Watch Mommy Pee!

Jeez, That'll Scar A Kid For Life...

Oh... Mah... Ghod...

Words fail me. A device to hang your kid from the bathroom stall door while you pee.

Take a look:



I'm sure there are Moms out there that think this is the greatest thing since sliced bread. They're probably the same moms that helped to ban yard darts, hang those ridiculous 'Baby On Board' signs in minivans, help enforce helmet laws, and smear Purell all over everything.

Please, as a former child, I beg you. Don't force your son to watch you relieve yourself, and for Pete's sake don't don't DON'T strap him to the door of the shitter if you just insist on having him in the stall with you. You'll be planting the seeds for a lifetime of therapy and the good chance your kid will turn into a serial killer. At the very least, you'll be encouraging an interest in bondage and coprophilia. And no one likes that stuff. OK, maybe the Germans do, but that's it!

At the very least, hang him so he's facing the door!

Via Engadget

Where Have All The Readers Gone?

I Can't Afford To Have My Own Payola Scandal To Boost Numbers...

Well, my freefall into blog oblivion continues at a furious pace. Take a look:



At first I thought it was just that Google page-ranking glitch that was causing some of the dropoff. But, no, the hits for 'Lake Conroe Alligator' and 'Bitch stole my fish' continue at almost the same rate.

Then, I was sure that since it was August, all my European regulars were off on holiday. Alas, I have but one regular Eurofan, a nice Irish lass named Nelly, so that's not it.

So, I've got to figure out what the effin' hell is going on.

There does seem to be a slight case of late-summer ennui coursing through quite a few bloggers. For a lot of bloggers on my sidebar, the posting frequency has dropped significantly, and I can extrapolate that the reading has diminished at a concurrent rate.

I know I'm certainly affected by SSAD. That's Southern Seasonal Affective Disorder. It's kind of like the Seasonal Affective Disorder that the people up in the Arctic Circle get, but instead of the general moodiness and sloth caused by lack of sunlight, down here it's the oppressive heat that makes everyone pissy and non-productive.

I wonder sometimes how many people have just quit reading Baboon Pirates, and gone on to greener pastures. I'm certainly guilty of this. My blog reading list has changed significantly over the years. People that were daily reads now get a visit once a month or so, or not at all.

Then, there's always the piss-you-off factor. I know for certain there's two or three people that have given me the kiss off for saying something, either here or in their comments, that have rubbed 'em the wrong way. I'd like to think that if there's enough reason to be a regular, people might cut me some slack on one or two differences in politics or religion or whatever. Everybody's got a hot-button issue, though.

Hell, there's always the chance that, unbeknownst to me, I've completed the transmogrification from amusing curmudgeon to Complete Asshole.

I can't bring myself to try whoring through the Carnivals. Can't afford to advertise. Podcasting offers no enjoyment for me, mostly due to the PITA factor of making them sound professional and interesting, instead of the vocal meanderings of a middle-aged paleo-bachelor recording on a Mr. Microphone with two yowling cats and an oscillating fan in the background.

I dunno. S'pose I'll just keep drudging along. If you scribble it, they will come.

I'm still bummed, though. Think I'll give myself an award:



Sigh...

All You Zombies...

Brokeback Zombies??? That's Just Wrong...

Lions and Tigers and Ass-Raping Zombies, Oh my!

I was unaware Eric was a-feared of the zombies until I read that post. This'll make the next blogfest fun, I'll bet. Everyone waits for Eric to go drain the lizard, then they hurriedly slap on whiteface makeup with dark eye-circles, apply eau de roadkill, then mob the bathroom en masse moaning "Braaaaiiinnnssss!!!" Better yet, wait til he's asleep!

Zombies don't really trip my fear-switch. First, they're kind of thin on the ground around here. Eric's a lot closer to that Oak Ridge nuclear facility than I am, so that might account for the increased zombie sightings in his area.

Second, I've got a right handy shotgun and a bunch of buckshot. Zombies may be undead, but physics still rules their behavior. Remove hips and legs forcibly, and zombies resort to thrashing around on the ground as opposed to chasing you.

"But, El Capitan!" you say... "What about when you run out of ammo?" Well, that's when I get to unsheath my supply of edged weapons. First on the list is my bush hook, otherwise known as a ditchbank blade.



I love this thing. I used to use one for brush-clearing projects when working at summer camps, and it's so much better than a machete for heavy chopping. I finally bought one of my own when it was unclear whether the Clintonistas would cede power gracefully, and it might be necessary to have a tool for dealing with mounted UN troops. Handy for flinging at hovering black helicopters too, I might add...

Eventually, it'll get lodged in some giganto-zombie's pelvis, and then I get to unsheathe my pride & joy.



It's a repro of the British 1796 Pattern Heavy Cavalry saber, (Sharpe's Sword!) designed for taking Napoleon's cuirassiers out of their saddles, and scattering his infantry like chaff before the wind. Lacking a treadle grindstone, I spent many a night with a fine-cut file and whetstones putting an edge on it, and it'll go through 2 or 3 zombies at a swing, if need be.

After that? It's probably time to retreat to a locked building and wait for the less-popular characters to get eaten one by one, before the inevitable decision to blow up the building.

Now, if we're ever attacked by giant spiders, I'll be the catatonic lump in the corner gibbering with undiluted panic...

BOHICA!! RUTA!!!

Can I Get "Hostile Witness" Printed On A Necktie?

If you're confused about the title to the post, you wouldn't be the first. I think I first heard "BOHICA" back in high school, and my friend Rockhauler added the "RUTA" bit to my lexicon many years later.

Back in the summer camp years, whenever the Powers-That-Be received a directive from BSA Council HQ, they would call the camp staff together to drop the bomb on us as a group. Invariably, once the camp director started into the shpiel, from somewhere in the crowd of staffers, you'd hear a quiet "Bo-heeek-ahhh!!!" followed moments later with a "Rooo-Tahhh!", uttered in an almost monkish chant by several staffers. Indeed, it was a liturgy of sorts, the standard prayer for the days of getting boned by management.

Later, after many beers, it would be shouted at great volume, usually from a nearby hilltop overlooking camp. That, and other choice epithets aimed at the ignunt execs who thought they could direct the operation of a camp from an air conditioned office 150 miles away.

Figured it out yet? It's pretty simple...

Bend
Over
Here
It
Comes
Again

Right
Up
The
Ass!

So, what's headed towards El Capitan's posterior that stirred up these memories?

Lawyers.

Yup, El Capitan got subpoenaed again. I get to spend next week wearing my monkey suit and sitting in a courtroom.

BOHICA!! RUTA!!!

Incidentally, do you know why lawyers wear neckties?
'Cause it keeps the foreskins from rolling up over their faces.


UPDATE: Sorry, shoulda made this a bit more clear... I'm not being subpoenaed for anything *I* did, it's because of the position I hold working for The Man. It's kind of an expert witness situation, except I'm not an expert. Well, not yet anyway. Ask again in October.

This Bodes Ill, Methinks...

Nuke It From Orbit. It's The Only Way To Be Sure.

World's first specialty robot store opening in Japan


Oh, sure. Sounds like a good idea, doesn't it! Let's get a bunch of robots and put 'em in a building. It'll be great fun for the chiiiiildren!

Next thing ya know, we got SkyNet taking over, and I gotta spend the next 20 years living in a bunker and fighting off cyborgs. To hell with that!

Via Engadget

Fresh Apple Cake

No Pie! Only Cake! You Must Like Cake!

Ever want to make a cake from scratch? No boxes of Duncan Hines or Betty Crocker, just stuff from your pantry. Well, assuming you stock the usual kitchen staples in your pantry. Once upon a time my pantry consisted largely of ramen, canned soup and tunafish.

My mom used to make this cake fairly frequently when I was a kid. I'm gonna see if I can't return the favor and turn out a decent cake for the parents next weekend. Mom always served it plain, but I'm thinking a nice tart sour cream icing would go really well with this! Alas, I have no recipe for a non-chocolate sour cream icing, so I'm gonna go with a caramel icing. It's pretty easy to do, just not as easy as the cake.

You'll Need:

1 cup vegetable oil
2 eggs
2 cups sugar
1 tsp vanilla
3/4 tsp salt
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp cinnamon
2 cups all-purpose flour (or cake flour, if you've got it)
3 cups peeled and diced tart apples (Winesap, Mcintosh, Rome, Granny Smith, Gala)

Mix the wet ingredients together in a big bowl. Put all the dry ingredients through a sifter, then dump in the bowl. Mix well, then add the apples and mix some more. When it's blended well, pour into a greased and floured pan, and bake at 325F. for 1 hour. Let cool on a rack before icing.

If you just gotta get fancy, substitute 1/2 cup chopped walnuts or pecans for 1/2 cup of the apples. You can also add nutmeg or cardamom, but I like the simple mix of cinnamon and apples.

Caramel Icing:
1 cup brown sugar
1/3 cup butter
1/3 cup milk
1 cup icing (confectioners') sugar

Caramel Icing:
Mix the brown sugar, butter and milk in a saucepan. Bring it to a boil. Stir constantly while boiling for 3 minutes. Don't spill any on yourself and for goshsakes don't lick the hot spoon! Cool until it's just sorta warm, then stir in the confectioner's sugar. Continue stirring until it looks like it'll be easy to spread, then ice the cake!

Mucho gusto, mi amigos!!

Random Boobie Shots

Where We Cheerfully Pander To Your Prurient Interests

This one's for Eric. He said he likes the boobie shots. Enjoy!

Caption Contest Winner!

Y'know, Bribes Would Have Been Cheerfully Accepted!

Last Tuesday's caption contest generated some funny ideas, but there was a clear winner!

Alan from Blogonomicon managed to be topical, as well as making me giggle. (For those who somehow missed it, the story on the killer racoons up in the Pacific Northwest can be found here.)

Congrats, Alan! Email me your snailmail addy, and I'll send you the random item from my desk drawers. At the very least, it'll provide you with mere minutes of enjoyment, and some blogfodder.


Olympia's Kat Killer Kommandos watching for their next victim.

The Pain... The Pain...

Never Blog While Preoccupied!

OK, my apologies for the lame-ass ending to the previous post. I've been avoiding the sight of my own blog, so disgusted am I with tacking on a dumb joke onto a mostly pointless post. But hey, what else have you come to expect!

I can't promise the quality will improve, but maybe I'll start posting random boobie shots just to boost the ratings. That, or I could start some flaming rants against the stupid. I gotta do something to shake things up around here.

Heh. Just had an idea. Lemme work on it a bit. Back later.

More Cheesy Camping Stories

Ain't Nothing Better Than Nacho-Flavored Wildlife!

Some of the same scurrilous campers from this story went on another camping trip. Again, there was lots of alcohol involved...

Y'know, pretty much anytime I mention the word 'camping' on this blog, you can safely assume alcohol will play a factor in the tale. Even when I preface 'camping' with 'Boy Scouts', there still remains a good chance some fermented and/or distilled liquids were nearby. Yeah, I did OK with the "physically strong" and "mentally awake" parts of the Scout Oath, it's that pesky "morally straight" part that gave me problems...

I digress. Back to the cheesy camping story!

Just as a general rule, you should never go shopping for camping food when you've got the marijohoonie-induced munchies. The #10 can of Rico's nacho cheese (that's 6 lbs of cheese sauce, btw) and the 5 lb. bag of tortilla chips looked great on the Sam's Club flatbed cart alongside the 3 cases of Heineken beer and the 40 lb bag of charcoal, but proved to be a bit of a puzzler once we got out into the woods.

After consuming the better part of two cases of Heineken, the sun was setting and hunger pangs were coming on. Somehow we managed to get the lid off the can o' nacho cheese, only to find out we were short on utensils. No spoons or spatulas were to be found. OK, no prob. We poured a good portion of the goopy cheese into a pot, warmed it over the flames until it thinned out enough to be eaten, and then in the process of gorging ourselves managed to smear cheesy chip fragments all over our bodies and the campsite.

When we finally passed out, bloated on beer & nachos, not a one of us had remembered to secure the remainder of the cheese, maybe a 1/3 of the can remained. It was still sitting atop the concrete picnic table over by the fire.

When a large clanging crash awoke us in the wee hours of the morning, I remember peeking out the canvas sides of the pop-up camper and seeing a commotion outside. It looked like the nacho cheese can was trying to scuttle off into the underbrush.

When clothes were pulled on and flashlights found, the can had returned to the concrete slab under the table, and was banging along the edge. You could easily see a furry rump and two hind feet sticking out the end of the can, with a striped tail whipping back & forth as the critter struggled to free itself.

I guess all the cheese on the interior of the can made it hard for Mr. Raccoon to extract himself, but he finally managed. If we hadn't seen the back end, though, you wouldn't have been able to tell what it was. That li'l guy was just *covered* in nacho cheese sauce!

Naturally, we weren't too loaded to forget to yell at the coon the cliched line pefect for times like that... (all together now!)

"Hey! That's Nacho Cheese!!!"

This is NOT Rocket Science!

You'd Think They Were Curing Cancer Or Something...

Look, my fellow minions of The Man... You're overdue for reports that should have been able to be hammered together in a day or two. We're going on 10 weeks, now, and you're still fretting over one or two minor discrepancies that, in the long run, signify nothing. That's called the slop factor, and the review committee will believe whatever you dream up in order to explain the errors. Try using sunspots and variations in whale migration routes as excuses.

There's a phrase I want to give to you. If you're in the non-engineering or medical sections, where danger to the public health & safety is non-existent, I want you to repeat it like a mantra.

"CLOSE ENOUGH FOR GOVERNMENT WORK"
"CLOSE ENOUGH FOR GOVERNMENT WORK"
"CLOSE ENOUGH FOR GOVERNMENT WORK"
"CLOSE ENOUGH FOR GOVERNMENT WORK"
"CLOSE ENOUGH FOR GOVERNMENT WORK"

This is marketing, people, not policy. You can let it slide, and no one but me & thee will know...

Jenni's Makin' Tha Mad Bux!

She's Gonna Open A Can Of Whoop-Ass On Ebby Halliday's Crew!!!

Hey, I shoulda said something a coupla days ago about this, but I've been an ignunt dumbass lately.

Head over to Jenni's place and congratulate her for finally popping her real estate cherry! It's her first step towards founding her Goth/pagan real estate empire, specializing in spooky old mansions and towering castles!

I'm *SO* proud of her! She's one of my best-est buds, and if overall niceness translated into dollars rolling in, she'd be just filthy rich.

You tha bomb, sweetie! Keep up the good work!

Well, Blow Me Down!

I *Must* Own One Of These...

Oh, man... the want-list gets one item longer!

Costco is selling a "Scallywag Sloop Pirate Themed Club House" for the low low price of $18.5 thousand dollars. It looks cool, but is unfortunately sized for kids. Bah, kids don't know the first thing about piracy!




I can do better. I bet for 10 grand, I could build a better, adult-sized version!

To tell the truth, this is one reason I haven't built a deck, though the back yard desperately needs one. I would be physically and mentally unable to resist the urge to build it to look like the deck and sides of a ship. I'd have to have a wheel, binnacle, masts and a bowsprit to hang sails (awnings, really) and a perky-bosomed figurehead to cap it all off. OK, maybe a cannon or two. And a parrot. And a barrel full of cutlasses. And a rail-mounted rum dispenser... and... and...

Via Boing Boing

Idea Lifted From Someone Else's Blog

What? Like I've Got Time For Actual Creativity...

They're doing Caption Contests all the time over at Wizbang, but I rarely feel motivated to enter. Hell, the time they posted a picture of Valerie Plame and Joe Wilson, I didn't even know who they were. There remains a benefit to watching TV news and reading newsweeklies, apparently. I get most of my news through text feeds, never see the pictures...

Anyhoo, I entered Elisson's caption contest last week. I thought my submission was pretty clever, but I'm afraid it'll be lost on the 95% of the population that's unaware that dropping acid makes your pupils blow up to the size of manhole covers. Don't ask me how *I* know that, I ain't admitting to nothin'.

I'm short on time today, but I thought I'd steal the idea and have my own caption contest. Submit in the Comments section your best caption idea for the photo below. And, to make it more interesting, (and steal an idea from FARK) the difficulty level is set to: No using the racial application of "coon" in your caption!

Good luck! Winner gets mailed a random item from my desk drawers.

At Baboon Pirates, Quality Is Job #1!!

Seeking High Quality Women and Low Quality Skanks. I Ain't Picky.

By now most of you have probably seen the latest internet celebrity. Her name's "Jacqueline Rampant Ego Mackie Arrogant Bitch Paisley Ball-Stomping Harpy Passey", or something close to that.

Her site appears to me to be a colossal case of bait & switch. Her advertised picture looks good, but digging deeper in her site reveals the truth... as Ace said, she's really Rudy Giuliani in drag. Actually, she looks kinda like my friend Cris from high school band, only less pleasant, and a smaller rack...



Many bloggers and humor sites have already taken her to task for her overweening ego, so I'll not repeat what's been said before.

I will, however, use her incredibly useful method for attracting a mate, in hopes of finally getting the woman of quality I know I so rightly deserve.

So, without further ado, here goes:

I am a very high-quality man. I know that sounds arrogant, but let’s consider the facts:

1. I’m not slim. (whereas 43% of American men age 20 to 74 are slim and well built, they're largely assholes who'll pork anything that's breathing. I, OTOH, will probably not budge off the couch more than once or twice a month in search of sex, so you've got that to look forward to. Also, if I try to run out on you, I'm pretty easy to catch.)

2. I’m reasonably attractive (More than 86% of the women who meet me for the first time do not projectile-vomit at the sight of me, and since I started trimming my beard, children rarely run screaming anymore.)

3. I’m relatively young (when compared to petroleum reserve leases, vintage bottles of Chateau Latour, and continental drift rates.)

4. I’m intelligent (I've yet to be caught cheating on my taxes, and I can regularly outwit most 4 legged animals. Except for wombats and hedgehogs, the clever bastards...)

5. I’m educated (Whereas lots of people have one bachelor’s degree, I have TWO, and I use NEITHER ONE in my chosen career. Mostly, 'cause if I did use 'em, I'd be wearing a paper hat and asking if you wanted fries with that burger.)

6. I have my financial shit together (I've got 8 boxes of comics as a retirement fund, and I only buy Lotto tickets when it's over 40 million dollars! No use wasting time on the small change jackpots!!)

7. I have a strong libido and love having sex (Assuming you look like Monica Bellucci. Otherwise, I'll go with what I said in Item #1.)

So, there you have it, ladies! I've just got QUALITY stamped all over me! The line forms on the left! No pushing!!

Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes!

Time may change me, But I can't trace time...
(WTF Does That Mean?)

You've Changed 32% in 10 Years

Ah, the past! You may not remember it well - because you're still living in it. While you've changed some, you may want to update your wardrobe, music collection and circle of friends.

How Much Have You Changed in 10 Years?

Found at: Tammi's World

Maybe Sunday School Will Be Sufficient...

This Might Be Why Fundies Are Hated & Feared By The Left

Some company in Florida is selling these Ephesians-based jammies for kids. (Click on 'Defeat Satan In Your Sleep'.)



Nothing like knowing your kid's headed for bed wrapped in the belt of truth, breastplate of righteousness, the helmet of salvation and the pillowy shield of faith. Yeah, that'll keep the boogeyman away!

Look, there's being a good Christian, and there's taking things a bit too far. Send your kid to a sleepover with these things, and he's probably gonna get his ass kicked. Maybe his hand placed in a warm bowl of water. It won't be pretty, that's for damn sure.

Dial it back a notch, Jethro. Your kid doesn't need a 24/7 dosing of the Gospel. Besides, I have it on pretty good authority that Spiderman jammies are NOT the work of Satan...

100 Word Story

More fun from Laurence at IFOC

Jimbo Purcell loved his vacation in Bali. The islanders in Moonlight Bay were charming, the food was exquisite, the weather exceptional.

All was restful bliss and complete relaxation. Well, except when the radical Muslims took potshots at his bamboo and palm leaf hut with AK-47s as they motored through the bay in the middle of the night. Jimbo needed a way to shield his movements at night, so he purchased some of the colorful native batik fabric to tack over the windows and doors.

Late into the night the islanders could hear Jimbo, just nailing a sarong on Moonlight Bay.

ECTV - El Capitan Television!

Commercial Free, 24 Hours A Day

I got into a chat at lunch today about how much better cartoons were back when we were kids, as opposed to a lot of the dreck that's on the air now. It led me to thinking about what I'd air if I could have my own TV station. I imagine it would be a lot like Weird Al Yankovic's movie UHF, only without Stanley Spadowski and his magic mop.

Naturally, this all operates under the assumption that I could clear up the licensing issues, and bring a couple of shows back into production to reach that 100 episode syndication-friendly limit.

I'm thinking this would work for a lineup:

Weekdays:

6:00 AM Captain Kangaroo
6:30 AM News
7:00 AM Three Stooges
8:00 AM Star Trek - Original Series
9:00 AM Julia Child's 'The French Chef'
9:30 AM Good Eats with Alton Brown
10:00 AM WKRP In Cincinnati
10:30 AM All In The Family
11:00 AM Muppet Show
11:30 AM That 70's Show
12:00 PM Battlestar Galactica (old & new)
1:00 PM The Shield
2:00 PM Magnum PI
3:00 PM Simon & Simon
4:00 PM Northern Exposure
5:00 PM Firefly
6:00 PM Star Trek - Deep Space Nine
7:00 PM The Sopranos
8:00 PM John Wayne Movie
9:00 PM " "
10:00 PM The Rockford Files
11:00 PM South Park
11:30 PM Hogan's Heroes
12:00 AM CSI: Las Vegas
1:00 AM Star Trek - Next Generation
2:00 AM El Capitan's Movie Classics
3:00 AM " " "
4:00 AM Star Trek - Voyager
5:00 AM Addams Family
5:30 AM Seinfeld

Weekends:
6:00 AM Scooby Doo (No F*&#%^$ Scrappy Doo!!)
6:30 AM Bullwinkle
7:00 AM George Of The Jungle/Superchicken/Tom Slick
8:00 AM Pink Panther
8:30 AM Looney Tunes Cartoons
9:00 AM " " "
10:00 AM Schoolhouse Rock shorts
10:30 AM Monty Python's Flying Circus
11:00 AM Red Dwarf
12:00 PM Weekend News Hour
1:00 PM Blackadder Series
1:30 PM Chef!
2:00 PM War Movie
3:00 PM " "
4:00 PM Western Movie
5:00 PM " "
6:00 PM The Wild Wild West
7:00 PM Kung Fu
8:00 PM El Capitan's Movie Classics
9:00 PM " " "
10:00 PM Saturday Night Live Reruns
11:00 PM " "
11:30 PM News Update
12:00 AM Porn Movie
1:00 AM Porn Movie
2:00 AM Porn Movie
3:00 AM Star Trek - Enterprise
4:00 AM Rev. Gene Scott Reruns
5:00 AM Farm Report
5:30 AM Howdy Doody


Now, I just need some venture capital!

This Oughta Be Fun!

Wonder If They'll Sell Meat Pies At The Snack Bar?

From my friend Zibig:

Johnny Depp will play Sweeney Todd in the film version of the musical.

The film will follow the legendary story of the London barber who murdered his customers by slitting their throats. Tim Burton will direct the film.

Depp and Burton have worked together several times in the past, producing films such as Edward Scissorhands, Sleepy Hollow and Ed Wood.

They also worked on an adaptation of Roald Dahl's Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Burton plans to start shooting Sweeney Todd early in 2007, and it is due in cinemas later next year.

That reminds me... I didn't shave this morning!

Turning Off The Tap

Never Bitch About Inconsquential Stuff!

What was that line from Bull Durham about "Never do anything to mess up a winning streak?" Well, I broke something, it looks like.

I griped a couple of weeks ago about all the people showing up here as a result of Google searches for the Lake Conroe Alligator. In fact, I'm pretty sure I said "Google can kiss my ass". Shoulda kept my foolish mouf' shut.

It looks like someone at Google shut off the feed. I don't register in the top 10 on those search terms anymore, (I'm not even in the top 20...) and hits showing up for a visit on that search string have dropped to less than 5 a day. My overall traffic is down about 100 visits a day. To some of you big dogs, you'd never notice the drop, but that's 1/3 of my traffic!

Damn, back to Carnival whoring, it looks like.

Yarrr, Matey! We Have More Loot!

Well, Shiver Me Timber! OK, Maybe Not In Public...

I have the coolest friends!

My friends are all great people, but some of them just consistently give me excuses to put them on my "Why are you so frickin' cool, and what on earth possesses you to keep hanging out with a disreputable buccanner such as myself??" list!

Flygirl, who frequently comments here, is currently leading in the overall coolness factor. Last night I get home, and find out that a big package she sent is waiting for me. Inside the package is this huge book on pirates! It's full of nifty pirate swag, like treasure maps and ship pictures and even a handy little guide to organizing a pirate crew, for the day when I finally buy a tramp steamer and a couple of deck guns and start plundering the Disney Cruise lines.



If you haven't guessed by now, I've had a pirate fetish for some time. Read the article on my sidebar (Baboon Pirates?) for a glimpse into the beginnings of the pirate thing.

My friends are all aware of my unnatural attraction to all things swashbuckly, and periodically feed my addiction with things they've found on their travels. Flygirl's done this many times, as have Jenni, Rockhauler and Zippo. My pirate shrine is starting to spread, and might need another shelf or two pretty soon.

Thanks very much, Flygirl! I love it!

Enchufes Del Culo Para Los Dictadores Diabólicos

Don't Enjoy That Too Much, Shitheads

Hugo Chavez is ecstatic about getting a chance to try out Fidel Castro's FudgePacker 2000, as soon as Fidel licks it clean.



Found at Geek With a .45's site.

METRO Strikes Again

Subcontracting Drivers Is NOT A Good Idea...

You know what METRO needs? Driver ejection seats.

Yup, a handy little device that's hooked up to all the passenger seats, so passengers can decide whether it's a good driver we trust to get us to our destination, or one that needs to get blasted out the roof and replaced with someone competent. You reach the 75% 'You Suck' level, whooof, you're gone!

Seriously, we need to be able to force a vote of No Confidence on some of these maroons. If you fail the vote, you get left at the nearest stop, and the passenger with the most large vehicle driving experience gets to finish the route.

"But... but... El Capitan!" you say... "A passenger will have no knowledge of how to drive a big flex-bus!!"

Oh, like the trainee drivers they're giving check-rides to during rush-hour traffic yesterday are any better! The First Transit trainee we had on the 214 yesterday was so bad, I contemplated asking her to pull off to the side of I-10 so I could walk the rest of the way. She slammed the bus to a stop numerous times, failed to signal lane changes, and flat out didn't know the route. The "supervisor" was just about as bad, offering little or no useful guidance, and she had to ask him to repeat himself several times, as he talked in a whisper.

Those First Transit contract drivers all have a "Safe Driver" patch on their shirts. Silly me, I thought they got them for, well, safe driving! Nope, everyone wears them, even the ones that have been in an accident. Personally, I think after the driver goofs up, they ought to be paraded out in front of the other drivers, have their patches, badge, and driving gloves ripped off and stomped on, then be sent to drive the Greyhound long-haul routes.

I think METRO made a mistake contracting out to First Transit. It just gives them one more level of non-accountability when they deliver poor service.

Tough Choices

Just Kill Me Now...

Lifted from Tiffany's Pregnancy Palace.

Would you rather:

1. Watch a porno with your parents OR starring your parents?

This is like that line from the song "Mrs. Robinson"... either way you look at it you lose. I'm absolutely horrified by this decision. If I sit through a porno with the 'rents, Dad will likely snooze off, or lean forward to disguise a 70 year old stiffie. (I can't decide which is worse) Mom will try to make inane remarks in an effort to relate the experience, and I'll be scarred for life, or I'd have to actually watch them go at it, which will also mentally scar me for life.

Sigh. I'll go for watching the porn with them. At least I can make snarky comments to somewhat relieve the misery. If I had to ever hear Mom say to Dad "Give it to me, you bald-headed stallion!" while watching them knock boots, I'd have to shoot myself.

2. Lick the handle on a public restroom toilet OR eat a wad of toilet paper from the stall floor?

I'd have to go with the lick. It's a one-shot deal, and I wouldn't be picking bits of asspaper out from my molars for hours afterward.

3. Be MC Hammer OR Vanilla Ice?

Hmmm... shave stripes in my eyebrows or wear the baggy pants... I'll go with the eyebrows. White, white, baby! Plus, I used to hang on the mean streets of Carrollton, TX myself.

4. Be able to fly OR read people's minds?

Fly! Who gives a damn what people think if you can fly to other places!

5. Have whatever you want for one year then die OR be paralyzed for life?

This one I'm not too clear on. Do I still get whatever I want for a year, then it's either die or be paralyzed for life? I mean, why tack on the 'whatever you want for a year' part. Why not just "Would you rather die, or live paralyzed?" Depends on what you mean by paralyzed, bucko. Paraplegic, sure, I'll ride the chair. Quad? Not so much. Dead from neck down? Kill me now.

6. Have a permanent smile OR a permanent blank stare?

I'll go with the blank stare. I'd hate to be confused with a politician.

7. Be burned alive OR drown?

Drowning for sure. Significantly less pain involved!

8. Be known worldwide as a racist OR a child molestor?

Look at it this way, David Duke got 38% of the vote in a governor's race. John Wayne Gacy was executed in prison. So, if I got to be one or the other, Where are my damn sheets?

9. Eat three pounds of hair OR drink a gallon of shampoo?

That's a lotta hair. I'd be coughing up hairballs for months. A gallon of shampoo, I puke a coupla times, get my stomach pumped, and I'm done. So, hand over the Prell.

10. Be God OR the devil?

Well, if you're God, you can do pretty much anything. Might as well be omnipotent.


Who's up next? I gotta see some of y'all take this quiz...

'Song Of The Bottom-Heavy Woman'

Where El Capitan blatantly rips off Rodney Carrington's "Dear Penis" song

This is dedicated to Christina, who says she falls in the "Pert full-figured" category. I can't verify that claim, mind you. If I went looking for confirmatory evidence, it'd wind up being a choice between Dash shooting me, or Christina applying her new toy to my epidermis. So, I'll just take her word for it.

(Sung by a "Bottom-Heavy Woman", not me, ya pervs...)

Oh, my nipples, how I fear you don't love me anymore...
You used to watch me put on my makeup;
now you both just stare at the floor.
Oh, nipples, are you gone forevermore??

How I miss your pert & perky gaze,
When you would entrance all the men for days;
Used to be there were none finer,
But now you only look towards China
Oh, my nipples, I don't love you anymore...

But I've a plan to perk me up,
and never again pour you in a brassiere cup;
We're going to visit good Dr. Flynn
and he'll nip and tuck and shoot silicon in;
Oh, my nipples, it's great to see you once again!

L'Etat, C'est Moi!

Sun King, Schmun King, I'm the Guy With The Gun...

Just testing Blogspot's image hosting capabilities.

Some Spirits Don't Age Well...

This Thing's Varnished Like Ted Kennedy's Liver

Continuing my excavation of long-buried boxes beneath my desk, I came across an old hip flask I haven't seen since Xmas '03. It's a nice one, as hip flasks go. Holds just enough hooch to impart a fuzzy glow to whatever boring function you're suffering through, which is the primary reason hip flasks exist.

This one was last filled with Wild Turkey. Dunno why I recall that, but I haven't had Wild Turkey since that holiday season. I'm more of a Maker's Mark drinker, when I'm not out gallivanting with Mr. Johnny Walker.

Whatever Wild Turkey remained wasn't a lot. Not a drop is left inside. It's got a good seal on the lid, so I probably drained it before setting it down, eventually putting it in a box where it got covered up and forgotten.

Just so ya know, you really ought to wash these things out before long-term storage. Kinda smells like like maple syrup mixed with lemon Pledge and kerosene, and that ain't a real pretty smell.

Hope this thing washes out... I got a family function coming up soon where it'll be essential equipment.

Carnivale Vanitus Mortuus Est

Strike The Head From The Beast And Be Done With It

I got an email from Zeuswood of Harshly Mellow this week. He's the brave soul that took over the Carnival of the Vanities after Bigwig of Silflay Hraka quit running it.

To give you the gist of the email in a nutshell, ain't no one hosting COTV, ain't no one linking COTV, and iffen that keeps on a-happenin', ain't no one keeping COTV around.

As a frequent reader, occasional contributor and one-time host of the Carnival of the Vanities, I'd like to relate why I no longer much care about the fate of the COTV.

Leeches.

Yup, big slimy leeches. All over the poor thing. They've sucked the life out of the COTV. They've made looking at the COTV so distasteful that I'd just as soon never see it again.

See, there's a sizable group of COTV contributors that have never quite gotten what the Carnival was intended for. The Carnival of the Vanities, as I think most people understood it to be, was a venue for a blogger to post the items they were most proud of. Those special posts where you were firing on all cylinders, and really cranked out a worthy post. Sure, it was done to increase your readership and promote your blog, but at the core was always the assumption that you were putting your best efforts forward.

The leeches never quite got that concept. They'd show up, week after week, posting whatever happened to be the latest item in their blog, probably just before the submission deadline. There was an interesting quote from a recent COTV host named Cait, who said:

A funny thing though - we have a HUGE selection of posts on finances today, so sit back and enjoy.

Cait, there's ALWAYS have a huge selection of financial posts. The "business blogs" were the worst offenders. The typical contribution from a business blog was a half-assed writeup on some money matter, surrounded by lots and lots of ads. As far as I'm concerned, those aren't bloggers, they're spammers who use Blogspot instead of email. They took advantage of the COTV's high hit rate to shamelessly promote their little bloggy business venture, and eventually pulled the tent down on top of themselves.

I started to count how many times some of these leeches posted, starting at the most recent COTV and going backwards, but I got way too depressed by the time I hit the 10th edition, and had a dozen leeches who had posted on at least 7 of the 10 Carnivals. Spot checks going all the way back to when I hosted showed some of the same miscreants abusing the COTV a year ago.

F#(%ing leeches.

I'm sorry, Zeuswood. I wish it had gone differently. There was a big kerfuffle a long while back about the COTV host having the Powers Of Edit over the submissions, and the good-natured all-inclusive character of the blogosphere ruled that all submissions went into the COTV regardless of merit. At the time, I supported that decision, but in retrospect, it was a mistake. A little judicious editing and/or a once a month entry limit might have kept the leeches at bay.

There are still good carnivals out there. Their niche nature helps keep 'em on track, and largely leech-free. Let's just hope if the COTV fades out the parasites don't infect the remaining carnivals.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm off to buy a big bag o' salt. Some sprinkling on nasty leeches is in order.

I'm Apparently A Purple Circle...

Oh, Ha Ha. Very Funny, Motherf#(%^*!

I oughta start handing out prizes for people who figure out the occasionally obscure subheading references I post... but I digress.

The latest Carnival Of Comedy is up. It's a bit sparse this week, but Blog Carnivals are kinda sucking wind these days. His Highness the Puppy Blender doesn't link the way he used to, and the Instalanches are suffering as a result.

More on the Carnival thing in a separate post... in the meantime, go check out the Carnival Of Comedy, and get some giggleage in this afternoon.

El Capitan's Soporific Sonnet

Hey, It Beats Reading A Filthy Limerick...

It's time for some love poetry. Big hugs to Leslie for shining the light on the "assistive software" used to craft this masterpiece.

Once More, My Love

This night I shall dream of your great guava bulbous dandelion.
Once again, this night as all nights, I long to sip from your flugelhorn-pink lips.
In my dreams we fly on the exquisite aardvarking penguin balaclava of love, skimming vast continents of peanuts and pancreii.
The seas shall never separate our motor oils.
Its waters wave like small toenailed angels greeting us from afar.
We shall feast on chocolate-coated scarves and tender telephone hearts of love.
Adorned in white silk, we pluck our quacks from our dandelions.
I shall hold your flugelhorn against my toenail-muffin so that our motor oils melt into one.
You will always be my little eraser face, the flugelhorn of my mauve eye of love.

Make yer own poem HERE.

Amazing War Photography!

More Stunning Photos From Al-Reuters

In the wake of the Faux-toshopped war pictures submitted to the Reuters News Service (A wholly-owned subsidiary of Al-Qaeda), I decided to do a little digging of my own, and found these spectacular pix submitted by a terrorist sympathizer independent stringer to the news service, complete with captions.

Check these out:

Innocent Lebanese Murdered by Evil Jews


Hezbollah Commandos Crossing The River Jordan


Helpless Widow Mourns Dead Infants


Old Man Rescues Wounded Hezbollah Soldier & Baby From Rubble

DRM Blogs? WTF??

Are You Folks Just Paranoid Or What???

Ask just about any blogger if they're in favor of digital rights management of movies, music, etc., and I'll bet you get little or no support. People tend to like to be able to move their .mp3's, ebooks and movies from one computer to another without being hobbled by crypto or unnecessary restrictions.

So, why is it that so many bloggers out there have DRM'ed blogs? I can't count the times I've tried to excerpt something off of a blog, and have the browser be unable to select text. It either refuses to copy anything at all, and gives me the little circle with a slash through it or it'll select the entire page, forcing me to winnow through your blogroll and all your visible posts just to get the quote I'm looking for.

Not only is it annoying, it's kinda pointless. I can just do a 'View Source', and your whole page is there for the taking, so it's not like it protects anything. Often, just going to the Permalink page will open it up as well.

C'mon, people. Give me an explanation, please! Is this just a bug in Typepad, Moveable Type and/or Wordpress, or is a lame attempt to keep people from sampling?

Paraphernalia Quiz

Where'd Ya Learn That, Cheech? Drug School???

Here's a fun little quiz to help you pass the day. I did a little excavating last night. I'm always in danger of turning into one of those compulsive hoarder types in my retirement years, so I've got to periodically winnow through my collection of crap and throw a lot of it away. Some stuff I'll list on eBay, in the vain hope there's a collector out there who's needing a 40 MB SyQuest drive or 28.8 modems or a collection of external SCSI cables.

Most stuff just went into the trash bin. Old power supplies minus their appliances. Some appliances minus their power supplies. I did find the transformer for my old plasma globe, and I was grooving on that for a while. I was clean & sober, though, which took some of the fun out of it...

On that note, I ran across some intriguing items that hadn't seen the light of day for year & years. They were in use quite frequently back in the day... In the case of item #4, I'd completely forgot I owned the silly thing.

Anybody want to hazard a guess as to the identity and function of each item? Think hard, you might be incriminating yourself if you answer correctly!

(Items #2 & #3 are generic representations, 'cause I forgot to take a picture of 'em...)

Monday Morning Metaphor

What Kinda Hooch Do The Chinese Drink?

My father went on a trip to Washington D.C. recently for a Red Cross disaster prep conference. He brought me back a small souvenir. I liked it, until I looked underneath the shot glass...





Typical, no?

How Brutally Honest Are You?

Silly Weekend Web Quizzes

You Are 44% Brutally Honest

Honesty is important to you, but generally, you try not to be brutal about it. You'll sugar coat the truth when you need to... and tell a white lie when necessary.

How Brutally Honest Are You?

Extracting An Earworm

Next Time, I Use Some Raid-Soaked Boric Acid

Bad week for the music. Kind of a mix of a Quixotic quest followed by a fiery crash into a snow-covered pasture.

Lemme asplain...

I was watching a batch of 'That 70's Show' on DVD, and was really grooving on the music in one of the episodes. Damned if I hadn't heard that tune since... well, the 70's.

It was catchy song and brought back a rush of memories of sitting in the living room, dickin' with Dad's stereo after school. I was a precocious little twerp in the 70's, and glommed onto that decade's music with a vengeance. I might've been permanently damaged by the overdose of easy-listening and disco, but fortunately I had a friend who was way into Boston, Led Zep, AC/DC and Kiss. Saved me from a horrible fate.

I had to 'rewind' the DVD to catch the lyrics of the tune. Punched 'em into Google, and it spat out Neil Sedaka's "Bad Blood". Huh. Thought he was one of those '60s crooners. Go figure.

iTunes didn't have that song available, and a search of the usual pirate locations came up dry as well. Obviously a limited market for Mr. Sedaka's work. I sent out a few feelers amongst the musically diverse, but had no luck there either.

Eventually I found it available at that Russian MP3 site. Dirt cheap music, and supposedly legal. No way I'm giving them my credit card number, though. It took a couple of days, but I finally remembered to go buy one of those credit card gift cards.

The company that sells the cards wouldn't guarantee it would work online if you didn't register the card. For that they wanted my SocSec # and a bunch of other stuff. Morons. What part of anonymity do you not understand? I finally decide to just use the thing, only to discover I'd bought the Master Card version, and the site only worked with VISA and AMEX. Dammit...

It turns out that the site credits you with 20 cents when you register. Two dimes. Woohoo! Big spenders. Fortunately, the song I wanted only cost 12 cents. The pricing structure is based on bandwidth, so you can buy most albums for less than $3.

I downloaded the tune, tossed it into my iTunes library, and commenced to wring out that earworm.

It took about 2 listens before I was done with it. Ye godz, that's a truly mediocre tune once you break it down. It's just so... so... 70's! You've got the Loggins & Messina dual lead vocals, the KC & The Sunshine Band song structure, the Elton John lyrics, the Shaun Cassidy doo-ron-rons, and even a bit of Marshall Tucker Band flutework thrown in for good measure.

Yeeks. Can't believe I bought this one. Even at 12 cents...

NEIL SEDAKA - "Bad Blood"

It coulda been me but it was you
Who went and bit off a little bit more than he could chew
You said that you had it made, but you been had
The woman no good, no how, thinkin' maybe the blood is bad

Bad (ba-a-ad) blood (blo-o-od)
The woman was born to lie
Makes promises she can't keep
With the wink of an eye

Bad (ba-a-ad) blood (blo-o-od)
Brother, you've been deceived
It's bound to change your mind
About all you believe

From where I stand, it looks mighty strange
How you let a woman like that treat you like small change
I don't understand what you're lookin' to find
The only thing bad blood do is mess up a good man's mind

Hear me talkin' now

Bad (ba-a-ad) blood (blo-o-od)
The bitch is in her smile
The lie is on her lips
Such an evil child

Bad (ba-a-ad) blood (blo-o-od)
Is takin' you for a ride
The only good thing about bad blood
Is lettin' it slide

Doo-ron, doo-ron, di di, dit, dit, doo ron-ron
Doo-ron, doo-ron, di di, dit, dit, doo ron-ron
Doo-ron, doo-ron, di di, dit, dit, doo ron-ron
Bad blood, talkin' 'bout bad blood

Doo-ron, doo-ron, di di, dit, dit, doo ron-ron
Doo-ron, doo-ron, di di, dit, dit, doo ron-ron
Doo-ron, doo-ron, di di, dit, dit, doo ron-ron
Bad blood

Here we go

Bad (ba-a-ad) blood (blo-o-od)
The bitch is in her smile
The lie is on her lips
Such an evil child

Bad (ba-a-ad) blood (blo-o-od)
Is takin' you for a ride
The only thing good about bad blood
Is lettin' it slide

The only good thing about bad blood
Is lettin' it slide

I Need Another Blog

When One Just Isn't Enough

Anyone else out there run more than one blog? Not the IFOC kind of conglomerate, just one main blog you 'fess up to, and another one you use purely for shits & giggles?

I've got a stack of stuff I really want to address, but for one reason or another, I don't want to do it here. Some of it's just pointless kvetching, some of it's too personal to have any link to me, and a couple of things I wanna talk about would make me a pariah at blogmeets by one group or another.

So, can't say 'em here. OK, scratch that last bit. I CAN say 'em here, but I'm not gonna. It's gotta be put out there, though. Gripeblogging doesn't have the same cathartic action if the posts are kept locked in a text file, so I need another outlet.

Don't hold your breath waiting. It's not like I'll announce this thing...

Bitch Stole My Fish!

Ya Gotta Grip Your Trout A Bit Tighter!

I've been giggling over this silly picture all day! Can't remember where I lifted it from, so if it was from your site, many thanks!

Pennies From Helfman

Damn, Had The $$$ For The Reunion After All...

I finally got my license plates for the F150. Helfman Dodge was supposed to have sent me a postcard letting me know they had arrived at the dealership 2 weeks ago, but somehow that never happened.

Since my temporary tags were just about weathered away, I finally got on the horn to Helfman, and after a bit of phone tag, learned that I could come pick 'em up.

So, I get the plates and this envelope. It's got the receipt from TXDOT, an extra window sticker with an 11/06 expiry (Anyone got out of date tags?) and most puzzling, a check for $63.50 made out to me.

Now, call me crazy, but I always assumed that "plus TT&L" phrase you always hear on the adverts meant you had to pay Tax, Title, and License fees. I did that when I bought the truck. Now, according to the memo line on the check , it's a TT&L refund, so maybe I didn't have to pay the "&L" part of it.

Anyway, it's some needed money. After rent, insurance and the truck note, I'm completely tapped until next Friday's paycheck.

The Countdown Meme

One! One More Blogmeme, AH! AH! AHHHH!!!

Found this meme over at Tamara's place. She got it from the Okie from Muskogee Dustbury.

It's a simple meme, really. Just count to 10. There are rules, apparently:

OK, the rules are simple. First, be honest. We might not know otherwise, but the God of Methuselah, Moses, and Memes will. Second, despite Rule #1, you get one wildcard if you need it; feel free to make up one of the items. And, in support of the proposition that there should remain some mystery about a blogger, don't identify the wild card.

I managed to get by without the wild card. If you saw the clutter in my bedroom, you'd see why...

TEN candy root beer barrels.

NINE assorted knives in my desk drawers.

EIGHT longboxes full of comics.

SEVEN Apple Macintosh computers.

SIX different bottles of rum.

FIVE empty glasses that need to go back to the kitchen.

FOUR revolvers.

THREE tattoos.

TWO spoiled cats.

ONE cute nephew.

ZERO desire to be at work today.


Go do some counting of your own!