Late Night Doggerel, Vol. 17

The Scansion On This Could Be Better...

On the last week in September, my karma gave to me:

12 glazed donuts consumed
11 smelly stogies bought & stored in my humidor
10 X-rings remaining pristine & untouched on my pistol targets
9 hours spent watching "Rescue Me" Season 3 on DVD
8 email exchanges with Walrilla
7 failed attempts to win Smallville Season 6 DVDs on eBay
6 new pairs of dress socks
5 annoying nosebleeds!!
4 trips to Jack In The Box
3 plates of sushi
2 turkey vultures
and a Sunday lunch with Okie/Hoosier Jerry!!

Feel free to sing all the verses if you must. Me? I'm going to bed...

Wow! Can A Pulitzer Be Far Behind??

Happy Happy Joy Joy!!

Well, well, well! How cool is this?

I was kind of expecting to have a crappy Friday. Oodles of work at the office, and my dinner companions for this evening had to bail on the affair due to forces beyond their control.

So, I was looking forward to nothing but boredom and drudgery today. But now this happens!!

Hammer has nominated me for the "This Blog Kicks Donkey Butt" award!



I've never won a blog award before! I'm... I'm... Im getting a little verklempt here... Someone hand me a tissue!

Seriously, it's nice to know that someone out there thinks you're doing good work. Thanks, Hammer!


OK, my turn...

I nominate the following bloggers for the "This Blog Kicks Donkey Butt" award! They don't get "A-list" traffic, but I keep coming back day after day just 'cause they're usually putting out A-List product!

Mostly Cajun

Paw Paw's House

Xavier Thoughts

Cops Get The Best Dope

Lessons For The Masses

There's been quite a bit of chatter on the blogs lately concerning this site, where police officers can piss & moan about their brethren having the outright gall to write them tickets for legal infractions, rather than show "professional courtesy" and let them off the hook.

To read some of these missives is to take a look into a seriously effed-up worldview where apparently due to your job as a cop, you're allowed to ignore society's laws at your pleasure and suffer no consequences for your actions.

Now, I know that this POV is not universal amongst police officers. Working for The Man, I've had a chance to meet a lot of cops, and I've "met" quite a few more online via their blogs. Most are sincere, dedicated professionals who hold themselves and their brother officers to high standards. There are more than a few shitheels wearing the badge, however, and they do damage to the reputations of police all out of proportion to their numbers.

Back when I was in high school, there were a few catchphrases that were in common usage. "Shit happens" was quite common, as was "Gag me with a spoon", "Fuckin' A right, buddy!" and "Totally awesome!"

Another one used quite frequently around town was "Cops Get The Best Dope". This phrase came up whenever there was a situation that completely sucked, but it was such a done deal that there was no use bitching about it. In other words, it signified any situation or series of events that shouldn't happen, but it did happen, was going to continue to happen, so no use fighting it.

To understand it better, I've got to take you back to 80's style drug enforcement. Back in the day, we were barely in the "Just Say No" era, much less the "Zero Tolerance" phase. Cops could catch you with a couple of joints or a small baggie of weed, and would frequently just confiscate it or dump & scatter it, maybe writing you a misdemeanor ticket for possession, but usually just hard-assing you for 15 minutes while you grabbed car hood before letting you go.

This wasn't true in all jurisdictions, and if you got mouthy you ran a good chance of wearing the silver bracelets, but weed just wasn't seen as the Corrupter of Innocent Youth that it's become today.

Now, when you put a group of stoners together and let them share stories of weed confiscations, sooner or later the question comes up. "What did Officer Bob do with that sweet-ass skunk?" A pattern began to emerge. That $40/oz Mexican ditchweed got flung to the wind, but the $80 1/4 oz. homegrown got tucked in the cop's shirt pocket. Hmmmm. Curious.

Pretty soon, it was a truism amongst the herbalists that schwag weed was discarded, and the cops kept the best stuff for themselves, hence "Cops Get The Best Dope".

Much later in life when I talked to some retired officers I finally had the balls to ask if cops ever sampled the fruits of their confiscatory labor. Their answer? As I had suspected, it was not unknown for seized weed to be "sampled for purity and THC content". After all, before cops became cops, some of them were stoners, too!

So, when you see your CongressCritter jetting to Aruba on a 1st Class "fact finding" tour, or corrupt cops get no-billed, or OJ is found 'Not Guilty' again, don't blow your top! Just remember...

"Cops Get The Best Dope!"

Et tu, Brute?

Guess I Struck A Nerve...

Not one stinkin' comment.

I bring you news of one group of people who dress up as furry woodland animals for sexual pleasure, meeting another group of people who dress as fictional aliens (probably also for sexual pleasure) meeting for a bowling tournament, and no one finds this amusing?

OK, which half of you are secretly furries, and which half are Trekkie Klingons? 'fess up!

Proto-Python?

When Bubba Gets It Right

For those in the gun collecting (or gun accumulating, for us types with less money and/or taste), a "bubba-fied" gun is one that's been modified with a heavy and untrained hand. A typical Bubba job will involve checkering a fine walnut stock with a rat-tail file, or putting an Armalloy finish on an otherwise pristine Winchester, or sometimes carving his name in the stock using a Dremel Tool.

Usually, a "bubba-fied" gun loses 50-75% of any collector value, and is often an object of derision whenever they appear on an auction site.

Sometimes, however, Bubba gets a hole in one.

Once in a blue moon you'll see an homegrown gunsmithing job that turns out right. It may have been done in in a professional shop by an unknown gunsmith, or over a kitchen table by an anonymous Bubba. Here's one I suspect had a bit of Bubba laid on it:



When I first saw this one on the Collector's Firearms website, I was sure it was some sort of proto-Python developed by Colt before they perfected the design. No, there's no full-length underlug, but all the other Python design cues are there, the vented rib, the big spur hammer, the adjustable sights, the graceful curve of the wood grip...

A second look at the pistol's description, though, revealed the truth. It's just a skillfully (probably factory) modified Colt 1917 in .45 ACP.

All this bubbafication can be yours, for the low price of $1995!!

Klingons Vs. Furries!!!

I Would *So* Pay To See This...

OK, you Jawja Blown-Eyed Blodgers, have I got some entertainment for you!

Check this out:



Now, in a perfect world, after the 6th frame, the Klingons would say the Klingon equivalent of "To hell with this noise" and set upon the Furverts with their bat'leths, and chop the Furverts into bloody dollrags and set fire to their remains. One can only hope...

Anyway, if you're in the area, check it out and report back to us!

"Yiff on this, Furvert!"



Found at Boingboing

Wanted: 40 Winks. Dreams Optional.

Yawn, I say! Yawn!

I could kill for a nap right now. Point me towards the nearest queen-size or larger mattress, and I will gladly do mortal damage to the occupant in order to take possession of the bed.

This is the week of early mornings, late nights, and frazzled nerves. It started last week, and will continue until Thursday evening sometime. Actually, I can't really collapse until next Saturday afternoon, but rest assured, I'll do just that and not budge again until the following Monday morning.

The funny part is, the big project is already over & done with. The Expo was this past Saturday, but all the little bits & pieces that go along with it still need to be dealt with. Debrief sessions, evaluation review, etc.

I'd like to think the event was a success, given the inevitable 1st year bobbles and hiccups. There were many more participants than I expected to see, and for the most part things seemed to go smoothly.

Although the event was encouraging, and I'm glad I volunteered for the day, it had a depressing side as well. For all the people that came seeking employment, I know a goodly portion of them will probably not find it. Employers who are willing to set aside prejudice and bias against the disabled are all too rare, and among those who will hire the disabled, even fewer have the deep pockets to accommodate the severely disabled.

It's one thing for an employer to provide text-to-speech software, or a wheelchair ramp, or an LCD screen enlarger. It's another thing entirely to be able to pay a salary that will allow for a full-time tactile sign-language interpreter, or for personal assistants, or for allergen-free workspaces.

Most of the people I spoke with want to be free of reliance on Social Security benefits, but at this point in time, prevailing attitudes and technology levels just aren't at a level that will support that goal.

A Handful Of Trouble

How Long Until We Get Bionic Replacements?

Bad hand day yesterday. It's one of the reasons I didn't post anything.

I'm just too damn young to be having this arthritis shit creeping up on me. Doc says that I'm not far enough along to need treatment like cortisone shots or the "jam 'em up a cow's ass" heat therapy. (Doc's a bit of a kidder)

I'm also sure there's more than a bit of tendonitis, brought on by my non-stop pecking on a keyboard and moving a mouse around.

I was on my way out of the office Tuesday evening, and rapped my left hand knuckles on the security door latch plate. Hurt like an SOB, but not nearly as much as when I tried to straighten out my hand.

'Cause it wouldn't.

Freaked me out most traumatically, that did. All you want to do is extend your fingers, but they're not moving. Well, the ring finger and pinkie did, but they stopped cold when they couldn't pull my middle finger along with 'em. I'm sitting there in the lobby, staring at my hand like it's grown a face or something, and of all things, I'm wondering how I'm gonna pull my car keys out of my front pocket with my hand like that.

I massaged on my hand, and something popped loose, and everything was most ricky-tick once again, except for a dull pain most of yesterday.

But now came the freaky bit... I went out for dinner Tuesday evening, and while I was tapping Sweet & Low from the packet into my iced tea with my *right* hand, it froze up, too. Did it again last night, also when I was doctoring up my tea. I may have to switch to Dr Pepper...

Needless to say, I'm a bit concerned. I do any number of precise fiddly things with guns & computers & small animals, and that all needs a good degree of manual dexterity, and this doesn't bode well for any of it. The constant dull ache comes & goes, and only gets really bad when my hands get too cold.

Sigh. I'm not liking this very much. Maybe I oughta try those gin-soaked raisins that Flip-Flop Kerry's ditzo wife was promoting during the last election. You need how many daily, half a pound? Can you drop them in tonic water? Maybe bypass the raisins altogether?

Attack Of The 10 Lb. Novel, Redux

In Which We Are Rewarded For Our Diligence & Loyalty

Dunno if you recall, but a bit over a month ago I was griping about the possibility of having to re-read the entire 'Wheel of Time' series by Robert Jordan. I have an unread copy of Vol. 11 waiting on me, and Vol. 12 was due out anytime.

Problem was, I read volume 10 back in early 2005, and the other 9 volumes stretched back in time. I didn't want to be fuzzy on the characters and plot before diving in to the latest of this epic series.

So, I debated the issue, decided, "Oh, to hell with it!" and picked up Vol. 1 and dove back in. 10 books averaging 800 pages each? Chickenfeed. Be done in 2 weeks. OK, maybe 3 weeks.

I'd just finished Vol. 2, and was a goodly chunk into Vol. 3 when I heard the really exciting news.

Robert Jordan died this past Sunday, leaving Vol. 12 unfinished and unpublished.

(pause for reflective silence, punctuated by El Capitan's gritting teeth)

Guess I can slow down my frantic reading rate a bit.

BTW, the webcomic Something Positive ran a strip on Jordan's passing.

When Elder Gods Meet LOLcats!

O R'yleh? Ya R'yleh!

OK, this made me spew up some Diet Coke on my keyboard!

An unholy pairing of HP Lovecraft's Cthulhu mythos, and LOLcats!

Go Expose Your Soul To Eternal Torment!





Lifted from BoingBoing

Setting A Toilet Bomb

For The Day When You're Feeling Pissy & Immature

OK, I'm about to impart some information that most of you will find puerile and possibly tasteless. Welcome to my world.

This works well on in-laws, ex's, nosy neighbors, and anyone else who you feel like giving a dose of liquid justice. It's really fun in snooty nightclubs with dickhead clientele and crowded bathrooms.

First, you need access to the porcelain throne, and less than a minute of your time.

Go to the bathroom, shut the door. Pee if you must, but you won't be flushing.

Take the lid off the toilet tank. If this person uses the old timey high-mount tank on a pipe, you're SOL, but you can still hide a pistol behind it for Michael Corleone to find later. Oh, the newfangled pressure-flush rigs are verboten, too. You need the old fashioned flush rig that usually comes with with the flapper valve and float ball.

There will be a vertical pipe coming up from the base of the tank. Snaking into this pipe will be a small rubber hose feeding from another vertical pipe, or possibly from the base of the tank. This rubber hose is used to provide water to fill the bowl, or swirl water down the sides during the flush, I forget which. Maybe both.

Carefully detach the rubber hose from the clip securing it into the vertical pipe. Lay it across the rim of the tank pointing towards the bowl.

Lift the lid back into place, gently positioning it on top of the hose. You want it to compress the hose slightly, but not crush it.

As you're adjusting the lid for fit, carefully push the hose back under the lid until it doesn't stick out noticeably.

Alternatively, if the tube is long enough, you can do the "Spitting Cobra" version, where you run the tube out the rear side of the tank, and curl it over the top aimed forward. This has the advantage, when paired with the fuzzy tank cover, in being even less noticeable, especially when the tank top is covered with kleenex boxes and assorted gewgaws.

Sneak out of the john, and wait for the fun to begin.

The next time the trip lever is pressed, the flapper valve will open, causing the water in the bowl to flow down the drain and the fill valve to trip, letting the tank and bowl fill process begin.

The fill hose will, if properly compressed and aimed, send a high-velocity stream of water onto the crotch of the person who flushed, since 90% of all humans turn and watch to see their business go down the hole. If you're really lucky, you'll get a flush-while-sitting victim, who will get the stream right down their back.

Usually the victim pulls the tank lid off to get to the fill valve and cut off the flow. This causes the hose to flop unnoticed back into the tank, and the event usually gets chalked up to bizarre toilet malfunction rather than chicanery on your part.

Well, there you have it! The toilet bomb is yours. Use it well. Use it in peace. (Cue - 2001: A Space Odyssey Theme)

A Little Déjà Vu

Haven't We Been Here Before?

Well, the years have certainly been kind to Orenthal James Simpson. Guess all that work hunting for the real killers on America's putting greens and fairways agrees with him.



Remember, friends! Order the V8 or the apple juice, 'cause OJ will kill you...

Words Of Wisdom

The Best Quote I've Seen In Quite A While!

I was perusing 'The Smallest Minority' today, and saw something worth sharing.

OK, in truth, Kevin's entire blog is worth sharing. If you're a gun owner committed to preserving our 2nd Amendment rights and not stopping by regularly, you're woefully underinformed! Mr. Baker does a bang-up job telling the latest news, fisking the clueless, and being a general PITA to the gun-grabbers.

OK, it started here, with a link to a cartoon on Firehand's blog, Elmtree Forge. Go read the cartoon. I'll wait. Swallow your coffee first!

A full-scale donnybrook commences in the comments section of his linking post, 75 entries at last count. Most of it's mindless blather from Kevin's pet troll named Markadelphia trying to prove that since evolution exists, we should enter a post-capitalism era and evolve to a higher form of economic system. Oddly enough, his revol er... evolutionary system walks, quacks and tail-waggles like garden-variety socialism.

Labrat from Atomic Nerds makes a great comment that Kevin later links, to wit:

If you think of the "ideal" system- the one that produced life on earth, in all its diversity and richness- as guided by a top-down process that has a goal set for everything (or maybe just humans), then that sounds a lot more like a version of socialism that somehow produced wild success than anything.

ACTUAL evolution is a lot more like the world's most cutthroat capitalist proposition. No rules except "succeed or go extinct". - LabRat

Great quote, but IMHO it pales in comparison to one left earlier by a guy known only as DJ, no blog address stated. In defending capitalism, DJ states:

Kevin got it right, and so did Thomas Edison. Luck is where preparation meets opportunity. Most people don't recognize opportunity when they see it because it's dressed in overalls and looks like work.

Amen, DJ. Y'oughta get that printed on coffee mugs!

Another Year Already??

Another Helping Of Truth, Justice & The American Way!

Wow. Mid-September is on us again, and with it comes this year's release of the Smallville DVD set!



Season 6 this time. When last I watched, Lex Luthor had been possessed by the nutcase Kryptonian General Zod, appropriated Lana Lang for his main squeeze, and stood poised to run roughshod over a burning globe. Lois Lane and Martha Kent are running out of oxygen on a hijacked jet, Chloe Sullivan's getting molested in Lionel Luthor's limo, and I'm pretty sure someone left the gas on at the Kent Farm. Meanwhile, Clark/Kal-El is stuck in the Phantom Zone, getting pretty PO'ed at this whole state of affairs.

With any luck, the DVD set will be on my doorstep waiting for me tomorrow evening. I foresee myself getting very little sleep until I've watched all the episodes!

Remember, it's all about the storyline! Plot, plot, plot! The only reason I watch! Really!

Cult Of The Seersucker

And Now... The REST Of The Story!

Jet-setter and clotheshorse extraordinaire Elisson recently let the world know he had succumbed to the pull of the Seersucker suit:



What he didn't mention is that when you join the Ancient & Sacred Order Of The Seersucker Clad, there's an additional bit of wardrobe that is required of all members. Thanks to some undercover camera work, you can witness what very few ever see!

Yes, my friends, the Seersucker Skivvies!


(Click to embiggen)

Note #1 - Any resemblance between the schlong-vent on the skivvies and a map outline of the State of Israel is purely coincidental.

Note #2 - The only other male crotchable region I've spent so much time fiddling on was my own... Someone owes me dinner and a tall glass of bourbon, I'm thinking...

WTF Is Going On Around Here?

All The Sprues That's Knit To Glint

My life has turned into one neverending extended sitcom pratfall. Immediate calamity, followed by laughter from the studio audience...

OK, here's a quick recap:

Last weekend, Dad's in the hospital for possible stroke. Turns out that everything's OK, and we might be looking at an odd but mostly harmless form of amnesia.

El Capitan's Stress Level - Elevated.

Yesterday was a double whammy from a medical perspective, my sister goes in for gallbladder surgery, and an old friend also checks into the hospital so the docs can peek under the hood. They're both out and back home, nevertheless...

El Capitan's Stress Level - Even More Elevated.

My truck's been giving me fits. For two weeks it was slowly leaking coolant, probably through the heater core. I'd already spent $24 on 3 jugs of Prestone to keep it topped up, when *POOF* problem disappears. Not a drop leaked in 4 days. OTOH, now the turn signals and hazards don't work. They haven't worked since the leak stopped. Can't use arm signals to turn (as if anyone would recognize what I was doing...) because my driver's side window hasn't worked since last winter. Except last night, the turn signals worked fine. But not this morning, even with headlights on. I'm sooo confused...

El Capitan's Stress Level - Reaching Red Zone.

Betsy Cat got evicted from her litterbox lounge. I removed it from the bathroom, and the entire area was bleached and cleaned. So, Betsy Cat is now sleeping in the other litterbox under the hot water heater platform, much to Pookie Cat's dismay. After the extended flea battle, they're both pest-free, so why's she still wanting to spend 18 hours a day laying in the cat shitter? I know she needs some petting to calm her after the extended flea exercise, but she stinks, and I ain't touching her until I shampoo her. This repeated cat bathing traumatizes Betsy Cat even more, leading to more litterbox lounging. I'm sooo confused...

El Capitan's Stress Level - Crossed Into Red Zone.

Got ambushed at a public meeting last night. Nothing like being put on the spot in front of 75 citizens with no prep time and no graceful way to back out. I'd like to say I rose to the occasion and performed like a champ. Instead, I called a quick huddle, threw it back in the organizer's lap with a statement very similar to "Poor planning on your part does NOT constitute an emergency on my part!" and bailed. If it had been any other office pulling this stunt, I would've helped out, but this crew has screwed me over too many times in the past, and they were fresh out of favors. If you need a guest speaker, you ask me BEFOREHAND. Even half an hour is OK. Not 30 minutes after the program has begun.

El Capitan's Stress Level - Needle Pegged on "MAX PRESSURE".

Finally, came home last night after said meeting, and found this:




That's a ceiling that's collapsed due to the A/C drain gettting clogged and leaking onto the insulation batting and the sheetrock ceiling. When the water weight exceeds the hold of the sheetrock screws and paint, down she comes! All that got-damned insulation all over the room. Itch-city. Looks like someone's been shaving a scrofulous old poodle.

El Capitan's Stress Level - Pressure Gauge Exploded, Emotional Collapse Imminent.

Well, there's a solution available to me, when garden-variety remedies for stress and inability to cope just won't do...

Caption Contest Winner!!

Y'all Were Just On Pins & Needles, Weren't You??

OK, the long awaited ('cause I almost forgot...) winner of the caption contest!

I asked y'all to submit a caption for this pic:




Whoever came up with the best caption gets something interesting from the back of my desk drawers.

There were a lot of good entries! Alan from Blogonomicon tried twice, both noble efforts! Chris Byrne from Anarchangel made sure I'd see a tail on Inigo Montoya from now on! Elisson had a good effort with a homegrown LOLcats pic.

In the end, though, it was Walrilla's entry (Some days, you eat the pu$$y. Other days, the pu$$y eats you!) that made me giggle the most. So, he gets the prize! I haven't quite decided between the random gun part, the ancient mechanical pencil, or this weird wiggly thing... Ah, well. I promised non-toxic, not tasteful.

Good job, Walrilla!!

Exposing A Bit Too Much

Does No One Exhibit Modesty Anymore?

Lady, a word of advice...

While I admit it's titillating to have photographic proof that you're capable of kissing your own big brown furry beaver, I gotta let you know that you're letting the whole world know that the carpet doesn't match the drapes!

I'm just sayin', is all...

West Houston Smoke & Powder Crawl XI

More Fun Than A Barrel Of Dead Hippies!

Hey, y'all!

I meant to get this up earlier, but it's been a crazy few days around these parts. Rest assured, you still have time to RSVP if you can make the fiesta.

I've got a phone contact # as well, but don't want to post it online for the hyenas to abuse. I'f you'd rather call the organizer (Richard) to RSVP instead of emailing, drop me a line and I'll hook you up with the digits...

I had a great time the last time I attended. Nothing's better than a morning spent shooting, and an afternoon spent puffing on nice cigars and shopping for even more guns.

Range fees are available at the link below, and if you want into the Cigar Shoot-out, it's an additional $7 for the reactive target range, as well as a nice cigar to put in the prize kitty!

American Shooting Centers

Hope to see you there!

WEST HOUSTON SMOKE & POWDER CRAWL XI
SATURDAY, SEPTEMBER 29, 2007

“Where smoking is not encouraged, it is mandatory”

I'm happy although somewhat bemused to announce the Eleventh Annual S&PC! I say bemused because ten years ago I never thought I'd be doing this for so long. But I never thought Houston would shut down smoking everywhere. However, WE still allow the burning of the leaf -- where it is not mandatory, it is encouraged! We will start at ASC and proceed in a cloud of gunsmoke to stuff ourselves blind and smoke until we fall over. The schedule (feel free to join us at any point):

9:00 Start - American Shooting Center, 16500 Westheimer, 77082 281)556-8086. Rifle/pistol, Skeet or Trap, Five Stand or Sporting Clays. The Shoot-out, at a one cigar buy-in, is slated. Several of the range officers are cigar fans.

12:30 - Lunch - Paul's Seafood & Oyster Boat, 1704 Highway 6 S, 77077-2804. 281)556-5086 As always, great fresh seafood and cigar-friendly people who will be happy to have us back.

2:45 - Richmond Ave. 8800 block Richmond @ Fondren Rd. 713) 975-9057 Dan offers a 10 % discount on all purchases. Not to mention his huge humidor and the new and hard to find Illusione Nicaraguan puro from Fumaré in Reno, Nevada. RAC will also be collecting cigar donations for our troops overseas. I recommend putting your stogie out and stepping in to Collector's Firearms next door to drool at the 5000+ guns.

4:30 - Absolute Tobacco 1450 Grand Parkway, Katy, TX 77494 (281) 392-2387 This is a great new place with a … comprehensive … and still growing selection of cigars at good prices. Carol and Robert are offering a 15% on everything in the store, including some great pipes, cigar accessories and humidors, and will be extending her regular Sunday free sampling of pipe tobacco to any pipe smokers. They are the only supplier west of Georgia of the boutique Canimao cigar and one of the five largest Gurka suppliers in the world.

6:00 - Robusto's 20940 Katy Freeway, Suite I, Katy 77449, take Westgreen north and enter the parking lot behind Wild Wings. 281) 398-3565 Affiliated with Richmond Ave., this place has a huge stock of high-end smokes and an impressive list of adult beverages (I will be trying a Godiva Martini while there). While food is not available, they encourage us to carry in from the several good restaurants surrounding them. New York, NY Deli and Phô Mai Vietnamese come highly recommended but pizza, Chinese and wings are also available. Sadly, Robusto's cannot allow children. John will extend the Happy Hour for us and will have some surprise specials.

This year we will be accepting donations to help Waller County Teen Central, a support organization for troubled youth. Teen Court, an arm of WCTC, provides an alternative to fines (paid by the parents) and criminal records for misdemeanor offenders.

As always we are proud to be sponsored by:
Moore & Bode: This brand, long known to the "cognoscenti" of cigars, is back for the ninth year. Still made by the entubar method, these are incredible medium-bodied smokes and samples will be included for all crawlers.

Baranow's: Wal Baranow from the land of Oz (Australia) provides mail-order cigars, specializing in Cubans and with great prices. www.cigar1.com.au

Padilla Cigars: Ernesto Padilla is with us for the third year and is known for the highly praised Hybrid and Miami Blends. www.padillacigars.com

Camacho Cigars, back again for year two, needs no introduction. These full bodied smokes have become the definition of good, affordable cigars.

And additional surprise sponsors, gifts and guests.

RSVP: To get the correct number of cigars from our sponsors, we will need a list of those attending. As a corollary to this, if you don't let me know you are coming, you don't get free cigars. You can contact AGCIAS (AT) AOL (DOT) com or call Richard at XXX-XXX-XXXX or XXX-XXX-XXXX for additional information.

Never Forget...

...And Never Forgive...

Iron Man!!

Must...Control...Fanboy...Giddiness...

OH!



HELL!



YEAH!!!



One step closer to finally seeing The Avengers onscreen!

(...and can I just say what a stroke of brilliance it was to use the perpetually strung-out actor Robert Downey, Jr. to portray the alcohol-addicted Tony Stark!)

Damn, May '08 is a loooong time away... Go watch the trailer about 12 times like I just did...

Have You Seen This Scumbag?

Another Kiddy-Diddler On The Loose!

Well, this is kind of an effed-up thing to have going on in your neighborhood!

From the Houston Barnacle:

Authorities are asking the public's help in identifying this man, who is suspected in several attacks on females near two Spring Branch high schools. He is described as a 35- to 45-year-old, white male who has a mustache and goatee, wears glasses and is balding in front with light colored hair. He is about 5-feet-11, around 200 pounds and has big hips and a flabby midsection. Anyone with information about the attacks should call Crime Stoppers at 713-222-8477.

OK, now's a good time to point out that while I am a 35- to 45-year-old, white male who has a mustache and goatee, is balding in front and has big hips and a flabby midsection, I do NOT wear glasses, I have brown hair, stand a skosh over 6 feet, and weigh considerably more than 200 lbs.!! I can't even "suck it in" enough to pretend to be 200 pounds....

More from the Chron:

The most recent incident occurred at around 7:15 a.m. Sept. 4, when the suspect groped a Spring Woods High student during cross-country practice at Knob Hill Park, 10200 Timberoak Dr. Earlier that same morning, the suspect exposed himself to a 12 year-old girl at a school bus stop on Hammerly, across the street from Spring Woods High School, 2045 Gessner.

The suspect first struck July 18, when he groped a 14 year-old girl on the running track at Spring Woods High. Early on Aug. 21, a 33 year-old woman was attacked in a similar manner on the track at Northbrook High, 1 Raider Circle.

In all of the attacks, the suspect approached his victims with his T-shirt pulled over his head, Brawner said, but it was only after the Knob Hill Park incident that police were able to obtain a full description. Another cross-country student saw the suspect's face.

Y'all, Knob Hill Park is my neighborhood park... I attended Spring Woods High. It annoys me that this pinhead is getting his jollies by abusing the women in my 'hood.

Might be time to load up some rocksalt rounds for the 12 gauge...

A Few More Prayers Needed!

Dad's OK, But Billy Needs Some Sent His Way!

Hey, y'all...

I know it's the weekend, and everyone's doing their best not to stress, but some friends of mine, Jenni & Billy are awaiting word on some friends over in Iraq that have reportedly caught the sharp end of the stick.

Not a lot of info to go on yet, you can read Jenni's account here.

Crank out a few more happy thoughts, please, and a couple of prayers to the deity of your choice can't hurt, either.

Muchas Gracias!

OK, Not Done With 'Crass' Just Yet.

Still Dipping From The Septic Tank...

Bloody hell, it's hot outside. Just came back from a training session at one of The Man's facilities, a building approximately the size of the QE2. It's amazing how much you can sweat just walking from your car to the parking garage elevator, much less the distance to the entrance. I swear, long term employees at The Zeppelin Hangar must get the 1000 Yard Stare.

Just a hint... If you're conducting a Preventing Sexual Harassment class, no matter how much fun you're having with a lively bunch of The Man's minions, the phrase "hot monkey love" is best left unsaid. I'm just sayin', is all.

Also, if you have a booger-rich sneeze, it's possible that when you wad up a length of The Man's buttwipe paper into a nostril-shaped cone in order to auger out any Klingons, be advised that the shoddy construction of the paper will instead result in a single ply of bogwipe being plastered to the inside of your nostril.

We will now return to our regularly-scheduled civility. My stats have been in free-fall for a month, now. Might as well chase off the remaining weak-stomached and humorless readers...

I Can't Be Nice ALL The Time...

My Inner Rat-Bastard Yearns To Break Free!

Every so often, I just gotta do something really crass and tasteless.

F'rinstance, I can't say anything negative about our new employee to the people I work with, or I'll get ratted out and dispatched to Sensitivity training.

However, I can tell YOU people all about it! Folks, this person's UGLEEEE!!!!! GOt-DaYuMM Feckin' ugly!!! I mean, I'm no prize myself, but this poor sap's got a face like 10 miles of bad road. I've never seen a better candidate for making Gorilla Cookies.

Whew. OK, I feel better.

Whoops, not quite done yet. Got a little rat-bastard still lurking in me. So I'll take this picture of a hamster and a cherry tomato, and just gross you all out.

Enjoy!

An Etiquette Question

Any Emily Post-o-philes Out There?

OK, let's say for argument's sake that you're in the breakroom at work, eating your lunch with several other coworkers.

Let's assume that one of your coworkers has a really annoying laugh, the kind that sounds like the braying of a herniated donkey punctuated with phlegmatic pig snorts. This co-worker also has a chronic sinus condition.

During an otherwise placid lunch, said co-worker has just unwrapped a pristine sandwich, taken a big bite, and commenced to chewing. During this mastication process, another co-worker, who might have a blog involving buccaneering primates, is telling a joke that he finds only moderately amusing. When he gets to the punchline, ("Ghosts? I thought you said GOATS!"), the congested sandwich-consuming lunch companion suddenly starts laughing uncontrollably.

During this spasm of burro-esque mirth, the semi-chewed sandwich bite spews across the table, hitting no one. However, the resulting gasp of embarrassment conflicts with the next laugh spurt, and the collision results in a huge gasping coughing fit, followed by an involuntary expulsion of a truly amazing amount of snot, which pretty much covers the co-worker's almost virgin sandwich in its entirety.

Mortified co-worker bursts into tears, scrapes up most of the mess, and dashes from the breakroom. Last known location was reportedly the couch in the women's lounge & dayspa bathroom.

OK, it's clearly the fault of the joketeller. Sort of.

So, does Hallmark make a card for these occasions? Or, would a box of Kleenex be better?

Caption This Photo!

Win A Prize Worth At Least 50 Cents!!!

I saw this photo over on MSNBC, and it pretty much summed up my relationship with my feline squatters houseguests.

Whoever comes up with the best caption gets something interesting (and non-toxic!) from the back of my desk drawers. Doing it LOLCats-style is OK, but I've been known to penalize for bad grammar!

Have fun!

So Far, So Good...

Why Are Emergency Room Chairs So Damned Uncomfortable?

First, Dads's OK. We Think. I'll explain below.

Second, thanks for everyone's kind words of support. I'd like to think the overwhelming outpouring of the "warm & fuzzies" from the blogosphere helped to stave off the Grinch this time.

All right, here's what went down:

Sunday evening Mom and her friend Anne were sitting around shooting the breeze, and Dad was working on one of his projects. He's head of the local neighborhood association, and also involved in the Harris County Community Emergency Response Team project, so he's usually up to his elbows in organizing the next local whoop-te-do.

Over the course of the evening, Mom & Anne noticed that Dad's responses to questions started getting sort of bizarre. He wasn't remembering events of earlier in the day, and when he started fumbling questions about recent family matters, Mom started suspecting a possible stroke and called 911.

By the time I rolled onto the scene, the ambulances were already parked outside the house, and the EMTs were doing the preliminary exam. Physically, he seemed fine, no blown pupils, no slurred speech, or trouble with coordination, but he wasn't able to answer a lot of questions about recent events or family members.

One of the ambulances took off back to their station, and the other loaded up Dad for transport. Mom & Anne went ahead in a car to the hospital, and I hung back to lock up the house and make some phone calls. Oh, and write a blogpost... that was my "take a minute and just breathe" moment just to keep my head from asploding.

OK, the hospital. Word of the day was "confusion". The ER resident didn't think it was a stroke. On a 56-point stroke diagnosis scale where 56 means "you're f#cked", Dad was only rating a 1 or a 2. Might have been a lot of things, maybe a transient ischemic attack, maybe an infection, maybe an electrolyte impalance, he couldn't say for certain, except that Dad was exhibiting confusion. At any rate, the doc didn't feel that an injection of the blood clot-dissolving TPA was warranted.

Dad's answers to questions started getting a little better as the hours wore on. They pulled blood, tested urine, poked, prodded, and generally hooked up every machine available, including the one that goes 'PING!'. They got a CAT scan pretty quickly, but couldn't get an MRI done that night.

The CAT scan didn't show anything out of the ordinary, and it was starting to get into the wee hours of the morning. Dad managed to roll over on the ER gurney/bed gizmo and get some shuteye, in spite of all the wires attached. Every so often, the staff would come in for another test and wake him up. Dad loves his sleep, and was starting to get annoyed with the whole experience.

Mom was starting to get annoyed as well. Every time she asked Dad "How are you feeling?", he'd reply "With my fingers, how else." Dad's coping mechanism with uncomfortable situations is humor, and I was sort of PO'ed at how difficult it was to get a straight answer out of him. I was pretty sure he'd be OK when his reply to "what are your brother's names" was "AlToBoBill". It's an old family joke. When Grandma couldn't remember which son she wanted, Al, Tom, Bob or Bill, she'd yell "AlToBoBil" and take her pick from whoever showed up. I figured if he could remember that old joke, he was probably going to be all right.

They admitted him to a room, and Mom wanted to stay with him, so I left to try and get some sleep. Ha. As if...

So, more tests this week to try and nail down what's going on. Basically, Dad's healthy. He stays pretty active, & doesn't smoke or drink. His blood pressure is pretty normal, given his age & spare tire, and the only meds he's on regularly is a cholesterol-lowering drug and something for sinuses. There is a family history of Alzheimer's, so that's weighing heavily on my mind, but in all other regards he's doing OK.

More news as it happens. I thank you again for your support!

If You're The Praying Type...

Now's A Really Good Time.

The ambulances just left, taking Dad to the hospital. Mom said he couldn't remember things when asked, like what year it was and who the president was. Last thing he said as they rolled him out the door was that he couldn't remember having a granddaughter.

Oh, please, not a stroke. I can't manage my own life, much less start caring for my parents.

I've got to go meet them at the emergency room. Obviously, I might be out of pocket for a while.

Think happy thoughts, y'all. I'm not strong enough to do this by myself.

We Loves Nieces To Pieces!

Babies Are Cute, But Don't Really Have A Lot To Say...

OK, as promised a really long time ago, here's some pics from my visit with my sister's growing family.

They visited last weekend, spending a grand total of 15 hours here. This is standard for sister visits. She and BIL roll into town, they hang out with her old school friends most of the weekend, and drop by the house for maybe an hour or two on their way back to San Marcos.

This time, they actually decided to stay overnight. I can't blame 'em for usually staying at my BIL's brother's house in Sugarland, where there's an actual bed instead of the sleeper sofa like I've got, but I did offer to pull out the air bed to go underneath that paper-thin couch mattress. I've got to acquire at least a futon to achieve visitability parity, I'm thinking.

Anyway, our parents felt the pull of available grandchildren, and swooped upon the scene to join the fun. Sammy's at an age where you can hang him upside down by his ankles, and he just finds that amusing as all get-out. Both Dad and I are a bit battered and arthritic to be tossing him up in the air a lot, especially as he gets bigger!

Here's Sammy, Grammy and Gracie:



Here's a sleepy Grace in her bucket.



Pretty dress, and lots of tasty toes poking out!



And now, Time To EAT THE BABY!!!
(Grace: "Noooo!!! Don't eat the baby!!!")



OK, I didn't eat the baby. But I did nibble on her a bit...