I'd have to stick to the contract.... If she pops her clogs before me, well, that means that no one is left around to take care of my wizened ass.... and therein lies the question...

... do you let yourself fall into State warehousing?... being spoon-fed by total strangers just so you can jiggle and quiver your way to the next drug-induced sunrise?.. or do you just eat a bullet and be done with it?.... hey, it'd save the money and resources.... think about it.. you would not have to deal with the whole Loss of Dignity thing that most un-loved elderly deal with.... sure, if I had a passel of Grandkids to take care of me, that'd be cool.... but I won't... it'll just be she and I... or she alone and I alone...

... damn, maybe I should adopt a Filipino or something.... or maybe one of those Chinese kids... otherwise, damn, I'm screwed.... I'll be popping a cap in my ass at 60...

... that said, congrats go out to Marcus of On The Patio... today is his birthday.... keep on trucking, killer... and posting more fishing pictures.... hey, I'm all about ending a post on a happy note... heh heh....

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