Another Movie Meme

Watching The Flickery FlickerFlicks.

Via Cowboy Blob who got it from Big Stupid Tommy by way of Sheila O'Malley, where I should have spotted it myself except that I haven't been dropping by Sheila's lately due to that mysterious inability to access her blog from the Mac at the house...

Anyway, the Weird 24 movie meme...

1. Name a movie that you have seen more than 10 times.

'Star Wars'. I was quite the addict in my youth. I quit counting after 125 viewings. I am part of the Rebel Alliance and a traitor. Take me away...

2. Name a movie that you’ve seen multiple times in the theater.

Again, 'Star Wars'. Probably 30 or 40 times, if you count up all the versions and re-releases.

3. Name an actor that would make you more inclined to see a movie.

Bill Nighy, Don Cheadle, Rachel Weisz and Zooey Deschanel are currently on my "Would Watch Them Reading A Phone Book" list.

4. Name an actor that would make you less likely to see a movie.

Most of the Saturday Night Live alums.

5. Name a movie that you can and do quote from.

'Blues Brothers', 'Blazing Saddles', 'Blade Runner', 'Big Trouble In Little China', 'Bull Durham'... Should I move on to movies that start with "C"??

6. Name a movie musical that you know all of the lyrics to all of the songs.

'The Rocky Horror Picture Show' & 'Best Little Whorehouse In Texas'. A brief explanation might be necessary here... We used to live next door to a couple who were with the touring company of the stage musical of 'BLWIT', and I'd seen the show numerous times and owned the soundtrack before the movie was released.

7. Name a movie that you have been known to sing along with.

Monty Python's 'Meaning Of Life', 'Rocky Horror Picture Show'

8. Name a movie that you would recommend everyone see.

'Serenity'

9. Name a movie that you own.

Almost too many to count. The first VCR tape I owned was 'Raiders of the Lost Ark', and the first DVD I bought was 'A Bridge Too Far'.

10. Name an actor that launched his/her entertainment career in another medium but who has surprised you with his/her acting chops.

Ice Cube. Not too shabby as an actor, but he needs to quit doing the kiddie comedies.

11. Have you ever seen a movie in a drive-in? If so, what?

Quite a few as a kid, including 'Star Wars', 'Jaws' and 'Close Encounters Of The 3rd Kind'. There's not too many drive-ins left these days, and it's a shame.

12. Ever made out in a movie?

Oh, yes. A XXX Drive-in, at that. We ended up having to hang newspapers off the sun visors and the windows to keep the other cars from having a better show that what was on the screen.

13. Name a movie that you keep meaning to see but just haven’t yet gotten around to it.

'An Inconvenient Truth'. I'll get around to seeing it in a few decades.

14. Ever walked out of a movie?

That horrible 'Ron Burgundy' newscaster movie made by Will Ferrell. Awful awful awful...

15. Name a movie that made you cry in the theater.

Probably 'Sounder' or 'Old Yeller', one of those dog-dying movies. I remember seeing it as part of a summertime theater for kids run by the public library. I mean, WTF were they thinking with those choices?? You had 120 kids bawling their eyes out at the same time...

16. Popcorn?

Used to eat it by the bucket. Not so much, anymore.

17. How often do you go to the movies (as opposed to renting them or watching them at home)?

I go maybe once every 6-8 weeks. I used to go all the time. The increasing boorish behavior of the cinema-going crowd has greatly reduced my desire to pay $9.00 in order to hear cell phone conversations over the movie dialogue.

18. What’s the last movie you saw in the theater?

'300'

19. What’s your favorite/preferred genre of movie?

Mystery/Heist/Whodunnit type of movies.

20. What’s the first movie you remember seeing in the theater?

Not a theater per se, but I recall our church having a family movie night and showing 'She Wore A Yellow Ribbon' on a 16mm projector in the Fellowship Hall. I was maybe 5 or 6 at the time.

21. What movie do you wish you had never seen?

Run-DMC's 'Tougher Than Leather'. It really added the "C" to Rap.

22. What is the weirdest movie you enjoyed?

Probably a 3-way tie between 'Repo Man', 'Welcome to Woop Woop', and 'Man Facing Southeast'.

23. What is the scariest movie you’ve seen?

Anything with Shirley Temple or talking babies.

24. What is the funniest movie you’ve seen?

While I'm quite fond of 'The Blues Brothers' and 'Trading Places', the movie that lately made me bust a gut is 'Harold & Kumar Go To White Castle'. It's got kind of a "been there, done that" vibe to it that really hits home.

Honorable Mention goes to 'Ferris Bueller's Day Off'. The scene where Ferris's sister Jeannie is skipping school, completely pissed at Ferris, and then she looks up and the water tower has 'Save Ferris' painted on the side... I literally rolled out of the theater chair I was laughing so hard.

Overdue Updates

Change Comes Slowly On The Gulf Coast...

Blogroll's finally updated. You might be on it.

Nelly spent the last few months as an honorary Texan. Somehow I had her link up in the Texas Blogs. She probably thinks I de-linked her...

Other new folks...

Lose An Eye, It's A Sport
One For The Road
Erica's Blog
The Unforgiving Minute
Dallas Miao'd
Thoughts From A Diva
Tall Cool Drink Of Water
Back Home Again
Ronni's Rants
Blissful Bedlam
Ranger's Report

@$$holes On Parade

Egregious Examples Of Asshattery

1) James Dobson: Dobson, the self-appointed guardian of our collective morality, and leader of the evangelical group Focus On The Family, said in a phone interview that he didn't think that GOP Presidential-Maybe Fred Thompson was a Christian, despite Thompson's baptism into the Church of Christ. Dobson also strongly supports Newt Gingrinch.

Hmmm. Now, I'm not drinking the Thompson KoolAid just yet. I don't want his campaign to be a right-wing version of Barack Obama's "Something Out Of Nothing" media circus. Still, it seems pretty presumptuous for Dobson to arbitrarily determine who's Christian enough or not. I'm not even going to mention Gingrich's numerous personal and professional fuckups that somehow are OK with Dobson.

Yo, Jamie. Go read the Gospel of Matthew, Chapter 7, Verse 1. Asshole.


2) Garrett William Mallot: This shitheel got accidentally bumped into by another man as he tried to exit a METRO bus here in Houston. They argued about it, and Genius Boy pulled out his legally concealed handgun, and shot the other man dead in front of horrified onlookers.

Nice work, dumbass. You just gave the gun-grabbers some of their preferred ammunition and made all legal (and levelheaded) handgun carriers look bad.

I hope they fry you for this, dirtbag, but not until you're someone's "wife" in a jail cell for a few years.


3) Mahmoud Ahmadinejad: Dude, the SAS are gonna sneak into Tehran and cut off your nutsack. Let the Brit sailors go!


4) Robert Mugabe: Congratulations, Robbie baby! You've almost singlehandedly destroyed an entire country. The jewel of southern Africa is now a festering cesspool.

Will you please go ahead and die, already? You're about 748 years old. How many gallons of virgin's blood a day do you ingest to stay alive? Oh, and shave off the f#(%!*& Hitler mustache.

All the other South African leaders that are supporting you at this summit meeting? They're assholes too.

Sorry, just had to vent today...

Update: Ambulance Driver picked up #5 for the @$$hole list. Go check it out. A more fetid balloon-knot of cankered sphincter would be hard to find.

It's Gonna Be A Girl!

Tio Capitan Prepares For A Niece!

I was prepared to wait until July to find out what flavor my sister's new kid was gonna be, but she got the word from the Doc, then she told Mom, who rapidly phoned everyone even remotely related to us.

Mom can't keep a secret at all... I even tried to get her to not say anything to me about the subject. The phone conversation went kinda like this...

Mom: "You're going to be an uncle again!!"

Me: "I know... I knew back at Xmas."

Mom: "She knows what she's going to have!"

Me: "Ah, the wonders of amniocentesis. Spoiling the surprise since 1956."

Mom: "Don't you want to know?"

Me: "No, I can wait."

Mom: "It's going to be a girl!!!"

Me: "Um, thanks for telling me after I said not to."

Mom: "Well, I thought you should know!"

Ah, well. It gives me more time to look for completely inappropriate baby gifts. Instead of the usual U.S. Savings Bonds, I think I'll look for a couple of bottles of the 2001 Chateau Latour Pauillac. It ought to be quite drinkable by the time her high school graduation party rolls around.

Oh, yeah... the kid's name is going to be Grace Ann. I'm so happy my sister didn't go with Bryttynye Madysyn or MyKaeLae DypShytt or whatever trendoid names are being used these days.

Boot Camp

A Guide To Buying Some Foot Leather



GuyK and Leslie have both decided they need to buy some boots when they come to Texas.

Wise choice! Now, just make sure you choose wisely!

There's all manner of stores (Sheplers, Cavenders, Boot City) that will take your money and sell you a BLP (Boot-Like Product), but boots are something you don't want to skimp on.

A good pair of boots will last the casual wearer a lifetime. If you're not regularly getting your feets stomped by steers, or shat upon by goats, or having oil wellhead blowouts catch them on fire, you can have a good pair resoled again and again, assuming you maintain your boots properly.

I'm pretty annoyed that I can't wear my beloved bullhide Nocona boots at the moment. The meds I'm currently ingesting cause the feetses to swell up, and tugging on the boots is somewhat akin to pushing a golf ball through a garden hose. I still mourn the passing of my elephant-hide Justins that I wore apart over many summers of severe abuse before I knew about re-soling.

There are many, many makers of the boots, but only a few are getting my money. In one case, I don't have enough money to actually buy their product.

In Texas, there are many places to go for handmade boots, but arguably the best is the Lucchese Boot Company. It's been there since 1883, and they know a thing or two about making some boots. They have a ready-made line of excellent quality boots, but if you have the wherewithal (and I don't...) you can have your feetses measured for a custom set of boots that will fit like a glove fits your hand.

Tony Lama, Nocona, Justin, and Olathe Boots are all decent "off the shelf" brands. There are other brands, but I can't recommend them without personal experience or recommendations from friends.

Cuanto cuesta you ask? Good boots aren't cheap. The tariff on some made-to-order Lucchese's? As they say, if you have to ask, you can't afford it... They might start at $800-$1000, and head upwards based on leather choice and style.

Fear not! You can always find a deal if you look sharp. Keep in mind you're buying for 20-30 years, so spend twice what you think you need to, and you'll get 4x the boot.

Here's my recommendations...

1) Know what you want before you get here! Look through the websites and get an idea as to the style you want. Cowboy, roper or horsemen height? Box toe, pointy toe, rounded toe? (hint: take a look at your own feet!) Walking heel or riding heel? Goat, calf or kangaroo hide? Oh, boots are made of LEATHER, not vinyl. Vegans need not apply.

2) Bring a wad of cash. I spent $200+ over a decade ago on my Noconas, and that's an average price for non-exotic leather. Plan on at least $150 to get a boot that's worth a damn.

3) Foot slippage is normal! Don't wear bulky socks to try on boots. Get a pair of boot socks, or wear thin dress socks. The boot should fit quite tightly to your toe and arch area, and your heels should slip a bit as you walk. The more you wear them, the quicker they'll stretch to fit, and the heel slipping will cease.

4) Laces have no place on cowboy boots. Somewhere along the way some dipshit got the idea to make lace-up ropers. That idjit will burn in the same level of hell as those that put beans in chili, and those that take up more than one parking spot due to sloppy driving.

Hey, look! Nocona still sells my style of boots!



Here's something for the intrepid snake-wranglers in Jawja:

2007 Texas Blogfest Update - Vol. 3

Don't Miss The Denny & Shoe Slapfight!



Time once again to flog the blogfest, kiddies.

Reservation details are here at the Official Site! Or, go straight to the hotel website here!

Drop the rugrats off with Granny, load up the cooler and the lawn chairs, and c'mon out. You're entitled!

I'm going to try and arrive as close to 4 pm as I can, but I'll likely stay holed up in the bar until dark:30. Y'all out-of-staters please remember that the Texas sun can roast you pretty good if you don't pay attention to it. Bring a hat and sunscreen, or one of those Lawrence of Arabia robe thingies. Camels strictly optional.

I've heard from a few folks who want to go shooting at the 'fest. I'm all for the idea, but I'd just as soon go Sunday on the way out of town. I'm definitely not bringing the arsenal that I did last time, just a couple of poppers and maybe the 12 gauge coachgun.

If you're going, do us all a favor and advertise the blogfest! Spread the word!

See y'all there!

The Great Ape Heist Of 1983

Monkey See, Monkey Doo

It should come as no surprise to my regular readers that I've lead a life that's wandered off the straight & narrow from time to time.

Mostly my transgressions involve juvenile japery rather than calculated misdemeanours. I'll gladly risk fines and a night in the hoosegow for a memorable prank.

Sometimes those clever little schemes cross the line between funny and felony, and it's not always easy to see that line, especially at 3 in the morning when you're trying to pry a chimp loose from a cage.

But I'm getting ahead of myself...

There were 5 distinct 'crews' I ran with back in high school. Crew "A" was mostly band geeks, Crew "B" was the Shop class stoners, Crew "C" were friends from church and church camp, Crew "D" were kids from my Scout troop, and Crew "E" were my buds from junior high school, now attending a different high school.

With such a wide variety of companions, the possibilities for amusement were, well, quintupled. Some were more eager than others for pranksterism and mayhem. Others were into gaming and hanging out. Others were the ones to choose for drinking purloined beer and sneaking bong hits.

And one of the guys in one of the groups wanted to heist a monkey.

Back in the day, there was a local establishment that dealt in rare animals and their accoutremonts as a sideline to their regular trade. If you didn't know where it was, you'd never guess it was tucked away in an upscale part of town. They dealt in exotic birds, random reptiles, and the occasional primate.

Word got around to the 'hood that there was a new addition to the Animal House. A sizable outdoor cage had been added, one with a securely locked steel barred door. Occasional bike trips past the building revealed nothing.

One weekend I got a call from a friend I'll dub "Rabbit". Rabbit had been by the store to pick up bird food for his doves (Rabbit was an amateur magician) and he had spotted the cage's new occupant. A full grown chimpanzee.

Rabbit LOVED chimps. I can't count the hours he'd talked about having a chimp of his own, that he could dress up in little suits and walk around to classes and to the mall.

Rabbit swore that this chimp was miserable in the cage, and needed to be set free for humanitarian (chimpanzitarian?) reasons. I was more easily swayed by emotional arguments at that age, and to my 14 year old brain, busting a chimp out of the pokey seemed a noble task.

Now, I didn't want a chimp. I already had a dog, and it was no prize. Still, the mental exercise of how to get the ape loose appealed to me. Rabbit swore he could care for the ape, and figured he'd keep it in the garage until he got it tamed, then break the news to his parents.

Now, it might appear that Rabbit was a bit erratic in his reasoning, and you'd be right. Rabbit's plan to tell the parents that he'd found it wandering along Buffalo Bayou seemed a bit sketchy, even to me. Even in subtropical Houston, free-range chimpanzees are a bit thin on the ground.

Still, I was on the case. Free the chimp or Bust!

The plan involved the following resources:

Two black-clad teenage males on bicycles
Two pairs white cotton gloves
Two rubberized Army surplus ponchos
One canvas duffel bag
One roll duct tape
One spool 20 lb monofilament
One flashlight
One oxy/butane mini brazing torch
One 1" cold chisel
One 8 lb sledgehammer, wrapped in burlap.
One bunch of bananas

The scheme was set up like this:

I'd spend the night over at Rabbit's place. We'd wait until 2 in the morning, then crawl out his window, pick up the duffel full of gear we'd packed earlier, and head west.

Under cover of darkness, we'd bike over towards the Monkey Jail, and stash the bikes near a vacant lot. From the lot, we'd drop down into the local bayou, and hike along until we were behind the Casa del Chimpy, then wriggle up through a gap in the fence where it overhung the bayou.

We'd ninja over to the cage area, and quickly hang the ponchos on both sides of the cage door. The ponchos would be sealed together with the duct tape, forming a light-proof shroud.

While I was heating up the hasp on the cage lock with the torch (going after the hasp is easier than the hardened steel lock... I *did* learn something in Metalshop class...), Rabbit would be securing our escape by laying tripwires with the monofilament across the fence gates, and tying the gates shut.

By the time he'd finished, I'd have the cage door open by chiseling through the red-hot iron hasp. At that heat, it would eliminate the loud "clink" sound, and the burlap on the sledge would muffle the chisel strikes.

Rabbit would go inside first and start feeding the chimp the bananas. While he was keeping the chimp busy, I'd sneak around behind the ape, and quickly pull the duffel bag over its head. Rabbit would pull it tight over the chimp's feet, and we'd muscle the ape through the door, and down to the back fence.

Once outside the fence, we'd take turns carrying the ape-filled duffel until we got back to the bikes, then blaze for Rabbit's house to unwrap our prize.

That was the plan, anyway. Anyone want to recite that axiom about "best laid plans"?

In reality, it went something like this:

We spent the night over at Rabbit's place. We waited until 2 in the morning, then crawled out his window, picked up the duffel full of gear we'd packed earlier, and headed west.

Under cover of darkness, we biked over towards the Monkey Jail, and stashed the bikes near a vacant lot. From the lot, we dropped down into the local bayou, and slogged though filthy mud up to our asscheeks, got bitten by leeches and other vermin, and eventually ended up behind the Casa del Chimpy. It took almost half an hour to wriggle up through a gap in the fence where it overhung the bayou.

We ninja'd over to the cage area, and quickly hung the ponchos on both sides of the cage door. The ponchos were sealed together with the duct tape, forming a light-proof shroud.

The chimp silently observes all this commotion from atop a large log leaning against the cage wall. Not even a plaintive "ook ook ook" outta the ape.

At this point, the plan started to go awry and things assumed a distinctly pear-shaped profile

"Rabbit! Where's the igniter?"

"What igniter?"

"That thing that looks like a metal cup on the end of kitchen tongs, it makes sparks to light the butane."

"I thought you had it!"

"Why the fuck would I have it? It's your dad's torch!"

"Look in the bag!"

"I *DID*!! It's not here!"

"Dude! Shut up! You're gonna get us busted! Use your Zippo!"

"I left it on your desk..."

"FUCK!!!"

"Rabbit! Shut up! You're gonna get us busted!"

"You're a Boy Scout. Do some flint and steel shit or something."

"Find me some flint, Einstein."

"Oh, hell with it. Just hit the hasp."

"It's gonna be loud..."

"Let's just get it over with..."

"OK, hold this..."

KLAAAAANNNGGGG!!!!! The entire cage trembles.

"Rabbit, that's loud as hell. I don't thi..."

SHREEEEEEEEKKKSHREEEEEEEEKKKSHREEEEEEEEKKK
SHREEEEEEEEKKKSHREEEEEEEEKKKSHREEEEEEEEKKK
SHREEEEEEEEKKKSHREEEEEEEEKKKSHREEEEEEEEKKK
SHREEEEEEEEKKKSHREEEEEEEEKKKSHREEEEEEEEKKK
SHREEEEEEEEKKK!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The most ungodly sounds start emanating from that ape. You just can't imagine the volume.

(Additional SFX: Sound of chimp poo pelting the poncho)
(Additional SFX: Sound of light switches being flicked on in a 1/2 mile radius)
(Additional SFX: Sound of two kids hauling ass and diving headfirst in a muddy bayou)

The bananas made a nice snack on the ride home.

Is there a moral to the story? Hell, I dunno. I did learn where the phrase "going apeshit" came from. In retrospect I can see that while it wasn't the dumbest thing I ever did, it was right up there. Call it 7.8 on the Dumbass Scale.

I never did pal around with Rabbit much after that night. Pulling leeches off of each other's posteriors doesn't rise to being a treasured bonding experience...

That Was The Week That Was...

Fear & Loathing Inside The 610 Loop

Bizarrity abounds this week, pilgrims... Here's a taste.


Canción Numero Uno: (Heard yesterday at lunch in our breakroom)

The Man floats a bid proposal for 71 linear miles of roadside mowing over an XX day period. Standard mowing gig, keep grass height under X" during duration of contract, includes right of way, medians, off & on-ramp areas. Usual rules for bidding apply, sealed bids by the deadline, lowest responsible bidder at bid opening gets the gig.

Winning bidder offers to do the deed for 150 Large, so he gets the nod. The Man will send a flunky for preliminary inspection after 10 days.

Winning bidder shows up to start the job. Drops the tailgate of his truck and...

Unloads a Troy-Bilt push mower.

He'd gotten about 3 miles down the road before the bid was revoked.


Canción Numero Dos: (Heard today at lunch in our breakroom)

High-Level policy meeting in Conference Room A, guest list includes Asst. Directors, Directors, other various high paygrade Muckity-Mucks.

Panel Interviews for low-level bureaucrat position in Conference Room B, guest list includes mid-range supervisors, a Division Manager, and the interviewees.

Receptionist asks each person leaving elevator on this floor if they're here for the meeting or for the interview. Each arrival indicates they're here for the 10 a.m. meeting.

By 10:30, Interview Panel is wondering where the 10 a.m. candidate is.

By 11:30, High-Level policy meeting breaks up. Missing interviewee approaches receptionist with many pages of detailed notes from High-Level policy meeting, where he's been giving advice as best as he knows how. Asks receptionist when next part of interview is scheduled.

Receptionist dials up supervisor on speakerphone, explains situation, whereupon supervisor explodes into helpless laughter, clearly audible to interviewee.


Canción Numero Tres: (Eyewitness to this one)

Receptionist hears something scrabbling along the baseboard behind her desk. She turns, and sees what she thinks is a large frog inching its way along the wall, intent on reaching the potted plant in the corner. Bear in mind this desk is located many floors up in a downtown skyscraper.

Receptionist, being a creature of urban upbringing, has little to no experience with a creature of the wilderness, and freaks out accordingly.

Random Bureaucrat, hearing the piercing shrieks, comes to investigate and determines that the "frog" is actually a small bat.

Upon being told that a bat is basically a be-winged mouse, more or less, Receptionist completely loses her shit and is last seen galumphing towards the other side of the building with a velocity and precision that belies her girth and dislike of physical activity. Piercing shrieks actually increase in volume, accompanied by random interjections of "Oh, Lawdy!" and "Jeezus He'p me!!".

The aforementioned bat, probably sensing nothing good will come of this ruckus, makes a beeline for the elevators, crawling at a rate rather suprising for a two-footed be-winged mouse-like creature.

Random Bureaucrat tips a trashcan over on the bat, covering bat in soggy kleenex, orange peels and empty soda cans, but limiting its movement.

Random Bureaucrat borrows my good pair of scissors, my roll of Scotch tape and an empty copy paper box from my office, and somehow manages to prod the garbage-strewn bat into the box. Box is taped up and airholes are punched in preparation for an Animal Control pickup.

El Capitan examines scissors quite closely for stray flecks of batjuice. I don't see myself using them to open my packets of Cheese Nips anytime soon.

As soon as I hear whether our little bat was rabid or not, I'll let you know. Just tune in daily, same Bat-Time, same Bat-Channel!

A Genteel Streetsweeper?

I Kinda Like This Boomstick!

Saw this oddity on Gunbroker.com. It was catalogued under "engraved revolvers", which is an accurate listing, now that I think about it.

Here's the description:

A Russian hand-made high grade revolver-shotgun, engraved, 12 ga. Set of chokes - choke, modified choke, skeet. Engravement handmade by famous artist and can't be compared even with the best European expensive rifles.

For $6000, though, I'll stick with my 12 ga. coachgun and practice quick reloads.

Gerbils, Wolves & Tattoos

Swallow Your Drink Before Viewing!

Ran across some old favorites while slumming around on YouTube. These are three of the funniest commercials ever created, IMHO.




Wonder if they're even still around?

UPDATE: Yup, they got absorbed by Fry's. Bleah.

Well, I Do Like Indian Food...

More Silly Online Quizzicles



The Vedic Pantheon is the one for you
Take Which Pantheon is Best for you? today!
Created with Rum and Monkey's Personality Test Generator.

While you might not need to become a Hindu the Vedic Gods & Goddesses are the deities for you, they were there at the birth on one of the oldest civilizations in the World, and it is made up of more than just a collection of stories, the elements of Chaos math and other supposedly modern ideas are found in the Sutras and other writings of India, learn yoga and buy a sari, the Vedic tradition is where you belong.

Federal Fun & Games

How To F#&% Up A Perfectly Good Tuesday

There are times where you get so wrapped up in the local issues that you can forget that The Man is really just a medium-sized fish in a semi-sizable pond. There are much bigger fish, and much larger ponds, each with their own flavor of fish poop.

Today I've spent most of the day go-fering for a minor functionary from one of the Feddie Departments of Scum & Villainy. My usual scope on these things is to give 'em only what they ask for, and never volunteer information. They can try fishing in my pond, but I ain't biting.

Other people around here are so addicted to the Political Process they can't seem to avoid the shameful displays of toadying and bootlicking that occur whenever someone with a whiff of power steps off the elevator.

This guy's just another low-level bureaucrat, in spite of the fancy Feddie business card. Not too bright, and not too organized, either. Oh, and Worst. Hairpiece. EVAR! If he had any real clout, he'd have an entourage of lackeys doing the paperwork excavation, rather than getting his own hands dirty. That's my position, anyway.

He's asked about what to do after hours, where Houstonians go for fun and excitement. I just wish I knew the name of a good tranny bar I could point this guy towards...

More Meme-ing

Hey, It Beats Workin'...

Got tagged by Dallas Meow. Feel free to swipe it for some stress-free blogfodder!


Three resolutions I’ve made more than once:
Eat Less, Exercise, Stay on a budget.

Three things I wish someone would buy or do for me:
Get me out of debt.
Buy me an oceangoing trawler.
Throw me a 40th Bday bash next year.

Three places I am dying to visit:
The morgue, the funeral parlor, the crematorium.
And I'd better be pretty far along in dying when I head that way, 'cause otherwise, I don't wanna go.

Three words I can never spell correctly:
the (always comes out 'teh'), license, refrigerator

Three secrets I have never told anyone:
If I told anyone, they wouldn't be secrets, would they??

Three things I would do if I won a big lottery:
Disappear, Change my ID, buy a ranch and crossbreed moose & buffalo. I'd call 'em "Moofalo".

Three things I’ve lost that I can’t seem to get over:
My waistline, my youth, my hair

Three favorite places to be a tourist:
NYC, Vegas, Chicago

Three movies I’ve never seen, that I would like to see:
The Shawshank Redemption, The Lion In Winter, Rain Man

Three things I like to do alone:
Read, Sing, Jnk gur qbycuva. (ROT 13)

Music To Kick Off The Weekend!

Something To Wash Off The Mental Stench Of Rosie...

I was actually searching for Emmylou Harris's cover of Bill Monroe's 'Scotland', but no one's posted it yet.

Here's Emmylou Harris & The Nash Ramblers covering Steve Earle's 'Guitar Town'.



The album this song is from is Emmylou Harris & the Nash Ramblers At The Ryman. I've just about worn out my CD over the last 12 years of repeated play, and would recommend it to anyone who likes good music.

Is There A Bounty On Ignunt Dykes?

"A Whole Lotta Woman! A Whole Lotta Rosie!" - AC/DC

It's not often I wish a slow, excruciating death upon a person.

In Rosie O'Donnell's case, I'll make an exception.

Think how nice it would be if some kind soul took it upon him or herself to shoot this stupid woman in her big ol' punkin haid?

Apparently Rosie is upset at how we're treating Khalid Sheik Mohammed. We're "robbing him of his humanity".



Jeezus H. Christ on a left-handed unicycle...

Maybe there's a Ham Sandwich Of the Month Club we can sign her up for, in hopes of a Mama Cass-style exit.

Read the whole thing at WizBang.

How F#(%!^& Weird Is This??

Strange Things Are Afoot At The Circle K...

Check this weirdness out.

I posted this EATAPETA notice at 7:40pm CST

Elisson posts his EATAPETA notice at 8:58 EST, just minutes apart.

Look how similar they are. OK, at least they have veal and seal in common, anyway. No, I'm not accusing him of any copycat blogging. Last hit I got from anywhere in Georgia was at 4:57 pm, a Google hit looking for bukkake. That was probably Zonker.

This is not the first time Elisson and I have posted similar topics on the same days. There's been a few times we've been on the same wavelength regarding post topics.

I think there's something going on. A clever Zionist conspiracy, if you will. See, I've been eating at the local delis recently, and I'm of the opinion that inside the flanken and the half-sours and the knishes and the pastrami are secret mind-expanding chemicals that allow mental linkups across vast distances.

Ordinarily I'd be immune to the signals, but my parents had me snipped as a baby, so I'm equipped with a turtleneck instead of an anteater. This allows an unimpeded signal to reach the ..erm...antenna.

That guy Belloq in 'Raiders Of The Lost Ark' was right! The Ark of the Covenant *IS* a radio! It's a transmitter for talking to schvantzes!

Heh. I'm either the most brillant sleuth since Sherlock Holmes, or that 24 ounces of prime rib with horseradish I just ate has pickled my brainstem...

Eating Tasty Animals

Celebrating My Carnivoracity...er...Carnivoraciousness!

Well, damn. I went by Rajun Cajun on Richmond Ave. to join Lawrence of IFOC and whoever else from the Houston area who was showing up to eat dead animals in celebration of EATAPETA Day. (International Eat A Tasty Animal for PETA Day)

Denied. No room at the inn. I got there a smidgen after 7pm, and there wasn't a parking spot for blocks in any direction. I know. I looked. Also, the crowd was out the door, and I just don't do crowds real well.

Sigh. So much for busting my local blogger event cherry. Maybe next time.

So, back home to pick up my camera and blog something before venturing out in search of some still-quivering cowflesh. Hell, since it's for PETA, I think I'll have the veal with a side of clubbed tenderized baby seal.

Bon Appetit, Y'all!

Shiny New Toy

I'm Just One Psychotic Break Away From My Own Slasher Film!

A new toy arrived in the mail this week. In my continuing quest to own a copy of every sharp object ever created by man, I succumbed to the urge to order this Bowie knife when I saw it was on sale at Dixie Gun Works.



Oh, you just think it looks ridiculous in that picture. Feh, that's nothing. Let me put it into proper scale for you:



Hehehe... this thing is just StupidHuge. You could hack off the Loch Ness Monster's head with this blade when it floated up to you and asked you for Tree-fiddy. Well, you could if it came sharpened...

So, I'll be devoting the next several evenings to some serious whetstone action. Remind me to bring it to the blogfest, and we'll scare the shit out of the civilians by using it to chop limes for gin & tonics...

Old World Iron

Kaiser Bill & Bumbling Bismarck's Big Boltie

One of my favorite turnbolt rifles just showed up at Collector's Firearms recently. It's an 1871 Mauser, in the extremely obsolete 11mm Mauser caliber (aka .43 Mauser)




Rockhauler's father had one of these tucked in the gun closet once upon a time, and it was in much better condition than the one pictured. It was quite the specimen. You could shoot it, club a whale to death with it, or use the whole thing for a circus tent ridgepole if needed. In extreme emergencies, you could remove the barrel and use it for a municipal water main. We're talking a hefty-sized rifle here!

I recall taking it out to the range once back in the mid-90's, and shooting some black powder rounds ginned up out of some brass cases of another caliber. Lacking proper sizing dies, the cases been modified through a judicious application of Congolese engineering. Somehow the reloading formula was off, as rounds sighted in at the 100 yard target were plowing into the dirt somewhere around the 60 yard hashmark. Still, it was a hoot to actually fire the old smokepole.

I've got an original 11mm Mauser round, courtesy of Rockhauler. It's got a paper-patched bullet somewhere around 350 grains, and by now the mercury priming and the black powder have combined to form something truly nasty inside that case. It looks like this:



The Old Western Scrounger has some repro rounds for sale for the low low price of $70 for a box of 20. For that price, it'd be cheaper to reload the primers only and use the thing as a muzzle-loader!

I'd like to shoot one again, if for no other reason to just fantasize about the proper use of these boomsticks... putting 11mm holes in the backs of retreating Frenchmen!

Snake, Rattle & Roll!

What Happens In Jawja Never Stays In Jawja

OK, I'm not gonna say who's spreading these rumors, but the word on the street is that much more went on at the Jawja snakefest than is being reported by the participants.

Seems that with an overapplication of the distilled spirits, the urge to (shudder) karaoke may have come over some of the participants.

I can't confirm this, but a smuggled video might just have caught a be-dragged Zonker (whose supposed beard was a fiendishly clever ruse) and a certain Straight White Guy in an impromptu karaoke performance.

You be the judge. Personally, I'm kind of skeptical that it's really them, but ya just never know...



(View it quick, Viacom will likely pull the video soon!)

Weekend Weirdness

I Am Probably Losing My Mind

Shoulda took today off. Of course, all the crap that greeted me this morning would just be festering until I got in tomorrow.

I wish I'd done more with the weekend. It had such a promising start.

I had a meeting in the bowels of Houston Friday afternoon. Seriously, imagine the shittiest part of town, then plop a beaten-up run-down facility in the middle of it, then send in a lone cracker to preach The Man's municipal gospel.

Actually, everyone was very nice, but they did warn me to park my truck so I could see it from the meeting room window in case the indigenous life forms decided to make off with my hubcaps. The joke's on them, I don't have hubcaps, but I imagine they would have taken the rims instead.

So, I'm leaving the facility and trying to remember how to get back to the freeway when my path is crossed.

By this:



Now, I already have an unhealthy attraction to chili dogs. To wave this vehicle in front of me is like waving a red flag in front of a bull. I knew... I just *KNEW* that wherever this thing was going, free hot dogs would be offered.

So, I followed it. Problem was, it was heading into the ghetto. And I got stuck behind a red light as it made a couple of turns.

So, I find myself barrel-assing through some seriously effed-up 'hoods in my Redneck Chariot, screaming "WEINERMOBILE!!!!" at the top of my lungs trying to catch this thing. I'd screech to a stop, yell "WEINERMOBILE??" at a passerby, and invariably, they'd point down the street.

I eventually caught up to the thing after a mile or so, having the time of my life as I bounced over speed bumps and blew through stop signs, all in the sheer joy of the chase. Of course, I was still shouting "WEINERMOBILE!!!!" periodically.

When I got behind it, I saw the license plate. Wisconsin, with a "WISH I WAS" tag, or something close to it.

The wind kind of left my sails at that point. I'd caught up with the silly thing, but I hadn't the means of taking it down, short of ramming it and looting the wreckage. I've grown fonder of my low insurance premiums than I am of hot dogs, so I turned off the path just south of downtown, and moseyed back to my usual stomping grounds. Next time, I'l have a remote-controlled harpoon cannon mounted in the back.

After that, it was a thoroughly forgettable dinner at Ciro's Italian Grill, then back to the casa for hibernation. I did make it out of the house Sunday night just long enough to see '300', which was as good as I'd hoped it would be.

I think I'll make some chili dogs this evening...

Viacom Sucks Donkey Balls

You Can't Stop The Signal!

I was all set to go with a lengthy blogpost on the joys and terrors of 1980's music, complete with lots of links to music videos on YouTube. It was one of those blogposts that festers in draft form for weeks, until you finally get off your butt and finish it up.

Well, Viacom finished it for me. About 80% of the links to the music videos are dead now, due to Viacom's cease & desist warning to YouTube in February.

See, Viacom claims ownership of the videos. Apparently, by their logic, if a video has ever been aired on one of their stations, they own the rights to it in perpetuity. It's the kind of fine-print logic that makes the byzantine EULAs on computer software seem crystal clear.

Let me see if I can follow the logic...

A bunch of kids form a band. They practice a lot, play a few gigs, and get a good reputation. They play larger and larger venues as their fan base grows. They're getting good writeups in the local music press. Sooner or later some A&R weasel for an indie record label talks 'em into a shitty 3 record deal. The band goes broke paying for the record jacket art and the studio fees, but now they're sleeping in their van and washing in the 7-11 bathroom, and as a result they gain immense indie cred.

Current cost to Viacom? Nada. Nothing. Zip.

The buzz grows. Regional tours are scheduled. The record company can't afford any promotions, so they tie in with a beer company for swag, posters and banners, and a free case of brew the night of the gig, as long as the sponsor is mentioned 4 times during the show, and all beer bottles are placed label-forward on the drum riser and amps.

Sooner or later a major record label A&R weasel catches a great show, pisses his britches in joy at finding the Next Big Thing, and offers the band a deal. The major label will buy out the band's contract with the indie outfit, and front the cash for the next record. They bring in Rick Rubin to produce, hire some Eurotrash image consultant, fire the drummer, and charge all this to the band's account.

With me so far? OK, currently thousands and thousands of dollars are being spent on recording, promotion and coke whores. Current cost to Viacom? Nada. Nothing. Zip.

The label fronts the cash for a music video, in hopes of getting it in rotation on the Next Big Thing Video Hour that plays from 2 am to 3 am CST on Wednesday nights.

Additional thousands and thousands of dollars are dropped on the video production, catering, booze, dupe tapes, clearances, legal mumbojumbo, yadda, yadda yadda.

Current cost to Viacom? Nada. Nothing. Zip.

The videotapes are FedExed far and wide, in hopes that some music video show somewhere picks it up. No one does.

Eventually, the major record label A&R weasel slips the producers of 120 Minutes a wad of cash and 10 grams of coke, and the video gets aired precisely twice. Viacom's making their revenue off of advertising and cable subscription fees, so... Current cost to Viacom? Nada. Well, OK, maybe a carting service fee for the removal of dead coke whores.

Long story short, the band splits up 2 weeks later, leaving the hapless band manager holding the bag for $1,560,000 in debt to the record label, and he never got the wild multi-groupie humjob he was promised. The guitar player runs off with an undead coke whore, the bass player retreats to a Buddhist monastery in Bhutan, and the replacement drummer just explodes for some reason.

Current cost to Viacom? Nada. Nothing. Zip. OK, maybe they pay a cleaning service to dust the video shelves once a year.

However... based on those two miserable airings back in 1987, Viacom claims ownership in perpetuity to the music video they had no actual financial stake in. To make matters worse, they actively threaten litigation to YouTube and the poor saps that managed to save those 20 year old VHS tapes and as a tribute to bands long gone away, uploaded some old videos to YouTube.

Viacom, you absolutely SUCK DONKEY BALLS!!!!

Got My Checkup Results

All Those Pricy Scrips Seem To Be Working!

Just 'cause I knew you were wondering if I was gonna stroke out or have a vapor lock anytime soon:

BP - 118/84
Total Cholesterol - 129
HDL - 42
LDL - 68
Blood Glucose - 123
A1C - 6.9

Not too awful for a sedentary blimpous creature. If I can quit the carbs, that blood sugar level will drop quite a bit. Alas, chilidogs need a bun, not a lettuce leaf...

I Need One Of These...

When The Worker Is Ready, The Tool Will Appear!

It's amazing that you can go for years without knowing the tool you so desperately need in your job even exists.

I'm going to find one of these, and dub it the Answer Mallet.



When you enter my office and say "Can I ask you a question?", I will pick up the mallet and ask you to approach and place your genitalia on the edge of my desk. (Women, you can substitute expensive footwear, your Blackberry, or just place a hand on the desk.)

If the question is one with merit, one that is not readily available via Google, and one that truly belongs in my area of expertise, I will answer it promptly and courteously.

If, however, the question is one that belongs over on the other side of the building with the File Room Gnomes, I get a one-handed slam. If it's a really stupid question, I get to use two hands.

Fer Pete's sake, people, I've been here almost three years now. If you can't remember what department I work for, you deserve a mallet shot to the 'nads.

Oh, I also claim dibs on the after-hours delivery guys that bang on the door until I get up to answer it, instead of using the service delivery entrance like they're supposed to...

Go Fuck Yourself, Marvel.

The Road To Hell Is Paved With Good Intentions

I'm not gonna get too worked up over this, as we're talking about a comic book character, which when you get down to it is just a collection of pictures and words that form a shared idea.

Ideas are important though, and you don't toss one aside without considering the ramifications.

Marvel Comics has decided to kill off Captain America. This annoys me beyond reason, and would induce the RCOB if I chose to sit and stew about it.

DC Comics killed off Superman in the 90's and I didn't care all that much. I didn't collect any of the Superman titles, as Supes tends to come across as a Big Blue Boy Scout in print, and only gets interesting on the small screen (Lois & Clark, Smallville).

Captain America, though... Cap was always a favorite of mine. Diehard American, but not a jingoistic automaton. No cosmically-endowed super powers, but could hold his own with the big boys. He didn't carry the baggage of Batman's "vigilante" public image. Of all the morally ambiguous comic heroes out in the Marvel Universe, if you needed a moral center, a person who would always do the Right Thing at the right time, you could rely on Cap.

And Marvel Comics decided that wasn't important anymore.

I'm not interested in the reasons they gave for their decision. They can dress it up in all the NewSpeak they deem appropriate. It was a bad decision, and it's one more attempt to sully the reminders of what's good and decent about America.

So, Marvel, here's hoping Jack Kirby's ghost crawls up your collective asses and distributes an unhealthy collection of colon polyps as he goes... With any luck you'll all expire before you can release your next Big Idea, Koran Man and Burqa Girl.

I'm overdue for some skin ink... Wonder how this would look on a bicep?

How Rare Is My Personality?

More Adventures With BlogThings

I found this at Leslie's place. I might have hacked it a little...

Your Personality is Absolutely Unique (FA-RUS-C)

Your personality type is Furtive, Anal-Retentive, Unbalanced, and Somewhat Creepy. No one else has your effed-up personality, including corrupt politicians and purveyors of illicit pharmaceuticals. In fact, you're so messed up, we're surprised you're allowed to roam freely amongst the general public. In fact, quit taking these BlogThings quizzes, you're frightening our computer server. You are Introverted, Suspicious, Calculating, and Onanistic.

How Rare Is Your Personality?

2007 Texas Blogfest Update - Vol 2.

All The Pews That's Writ To Squint


OK, bloggers and bloggettes...

I went ahead and pulled the trigger on my room reservation at The Inn Of The Hills, so apart from sudden attacks of flying monkeys, it looks like I'll be there.

Reservation details are here at the Official Site!

I'm still lobbying the D/FW & I-35 Corridor bloggers to show up, we'll see what happens.

If you've never been to a blogfest, here's what you can expect:

1) You'll meet new people.
2) You'll talk a lot.
3) You'll say "Damn, I didn't quite picture you looking like this..."
4) You will have the opportunity to soak up liquor like a parched sponge and sing bawdy songs at the top of your lungs.
5) No one will look at you cross-eyed if you sip iced tea and whistle Dixie instead.

Blogfests are what ya make of 'em, but just remember, you can't force it, and getting a bigger hammer won't help. Just let it flow as it will!

Take the plunge, grasshopper! You know you want to!

The Cats Strike Back

How Did They Eat So Much Kibble?

Revenge was swift and determined. In return for violating the sanctity of the household with canine interlopers, Betsy Cat and Pookie Cat have exacted their punitive measures.

I came home this evening and found not one, not two, not three, but FOUR separate piles of cat puke on the foot of my bed.

I suspect Betsy Cat was the culprit. I found a wad of juicy grey fur on the bottom of one pile.

Here's her handiwork, which oozed through one sheet and stained my mattress, probably permanently. Each blue stripe is about half an inch apart, to give you some degree of scale.



The haziness around the edges is a surplus of Lysol spray that I soaked the mattress cover in. I'll be laying down a towel to wick up the leftover goo as I sleep on the couch the next few nights...

She missed my woobie by about half an inch, or else I'd be making a coonskin cap. A Maine Coon skin cap...

Perhaps it's time to look at small tortoises as a suitable pet. After all, who's ever seen tortoises yack up their dinner?

The Great Houston Cat Scramble

Fur Flies For Fun & Festivities!

It's always a fun weekend when the cats are thoroughly traumatized.

Oh, I'm not lobbying for the casual torture of felines. As a matter of fact, I lavish so much affection and kittytreats on my duo of meow-beasts that I fear they are overly dependent on their sybaritic lifestyle, and need that occasional reminder that they descend from wild self-reliant cats. This weekend they got that reminder...

My sister and BIL came into town for Dad's 71st birthday, and brought their duo of dogs along. I had no idea the dogs were coming, so when I opened the door and the hounds rushed in, all I could think was "Gee, I hope the cats are ready for this..."

Sis & BIL have two dogs, Ellie the Wondermutt, and Ashley the Emergency Backup Dog. Ellie's a collie mix, and Ashley's a wee rat terrier with delusions of Doberman-hood.

I wish I had my camera ready for the scene in the hallway where the rat terrier and Pookie Cat came face to face.

Pookie Cat: "Jaysus, Mary & Joseph! WTF is that!"

Ashley the EBD: "pantpantpantpant... Hey, this thing's bigger than me! Better sniff its butt!"

Pookie Cat: (back arching and tail up straight) "Whoa there, nosy! You gots to buy me dinner before you do that!!"

Ashley the EBD: "This thing sure doesn't smell like a... waitaminnit! BARKBARKBARKBARK!!!"

Pookie Cat: "To hell with *that* noise!" (Turns inside out & upside down doing a 180, leaves clawmarks all down the hallway carpet as she makes a strategic retreat under my bed.)

Betsy Cat: "Hey, you calico-colored beeyotch! This is my hangout! GTF out!"

Pookie Cat: "Kiss my pink starfish, you shaggy hippy. I ain't leaving!!"

At this point I might remind the readers that Betsy Cat & Pookie Cat do not get along all that well, and would sooner be bathed daily than hang out together.

Betsy Cat: "Fine, I'll just crawl out from under here and go to the..."

Ashley the EBD: "BARKBARKBARKBARK!!! ELLIE!! GET IN HERE!! I GOT TWO OF 'EM!!"

Ellie the WM: "Grrr-OOOF!! Grrr-OOOF!! Grrr-OOOF!! Grrr-OOOF!!" (Ellie has a weird bark that starts off as a growl...)

Betsy Cat: "Oh, suckbunnies and filthy litterclumps!" (Beats a hasty retreat back under the bed)

By the time I got to the bedside, Ashley had her nose under the bed, and was beginning exploratory maneuvers. I could hear growling and hissing in two-part harmony under the box springs.

I got the dogs out of the bedroom, and shut the door. Now Betsy Cat & Pookie Cat could have the pleasure of each other's company for the rest of the day in my cluttered room.

After the trip to Pappadeauxs with the family, the dogs remained at the casa for a few more hours as Sis and BIL went to see some friends. I finally had the house de-doggified at 9 pm that night.

It took much rattling of the kittytreat canister before Betsy Cat's greedy gut overcame her sense of caution. Pookie Cat was under the bed for much longer...

So, Betsy Cat? Whaddya think about dogs?

"Dogs suck, and I am unanimous in that..."


Pookie Cat, what's your opinion?

"El Capitan, you suck for letting those nasty things in here. Plus, they ate outta my cat food bowl!"

Bada Bing!

Somehow, A 'Sopranos' Reference Seemed Appropriate!

Little nephew Sammy might be falling in with the wrong crowd...

"So, there I was on the daycare playground, and that Murphy kid wouldn't cough up his milk money! So I got 'Thumbsucker' Santucci to roll him offa his Big Wheel, and I grabbed ahold of his unit just like this, and BADA BING!!! One shot straight into the marble bag!"



My sister is *SO* gonna kill me if she sees this...

Texas Independence Day!

Time To Freshen That Expression Of Secession!

Happy Independence Day, y'all!

I could list the thousands of positive attributes of Texas, and why we kick so much tail over the rest of the USA, but the native Texans know it already, and everyone outside the borders would just get jealous.

So, please join me in El Capitan's Texas Prayer to commemorate the day!

Blessed Motherland, Our beautiful state, hallowed be thy name!
Thy rivers run, under red-gold sun,
On Earth, as it is in Texas.
Give us this day our daily BBQ,
And forgive us our pride, as we forgive those born in lesser lands.
Lead us not into Oklahoma, and deliver us some Shiner,
For thou art our beloved Republic, with the power and the glory, for ever and ever,

Amen.

Now, I'm gonna listen to some tunes and have me a big bowl o' chili!!

Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here...

Buttblogging Continues Uninterrupted

I was looking on Cute Overload for some syrupy-sweet pics to steal post in order to "cleanse the palate" and help take people's minds off of the horrors of the previous week here at Baboon Pirates.

Alas, the pic I found that I just had to post also involves... butts. Damnation. I'm stuck in a rut.

Anyway, the reason I had to post this one...

Remember when you were a kid, and Mom made you get dressed up in your Sunday best for some sort of social function? You were admonished not to get your clothers dirty, and not to run around yelling, and for Pete's sake BEHAVE!!!

Sooner or later you'd get yourself all rumpled and dirty from crawling around under tables, or sneaking outside to play with other kids, and then Mom would catch up with you.

And then... it was grooming time.

Out came the Kleenex tissue to wipe your face clean... and out came Mom's tongue to wet the tissue down...

The pain... THE IMMENSE PSYCHIC PAIN of having Mom lick that Kleenex and then rub it over your face in front of God & everybody despite your desperate protestations!!

I have a theory that all mothers know it doesn't do jack towards face cleaning, but does embarrass a kid into submission and establishes matriarchal dominance. But that's a topic for a dissertation in the future...

Anyway, this photo captured that pain perfectly. Little Panda Cub there is mortally embarrased as Mom Panda licks his hiney in public!! Look at him cover his face in shame!

Quick! Someone call Sexual Harassment Panda!


The Kleenexophobia continues to this day for me. I refuse to buy the stuff, preferring to use a roll of bumwipe for noseblowing. It's cheaper, and if you run out in the bathroom, it means there's usually a couple of partial rolls scattered throughout the house.

Bunghole Envy

Where's The Meeting For Crapbloggers Anonymous?

OK, with the recent abundance of fundamental posts in these here parts (goatse, poopchart, Eric's mole-covered ass), it has been intimated that perhaps El Capitan is angling for the Golden Plunger crapblogging crown, or perhaps has a deeper fascination with the nether regions.

One friendly suggestion was that perhaps I should just squat over a camera, and expose the 'ahem' wellspring of the recent flood of poopie posts.

Um, no. Not gonna happen, for which I'm sure the entire world is thankful.

However, I do feel the need to post a picture of a big bunghole, complete with stress-induced fissures, just to close out this series. Incidentally, you probably have no idea of what you have to wade through on the Intarwebs in order to find a decent picture of a bunghole...



"AAAHHH!! YOU DO NOT WANT TO FACE THE WRATH OF MY BUNGHOLE!!!! My bunghole it goes bungo jango jango jango rango ratatatataaaa!!! You will give me TP for my bunghole???"



Uh, sure. Here you go...