Things That Piss Me Off, Vol. 234

The Special Taser Edition

A lot of people here in Houston are up in arms about our local boys in blue using tasers to excess. I learned long ago that if you don't lip off to Johnny Law, you rarely get tasered or beat down. Also, if it comes time for the Po-leece to put on the shiny silver bracelets, you've probably done something really wrong, and what's more, you KNOW you've effed up. So, if you absolutely must try to wrestle with the cops, shut up and take your tasering like a man.

So, here's some more people deserving of the taser treatment:

People that pull their cars out into the intersection, knowing they can't complete the turn. They then sit there, blocking traffic in both directions until they can pull into traffic. Whatever happened to the "If you can't complete the turn, don't pull out there" rule? These assholes deserve to be tasered, their cars impounded, and their testicles drummed upon with a rubber mallet.

Similarly, WTF is up with people that will hold up traffic trying to turn across the oncoming lane from a gap in the median? Invariably, there's a turn bay in the median up ahead going into the EXACT SAME EFFING parking lot, and if they used that entry, we wouldn't be screeching on our brakes trying to avoid hitting the asswipes when they suddenly brake to make the turn.

People in front of me in line at the video rental store, who ALWAYS have some kind of problem. Either they're arguing late fees, or they're paying with an out-of-state 3rd party check, or they're trying to prove residency with a county jail release form, or their kids have overturned the candy rack. Hollywood Video, can you please install an express line for people that never have late fees, pay in cash, and generally have their shit together? Please??? Also, can we taser the idjits in the other lines?

People that park so close to my door that I have to climb in from the passenger side and scoot over. I'll give you cheesedick mofos fair warning. When my truck tires are taller than your front bumper, it's no work at all to leave a big ass tread mark on your hood. You've been warned.

People that get a big bag of grapes in the produce section in the grocery store, then eat them as they go shopping. By the time they reach the checkout aisle, they're paying for a bunch of stems. They need to be tasered until they puke on the produce scale, and then the store can weigh the urped-up grapes.

Neighbors that let their dogs shit in my yard. Your dog doesn't know any better, so I'll just taser you.

Program directors effing up my radio listening schedule. Yeah, you, Ken Charles! It's bad enough you have that pinko Ken Hoffman on to pollute my morning drive, but then you put Ed Schultz on for the evening drive. Guess I'm switching over to KSEV. Dickhead. Go taser yourself.

People working in the drive-through that can't get the order right. Look, it's a BEEF burrito, dammit! If you give me a bean burrito instead, I'll be too pissed to drive all the way back over there to fix your eff-up, end up eating it anyway, then spend the next 18 hours blowing methane out my bunghole. GET IT RIGHT! This is not rocket science! Next time, I return the incorrect order via a catapult, then taser you in the goolies.

Britney Spears. Put on some panties. Stop hanging around with skanks. Go home, and raise your children. Otherwise, you get tasered.

OK, that's all for now...

Blogfest Locations

Just Running My Brain In Random Cycles

I was talking to Eric the Straight White Guy the other night, and blogmeets came up as a topic of conversation. He mentioned a return to New Orleans as a possible site. Not a bad idea, really. It's a good party town, but I've got kind of a been-there, done-that feel about it. Just visited too many times, I guess. It is close by, however.

From my POV, a blogfest should be about the bloggers, not the town. I'm coming to a blogfest to meet & greet bloggers, and if there's some nice restaurants and bars suitable for socializin', that's just the icing on the cake.

While I ain't been to Helen, GA yet (dammit...), it seems the Jawja crew has a good thing going with that locale. Small town, not too much going on other than mild touristy stuff, so you're not distracted by all the shiny things pointin' at the sky.

I was pleased to see Zonker spike Las Vegas for the 2007 Blodger meetup, 'cause IMHO, there's just too much to do there. Don't get me wrong, I *LOVE* Las Vegas, but when the hotels all have 1000 rooms, and with the lure of the casinos and all the shows, I really think the blogger facetime would suffer greatly.

So, what makes a good blogfest locale?

Close access to airports.
Inexpensive hotels
Some place to gather where we can be noisy and not get arrested
No zombies
Good eatin' & drinkin' places
Cheap bail
Somewhere in the South/Midwest.
Loose Adventurous wimmenfolks
24 hour liquor stores
Free range midgets
Legal fireworks
Etc., etc., etc. (remember to do the Yul Brynner voice...)

Personally, I'd like to see a blogmeet in Memphis or Mobile, maybe Pensacola. Eat some BBQ or seafood whilst blogmeeting! St. Louis or Louisville are a bit far north for most of the Southron Blodgers, I'm thinking. I'm deathly allergic to Nashville. Out of all those towns, though, I'm only really familiar with Memphis.

I'm not an airplane person, so I'm kind of limited to about an 800 mile radius from Houston. That's about all I can do in one hop, and not be completely blown out when I get to the other end.

Where would y'all like to see the next big meet-up?

Tio Capitan: Part Deux

I'm Gonna Go Broke Buying Savings Bonds!

Well, it's official. El Capitan is going to be an uncle!

Waitaminnit... I'm still an uncle from the last time my sister hatched. I guess this means I'm now an Uncle, 2nd class. Maybe a Lieutenant-Uncle.

The rabbit died, there's a bun in the oven, the strip turned blue, Aunt Flo quit visiting. We'll see another munchkin in 8 months or so!

Sister and BIL want a girl. I'm hoping it's another boy, 'cause she'll keep trying until they get a girl, which means I might get a baseball team outta the deal!

Yay!!!

On The Home Front

Just Say No To Pergo

Y'know... the problem with a nice spiffy new tile floor is that you realize that your cabinets look like absolute crap by comparison.



I'm not quite sure what the little white spheres in the pic are. Either it's dust or water spots on the camera lens, or if you're of the paranormal bent, it's the ghosts of all the old vinyl floor tiles that were murdered by scraping them up with a shovel.

Some Things Should Never Be Revealed

It's Just Bad Juju To Mindfuck A Monkey...

Little Bongo stared in horrified wonder at the exposed weeners at what was allegedly Yabu's chili cookoff.

They looked kind of like the bananas he so loved, only these bananas were so very much smaller...

Fear & Loathing In The Litter Box

The Result Of Drinking Abelour Scotch At 4 A.M.



Fear & Loathing In The Litter Box - A Screenplay

The VOICE OF MEEYOWL DUKE:

MEEYOWL DUKE (Voice/Over)
We were somewhere around Barstow on the edge of the desert when the catnip began to take hold.

A red Chevy convertible -- THE RED SHARK -- wipes the black screen.

EXT. ON THE ROAD TO LAS VEGAS - DAY

THE RED SHARK races down the desert highway at a hundred miles an hour. THE STONES' "Sympathy For the Devil" blares.

AT THE WHEEL, STRANGELY STILL AND TENSE, MEEYOWL DUKE DRIVES -- SKELETAL, WAD OF CATNIP IN HAND -- STARES STRAIGHT AHEAD.

BESIDE HIM, FACE TURNED TO THE SUN, EYES CLOSED UNDER CURLED EARS, IS HIS TABBY-COATED AND UNNERVINGLY
UNPREDICTABLE ATTORNEY, MR. TIDDLES.

The music pounds. MEEYOWL DUKE stares straight ahead. MR. TIDDLES opens up a can of catfood - uses it as a litterbox.

MEEYOWL DUKE (V/O)
I remember saying something like: "I feel a bit lightheaded. Maybe you should drive..."

MR. TIDDLES starts whizzing in the cat food can.

MEEYOWL DUKE (V/O)
Suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like huge bats, all swooping and screeching and diving around the car...

Close on MEEYOWL DUKE -- shadows flutter across his face. The reflections of bats swirl within his eyes. We push in close to one eye ball -- SCREECHING SWIRLING BAT-LIKE SHAPES!

AAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!!!!!!!!

MEEYOWL DUKE (V/O)
... and a voice was screaming: Holy Jesus! What are these goddamn animals?

CUT TO WIDE SHOT OF CAR -

MEEYOWL DUKE, eyes rigid & tail fluffed, flails at the air. No bats anywhere. MR. TIDDLES casually looks over...

MR. TIDDLES: What are you yelling about?

DUCK SCREECHES to the side of the road. The sudden wrench makes MR. TIDDLES whiz on the leather seat.

MEEYOWL DUKE: Never mind. It's your turn to drive.

MEEYOWL DUKE (V/O)
No point mentioning these bats, I thought. The poor bastard will see them soon enough.

MEEYOWL DUKE hops out of the car, keeping an eye out for bats, frantically opens the trunk to reveal what looks like A MOBILE VETERINARIAN LAB. MEEYOWL DUKE desperately rifles through the impressive stash.

MEEYOWL DUKE (V/O)
We had two bags of catnip, seventy-five cans of Fancy Feast, five tubes of tuna-flavored hairball lube, a salt shaker half full of tick powder, a whole galaxy of multi-colored cat treats, crunchies, squishies, yummies... Also a quart of heavy cream, a quart of goat's milk, a case of Little Friskies, a pint of raw Flea-Rid lotion and two dozen heartworm pills.

MEEYOWL DUKE, eyes darting madly as he hears what sounds like the SHRIEKS OF BATS returning, grabs an assortment along with another six-pack of Fancy Feast- slams the trunk shut and dives back into the car.

MEEYOWL DUKE (V/O)
Not that we needed all that for the trip, but once you get locked into a serious catfood collection, the tendency is to push it as far as you can.

THE RED SHARK RACES INTO THE DISTANCE... on the ground, weakly flapping is a SEMI-SQUASHED, SLOWLY DYING ANIMAL... A BAT?

EXT. FURTHER DOWN THE ROAD TO LAS VEGAS - DAY

IN THE RED SHARK

MR. TIDDLES grips the wheel - stares maniacally down the road - a lousy driver.

MEEYOWL DUKE (V/O)
The only thing that really worried me was the Flea-Rid lotion. There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a cat in the depths of a Flea-Rid binge. And I knew we'd get into that rotten stuff pretty soon.

MR. TIDDLES changes the station - "ONE TOKE OVER THE LINE, SWEET JESUS, ONE TOKE OVER THE LINE" vies with "SYMPATHY"... He sings along - washes a couple of kitty treats back with a slug of milk. The RED SHARK fishtails.

MR. TIDDLES: "One toke over the line, sweet Jesus..."

MEEYOWL DUKE (muttering to himself): One toke. You poor fool. Wait till you see those goddamn bats!

Friday Random Ten

When In Danger Or In Doubt, Run In Circles! Scream & Shout!

When faced with an overdose of visiting relatives, you can always do what I do... retreat to the back room for an hour to "catch up on some urgent business". Naturally, this involves a quick nap and a blogpost.

So, creativity being somewhat stifled by the exuberant shrieks of a toddler, we'll just lift Elisson's usual Friday meme.

Here's a random 10 off the jukebox.

Jesse With The Long Hair - Robert Earl Keen

Don't Come Home A'Drinking (With Loving On Your Mind)
- Loretta Lynn

Suspicious Minds - Dwight Yoakum

We're caught in a trap
I can't walk out
Because I love you too much, Baby
Why can't you see
What you're doing to me
When you don't believe a word I'm saying?

We can't go on together
With suspicious minds
And we cannot build our dreams
On suspicious minds

So, if an old friend I know
Drops by to say hello
Will I still see suspicion in your eyes?
Here we go again
Asking where I've been
Can't you see these tears are real
I'm crying

We can't go on together
With suspicious minds
And we cannot build our dreams
On suspicious minds...

Oh, let our love survive
I'll dry the tears from your eyes
Let's don't let a good thing die
Honey, you know
I've never lied to you

We're caught in a trap
I can't walk out
Because I love you too much, Baby
Why can't you see
What you're doing to me
When you don't believe a word I'm saying?


Babooshka - Kate Bush

Tall Cool One - Robert Plant

One Way Or Another - Blondie

Ridin' On That Rail - Killbilly

Family Tradition - Kid Rock & Hank Williams Jr.

Route 66 - Nat King Cole

King Of Somewhere Hot - Jimmy Buffett

Japanese Cat Sucking

When Tentacle P()rn Just Isn't Enough...

I'm not quite sure what to think about this fad...



OTOH, this cat's expression just makes me giggle uncontrollably!



For you tender-hearted cat-o-phile types who are freaking out right now, the explanation can be found here!

When Tree Rats Attack...

Don't Go Near 'Em!!

The squirrels are fighting again all over the neighborhood. I hear there wasn't much of a nut harvest this year, and the tree rats are getting a little territorial about the pecan and black walnut trees around here.

There was a battle royale going on over by the high school. Y'know, I can deal with the squeaking and chittering as they argue and fight, but the constant low hum and the whoosh-whoosh noises are driving me crazy...

The 40-Something Word Challenge

It's A Slow Day At Work...

I haven't been able to hit Sheila O'Malley's blog for about a week. Still can't on my home machine, which is odd, since were both using Macs, and presumably the Safari browser.

I finally got her blog to load yesterday at work, and found this challenge waiting for me!

Please take a look at all of the words below - and work them into some kind of paragraph that makes sense. It could be a narrative. An epic poem. A screenplay. But please somehow work them all in.

cemetery
restaurant
pastime
twilight
evensong
bullshit
Turkmenistan
nonsense
epistolary
spheres
panties
TWP (as in: Township)
Glendalough
Narragansett Beach
Alexander Hamilton
Orion
Mr. Darcy
James Joyce
Milky Way
Mac Cosmetics
music
theatre
family
books
beach
peace
Versailles
medieval
bimonthly
entropy
sneer
mud
gloomy
enervating
mahjong
elixir
halleluia
blueberry
calculus
Scone
pleather
hat-tip
"Meh."
panties

OK, I'm game! The result:

A goddamn Alexander Hamilton just to buy a slightly melted Milky Way candy bar?? What bullshit! Somehow a fifty cent candy bar in the States accrues some magical value by virtue of traveling in a shipping container to a snooty Paris food shop.

Fuckin' France. I hate this goddamned place. Part of me wanted to yank the shopgirl's panties up into the crack of her ass, just to wipe the sneer off of her snooty Parisian face. The other part of me said "Get the hell out of this glorified patisserie before you spend any more money".

I was on my bimonthly trip to escape the mud and entropy of Narragansett Beach society. Meh. As if. The last time Rhode Island had any society worthy of the name (other than Doris Duke, of course), Klaus von Bülow froze her on a marble bathroom floor.

I've had some minor success peddling books, and even sold an epistolary novel about the Sun King's pastime of collecting young noblewomen's virtue at Versailles, but I make nowhere near the scratch to gad about the globe willy-nilly. My true pastime is being a go-fer to the social elite.

See, Dad's family ran to old depleted money, and Mom's side dabbled in music and theatre and sharking rich people at mah-jong. The two halves met at a beach party in The Hamptons, and I was the slightly disreputable result. I do have the gift of gab, inherited from Irish antecedents from Glenlough. That makes me a welcome houseguest amongst the hoi polloi. What makes me even more welcome is an iron-clad reputation for being discreet. Need a mistress escorted from Biarritz to Gstaad? Archie's your man! Need an unwelcome suitor shanghai'ed to Turkmenistan! Give Archie a call!

I currently reside in Bristol, and to be official I guess you have to add "TWP", the preferred abbreviation for township. I never liked the term. Reminds me of some Welsh phrase, where no vowels are required to get your point across. To be "twp" in Wales is to be ignorant and slow. Missing on half your cylinders. Kind of like most of Bristol's residents, if truth be told. It's the kind of medieval place that teenage residents threaten to commit suicide if they can't leave, and the drug stores have razor blades on sale 24/7. You might see why I don't mind travel...

So, here I am in France. The trip started as a lark. The Dowager Empress of Newport needed some blueberry scones fetched from her favorite restaurant in Inverness, then wanted me pop down to Paris to lay some flowers on Oscar Wilde's grave at Pere Lachaise cemetery. Yeah, she's a crazy old bat, but a crazy old bat with a Gulfstream V jet on permanent standby...

Most people would find a trip to the cemetery gloomy and enervating. I saw it as an opportunity to use some of the Empress's money on several truly impressive spheres of Moroccan hash from the nearest banlieue, and then spend the twilight hours parked on Jim Morrison's grave, inhaling the elixir of fumes from the heated knife blade, and making up some nonsense evensong about James Joyce in the relative peace and quiet amongst the dead.

Naturally, I got the munchies. Had to be a Milky Way. Had to. Just too many damn peanuts in a Snickers bar. I pried it loose from the clerk after offering the aforementioned ten-spot in trade, and as I weaved my way back towards the Metro stop, I offered up a frequent and fervent halleluia and hat-tip to the chocolate gods.

I managed to bump into Orion while waiting for the G5 to be refueled for the trip back across the pond. She used to teach calculus at a Long Island community college, but got spotted by a Wilhelmina agent, and now her mug's plastered over creation, hawking MAC cosmetics and who knows what. She got her moniker from a conveniently placed scatter of moles across her back, which nearly match the Hunter constellation perfectly. I played my best Mr.Darcy act, offering a lift back to the states. With any luck and some flutes of Bollinger, I could be peeling her out of her pleather jumpsuit and panties around 40,000 feet.

It's a hard life, I tell you!

The Thanksgiving Turkey Drop

"As God Is My Witness, I Thought Turkeys Could Fly..."

Most of you readers are gonna be out gorging on turkey this Thursday and not reading blogs, so I'm sneaking in my Thanksgiving post a little bit early.

Thanks for hanging out at my little hole on the web, and may your holiday with the family be a joyous occasion!

And now, for your viewing pleasure, one of the all-time funniest moments on television!

Last Ride For Sparky The PimpSled

Sic Transit Gloria Caddii

The old Cadillac may finally be leaving the driveway. It's been a cat-perch and workbench for the past 5 months.

The contractor that's redoing Casa de Capitan seems to think that the '89 Fleetwood would make the perfect project car to lure his son in from out of town. He's eager to have the son join his business, but needs something to sweeten the pot. He's willing to trade some labor for the Cad, so I'll get the house exterior painted and the shower retiled out of the deal. Oh, yeah, and $500, just in time for Xmas.

Beats the hell out of me what young Hispanic males see in 4800lb/12mpg sedans, but I'm assured that huge Cads and Lincolns are the Next Big Thing.

So, I had to go fire up the beast last night and see if I could blow the cobwebs out of the tailpipe. Bear in mind I haven't driven the thing or even turned over the engine since June. The battery was completely flat. Wouldn't even power the automatic trunk lock. I had to use a brick to keep the trunk lid down. I'm thinking the constant parade of cats kept tripping the auto-leveling feature, and it eventually ran the battery down. So, off to the AutoZone for a quick charge-up.

Fired up on the 3rd attempt at twisting the key! The old girl may not have any brakes or A/C, but the engine's still rock-solid. I'm so glad this has fuel injection, otherwise I'd have been out there all night with a can of quick-start trying to burn all the varnished gasoline out of the carb.

You find the most amazing things when you clean out the old car. In the glove box was the 2" mirrorball and mini-spotlights I was gonna rig up back in the PimpSled incarnation. My jacket and umbrella were still in the back seat, which made me rue all the wet rainy afternoons I'd splashed through, wondering where the hell they were.

And in the trunk?? Oh, my. Two bottles of vodka, two bottles of butterscotch schnapps, a big-ass bottle of Rose's Lime Juice and 300 plastic shot glasses, remnants of the Texas Blogfest, where'd I'd planned to serve my Key Lime Pie shooters, before the Cadillac so rudely burst into flames and scotched my little scheme.

Heh. And what did I find in the very bottom of the trunk??

Remember how I had a burning Caddy and no way to extinguish it? I ended up pouring a travel mug of ice water over an engine fire, which is a big no-no??



Yup, tucked away nice and neatly against the side of the fender wall...



A fire extinguisher. I'd completely forgotten it was in there.

More Babies Comin' Outta The Pea Patch!

OK, Maybe Outta Tha Pee Portal...

Got a new 2nd cousin this morning. He'd been threatening to make an appearance all weekend, and finally got the greenlight for his HALO jump about sunup.

He's a cutie! No names, 'cause I'm about to say something not so nice.



See, his Dad (my cousin) is a hoodlum that's spent significant time in the joint, and his mom's a bit of a round-heeled tramp. So I wish the kid well, but smart money says he won't end up a Rhodes scholar.

My poor uncle's ready to retire, but if past history's anything to judge future performance by, he'll have a kid dumped on him before too long.

Get your tramps and hoodlums spayed and neutered, y'all.

Some Flu For You??

Imagine 'The Stand', Only We Don't All Die As Quickly

I attended a conference this week dealing with pandemic influenza. Not your usual corporate conference, despite the hotel setting and the ghastly broiled chicken breast lunches.

The overall message delivered by the speakers and panelists was that a global outbreak of a highly contagious version of a human-to-human transmissable virus was not very likely. We've already got dozens of strains of flu residing in your average wild bird & poultry population, and it's quite uncommon to have one mutate into a lethal form.

OTOH, the viruses mutate quickly, and each new version is a roll of the genetic dice. Sooner or later, we're gonna roll snake eyes, and half the world will die.

A lot of references in the conference were made of the "Spanish Flu" pandemic of 1918. Estimates of the worldwide deaths range from 50-100 million people. Most of the speakers at the conference thought those estimates were on the low side.

Despite our advances in medicine and viral research, we're also now in a global society. The 1918 virus was kept in check partly due to the oceans limiting travel time. That barrier no longer exists. A tourist visiting Vietnam can get sneezed on by a chicken farmer, then catch connecting flights home via Osaka, Honolulu, Seattle and Chicago, and potentially infect thousands of people heading in hundreds of different directions.

Add in a rapid incubation time and a high mortality rate, and you could have a worldwide pandemic inside of a week.

Most of the conference dealt with maintaining the civic infrastructure in the event of an outbreak. In other words, how do you keep the power and water flowing when half your staff and suppliers are bunkered up in their homes, or too sick to move.

There were subjects discussed that I had never envisioned. For example, how do you address the need to suddenly inter 200,000 dead bodies? Not that many coffins in our spiffy new Just-In-Time delivery chain! Better fire up the incinerators, assuming the natural gas is still flowing. If not, we'll be commandeering the lumber yards for fuel. Uh oh... your religion demands a burial by sundown? Too bad, so sad. Your dead kid might just get roasted in a big pile. Take up your grievance with the ACLU, assuming they're still alive after the pandemic dies down.

How do you maintain a delivery system for bottled oxygen, antivirals, food and bodybags if you're under a restricted-movement quarantine? Before you say "Let the government take care of it", you better remember that the Army might not be able to help. Living in barracks really helps that virus jump from soldier to soldier!

If the order comes to close the schools ('cause kids are just little virus-geysers of infection), all those parents who need to take care of the kids just disappeared from the workforce. Believe me, if they ever close the schools, there won't be any open daycare centers!

Remember how many people bitched and complained about the lack of planning and foresight in the Hurricane Katrina/Rita disaster? I can assure you that there's an incredible amount of manpower and resources devoted to planning for an influenza pandemic. The problem is, it may not matter. With the right circumstances, we could be phucked with a capital 'F', and no amount of planning will prevent a complete breakdown of society.

So, what can you do? Get your flu shot. Stockpile some food & water. Wash your hands a lot. Cross your fingers. Beyond that, there's very little you can control. Fortunately, the odds (for now) are on our side.

Oh, one more thing... Epidemiologists have *no* sense of humor... During a tabletop exercise, we were discussing possible options should an extremely nasty version of a flu virus erupt on a remote island in Indonesia.

My suggestion of "Nuke 'em from orbit... It's the only way to be sure!" was not met with any enthusiasm at all...

Well, That's Certainly Encouraging!

NOT!!!

Hmmm. No free pass through the velvet rope at the next Blogfest, it seems...



Via Cowboy Blob.

El Capitan Is Trapped At A Conference

Google "H5N1" For A Hint About The Subject Matter

Blogging will be light for a bit. I'll be back soon.

In the meantime, here's a Public Service Announcement.

Roast Possum, Apples & Sweet 'Taters

El Capitan's Bistro: You Kill It, We Grill It!

This recipe is for Eric the Straight White Guy, who has an abundance of fat possums roaming in his south 40.

Eric, first thing is to get yourself a box trap or one of those Hav-A-Hart humane traps, and bait it with some peanut butter or maybe that macaroni & bleu cheese you make. Usually possums prefer a ripe Stilton, or a slightly runny Brie, but a decent Maytag Bleu will be OK.

After you trap a critter, take a look to see what you've got. I know you Tennesseans will eat just about anything, but if the critter is wearing a collar and meows or barks, best to let it go.

If the critter's got a ringed tail and a bandit mask, it's edible, but you ought to pass on that type. Them's a 'coon, and pulling 'em out of the trap can be a caution. They get riled up, they turn into a mobile fur-covered woodchipper.

What you're hoping to find in your trap will look like a giant mangy rat. It'll have a pointy snoot, nekkid grey ears & pink tail, beady eyes, and grimy-lookin' grayish-white fur. That there's a possum! Then again, it might just be a giant mangy rat. That's OK, too. The recipe will still work.



Once you've got your possum, you need to purge him. He's been living on roadkill, garbage and stinky cheese, and won't taste very nice. Keep him in the cage for 2-3 weeks, and feed him on cornbread and buttermilk. He'll fatten up nicely, and won't taste like a dungheap.

OK, when he's purged & plump, time to get cookin'! Two days before you're ready to eat him, go hug him and pet him and squeeze him and call him George. Seriously, you want a nice relaxed possum. If he gets scared, he'll be pumping out all kinds of hormones and adrenaline, and the meat will taste like rancid goat liver.

When George the possum is nice & relaxed and looks the other way, smack him on the head with a hammer. Be quick about it, and for Pete's sake, use enough hammer! An 8 oz. ball peen is a bit light, a 10 lb. sledge might bruise the meat a bit. Best to use a nice framing hammer, and unless you're Yabu, don't use the claw end!

Take out one of those knives you're always flashing about, and slice the neck most of the way. Hang the possum up by the tail to let the blood drain.

Now, if you're looking for that authentic Appalachian taste, hang up the possum in a cool dark place for 2 days, and let it "dry age". Don't let me hear you whine about this, Eric! Your Scottish kinfolk are well known for letting their hare and grouse hang by the head and age until the body drops free of the neck due to decomposition proper aging. They call this meat type "high", mostly 'cause you would have to be high to eat rotted grouse.

Scald the possum in boiling water that's got a cup or so of quicklime mixed in to loosen the hair. It shouldn't take but 30 seconds or so of giving the possum the ol' teabag dunk. Scrape the hair off the possum carcass, leaving you a moist nekkid possum. Tell Velociman to stay the hell away from your moist nekkid possum.

Gut the possum, and remove the head, tail, and feet. Be careful carving around the bunghole and the guts, you don't want to get any of that goo on the meat. Wash the carcass off well, making sure there's no loose hair or icky bits. (well, other than the moist nekkid possum icky bit...)

In a big plastic tub, mix 2 gallons cold water with 1/2 cup of baking soda and 1/2 cup salt. Dunk the possum in brine, and put it in the refrigerator overnight.

The next day, dry off your brined possum, and follow this recipe!

Roast Possum with Spiced Apples and Sweet Potatoes

Flour
Salt and freshly ground black pepper
1 tsp Thyme
1 Possum; dressed, washed, and patted dry
1/2 c Red wine
1 1/4 c Water
4 Sweet potatoes; pared and split lengthwise
4 Apples; pared, cored, and halved
1 c Brown sugar
1/2 tsp Allspice
3/4 tsp Ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp Nutmeg

Mix flour, salt, pepper, and thyme and rub inside and outside the animal.
Place on rack in roasting pan. Add the wine and water, cover tightly, and
roast in a preheated 350 degree oven for about an hour. Pour off all but a
cup of the liquid. Lay the sweet potatoes in the pan, cover, and continue
roasting 45 minutes. Now lay in the cored and halved apples amid the sweet
potatoes and sprinkle both fruit and vegetables with a mixture of the sugar
and the spices. Continue to roast, with the roaster now uncovered, for
another 30 minutes, or until the possum is tender.

There you have it! A delicious recipe that uses your natural backyard resources!

Bon Appetit!

Oh, yeah... One more thing.

If you grow too fond of George the possum, and can't bring yourself to administer the hammer treatment, you can always keep him as a pet. Just keep the kids away from him...

"Once An Eagle, Always An Eagle"

Yet Another 20 Year Anniversary!

I was quite spiffed to see that today's Wikipedia entry was on a subject matter I'm somewhat familiar with, the Eagle Scout award!



Despite all my tales of juvenile chicanery, I really did have a foot planted on the straight & narrow path. Somehow I managed to earn the necessary merit badges and completed the service project, turning in all the necessary paperwork literally the night before my 18th birthday. And by night, I mean knocking on my Scoutmaster's door at 11:50 p.m.!!

I don't recommend my method to young scouts on the Eagle Trail, but if it's a choice between cramming everything into the last minute, and not doing it at all, well, youngster, get to cramming! The reward is well worth it!

When The Fan Takes A Shit

Oscillus Fanii Mortuus Est. Nos Perspiraturi Salutamus!

Bah, I hate being up at 3:30 am. I really hate being up at 3:30 am trying to clean enough cat hair and accumulated dust bunnies out of my oscillating fan so that it'll turn on again, and I can get back to sleep.

I'm one of those people that "sleep hot". Unless I've got a fan pointed at me, my face gets all sweaty & warmish while I sleep, and I toss & turn all night. There's only so many times you can flip the pillow over to the cool side, before there is no more cool side.

I've had this pedestal fan for probably 4 years now. I guess I've gotten my $22 worth of use out of it. Fans are really freakin' hard to find at retail stores in November, though. I doubt I'll find this model again. Everyone's gone to the slim uprights, that use a vertical 'squirrel cage' blower. They take up less real estate, but they don't put out the air flow like a blade fan.

It's hard to get a good fan that'll blow at Mach 2. They certainly don't make 'em like they used to. I had one as a kid that probably dated from the late '40s to early '50s. This thing was a monster. It probably weighed 30 pounds, and the whole thing, from base to safety cage was made of chrome-plated steel, and the motor was housed in a torpedo-looking case about 8 inches in diameter and a foot in length.

The blade was the true marvel. Twin-bladed like a biplane prop, it was jet black, and probably made of bakelite or some proto-plastic material. The damn thing spun at probably 10,000 rpm, and would literally push you backwards. Well, if you were a skinny 8 year old kid, anyway. Sitting behind the fan, it put out a low frequency hum that sounded for all the world like a B-17 engine. That fan and an empty refrigerator box made for many a '30 Seconds Over Tokyo' and 'Twelve O'Clock High' adventure for me & my friends. Sadly, it gave up the ghost 25 years ago, and no one could repair it. The brushes and contacts for the electric motor just didn't exist anymore.

Speaking of B-17 engines, I saw this piece on TV where someone had mounted a B-17 engine & prop vertically, put a safety cage on top, and used it for skydiving training. If you wore baggy clothes that caught the wind, you could jump out into the propwash and just bob along on the airflow. As long as you steered yourself correctly and didn't slide off the airflow, you'd hang there indefinitely. That sounds like a perfect sleeping arrangement! Just rig up a tether rig to keep me centered, and sleep in "free fall" all night! You'd need some big honkin' earplugs, though.

I've shanghaied the blower fan the contractor is using to dry out the wall texture that's getting applied in the living room & dining room. He'll probably want it back, I imagine. Guess a trip to Lowe's or Home Depot is on the agenda. This thing puts out a pretty good breeze!

Sp@mmers Losing Their Minds??

Perhaps They Caught Their Own Virus??

OK, this was weird. I opened up my email app this morning, and received the following missive:

From: akstcbarfootballmnsdgs (at) barfootball (dot) com
Subject: old-school old-gentlemanly
Date: November 12, 2006 12:30:25 PM CST

"yes," replied darcy, who could contain himself no longer, "but that was only when i first saw
"yes, he went on tuesday, as i wrote you word."
"do you talk by rule, then, while you are dancing?"
accomplished."
"perhaps we might be deceived."
confused as he answered that he had never been so fortunate as to meet miss bennet. the subject was
bingley as the most accomplished girl in the neighbourhood; and catherine and lydia had been
"if your master would marry, you might see more of him."
accomplished as they all are."
but when the gentlemen entered, jane was no longer the first object; miss bingley's eyes were
connections?-to congratulate myself on the hope of relations, whose condition in life is so decidedly
been passing while mr. and mrs. gardiner were engaged with their children, was now put an end to by
"indeed, mamma, you are mistaken," said elizabeth, blushing for her mother. "you quite
by his fine, tall person, handsome features, noble mien, and the report which was in general circulation
"my dearest lizzy will, i am sure, be incapable of triumphing in her better judgement, at my
"you did! and it was not wholly without foundation you may remember what i told you on that
"come here, child," cried her father as she appeared. "i have sent for you on an affair of
attacked him in various ways-with barefaced questions, ingenious suppositions, and distant surmises;
complaints, and scold them into harmony and plenty.
children silly. if i wished to think slightingly of anybody's children, it should not be of my own,

Now, why in the world would someone forward me a slightly garbled passage from "Pride & Prejudice"?? There's no attached ad for penis pills, or sketchy stock offerings, or offers for young nubile maidens to feed me penis pills while they manage my portfolio of sketchy stock offerings...

Addicted To YouTube

KISS Rocks You, Baby!

The entire world of entertainment is being posted on YouTube, it seems.

I can now spend hours online ingesting all the videos from the glam-rock & hair bands from my misspent youth. AC/DC, Iron Maiden, KISS, Triumph, Cheap Trick... all there for your enjoyment.

I make no apologies for my devotion to the cock-rock. Rock & roll ought to be loud, proud and ready to party. No wonder we're turning into a nation of pussies, with kids today subjected to these whiny Emo bands and pissant "neumetal" assholes.

God, what I wouldn't give for one last Texxas Jam!

Put your headphones on, and turn it up to 11, my friends. Here's my favorite KISS tune...



Y'know, there's a rumor I even wrote some haiku and possibly other poetry about these guys....

Loaded For Bear

Four Days Of Sloth Begins...

I've got the next 4 days off, so naturally I had to fire up some computer gameage until the wee hours of the night.

Here's my army, heading out to rape, kill, pillage & burn. And eat babies.

Bonus points for whoever can name the game.

Super-Cool Double Bonus points for whoever can name the particular flavor of army I'm using.

Going Through The Motions

Post Election Stress Syndrome

I still can't quite churn out a coherent post after yesterday's debacle. Oh, don't get me wrong, I was hoping the Repubs were gonna get a good hard spanking. Too much arrogance and hubris amongst the GOP for my taste. Ignore the base, get your ass handed to you.

I just didn't need the Dems to have won quite that many seats in both the House and Senate...

Oh, well. Get ready for 2008. You can start by buying some ammo on November 19th, National Ammo Day. In fact, buy as much as you can, and start squirreling it away. 'Cause I ga-ron-tee, if Shrillary and the Screaming Socialist Suckbunnies take over in 2 years, they're gonna do their damndest to make things like my little popper (pictured below) go away forever...

This Post Has No Title

I'm Just About Electioned Out...

Taking a break from the endless prognostications of the talking heads on the networks, I glanced at my blog stats, and noticed a nice surprise.



Seems a few people linked to this little hole in the web, and I got a nice little spike in the visitor numbers.

So, Thanks for the links, guys.

Muchas Gracias!

Postcards From The Edge

I Really Need To Get Out Of The House More Often...

I heard from two friends of mine over the weekend. They were having a lot more fun than I was!

First was my old college friend Chainsawed, sending me emails from the People's Republic of Vietnam. That was unexpected, to say the least.

She and her husband live in Alaska, and work there during the summer, then go somewhere warm in the winter. I knew they'd gone in past winters to Italy, Israel, France, etc. Vietnam, though? Wow.

They were going to visit the tunnels at Cu Chi. It seems that everyone who goes to Vietnam has to do the tunnel tour. I think I'd just as soon stay out of drippy jungles and moldy tunnels, but that's me. Call me crazy.

Vietnam is probably 92nd on my list of places to visit, but I'm sure they're having a great time. If I ever went, I'd hole up in the hotel and have buckets of pho and banh mi brought in daily. Damn, I love that stuff.

Next up on "Surprise El Capitan" was a phone call from my sweetiebaby Jenni from the slightly damp and mildewy city of New Orleans. She and her hubby B were celebrating their SECOND ANNIVERSARY!!! WOOOHOOO!!!

They were touring the French Quarter, and had happened upon Jean Lafitte's Pirates Lair, and they felt the urge to give their pirate buddy El Capitan a call to commemorate the occasion! Thanks! I enjoyed getting the call! Hope my hurricane cocktail was tasty!

One of the very first things I blogged about here at Baboon Pirates was their wedding. I guess I've known Jenni for about 10 years now, and I'm just 15 kinds of happy that we're friends. I'll plan on joining their traveling party to N'awlins next year when I'm better able to afford it!

Here's Jenni & B getting all dolled up at their wedding. Look at that smile!



More on the anniversary here on Jenni's blog.

Sieg Heil, Dumbass...

Behold The Vanguard Of The Master Race

Here's Public Enemy #1 for Salt Lake County in Utah, now safely behind bars.

Seems to me that if you're looking to be a hardened criminal, and you vow not to go back to jail, maybe you'd pick a better way to keep the cops from noticing you.

Have fun with your new "special" friends there in the slammer, Sparky. Bet they'll tattoo a new logo over your asscheeks. Maybe "Open All Hours"??

Evil Liquor Recipes

At Least I Didn't Try To Make A Mojito

Damn, I wanted a gin & tonic tonight.

No tonic water or limes, but what the hell. Where there's a will, there's a way, right?

OK, if you get the urge to have a G&T, here's what *NOT* to do...

First, don't put crushed ice in a coffee mug.

Second, don't use RealLime and Sweet & Low & tap water.

Third, if you can't find your Bombay Sapphire or even your emergency backup bottle of Gordon's gin, DON'T use the Plymouth gin. It's much too ginny to stand behind fake sweetener and fake citrus.

Finally, don't drink the silly thing. Just pour it down the drain.

Egads, I feel like The Dude in 'The Big Lebowski', making White Russians using powdered non-dairy creamer. Ick.

Eye Ar Uh Litterut Pirsun

Damned If I Didn't Almost Get Stuck In Iraq...

Bought some books yesterday. First time in longer than I care to think about. I've got this big honkin' library I've been adding to for years, but tight funds have kept me out of the bookstores for the last month or so.

This fine upstanding young woman clued me in on a series that promises to be some excellent reading. By coincidence, I heard the author interviewed on a talk radio program that very same day. The host was gushing on how good the books were.

OK, I was sold. Next stop, EBAY!!!

Got lucky, found the first four in the series in an auction ending yesterday. Twenty bucks later, they're on their way to my house.

Anyone else heard of the Mitch Rapp books by Vince Flynn??

Friday Random Ten

10 Random Toonz From The Toonz Dispenser

Here's 10 off the "Party Shuffle" option from my iTunes stash at work. It's about 1/20th the size of my home iTunes stash, but I'm slowly adding to it as the weeks go by.

What are YOU listening to today???

1. So Long Baby Goodbye - The Blasters
2. Turn Me On - Norah Jones
3. My Woman From Tokayo - Deep Purple
4. Galaxia - Gipsy Kings
5. Whole Lotta Rosie - AC/DC
6. Landfall - Jimmy Buffett
7. Slow Ride - Foghat
8. Can't Speak - Danzig
9. Rave On - Buddy Holly

10. I'm The Man - Joe Jackson

Pretty soon now
Y'know I'm gonna make a comeback
And like the birds and the bees in the trees
It's a sure-fire smash
I'll speak
To the masses through the media
And if you got anything to say to me
You can say it with cash
'cause I got the trash and you got the cash
So baby we should get along fine
So give me all your money cause I know you think I'm funny
Can't you hear me laughing
Can't you see me smile

I'm the man
I'm the man that gave you the hula-hoop
I'm the man
I'm the man that gave you the yo-yo

Kung fu
That was one of my good ones
Well, what's a few broken bones
When we all know its good clean fun
Skateboards
I've almost made them respectable
You see I can't always get through to you
So I go for your son
I had a giant rubber shark and it really made a mark
Didja looka looka lookit alla blood
Give me all your money cause I know you think I'm funny
Can't you hear me laughing
Can't you see me smile

I'm the man
I'm the man that gave you the hula-hoop
I'm the man
I'm the man that gave you the yo-yo

Right now
I think I'm gonna plan a new trend
Because the line on the graph's getting low
And we can't have that
And you think you're immune
But I can sell you anything
Anything from a thin safety pin
To a porkpie hat
'cause I got the trash and you got the cash
So baby we should get along fine
So give me all your money 'cause I know you think I'm funny
Can't you hear me laughing
Can't you see me smile

I'm the man
I'm the man that gave you the hula-hoop
I'm the man
I'm the man that gave you the yo-yo

A Handy Portable Rifle Rest

Best Be Careful Inserting That Cleaning Rod...

I got this .jpeg of a painting by a South African artist emailed to me today, and it's too darn weird not to share!




The caption it arrived with was:

A Woman Must Serve Her God, Her Father, And Her Husband

From the looks of things, you've got some sort of Boer about to supply some 7mm Mauser smackdown on an unsuspecting critter in order to refill the biltong bucket.

I don't think he's taking potshots at the Brits in this scene. I firmly believe the Boer hausfrau (I know, I know, Dutch, not Deutsch... No se habla Boer-spik, however.) would have the gumption to act as a rifle rest for her man, but the high visibility of her snowy bloomers would make an unacceptable target for the Brit Lee-Metfords.

Seeing If Blogger's Still Broken

You Do Get What You Pay For...

Well, it looks as if Blogger's photo uploader-thingee is working again. I also see by the URL that my photos have a "XXXX.4.jpg" in there, showing how many times I previously tried to get the damned thing to work.

What the hell, it's up and running. We proceed with the questionable blog content.

So, for your viewing pleasure, you can have your choice of an aardvark, or a guy doing the Heimlich Maneuver on a hamster who tried to swallow a grape.

'Cause we're all about the diversity here.

Scraping The Barrel

You Don't Hit Home Runs Every Time At Bat...

Nothing much to post today... Work actually had to take priority.

I had some pictures to post, but Blogger's photo server is crapped out, and my ISP disk allotment ran out months ago.

So, you get diddly-squat.

Lo siento, muchachos. Hay siempre mañana.