Twelve Two Two Fondue VIII

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Long Long Time Ago

Long long time ago an Irish gentleman and merchant brought his family to the New World. The year was 1791. The Irishman's name was William Farrell.

The Farrell's settled in Kentucky as merchants. Over the next hundred years the Farrell clan moved into Missouri where descendants became bookkeepers and farmers.

One of those Farrells was my grandfather and I just discovered that he had a daughter who can be traced to people living today, in Oklahoma.

How about that.

We have people.

Joy to the World!

Mannheim Steamroller.

Joy to the World!

Full volume.

Bose QC 15 headphones!

Hello, Christmas!!

Kink Loves Eggnog

That is all.

Kink! Down! Arrrrrgggggghhhhh ....

Too Soon

Just a few days ago I hauled out the old Christmas tree leaving a trail of needles across the foyer, down the sidewalk and to the curb. It was tree pickup day and I left my old friend of 2010 alone by the street to be picked up and recycled.

"Don't worry, old friend, I'm sure you'll be mulched into a yard that earns the coveted Yard of the Month award, not that we were ever a contender. It's a far, far better place you go than any place you've gone before."

I sloped back to the house, slowly, reflecting on Christmas past and the poignant sadness that accompanies the end of the Christmas season, my favorite.

Back in the house I mopped up the water that spilled from the tree holder, packed up it's bits, dried them and oiled them and put them in the box. As I put the box on the shelf in the garage I thought, you know, I'll be pulling you guys back off in a few days. Yeah, a "few days" would be a year.

Today.

I pulled the tree stand box off the shelf, pulled out the parts and inspected them. No rust, no corrosion. Yeah, I did a good job of cleaning them up for another year, and here it was that time.

Another year. Could it be possible? Did I fall asleep only to awake at Christmas time? Am I Scrooge? No, it had been a year and a year full of activity. I had many Scouting events to attend in 2011 including the 22nd World Scout Jamboree in Sweden, and a delightful stay in Paris and a cruise up the Danube. A full year and here we were again at the end. And the beginning.

I hauled out the venerable sheet of plywood that supports our Christmas tree every year, blew the cobwebs off and gave it a light sanding. Ready for another year, my friend?

Once again I trimmed the stump of the tree, removed the lower branches and screwed the trunk into the tree holder who seemed to relish the moment. Oh, another chance to hold the Tree, straight and proud! Yes, and no cat climbing!

They say that Christmas comes once a year but lately it seems to come once a day. Surely it was only yesterday that I put up the decorations and a day later, today, I'm taking them out again. Not that I mind, though. Christmas is my favorite time of the year.

Peace on Earth, Good will toward men. Nothing wrong with that, other than it used to be a long time coming.

Hey, Kink, ornaments!

NaBloPoMo 2011

Hello end of November, Blogger here!

Another National Blog Posting Month and another 30 consecutive posts. Not all of them brilliant but consecutive and that's the rule.

It's a good exercise for those of us who get out of the habit of writing daily and sink into that warm, comfortable lounge chair made by Sloth Co. Yep, I've got a lot of furniture from that company.

As a wrap for the month, how did the final day go? Well, to start, there were more crazy drivers on the road than usual. Not fast, reckless drivers, but slow, insipidly stupid, in-your-way drivers who were intent on causing as much disruption, slowly, as possible. Drivers in the wrong lane trying to slowly merge into the "right" lane and drivers in the "right" lane trying to slowly merge into the "righter" lane. Go figger.

There was the lady at Kroger's who after being asked 5 times by the checker if she had any coupons and responding "no" dug into her vast handbag at the last moment totally sure that she had a coupon worth 5-cents off some useless product she only bought because she had a 5-cent off coupon. She never found it and became rightfully startled when I started to growl at her. Thank you vampire films, my growls are much more effective these days.

There was the moron who parked in front of the community mailbox, totally blocking access as he perused his Victoria's Secret catalog. I told him he was an XXL and maroon was not his color but he didn't seem to interested in my free advice. I also suggested he take his catalog and read it in his garage like a normal prevert.

And, finally, I made friends with the dog by locking him in a room all day with nothing to listen to but old Pat Boone tapes. Grateful dog. Thanks, Pat.

Dinner tonight was simple but outstanding: butter sautéd cod with new potatoes, green beans and mushrooms served with Nouveaux Beaujolais.

And finally, finally, hello December and Christmas 2011. Twelve Two Two Fondue VIII in 22 days. Prodigious.

Walkies

I'm a cat person. I've always had cats, I like cats and cats are my best friends. They treat me right: with pure, un- hypocritical distain. I can live with that.

Dogs, not so much. All the slobbering, eating out of the litter box, licking whatever off the floor. No thanks, Mr. Dog.

Well, then, we ended up boarding a dog for a couple of weeks. Big dog. Half blue healer, half German shepherd. Big, nice, smart, loving, intelligent with big brown eyes and gentle and smart and nice effing dog.

Dog.

I try to dislike this dog.

Fail.

Fortunately, I'm not require to take the dog on walks because he loves another who does take him on walks. Great. Grand! No walkies for me.

Until today when She Who Takes the Dog on Walkie is not available.

"Hey, I'm tied up at work. Remember work? That thing that pays the bills and your wine allowance? Well, I'm tied up making even more money to support your habits and I need you to take the Dog for a Walk. No whining, just do it or no wining for you if you get my drift."

Drift gotten. Leash in hand I asked the Dog if he wanted to go for walkies and got trampled, and licked to oblivion. I guess that's a "yes."

Turns out that walkies are a lot of fun! We went over hill and under dale, chased squirrels and birds and golfers and had a great time. We even scared a little poodle with a hearty "Woof! Woof!" and I had to console the owner with an offer of a poolside hot oil massage only to learn that her calendar was booked until 2021. I mean, that's one organized poodle owner to have a calendar booked that far in advance.

Anyway, we got home safe and sound, the dog dived into his food and I headed off to take a nap only to dream about running a pool service company dealing with clogged skimmers.

A good day, I would say. Walkies tomorrow? You bet!

Comfort Foods

What's the secret to comfort foods?

Easy, two hours.

That's what it takes to produce a good chicken soup, chili or gumbo. Two hours. Nothing less and maybe a little bit more.

T0 head off the Great Cold Epidemic I made a batch of chicken soup. Here's the blueprint

chopped onion

chopped celery

chopped carrot

chicken

bay leaves

salt

pepper

Simple but effective. Chop everything up, put it in a pot, cover with water and let simmer for two hours. Season to taste and inoculate yourself against most bad things, including moods.

Gumbo is similar, except for paying attention to preparing the roux. Thirty minutes minimum and dark chocolate minimum. Then Andouille sausage, the Trinity and water to cover for two hours before adding shrimp, calamari, crawfish and scallops. A further 30 minutes and you have yumminess. Season with Louisiana Hot Sauce or your favorite.

Stops most ailments.

Nothing to Sneeze At

Achooooooo!

I've been hearing a lot of that.

"How you doin?"

"Ugh, I've got the crud."

"I'll send flowers. Later, dood."

Not a lot of sympathy from me because I know I'm next on the Crud List. That's the way it goes. Hear a sneeze. Then two. Then 20. Then it becomes a sneezefest. That is until your ears plug up and your head feels like a balloon filled with not-quite-set Jell-o.

I don't want any part of that. And, usually, I'm successful at avoiding the Crud. Wash hands frequently, keep a healthy (ha ha) distance from sick looking people and avoid touching things plague victims have touched.

Oh, and live in my car for the duration of the winter. Yeah, that, too.

Don't Wrap It, Bag It

"No you don't! No you don't! No you don't!"

I had just pulled my bag off the belt in Baggage Claim when this deranged woman pushed her way through the crowd, stepping on children, pushing lumberjacks out of the way and shouting like her purse had been snatched.

"No you don't, that's my bag," she snarled looking at me with wild-eyed fury.

I calmly pointed to the luggage tag and the airline claim tag which had my name printed clearly at the bottom and said, "Yes I do! Yes I do! Yes I do! This is my bag."

Faced with the evidence she deflated like a Macy's Day Parade balloon and offered an excuse, "Well, I've got a luggage strap just like that."

"Congratulations," I said, "we both shop at Wal-Mart."

I walked away with my bag as an anonymous voice said, "Oh, snap!"

Yep, I thought, I just exude Christmas spirit!

Ready, Set, Go!

Let the holiday season begin!

Unleash the dogs of shopping! Cats, too!

It's my favorite time of the year. The cool weather, adjusted by Global Warming, and the warm feelings, adjusted by the cool economy, serve only to boost my spirits.

I can't wait to update my holiday music playlist and get the tunes cranking on the cronk, or whatever.

The UPS man already has his personal parking place outside my house. He'll be stopping there regularly as my online shopping frenzy burns up the InterTubes. I'll probably get ANOTHER "Well Done" certificate from Al Gore, bless his heart! I gave him credit for inventing the InterTube many years ago and he's been so gracious ever since. (Fortunately, truth be told, I'm glad not to have to deal with Tipper's cookies. Nuff said.)

Soon the house will be decorated, we'll set up the annual fire hazard tree and Kink the Cat will lose his favorite sleeping spot on the mantlepiece to the stuffed reindeer and Snoopy Santa. However, Kink will content himself by knocking off the tree as many ornaments as he can.

Peace on Earth, goodwill toward men. If we only do it once a year it's worth it. Me, I'll stretch it out as far as I can.

No Funny Stuff

"What are we having for Thanksgiving dinner this year?"

"The usual."

"What do you mean 'the usual?' That usually means some funny stuff."

"No fair! I've never done funny stuff for Thanksgiving dinner. The menu is fixed. No deviations allowed. Turkey, potatoes, veggies, cranberry sauce (jellied, not whole) and pie."

"What about the time you roasted a goose and tried to tell us it was 'jive turkey,' huh?"

"Still a bird," I countered weakly.

"Yeah, what about the time you put ginger in the cranberry and tried to hide it by turning out the lights? Or the time you stir-fried the sweet potatoes with shrimp and served them with prune sauce?"

"Ginger was on sale and a printer malfunction jumbled three recipes on one page. And, besides, the sweet potatoes were more weird than funny."

"And how about the time you ran out of eggs and used mustard instead of yokes in the Hollandaise sauce?"

"It was yellow, wasn't it? And tangy! OK, OK, uncle, I give up. Nothing funny this year. Just roasted turkey, traditional trimmings, no ginger, no curry powder in the egg nog. Promise."

"You sure?"

"Yeah, nothing funny. Zero funny, sir!"

(Later that morning ... )

"What smells so good?!?"

"I'm cooking a batch of sausage rolls. Flakey pastry wrapped around link sausages and baked to a golden brown. I even brushed the pastry with beaten egg to give it a glaze. Simply simplicity, I always say. Here, they're ready, try one."

"OK, don't mind if I do!"

(chomp)

"Hey, what's this I taste? There's something else in here you didn't tell me about! There's some funny stuff in here!"

"You said don't mess with dinner. You didn't say don't mess with the sausage rolls. I put in bacon and smoked Hatch green chilies."

There was a pause, longer than a comma, shorter than a colon.

"You know, these things are pretty good. No, better than good. They're really, really good! I hope you made a bunch because I'm diggin' me some green chili sausage rolls."

"Don't worry, I made plenty. And if you think those are good wait until you taste my twice-cooked garlic peppermint mashed potatoes!"

El Sombrero

With a name like El Sombrero it's either going to be a magical experience or a complete disaster.

Hello, magical!

You can tell a Mexican restaurant cares about its food by the way it treats its beans and taco meat. At El Sombrero the beans were served at a perfect density, not too runny, not too stiff, and perfectly seasoned with garlic, salt and cumin.

For tacos, El Sombrero serves both ground or shredded beef; customer choice. Shredded beef takes time and care which I soon appreciated was the hallmark of El Sombrero.

Irma's

Irma's Mexican Restaurant

Deming, New Mexico

One word review: Outstanding.

Chips: Locally cooked at a proper temperature, not greasy, crisp and fresh.

Salsa: Green chili using fresh local ingredients. Spicy but not outrageous.

Food: Beans are always a hallmark of a good Mexican restaurant. Irma's beans were flavorful, not greasy or stiff, served hot and with care.

Tacos, enchiladas and flautas were made with seasoned, shredded beef (not ground) and served with fresh-cut lettuce, tomatoes and avocados.

Service: When you are deciding whether to leave a tip or propose marriage to your server, you are in a good restaurant.

I give Irma's nine stars. Why? Because they are my stars to give!

Play Ball

The new dinner portion guidelines came out recently. Do away with cups, teaspoons and other measures and think in terms of ordinary objects: ping pong balls, decks of cards and bars of soap. Just what I want to be thinking about at dinner time.

So, a proper portion of rice is a ping pong ball and broccoli would be a tennis ball and meat would be a single playing card (diamonds for rare and clubs for well done, I guess). The idea is to visualize these common objects when shoveling food from the trough to your plate so you don't overeat.

I thought I'd give the idea a test drive at my favorite Mexican restaurant. First, I visualized how many enchiladas in a stack would be needed to reach the Moon. Turns out the answer is about 30 billion.

Great! I'll have the Moon Combination Number 1 and hold the sour cream, I'm watching my waste line.

While waiting for Junior to prepare my enchiladas I thought I'd munch on some chips, but how many? Bowling ball? Sounded to heavy to me. I went with weather balloon, instead. And make that a beach ball of salsa, too. Thx.

You know, I think I'm going to like this new food visualization scheme. Let's see, how about a school bus of refried beans ...

Chair Man

My bed is like a reclining chair that only reclines; unable to un-recline. A horizontal chair. I heart my un-un-reclinable chair so much that I spent 8 solid hours in it last night.

Worn out by that experience I hauled myself into the kitchen and plopped myself down in my chair at the kitchen table. Whew, I needed a rest from that experience. A few cups of coffee later I was ready to slip into the living room where my reading chair lives.

My reading chair is a nice, Danish leather un-reclinable but perfectly suited to my needs, i.e. to sit in a chair.

Time went by quickly, though, and I had to cut my daily reading short because I had places to go and people to see. I transferred from my reading to my car chair.

I love my car chair. I mean, it's a chair that moves. It's on four wheels, has an engine, is fully enclosed, comes with a radio and goes zoomity zoom. I'm on a special journey today, to the airport. Fortunately, I've heard they have chairs there.

At the airport I was not disappointed. They had room after room filled with chairs and at my appointed room I found a chair next to the window where I could watch the airplanes come and go. Soon, however, my number was called and I moved from my airport lounge chair to my airplane chair.

My airplane chair was much like my car chair, but a lot less complicated. I didn't have to actually drive the airplane, just sit there and enjoy the ride. Not that I mind driving and in a few hours I'd get a chance to do that when I transferred to my rental car chair.

I got a really cool rental car chair with a satellite radio. How many chairs have a satellite radio?

Finally, I arrived at my destination. As I hauled my stuff into the house my host greeted me and said, "Hey, man, good to see you! Can I get you anything?" I looked across his living room at that great big La-Z-Boy lounger and said, "If you don't mind, I'm exhausted. I think I'll take a load off in that chair over there. Comes with a beer, doesn't it?"

Yes, I am the Chair Man.

Your Wish is My Command

A person I know dropped her camera and snapped off a small, but important, piece of plastic that holds the lens in place. The camera still works, the lens does its auto-focus thing and the pictures look good, but you have to hold the lens tight to the camera body or rays of light will slip in.

Unfortunate.

Fortunately, a quick rub of the Amazon.com genie lamp revealed a replacement lens at a good discount and with overnight delivery via magic carpet for free.

What a deal! Done and done!

True to the word Amazon genie the replacement lens arrived this afternoon quicker than you could say Barbara Eden. *blink* *blink*

A cynic might say, "Well, why didn't you just run up to Target or Best Buy or WalMart and get a lens there? Besides, why the rush?

The answer to that is straightforward: Target and WalMart don't carry the brand and Best Buy was sold out! Plus, the price was better on Amazon and I didn't have to drive around. The rush was that the person with the damaged camera was leaving on a trip soon and not too keen on having the camera lens stabilized to the body with duct tape (my first solution).

Amazon and on-line ordering companies have come a long way from the late 90's when investors were worried about the business model of on-line purchase and delivery. And, until I get my very own Jeannie, it's the next best thing!

I Heart Sarah Vowell

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
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www.thedailyshow.com
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Sarah Vowell is an historian, author and the kind of person I'd invite to dinner. I have all her books, or most of them, or some of them, well, whatever Amazon sells, I have. Brilliantly written, well researched and written in entire sentences. Unlike me. Mostly.

Problem Solved

Some years ago there was a book that described a climate change that would put the Earth into a protracted winter resulting from nuclear (nuuk-a-lar) war. It was called Nuclear Winter.

The concept was that if mutually assured destruction didn't do the job, all the dust and particulates kicked up into the atmosphere would block sunlight for years or decades plunging the planet into a near-perminant winter. I guess the effects would be even worse during the actual winter. A few years of that and the only things left on the planet would be polar bears and penguins.

So, now we're faced with global warming and the answer to this problem is right under our noses! Yes, down in those missile silos are enough nukes to keep the planet in balance for eons. All we have to do is fire off one or two a year, by my calculations, and it will be like San Diego everywhere.

Sunburn? A thing of the past. I don't know the SPF of radioactive atmospheric dust but I bet it's pretty high.

I'm going to flesh out this idea a little more then send it to the Department of Energy, well, if it's still a department.

Stoned with Captain Kirk

William Shatner, aka Captain Kirk of Star Trek fame, sold his kidney stone for $25,000!

I piss you not!

I am so getting an eBay account.

Mopey Moped

Just moped around the house feeling washed out. Or washed up. Or rinsed twice. Repeat.

There is a thing called a mo-ped, a bicycle with an auxiliary motor connected to it. Pedal or ride, your choice.

Now, that would have been fun do to around the house. I could get a little basket for Kink and we could do tight circles in the living room. I'll have to look into that!

Better than moping. Or mopping.

Beaujolais Nouveau

The 2011 Beaujolais arrives November 17th.

I will be waiting.

It's time to crank out the old French bread recipe, my old baguette pans have been cold too long. And some homemade pâté would go down a treat. If I fattened up one of the geese down at the local pond, I wonder if anyone would notice it missing one day? Note to self: wash ninja outfit.

Also, its Andouille sausage time. Note to self: order 10lb Boston butt. (boned this time to make life just a little easier!)

Now, all I need is some cool weather.

There's a Light at the End of the Tunnel

Starlight Express!

Nuff said.

Butter

I like butter.

There, I said it.

I'll say it again.

I like butter.

I like to eat butter, cook with butter, look at butter, feel butter ...

ohhhhh, butter, you are so ... buttery!

I will not, can not, no way will, can't force me to cook with Marge. Even Marge Simpson. Just forget it.

Butter.

The best.

Mega Price Drop

Back in the day, 1986 to be exact, I purchased my first computer hard drive for the astounding price of ONLY $1200! Yes, folks, a whopping 20 megabytes for a mere $1200. I couldn't believe it was so cheap, only $60 per megabyte.

Just today, 2011 to be exact, I purchased my most recent computer hard drive for the astounding price of ONLY $160! Yes, folks, a whopping 1 terabyte for a mere $160. I couldn't believe it was so cheap, only 0.016 cent per megabyte.

What? Sixteen thousandths of a cent per megabyte?

Well, yeah, times have changed. It used to be that a terabyte was what you got in 1,000,000 years BC if you couldn't run fast enough.

I know that in 10 years I'll look back on my amazement at buying a terabyte for 160-bucks in the same light a I look back on my first disc drive today. Why, I've got pictures of my cat that take up 20 megabytes! No doubt that in time a terabyte will get me a full-sized, talking, 3-D animated Kink the Cat that eats full-sized 3-D Kat Snax.

Now, that will be cool!

The Life List

I suppose in the modern times it should be the LifeList all smashed together with capital letters distinguishing the actual words.

Whatever. What Ever. WhatEver.

A friend of mine who is very wise, hip, cool and, well, extraordinary in many ways, told me that the LifeList is quite different from the depressing (bucket list) denoted in lower case letters and in parentheses. In other words, bad dog, bad dog!

(bucket list) = things you do, then you DIE!

LifeList = Things you Do to Live!

Alex, I'll take Option B for 100 years of more life.

So, what is a LifeList, how big is it and what do you do? Well, it's surprisingly simple. The LifeList is as long as you want it to be, you do what you want to do and if you do everything on your list you simply make another one! How cool is that? Everybody gets an A, we all go to college, pass GO and collect $200.

I asked my colleague to review an actual LifeList and I was surprised to see some of the items on it.

Bake a soufflé.
Drive to Amarillo.
Photograph a turtle.

I looked at this and I said, "Geeze, Louise, I've done a lot of these things! What's so special about this list?"

Then Master Po spoke and I, Grasshopper, listened.

"First of all it's my list, not yours. These are things I want do, not things you or anyone else wants to do."

Master continued, "It's not a list to be accomplished before I die, or ever, or never. It's simply a set of achievable goals and objectives written down. One might say, Someday I will bake a soufflé. Or Someday I will drive to Amarillo. Or Someday I will photograph a turtle. But writing these things down, however big or small, puts them within my reach. Things that I can actually do. And when or if I exhaust the list, with the breath remaining in me, I can make a new list. And one after that, and one after that. So you see, Grasshopper, the list never ends, it simply changes as all things change."

I still didn't understand.

I complained, "There is nothing extraordinary on your list! No skydiving, no oil painting, no NASCAR racing. What's the point of having simple, easy stuff on your list?"

Master Po closed his eyes for a few minutes and thought. Finally, when he opened his eyes he said, "Perhaps you should start a list, Grasshopper, with 'learning to listen' as your first objective. This is my LifeList, not yours. What is important to me may not be important to you or Important to the World in a capital sense. It is my list. Personal to me. I, Me, Mine. If flossing my teeth every Wednesday was important enough to me to put on the lists, it would be a valid thing to do. I am mine and you are yours."

I thought about this and began to construct my LifeList.

1. Blog more.
2. Walk.
3. Pet my cat.
4. Learn some Japanese.

OK, I've got a start.

To Master Po I would say "kanishiwa" but he is Chinese, not Japanese. Sheh-sheh, Po.

Danube

We went up the Danube this summer. On a big boat, a river boat. Basically, two state rooms plus a hallway wide and bunches long. Flat bottomed, quiet, stable as in "not rocking around" and like a little hotel on the river.

We traveled from Budapest to Prague, sort of, not quite reaching Prague but getting pretty close. It was an interesting experience and something I'd do again.

The nice thing about a river cruise is that you can drop you stuff off in your room when you arrive and you don't have to pack up and leave until the trip is over. That was a great plus over other kinds of tours where you move every few days or so.

If it's Tuesday it must be Brussels!

Every day you stop at little towns along the river and get to spend a day wandering around looking at the sights. Mostly the sights are castles, things, more things, museums, things, more things and RESTAURANTS, my favorite! I found that after 15 minutes of looking around I was ready for a coffee, pizza, beer or all three. That was usually possible. There was nothing better than sitting in a cafe in the shade enjoying a coffee and watching the other tourists scurry around in the sun looking at "stuff" they wouldn't possibly remember once they got home.

"Oh, look, Alice, this a picture we took of something somewhere and it's Very Old and, Oh, look Alice this is another picture of the same thing we took two seconds later. Somewhere, I don't remember, but it's European, right?"

I contented myself taking pictures of young women in short skirts. I figured, in the scheme of things over time, that my pictures of young women in short skirts would trump pictures of something old taken somewhere sometime.

We'll see.

Not a-Mused

Hello, Muse?

It is not your night off. Imma pretty sure of that. I'm waiting. Inspire me.

(taps foot)

Don't tell me it's going to be one of those cheap, under-the-wire NaBloPoMo posts just to get something written.

(stares at screen)

Well, let's go down the list of favorite subjects.

1. Cats. They slept all day and are sleeping now.

2. Bad drivers. Nothing out of the ordinary today. Everybody in their lane, moving at the posted speed.

3. Food. Leftovers. Nuked expertly. Eaten with a spoon out of a big bowl.

4. Weather. All is clam.

5. General. I may be developing athlete's foot. I'll keep my feet warm and damp and perhaps grow something worth writing about.

As for Muse, thanks for nothing. I hope you wake up with somebody else's underwear on your head.

Side Effects

A guy I know takes several medications daily and he's always worried about "side effects." The other day I asked him why he was so worried and he said that the medication was supposed to relieve X or minimize Y or maximize Z but in some people it also did "other stuff."

"What kind of other stuff," I asked?

"Well, I dunno, but it's never good. That's why they're called side effects. Effects on the side, like getting a helping of fried okra at Luby's when you didn't ask for it."

"I like fried okra," I said, thinking about my fried okra-hating cholesterol level.

"A side effect," he continued, "is like finding hollandaise sauce on your chocolate ice cream, or chocolate ice cream on your steamed asparagus. Not a good thing."

I thought about the chocolate ice cream and asparagus and, you know, it might just work with some candied ginger and a dash of freshly ground black pepper. Note to self ...

I said, "Aw, come on! You're such a Debbie Downer," and by the look he shot me I was sure he was taking downers, too. OK, time for Plan B.

"Suppose," I said, "a side effect produced an unexpected but good thing, like suddenly being able to play the piano or juggle. That would be cool, don't you think?"

I was on a roll. "Or what if a side effect was to improve your vision or make you look like Harrison Ford." I thought about his wife who actually does look like Harrison Ford and immediately regretted that remark.

But, I was on a roll, take no prisoners, victory or death! "Why does a side effect always have to be a bad thing? A side effect could be cool. Occupy Side Effects, I say!"

My friend went quiet for a moment, deep in thought. Finally, he looked up and said, "Well, there is this one thing I noticed with my blood pressure medicine."

I thought, "OK, well, if he's going to tell me about a side effect that lasts over 4 hours, I really don't want to know. Awkward!"

But, he said, "I can talk to animals. Well, not all animals. Mostly birds."

"You can talk to birds," I said, suppressing the Obvious Teed-Up Softball - Let me guess, you Tweet them! Rather, I let my comment hang in the air.

"Yeah," he said, "it's uncanny. I can go out into the back yard and talk to the doves, the mockingbirds, blue jays, starlings and even ducks down by the pond. I can coo, chich-chich, raaaaak, breep breep and awk-awk-awk and, well, tell them anything."

"What exactly do you say to the birds," I ventured.

"Oh, anything and everything. How I'm feeling, politics, jokes, TV show reviews. Apparently, the birds are great fans of Parks and Recreation. Who knew?"

My friend was growing quite animated, walking around like a pigeon, then spreading his wings like a goose and hopping like a robin.

I couldn't resist. "And, what exactly do the birds say back to you?" I asked hopefully.

"Well," he replied smiling, "nothing yet. Just a bunch of twitter-jabber. But, I'm starting this new diuretic next week and I have high hopes. Yes, high hopes, indeed!"

The Dawg

Kink hates the Dawg.

The Dawg loves Kink ... ish.

I would love to sniff you! I would love to claw you!

I would love to run with you! I would love to run at you!

I love your food! I hate that you love my food!

Give me some fur! No problem, it will be yours mixed with a little blood, also yours!

But I love you! Sorry, but your argument is specious.

Plan B ... and D, E, F and G.

Plan A was a seafood cocktail made out of boiled shrimp, crab, cabbage/lettuce mix, avocados, jalapeños, tomatoes and some kind of sauce made from horseradish, mayo, tomato paste and Tabasco.

Unfortunately for Plan A, I only had the shrimp and jalapeños. Well, rats, on to Plan B.

Plan B was sautéd shrimp in a cream sauce with feta cheese and bell pepper served on fettucini.

Unfortunately for Plan B, I only had shrimp and jalapeños.

Perhaps you're starting to see a pattern here. Further investigation uncovered some rice, mushrooms, a piece of salmon, green beans, ginger and I have lemon grass growing outside.

So, Plan C was to simmer up some chicken stock with sliced ginger and some smashed lemon grass shoots. While that was going on I wok-ed up (is that a verb?) the chopped jalapeños, green beans, mushrooms, shrimp and a shake of red pepper flakes. After removing the ginger and lemon grass shreds, in went the shrimp mixture, seasoned with a little salt and left to simmer.

Meanwhile, Plan D, was on auto-pilot: rice in the Zojirushi, press the pink button.

Plan E involved mixing in the wok some rice wine vinegar, minced ginger, minced lemon grass, soy sauce, heavy soy sauce, fish oil and a little honey, bringing the mixture to a boil and simmering for a few minutes until it thickened. After cooling for a few minutes I poured half of it over the salmon and let than marinade.

Plan F, eat the soup while the fish hangs out in the marinade.

Plan G, hot cook the fish in the wok three minutes a side and drizzle some of the remaining marinade over the sizzling fish to make a glaze.


Not bad for only having some shrimp and jalapeños.

Slow No

Word to drivers who can't drive.

You don't do yourself a favor by doing a crazy thing S-L-O-W-L-Y ! ! !

If you're turning up the down then doing that S-L-O-W-L-Y makes no difference. You are still a moron.

If you are doing a U-turn in front of a sign that clearly says No U-Turn, then doing that S-L-O-W-L-Y makes no difference. You are still a moron.

If you drive slowly because you think driving S-L-O-W-L-Y doesn't gain you attention, you are both wrong and a moron.

That is all.

Out With the Old, In With the Gnu

Gnu trash cans!

Yea! I guess.

I'm looking forward to tomorrow when brand new trash trucks roll down the street to pick up our refuse out of brand new trash cans. All high tech and all. The containers come with instructions on how to place them in the street and what to put inside and how much and what not and so on and so forth, whatever. Awesome! You always have to throw in an "awesome."

I went around the house tonight gathering up stuff so we aren't seen as slackers on the first day.

We even have a special, larger bin for recyclable stuff like wine bottles and "somebody" suggested that we might need two of them. I really don't know what she meant by that remark.

But, be that as it may, clinkies and cheers to the new trash thingines. Salut!

Best Left Over

Some things are good out of the gate and some things are best Left Over.

I'd put chili and beef stew and my special spaghetti sauce in the latter category.

Things like flan and chocolate soufflé are best done hot. (That's what she said.)

Tonight we had left over chicken tortilla soup, augmented by fresh, roasted corn tortillas and a bottle or three of classy central coast zinfandel. If I remember correctly, the soup was quite good but, now, I think I need to take a nap.

Hello NaBloPoMo!

Here we are again in November. National Blog Posting Month where I am challenged, really, really challenged to write something every single day. We'll I've done it ever since I signed up back in 2006 and never missed a day. This month will be no exception although I do have a few days during which I will be traveling that will make it a little more difficult.

A few years ago, time flies and fruit flies like a banana, I decided to "upgrade" this site with the new Blogspot templates but my first attempt, and my second, third and fourth turned out to be such a big palava that I backed off to the original template. However, it needs to be done if for no other reason than to update my Favorites, some of whom have dropped off the InterTubes or have changed their domain or transmorgrified from moose to panda. (Long story)

So, this month, for sure, I'll bite the bullet, put my nose to the grindstone, untie the G-string and do the dirty deed to move into the Modern Age. Fortunately, you'll not have to listen to me screaming as I do this.

Now for my Driving Tip of the Week.

Hello, scrawny, pencil necked peckerwood brainless 20-something sitting at the Left Turn Arrow long after it went green because you were Tweeting some brainless poot like "Here I am sitting @ a lite." Watch the freaking light and when I politely beep your hairless ass a nice little "beep" rather than a long, New York, "HOOOOOOOOONNNNNNNNNNKKKKKKKKKKKKZZZZZZZZZ!!!!!!!" that you don't stick your boney little finger out the window and flip me off. No, sir, that's my job you pitiful little twerp.

And, p.s. , your left rear tire is low, not that you could use a tire pressure gauge given instructions in 10 languages.

Moron.

National Blog Posting Month 2011

NaBloPoMo 2011 starts tomorrow, November 1st.

Time to get back in the saddle.

Where Were You on 9/11?

Everybody was somewhere. More precisely, everybody is always somewhere.

"Where were you when" is a popular meme, party game or conversation topic.

Where were you when Kennedy was shot? I was in social studies class in the 7th grade. Our teacher, Mrs. Alford, returned from lunch looking pale and shaken and we all thought she was simply pissed off at us, which was the usual case. However, this day she steeled herself at her desk. I remember her sitting there, unnaturally, very erect, palms flat on the desk, looking down and composing herself. We had been studying government for several months. Finally, she stood up and started talking. First things first, we knew immediately that she wasn't pissed off with us because she didn't launch into her normal diatribe about lazy students, late homework and lack of appreciation for her vast teaching skills.

This time she started off quietly and started talking about democracy and America and the President and a bunch of rambling things. Finally, she blurted out (and began to cry) that President Kennedy had been shot in Dallas. I remember several students in the room cheering. Kennedy was not all that popular in the South and this was a display of seventh grade ignorance at its best. Unfortunately, there are people to this day stuck in the seventh grade. Mentally and emotionally.

As Mrs. Alford was talking the school librarian appeared at the door. There was a pause. The librarian was crying and wiping her eyes with a little handkerchief. The room quieted and the librarian said, "He's dead. The President is dead."

There were a few more cheers in the classroom before the formidable Mrs. Alford brought order. We then spent the rest of the day, which was shortened, discussing the presidential succession order which we had been studying. Shortly thereafter school was let out and we all went home. I recall that school was closed for a few days as the country dealt with the assassination of a president.

Where were you on 911?

I was at work messing around with a pesky website I was building. I had CNN running in another window and vaguely heard a report about an "aircraft flying into the World Trade Center tower."

I blew it off. Probably a Piper Cub. Off course. Check it out later.

Then I got a phone call from a friend of mine in Odessa, Tx. who told me to check out the CNN coverage of a jetliner that ran into the WTC.

Jetliner? You mean a commercial jet? How could that be? Did air traffic control give the pilot the wrong coordinates? How could the pilot see that he was heading into a building?

So many questions raced through my mind as I pulled up live coverage of the accident, and also on the BBC which had a different and more rapidly updated feed.

The World Trade Center. I visited the security company ADT housed there in 1985. We stayed in the hotel (Hilton?) at the base of the towers. I remember the huge elevators that could hold 100 people, the observation deck where we saw the Statue of Liberty, the restaurant where we had a great meal and how you could feel the building sway in the wind. "You get used to it," our waiter said, nonchalantly.

I turned to my computer screen and couldn't believe the image being broadcast. One tower was engulfed in thick, black smoke. The reporters were falling all over themselves to explain what happened. However, in a few minutes it became clear that a giant jetliner had slammed into the tower, not a little, podunk Piper Cub that was off course.

How? HOW?? How could this happen? Had traffic control gone crazy? How could a jetliner be directed on a course that would take it crashing into a building?

I was on the phone with my buddy in Odessa watching the live video feeds from CNN and the BBC when the second airliner hit. Suddenly we saw this huge, orange and black fireball erupt from the other tower! At first we thought that the second tower had suddenly caught fire from the heat of the first tower, but within seconds reports started pouring in on CNN and BBC that it was not the case. A SECOND jetliner had hit the other tower.

Now, we were very confused! Clearly, something was wrong with air traffic control in New York that two jetliners had hit buildings. Yes, we had no clue at this time that it was a deliberate act. It was the farthest thing in our minds. I mean, who would deliberately crash jetliners into buildings? It had to be a monstrous accident.

In fact, it turned out to be a monstrous deliberate act.

Shortly, both buildings were burning furiously and CNN and BBC were replaying the strikes and receiving video from other viewpoints across the river and beyond. Then reports started coming in about the planes being hijacked and flown into the buildings.

A report surfaced that a jetliner had been flown into the Pentagon but no video was available at the moment. There was a sketchy report about a jetliner that had turned around over Pennsylvania and was heading back to Washington.

It was very strange and confusing.

Soon, all work stopped and we were gathered around computer screens, speculating and trying to find new video feeds to give us more information. Then word spread that the video was being projected in one of our conference rooms and we all went up to that floor to watch.

We had two, large screens in the conference room and the same CNN feed of the burning towers was being projected on both. The room was packed but I managed to find an open chair and sat down. The projector was very good and the two towers loomed large in front of me. There was a buzz of speculation, muted chatter and quiet conversations. This was history in the making, not a football game. Everybody was serious, studying the images in front of us and trying to figure out what was going on.

Suddenly, the antenna on one of the towers started to sway and somebody exclaimed, "It's going to collapse!" As we watched the tower collapsed from the top down, the sides splitting out and falling away. It just went down in a big grey cloud of debris.

The room was silent. Nobody could believe what they had just seen. Dust and smoke started to rise from the collapse and new video feeds from helicopters documented the destruction. I don't recall anybody exclaiming at the time of the collapse, but after it was over there were murmurs of "Oh my God" from around the room. There was nothing else to say.

Nobody left the room. The second tower was burning furiously. There was every expectation that it would collapse, too, and we talked about when it might go. Then somebody said loudly, "It's going!" And down it went in a big, grey cloud. By this time CNN was switching video feeds from a position on a building to a helicopter and we saw the extent of the devastation, at least in terms of smoke and dust. It was a huge, smokey, dusty blot drifting off across the harbor.

No more work got done that day. We watched the news reports, cancelled staff meetings and most of us drifted home early. Later we learned about Flight 93 over Pennsylvania and what happened at the Pentagon. It was a long and confusing day.

Years later the days are not quite so long but just as confusing.

On a Boat

Up the Danube where towns have no vwls.

Scam Me Once

How many times can you get scammed in Paris? Well, how many times do you blink your eyes? How many steps can you take? Think of a number between 1000 and 100000000.

That many.

Seasoned travelers we are, we were nearly scammed in Paris but avoided any loss and learned, nearly, from the experience.

Having just arrived at Charles de Gualle and made our way to Gard du Nord we were momentarily confused in getting from the train station to the tube station. Fortunately (not) there was a "gentleman" to "help" us. By "help" our guide meant to purchase our tickets then suggest that we pay him back in cash and, surprise, a local ATM was within reach. Once we realized the scam we was on we played along and went to the ATM but kept on walking and down a nearby Metro entrance. Once underground we shed our coats, switched bags in case the moron was following us and purchased tickets to out destination.

Who knows what would have happened at the ATM? The word to the wary is that NOBODY is interested in helping you in Paris. Just say No.

Nike!

I know, quit complaining and making excuses and Just Do It!

Unfortunately, I wear Adidas!

Facebook and Google Plus

Well, Facebook has taken up most of my life in the past few months and now there's Google Plus which I can't figure out at all.

I think, seriously, I need to get back to basics on the blog and leave all this trivial stuff behind!

Please!

Return

I need to get back here. This is my place. It's time.

Failure, squib, pffffft!

Well, that was a failure.

The object of the previous exercise was to kick my butt into writing regularly.

Hmmm, need something else to fuel this.

OK, I've got it!

More later.

It Was a Dark and Stormy Night 7

A distinguished gentleman sat in a burgundy leather chair, an Ekornes Stressless with matching footstool, trimmed in oak; so comfortable you hardly know your sitting, more like floating except that your nose isn't bumping against the ceiling unless, of course, you were in a room with a four-foot ceiling in which case it probably would be; bumping against the ceiling, that is; your nose.

Lord William observed the distinguished gentleman with an eye (his left, mostly, which was his best eye, rather, it needed the least correction to be perfect, although not in the Greek sense) and after a few moments of careful, if slightly nearsighted observation, pronounced,

"You look strangely familiar."

The distinguished gentleman regarded Lord William with an equally slightly nearsighted left eye, that, coincidentally was only slightly less nearsighted than his right eye, meaning that he could nearly see farther, more clearly with his left eye than his right eye, although he could drive a car without too many problems and had learned to ignore all the rude horn honking and yelling, which had become easier to ignore due to his partial deafness, but that's another story, and after taking a swig of his gin and tonic replied,

"Strange or familiar? Strange in a familiar way, or familiar in a strange way?"

Lord William thought carefully. Yes, he thought, I should have refreshed the lemon in my G&T, and answered, "B. Definitely B. I'll put 500 on B, Alex."

The distinguished gentleman regarded his G&T carefully, as a jeweler might regard a rough diamond he's about to fracture into either the perfect gemstone or a pile of rubble, and not the Barney kind. "Hmmmm, yes, you're correct," he said, "more lemon would be a definite improvement. Everything goes better with lemon, they say."

No sooner had the distinguished gentleman said "say" that ...

It Was a Dark and Stormy Night 6

... a dark and stormy night.

Suddenly a shot was poured.

"What, another shot?," Lady Helen intoned snidely.

"Only my third, my dear," replied Lord William, "to take the edge off. You agree, yes?"

Lady Helen narrowed her eyes such that her eyebrows nearly met her ample chin, but said nothing. She turned on her well clad heel and marched out of the room to a regular clack clack clack clack. And those clacks could go on for quite some time.

Lord William swirled his glass, took a long draught of gin and sighed, "Fuck me."

At that moment there was an audible *pop* to which Lord William turned.

In his amazement he saw ... nothing.

I've been here before, he thought, the clack-clack-clack. Make it stop!

"Make it stop when, sir?" he heard a voice say.

Lord William turned towards the voice and saw ...

It Was a Dark and Stormy Night 5

... a dark and stormy night.

Suddenly a shot was poured.

"You call that a shot?," Lady Helen laughed raucously.

"Only my third, my dear," replied Lord William, "to take the edge off. You agree, yes?"

Lady Helen did her best puppy dog look matching a doleful expression with a come-hither look, but said nothing. She turned on her well clad heel and skipped out of the room to a regular clack clack clack clack. And those clacks could go on for quite some time.

Lord William swirled his glass, took a long draught of gin and sighed, "Oh, baby."

At that moment there was an audible *pop* to which Lord William turned.

In his amazement he saw ...

It Was a Dark and Stormy Night 4

... a dark and stormy night.

Suddenly a shot was poured.

"You need another shot?," Lady Helen whispered.

"Only my third, my dear," replied Lord William, "to take the edge off. You agree, yes?"

Lady Helen eyed Lord William lustily. Her big, brown eyes glistened at the prospect for the evening, but she said nothing. Turning on her well clad heel she glided out of the room to a regular clack clack clack clack. And those clacks could go on for quite some time, and aroused Lord William.

Lord William swirled his glass, took a long draught of gin and sighed, "Oy vey."

At that moment there was an audible *pop* to which Lord William turned.

In his amazement he saw ...

It Was a Dark and Stormy Night 3

... a dark and stormy night.

Suddenly a shot was poured.

"Want another shot?," Lady Helen shouted from the bar.

"Only my third, my dear," replied Lord William, "to take the edge off. You agree, yes?"

Lady Helen observed her best patron admiringly. Seeing she was out of gin, she turned on her well clad heel and marched out of the room to a regular clack clack clack clack. And those clacks could go on for quite some time, all the way to the storeroom.

Lord William swirled his glass, took a long draught of gin and sighed to no one in particular, "It's not just me."

At that moment there was an audible *pop* to which Lord William turned.

In his amazement he saw ...

It Was a Dark and Stormy Night 2

... a dark and stormy night.

Suddenly a shot was poured.

"Oh, I was about to get you another shot?," Lady Helen cooed.

"Only my third, my dear," replied Lord William, "to take the edge off. You agree, yes?"

Lady Helen narrowed her eyes such that her eyebrows formed a heart-shaped arch, but said nothing. She turned on her well clad heel and marched out of the room to a regular clack clack clack clack. And those clacks could go on for quite some time, endearingly.

Lord William swirled his glass, took a long draught of gin and sighed, "Lucky me."

At that moment there was an audible *pop* to which Lord William turned.

In his amazement he saw ...

It Was a Dark and Stormy Night 1

It was a dark and stormy night.

Suddenly a shot was poured.

"What, another shot?," Lady Helen intoned snidely.

"Only my third, my dear," replied Lord William, "to take the edge off. You agree, yes?"

Lady Helen narrowed her eyes such that her eyebrows nearly met her ample chin, but said nothing. She turned on her well clad heel and marched out of the room to a regular clack clack clack clack. And those clacks could go on for quite some time.

Lord William swirled his glass, took a long draught of gin and sighed, "Fuck me."

At that moment there was an audible *pop* to which Lord William turned.

In his amazement he saw ...

Kink the Cat dot Com

Kink the Cat dot Com is the number one hit for the Google search "kink the cat"

That. Is. So. Cool.

Kink. Does. Not. Care.

JFK - Words I Heard

Vice President Johnson, Mr. Speaker, Mr. Chief Justice, President Eisenhower, Vice President Nixon, President Truman, reverend clergy, fellow citizens:

We observe today not a victory of party, but a celebration of freedom -- symbolizing an end, as well as a beginning -- signifying renewal, as well as change. For I have sworn before you and Almighty God the same solemn oath our forebears prescribed nearly a century and three-quarters ago.

The world is very different now. For man holds in his mortal hands the power to abolish all forms of human poverty and all forms of human life. And yet the same revolutionary beliefs for which our forebears fought are still at issue around the globe -- the belief that the rights of man come not from the generosity of the state, but from the hand of God.

We dare not forget today that we are the heirs of that first revolution. Let the word go forth from this time and place, to friend and foe alike, that the torch has been passed to a new generation of Americans -- born in this century, tempered by war, disciplined by a hard and bitter peace, proud of our ancient heritage, and unwilling to witness or permit the slow undoing of those human rights to which this nation has always been committed, and to which we are committed today at home and around the world.

Let every nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend, oppose any foe, to assure the survival and the success of liberty.

This much we pledge -- and more.

To those old allies whose cultural and spiritual origins we share, we pledge the loyalty of faithful friends. United there is little we cannot do in a host of cooperative ventures. Divided there is little we can do -- for we dare not meet a powerful challenge at odds and split asunder.

To those new states whom we welcome to the ranks of the free, we pledge our word that one form of colonial control shall not have passed away merely to be replaced by a far more iron tyranny. We shall not always expect to find them supporting our view. But we shall always hope to find them strongly supporting their own freedom -- and to remember that, in the past, those who foolishly sought power by riding the back of the tiger ended up inside.

To those people in the huts and villages of half the globe struggling to break the bonds of mass misery, we pledge our best efforts to help them help themselves, for whatever period is required -- not because the Communists may be doing it, not because we seek their votes, but because it is right. If a free society cannot help the many who are poor, it cannot save the few who are rich.

To our sister republics south of our border, we offer a special pledge: to convert our good words into good deeds, in a new alliance for progress, to assist free men and free governments in casting off the chains of poverty. But this peaceful revolution of hope cannot become the prey of hostile powers. Let all our neighbors know that we shall join with them to oppose aggression or subversion anywhere in the Americas. And let every other power know that this hemisphere intends to remain the master of its own house.

To that world assembly of sovereign states, the United Nations, our last best hope in an age where the instruments of war have far outpaced the instruments of peace, we renew our pledge of support -- to prevent it from becoming merely a forum for invective, to strengthen its shield of the new and the weak, and to enlarge the area in which its writ may run.

Finally, to those nations who would make themselves our adversary, we offer not a pledge but a request: that both sides begin anew the quest for peace, before the dark powers of destruction unleashed by science engulf all humanity in planned or accidental self-destruction.

We dare not tempt them with weakness. For only when our arms are sufficient beyond doubt can we be certain beyond doubt that they will never be employed.

But neither can two great and powerful groups of nations take comfort from our present course -- both sides overburdened by the cost of modern weapons, both rightly alarmed by the steady spread of the deadly atom, yet both racing to alter that uncertain balance of terror that stays the hand of mankind's final war.



So let us begin anew -- remembering on both sides that civility is not a sign of weakness, and sincerity is always subject to proof. Let us never negotiate out of fear, but let us never fear to negotiate.

Let both sides explore what problems unite us instead of belaboring those problems which divide us.

Let both sides, for the first time, formulate serious and precise proposals for the inspection and control of arms, and bring the absolute power to destroy other nations under the absolute control of all nations.

Let both sides seek to invoke the wonders of science instead of its terrors. Together let us explore the stars, conquer the deserts, eradicate disease, tap the ocean depths, and encourage the arts and commerce.

Let both sides unite to heed, in all corners of the earth, the command of Isaiah -- to "undo the heavy burdens, and [to] let the oppressed go free."¹

And, if a beachhead of cooperation may push back the jungle of suspicion, let both sides join in creating a new endeavor -- not a new balance of power, but a new world of law -- where the strong are just, and the weak secure, and the peace preserved.

All this will not be finished in the first one hundred days. Nor will it be finished in the first one thousand days; nor in the life of this Administration; nor even perhaps in our lifetime on this planet. But let us begin.

In your hands, my fellow citizens, more than mine, will rest the final success or failure of our course. Since this country was founded, each generation of Americans has been summoned to give testimony to its national loyalty. The graves of young Americans who answered the call to service surround the globe.

Now the trumpet summons us again -- not as a call to bear arms, though arms we need -- not as a call to battle, though embattled we are -- but a call to bear the burden of a long twilight struggle, year in and year out, "rejoicing in hope; patient in tribulation,"² a struggle against the common enemies of man: tyranny, poverty, disease, and war itself.

Can we forge against these enemies a grand and global alliance, North and South, East and West, that can assure a more fruitful life for all mankind? Will you join in that historic effort?

In the long history of the world, only a few generations have been granted the role of defending freedom in its hour of maximum danger. I do not shrink from this responsibility -- I welcome it. I do not believe that any of us would exchange places with any other people or any other generation. The energy, the faith, the devotion which we bring to this endeavor will light our country and all who serve it. And the glow from that fire can truly light the world.

And so, my fellow Americans, ask not what your country can do for you; ask what you can do for your country.

My fellow citizens of the world, ask not what America will do for you, but what together we can do for the freedom of man.

Finally, whether you are citizens of America or citizens of the world, ask of us here the same high standards of strength and sacrifice which we ask of you. With a good conscience our only sure reward, with history the final judge of our deeds, let us go forth to lead the land we love, asking His blessing and His help, but knowing that here on earth God's work must truly be our own.

Imma Bad Person

Srsly.

I have bad thoughts.

Just today I watched a young lady pull her big, honking, planet killing SUV into a Handicapped slot just so she wouldn't have to walk another fifty feet to the supermarket. Oh, Miss Dainty Foot, is the bad old parking slot JUST OVER THERE too far for your widdle feetsies??

Come on, babe, I thought, let's see you limp. Bring on the limp!!

Well, she got out of her SUV, painfully slowly, and limped to the door.

This is where my Bad Person asserted himself.

I thought, YOU CALL THAT A LIMP? I've seen actors on TV limp better than that!

Imma Bad Person.

Kink the Cat Dot Com

Kink the Cat has his own website!

I may live to regret this, but I'm helping out the little guy by serving as webmaster. Yes, master is more like it! So, Kink gets pets, yummy cat food and Kat Snax AND his own website.

What's next? Calendars? Mugs? Books? Movie contracts? Move to Beverly Hills?

Time will tell.

Check it out at Kink the Cat.

Back in Time

Hobby Lobby has parts.

Who knew?



We are back in time!