June 29, 2006

Remembering Acidman

Acidman at work.

The Memorial Service for Rob Smith will just be getting under way in Savannah, so this post is to invite Acidman's friends and fans to participate in his memorial service the same way we participated in his life; through blog posts and comments.

Please feel free to leave comments about your memories of Acidman, favourite things he said, stories from blogmeets, interactions you've had in person or by email, the effect he's had on your life... whatever you'd like to share. Hopefully this can also be a bit of a conversation between friends who have met as a result of the GutDude's influence as well.

Those who wish to post on their own sites, please trackback to this post. If you have photos to share, please post on your own site and link to them in your comment. If you don't have a place to put up photos, email then to me [lightanddark at gmail dot com] and I'll get them up for you.

SPECIAL REQUEST! If you trace your blog lineage to Acidman (i.e. he's your blogfather, primary influence to blog, or otherwise connected, please indicate that in your comments. We've never really been able to track all of Rob's blog-progeny, and this is the best opportunity we'll have. Later, I'll parse the comments and create a page listing Offspring of Acidman.

Thank you for being here today.

Update June 30:
Thanks everyone for your participation, and for helping hold the resource usage to reasonable levels. The site is holding up fine. I will be leaving GR in it's 'lean 'n mean' state for today as well, as folks will likely be checking in for info on the events in Savannah yesterday. If you attended, please leave a comment with a link to your writeup.

The mIrc chat has be going steadily all night too. Drop in for a visit. (If you use Firefox & can't get into the web-based version properly, try Internet Exploder. I know, I know, but FF seems to burp on the chat cgi script.)

* * * * * * *
Site Notes - please read:
It is going to be a challenge to keep Gut Rumbles up during this time, so please help out by not repeatedly refreshing the page, or pulling up the comments. If you are just reading, just refresh a couple of times an hour to follow the conversations. If you are engaged in a conversation, wait at least several minutes each time before checking for replies.

Should the site become unavailable, trust that we will be working on it, and wait for 20 minutes or so before attempting to reconnect. If you receive an error while commenting, it is because we have had to temporarily disable them to keep the site up. Just wait 10 minutes or so, and try again. Do NOT repeatedly refresh please. (To avoid frustration, I strongly recommend longer comments be written in a text editor, then pasted into the comment form, to avoid potential loss of a valuable comment - hey this is the Internet!)

Rob was a very tolerant man with his comments, and we will attempt to reflect that, but this is for his family as well, so please keep that in mind. Comments will be monitored, and flaming etc. will simply be deleted. I have every expectation that won't be needed.

I have reduced the functionality of the site to just those components necessary to support this one event, so you will find a number of features, including search, updating of monthly archives and RSS feeds etc. have been turned off. These will be reactivated after things have quieted down.

Update from Chablis:
For those of you who wish to communicate in real-time, I've created a chatroom on the Freenode network. If you are familiar with chat and use an IRC client, such as mIRC, you can use any Freenode server to /join #gutrumbles .

If you are unfamiliar with IRC and prefer a web-based chat, Click here. Fill in your nickname and press Connect Now!

It'll take a few seconds to load and then you'll see the nickname list show up and you'll be all set.

June 28, 2006

Online celebration of Rob's life

It's clear from the outpouring from all over the world that Acidman touched a lot of people's lives, more even than many of us could have suspected.

Since so many of us are too far away to be able honour him by attending his Memorial Service, and since many of us owe our connection to him to the Web, it seems fitting that we participate in his memorial service the same way we participated in his life; through blog posts and comments.

At 4 p.m. Eastern time tomorrow, the same time as the service in Savannah, I'm going to put up a post inviting those who wish to honour Rob to leave a comment describing how he entertained you, challenged you, affected your life. If you have a blog, you can post there and trackback. I especially hope that those of us who were "blogfathered" by Acidman will make that association known. I know many have been doing this in comments already, and I can tell you from communications with Rob's family that they are quite amazed at, and appreciative of the heartfelt response.

It is my hope that this can be a little more interactive, in the way so many of Rob's comments sections became. Hopefully people will talk to each other, as well as just posting rememberances. Rob brought together a huge number of people over the years, and this is a chance for us to get together as we remember Rob and his place in our lives.

Knowing the breadth of timezones and work hours of all of us, I hope folks will be in and out throughout the afternoon and evening, and if we're lucky, a few may be able to drop in after the Savannah service to tell us a little about it.

I will need to make some temporary changes to the site to try to mitigate the load and bandwidth pounding, so please read the instructions in the post tomorrow and abide by the requests in it so we have the best chance of keeping the site up.

Carnival of the Blogfaddah

Chablis has come up with a terrific way of exposing more people to Rob's writing talents, and giving his readers a coordinated way to discuss their favourite Acidman posts.

She's calling it The Carnival of the Blogfaddah, and you can get the information for how to participate at that link.

She also explains how to get to some of Rob's earlier archives, which were messed up during a site failure in 2004. I will bet that Google is likely still indexing those older archives, so if you remember a subject matter, try there too.

[Site note: I was inches away from being able to restore those older archives to the main installation, but with this week's events, that will have to wait. If you are a skilled Perl programmer, I would love to talk to you about helping me customise my script to work out the last little bugs.]

Rob's Music

As mentioned, Lil Toni and Catfish have made a recording of one of Rob's songs available for those of us who weren't lucky enough to hear him sing.

Folks have come through big-time with offers to mirror the file to help spread the load and bandwidth so no one site gets hammered too badly.

Here's the list of links to Rob's song, called My Door Is Always Open. It's a 3 megabyte WMA file. Do NOT play it from these links. Instead, you must right-click on any one of the links and save it as a new file on your own hard drive. (all links are the same song.)

Lil Toni/LL
Scott
Accidental Verbosity
Harshly Mellow (mp3 format)
Isntapundit
Doc (mp3 format)
My Evil Minion (mp3 format)
Coral Cache (bombproof, but may be slow)

Dizzy-girl has also posted it to Putfile, (this is the only link where you can left-click, to go to the site to listen) where it is streamed, but not downloadable. This might be a good solution for those on dialup (Spork!).

Confabulator also has the song up in Flash format (another link you'll need to left-click) or for download as well. (sorry you got caught by Rob's blacklisting frenzy, Confabulator!)

For those people who offered but don't appear on the list, I'd like to hold your offers in reserve in case some of these sites get too much load.

Thanks for offering to help folks, Rob would have got a real kick out of the number of people who want to hear his music.

Services...

If you plan to come to the services, would you please drop me a line at Savannahsam05 [at] yahoo.com and let me know you're coming?

I have left my phone numbers back in Texas so those of you I have talked to over the last couple of days, I want to hear from you.

Thank you everybody for the kind comments.

~Sam

Details in one place

From Day by Day, by the talented Chris Muir. Thanks Chris.


Because the comments here have become so extensive, there is information in them that folks might appreciate, but will have trouble finding, so I'm going to pull some of it out here.

• There will be a memorial service for Rob at 4 pm on Thursday, June 29th, at Fox & Weeks on Hodgson Memorial Drive in Savannah, followed by a gathering of friends and family to celebrate Rob's life.
• In lieu of flowers, please donate to the American Diabetes Association, 5105 Paulsen St., Suite C-236, Savannah, GA 31405.
• Rob's obituary is online at the Fox and Week site, and there is a guestbook and email address there for condolences.
• It was Rob's expressly stated wish that Gut Rumbles remain online, and I will see to it that his legacy is preserved.
• Lil Toni has posted a sample of Rob's music courtesy of Rob's long-time friend Cat for those of us who never got the chance to hear him play. It's a 3mb file, so be sure to save it to your own drive before playing. In fact, if Lil Toni's willing, and to keep from clobbering her Blogspot site, I'd like to ask for 12 volunteers with excess bandwidth available to mirror the file so others can listen. [UPDATE: additional download locations listed here] Be warned, the resource usage will be heavy. Leave word in the comments, and I'll be in touch.

Paul
Light & Dark

June 27, 2006

Addendum

Dave asked that I mention Rob will be cremated as per his wishes, and that in lieu of flowers, donations can be sent to the American Diabetes
Association.

Rob's Memorial Service

Rob's brother Dave has posted in the comments about the arrangements for Rob's Memorial Service:

This is Dave, Rob's brother. I just wanted to let somebody know that the arrangements have finally been made. If somebody has the ability to get the word out, please go for it.

There will be a memorial service for Rob at 4 pm on Thursday, June 29th, at Fox & Weeks on Hodgson Memorial Drive in Savannah, followed by an after-service celebration (can't be a wake if it's after the Memorial) at our parents' house. Pickers will bring instruments, everybody else bring voices and any Rob stories you can tell for everybody else to hear while they lift a glass to him. I'm going to miss my big brother, but I'll do my best to send him off in style! There'll be directions to the place at the service, or you can email me: dsmith [at] brannenlaw [dot] com. Thanks, everybody!

Arrangements are also being worked out for a way for those of us on the web to participate in the memorial for Rob as well. Details will be available in the next 12 hours or so.

June 26, 2006

News...

This is Sam. Rob has passed away. They found him at 2:00 this morning slumped over on the couch. He did not shoot himself and no pills or alcohol were found in the house. When I find out anything else I'll let you know. Out of respect for my family please do not leave nasty comments.

~Sam

June 24, 2006

people with good ideas

Did you ever the movie, "Bullets Over Broadway?" I thought it had a lot of really dumb crap in it, just what you get a lot of when "actors" feed a script. Just listen to those morons.

"To be.. or not to be...??? I'm sorry, but I can't undertand this character. What does he MEAN??? What is his MOTIVE??? NOBODY says that kind of stuff.. and besides... I want that skull scene removed from this play. Who is "Yorik," and how did I ever come to know him so well? Were we homosexual lovers? If so, shouldn't I make it obvious who was the pitcher and who was the catcher between we two?"

Nope! I cannot do THIS silly play!!! Get me a GOOD writer... one of those people who publish in the New York Times frequenty. That Maroon Down person would be nice, or maybe that Jetson McVeigh guy they fired for being black. Let THEM write my dialogue and I am convinced that it would be perfect!

By the way, get anybody named Shakespere off of this set and bring me some TRUE writers in here.

i feel better

I think the steroid shots I received the other day made my shoulders feel better. I also suspect that the shots were what made me feel so sick-assed and poorly yesterday, but my shoulders feel a LOT better today. I was able to wash my own hair this morning.

In fact, I may be able to drive 30 miles to see my grandmother tomorrow. I hope so, because I haven't made that trip for a month now. I need to go.

This may be nothing but a temporary quick fix, but it's a lot better than nothing. What I REALLY would like, if they won't cut me or give me copious amounts of drugs, is to give me my own supply of this stuff. I still HAVE a bunch of needles left over from my "fix-a-flat" days and if I could poke a shot in my DICK back then, I KNOW that I can poke my own shoulders now. Just gimme the shit, and I'll do it myself.

I just wish somebody would make up their mind.

I can't continue the way I am, and my goof-assed friend Catfish made certain with his big mouth that no doctor in that clinic is EVER going to give ME any drugs again, because I am a reovering addict, so the consensus seems to be, it's better that I die in agony that take a pill.

Thank you, Cat, for that "He a good guy. He used to be a real drunk, but he stopped doing that, but he's in a lot a pain now. I told him to come see YOU, and you might fix him. He did good in Willingway. He quit drinking for about six months so far." Yeah, Cat. Be sure and tell EVERY OTHER doctor you know about ME going to Willingway for 38 days. That oughta tell 'em, ALL what a good guy I am."

Thanks to those kind words, I IMMEDIATELY went on a medical black-list and the fuckers won't give me ASPIRIN after they know THAT part of my life.

I know you meant well, Cat, but you blabbed personal information that doesn't really need to be "shared" with anyone who would listen to you as you fucked ME to a fare-thee-well by volunteering information to DOCTORS that those pricks didn't NEED to know. Please... Don't EVER do that kind of "favor" for me again. NEVER again.

I would prefer to take my own got-dam chances about my shoulders. I don't NEED anybody telling the doctors ahead of time that I'm a recovering alcoholic who hasn't had a drink in six months. YOU may be proud to say that, but it's a fucking RED ALERT!!! to doctors, warning them NEVER to give me pills, because I might abuse them. Don't EVER say that shit to a doctor about me again.

Please. Remember what I said about the road to hell being paved with good intentions? You ain't making my life any easier when you do that kind of "friendship" blathering.

Please.. NEVER do it again.

chicken man

If I lived where he does, I would have done it a long time ago. catfish got himself some chickens. He told me about his venture into wildlife farming and I responded by telling HIM to build a decent coop. If he lets those chickens free-range, they'll start sleeping in trees at night and laying their eggs 30 feet off the ground. Gravity is NOT kind to an egg laid from that height.

I offered to help him build a good coop and show him how to set it up--- but I've gotta admit. I'll do a lot more engineering than actual WORK on that project, because I simply am not able to do the things anymore that I once did all the time. But I HAVE been a chicken-farmer and I DO know a little bit about it.

He got several different roosters. That's not really a problem, even though people already are warning him that a coop has room for only ONE dominant rooster. I call bullshit on that idea, because I once ended up with FIVE roosters and 28 hens in my coop. The roosters worked out their own... "pecking order," if you will...

I had a big, mean, three-feet-tall Rhode Island Red that was Cock of the walk in MY coop. The other roosters were scared shitless of that mean old bastid, and they stayed far away from him. Usually by flying up in the rafters and never even bothering to eat unless the Tall Dog's back was turned. But when they saw a ripe opportunity, they'd fly down from the rafters, grab a couple of bites to eat, then plow a hen who was scratching and cooing with her ass stuck up in the air at the time.

Then, they'd fly squawlking back up into the rafters before big boy kicked their asses. If they were too slow, Big Red killed them. Life is brutal in a chicken coop.

But I frequently collected as many as 30 eggs out of that coop every day, because my laying hens did exactly THAT. They LAID a lot of eggs. Just provide them with hay and food. They'll build their own nests and lay like gangbusters.

You've got to watch out for your dominat rooster killing the other males if he can catch them, but something else bad is to have a real, dedicated nesting hen go into full mama-mode on you. She'll lay her own eggs and then steal others to fill her nest. Then she wants to sit there and hatch them, even if doing that means not eating for a while.

You've got to watch out for those, because they'll peck the living shit out of you if you reach under her for the eggs. She gets all hormonal and insane from motherly instincts. But the males don't like those chicklets when they hatch and the males will kill them and EAT THEM, just to eliminate future competition.

A chicken coop is a real jungle.

But If I had a place to put one, I would do it again today. You collect plenty of fresh eggs and get to watch a lot of wild, chicken-sex happening all the time. Give them corn and sweet feed to eat, plus dump any kitchen leftovers into the coop for added variety. You'll grow some good chickens and get lots of fresh eggs that way.

But...beware. Roosters like to crow their asses off every morning to welcome the sunrise. Until you become accustomed to the noise, it will wake you up with a case of the cold shivers. After a while, you beome acustomed to it and pay them no attention anymore, but that takes a while.

Two friends who spent a weekend at my house several years ago asked, in all sincerity, "How do you SLEEP with all that racket in the morning?" I asked, "What racket?" because the truth was... I didn't hear it anymore.

If Cat doesn't coop his chickens, his cats and his alligators will kill them all. If they end up sleeping in trees, he'll NEVER get an egg from them. I'm just offering him good advice.

He can take it or leave it. But I KNOW what I'm talking about here.

i feel his pain...

... but I don't know that he had $400,000 worth. Besides, he got a blue-light special implant, not the top-o-the-line model like MINE.

Those "malleable" implants are a lot like having a length of flex conduit crammed into your wanger. When you feel sexy, you just kinda unroll that rascal, use it, then roll it back up again when you're finished. The Dura II is NOT a pump device. It's more like an attachment you might expect to find included in the gadget-bag that comes with the purchase of a Kirby vacuum cleaner.

Charles "Chick" Lennon, 68, received the steel and plastic implant in about two years before Viagra went on the market. The Dura-II is designed to allow impotent men to position the penis upward for sex, then lower it.

But Lennon could not position his penis downward. He said he could no longer hug people, ride a bike, swim or wear bathing trunks because of the pain and embarrassment. He has become a recluse and is uncomfortable being around his grandchildren, his lawyer said.

What did Lennon expect? He bought what amounts to a flexible steel rod that is designed to maintain its shape when either straightented out or rolled up. He had that thing implanted in his DICK. Uh... I've got news for this guy. When you opt for one of those, you're gonna get... a flexible steel rod in your dick.

I bitch about the one I have not feeling natural to me or being nearly as good as the original equipment, but at least I ain't packing anything but plastic tubing, a simple pump and a saline pouch inside ME today. I shopped around before I decided on the one I chose.

But Lennon could not position his penis downward. He said he could no longer hug people, ride a bike, swim or wear bathing trunks because of the pain and embarrassment. He has become a recluse and is uncomfortable being around his grandchildren, his lawyer said.

In 2004, a jury awarded him $750,000. A judge called that excessive and reduced it to $400,000. On Friday, the Rhode Island Supreme Court affirmed that award in a ruling that turned on a procedural matter.

"I don't know any man who for any amount of money would want to trade and take my client's life," said Jules D'Alessandro, Lennon's attorney. "He's not a whole person."

No shit? He's not a "whole person" anymore? Well, just slap my ass and call me Fanny! I'm not "whole" anymore, either--- but I wasn't fool enough to have a roll-up steel hose stuck in ME, either. Just what did this dumbass EXPECT?

The guy has my sympathy. It is NO fun learning to deal with an artificial dick, even one with the best bionics available today. You get one that's nothing more than flexible conduit, and it's going to be even less "natural" than MINE. But you sometimes get what you pay for.

And $400,000? If HIS dick is worth that much, mine was worth a cool million or two. Besides, he's 68 years old. Piss on him. I was 48 when that crap happened to ME. HE should be totally fucked-out by now. I WASN'T when MY dick fell off.

Besides... it really sounds to me that the dumbass never learned to operate it correctly. A jury should have told that whining bastid to go home and practice.

NOT award him $400,000...

now I don't feel so bad

Over the past couple of years, I sold all my stock, exercised all my options and cashed out everything I had in my ex-employer, Kerr McGee. At the time, I felt pretty stupid, because immediately after I sold the stock for around $90 a share, it jumped to $116. I still made a whopping profit, but I COULD have made a lot MORE if I had simply waited a while to sell.

Now, I don't feel so stupid.

Anadarko, based in the Woodlands, Texas, will acquire Kerr-McGee for $16.4 billion, or $70.50 a share — a 40% premium to Kerr-McGee's closing stock price of $50.30 on Thursday.

Looks like I got out at a pretty good time...

June 23, 2006

don't know what it was

Whatever grabbed me last night didn't want to turn loose. I felt feverish and achy and nauseated. I fact, I had a discussion with Ralph and Huey a couple of times before I finally fell asleep and dreamed tumultious, psychotic dreams.

I sweated. I shivered. I got the restless legs syndrome and cramps in my shoulders. I felt like Fido's ass.

I slept a few intermittent, totally-fucked up naps today and felt worse every time I woke up. I drank a bottle of Boost liquid detergent vitamins. I puked it up. I ate a scrambled egg and some grits. Puked THAT up, too. I was having NO fun at all.

But I faced a WORSE problem than the aching, puking, fevered dreams and visions of Hillary Clinton promising to "take care of me" at the height of my extreme misery. No.. it was MUCH WORSE than that.

I was down to five cigarettes remaining in my house.

People, you face a normal crisis, a BAD crisis, and a LIFE-THREATENING, TERRIBLE CRISIS from time to time. You need to recognize the difference and act when you must, no matter HOW difficult that action my be. I saw the challenge. I acted.

I managed to make it to the local Muslim Terrorist store in my vicinity, where I put gas in my car, bought TWO cartons of cigarettes and then purchased some emergency food, such as cheese doodles in those corn-horn shapes, a two-liter bottle of Dr. Pepper and a bag of Sweet-Tart gum with red-hot centers buried in those sticky, sour, chewey things. People, I NEEDED that stuff.

I started cramming my face with THAT medicine, plus some boiled peanuts I cooked yesterday, and I started feeling okay again. The more absolute JUNK I tossed down my neck, the better I felt. You know what ELSE woulda been GREAT!!!??

Some of her mama's fried wontons with some of that spicy red sauce on the side. And a dirty joke to listen to while I suffed my starvin' face with some more of THAT food!!!

I think I may live, now that I believe that the worst is behind me. Plus, I really AM getting hungry again (I caught that wild chihuhua yesterday, broke its neck and cooked it on a stick over a charcol fire, but he tasted a lot like rabid racoon to me. Plus, he looked a lot like a hairless, bulging-eyed rat once I had him skinned.

He might have made some decent taco filling, if I had removed the bones, stuffed his rat-looking ass in a blender and pureed him to the consistancy of potted meat, but that's NOT what I did. I just cooked it on a stick over an open fire and dreamed all night long about it reconstituting itself and gnawing it's way right out of my belly like one of those creatures in the ALIEN! movies.

At least I THINK I did that. Maybe I dreamed that shit, too.

No wonder I didn't sleep well.

But I'm gonna fix that problem tonight. I'm hungry. I want an OMLET SANDWICH, the kind you make by toasting two pieces of whole wheat bread, daubing butter on one piece of bread, some mayonaisse on the other, then putting a piece of cheese on each slice of bread. Try American on one side, and Sharp Jack with halapeno bits on the other.

Multi-task while you're making the toast and a crack a couple of big eggs in a tall glass. Add salt, pepper, a dash of Worchestershire sauce and about three good dashes of Tobasco.

Stir the living crap out of that mixture while you melt a big gob of real butter in a fryin' pan. Add diced pieces of Vidalia onion, Kielbaba sausage, bell pepper, some home-grown tomato and a few green olives, along with a clove of my famous "Smashed Garlic."

Let that stuff simmer until the onions become tender and brown. Then, dump your whipped eggs in the pan. Kinda shake it around a little until the egg-slurry covers the bottom of the pan the the "dressings" you cooked are all spread around neatly and evenly in the egg-slurry.

Let it brown for maybe 90 seconds. then flip the conction carefully to form a beautiful half-moon, with all kinds of stuffing inside, and golden scrambled egg with light brown highlights holding it all together. When it's done, pick the concoction up on your spatula, being careful not to break it apart, and transfer it from the frying pan to one piece of toast.

Immediately slam the other piee of cheese-lined toast on top and squeeze it gently. THAT, my friends, is a REAL scrambled egg sandwich.

Not at all like this this half-assed "feast" that HE brags about. MINE is like a combination of pizza and quiche on whole wheat toast. HIS is... well, okay I suppose... but NOT like mine.

Mine is mo' bettah.

that's how I see it.

Back in 1974, when I took the GRE exam to get into graduate school, I answered one essay question that I thought was a pretty good poser. "Name three inventions that changed the face of America and describe why you chose those three."

I didn't hesitate in stating #1-- The Railroad. #2-- The telegraph. #3-- Barbed Wire.

You might quibble about my selection of barbed wire for #3--- ahead of Henry Ford's Model-T, mass production techniques or even the lowly cotton gin, but I had good reason for picking it then and I still like that pick today. Barbed wire damn sure changed the wild west when it was being settled, by allowing a rancher to confine his cattle on his own land, and (even more importantly) control water where he had it and others did not.

Yep. Barbed wire changed the west.

quote of the day

The guy ain't right in the head, but he's been commenting on my blog for a long time. Every now and then, he lays a land-mine for me, and I damn near destroy my chair when I run across it. Here's one that earned my Quote of the Day:

"See Dick Run. See Jane Spot."

Health text for the grade school kids.

Posted by Ralph Gizzip at June 23, 2006 07:30 PM

BWHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!! Ahem.... excuse me... but I thought that comment was hilarious!!!. Could someone pass me a Kleenex, please? I need to wipe my eyes and blow my nose...

But now I gotta ask a question, and I want a ruthlessly honest answer from you. I saw that comment as EXTREMELY humorous on several different levels. Was it really THAT funny, or is my mind totally gone off, spiralling down a worm-hole into strange, dark regions of space?

I really don't know anymore.

Just check this out. For no good reason whatsoever, while I was typing that post below about closing in on 3 million visitors to this site, I thought about "luck" and from there I jumped to wondering whether I've been lucky or unlucky in life, then waaaay over yonder to remembering when I heard a pro golfer once say, "The harder I work, the luckier I get," then to... who was it?

Ben Hogan? Robert E. Lee? My father? Thomas Jefferson? Willie Mosconi? Johnny Unitas?

I ought to Google it to see who said it, but it's damn sure the truth, not matter WHO first uttered those words. Unfortunately for the future of the human race, we don't bother much with teaching it to "The Children" anymore, which is one of many reasons why we're raising a fucked-up bunch today.

"LUCK is 99% PREPARATION! And if you DON'T prepare, and keep praying for that remaining 1% to bring you YOUR "luck" in life, you're going to be unlucky 99 times out of 100."

Ever heard THAT one? It's clear as MUD, isn't it, to people who believe that the world owes them something for nothing? Say that to ME and you're preaching to the choir. It's kinda like telling somebody to wish in one hand and shit in the other and see which hand fills up first. Or like explaining how armies win battles by saying, "You've got to get there the firstest with the mostest."

Or saying, "If the meek ever inherit the earth, they'll keep it for less than a week before the strong take it away from them." Or "a penny saved is a penny earned--- until the IRS takes it away from you and charges enough in interest and pentalties that they end up taking your HOME over that penny you earned."

Or even that corny one about teaching a man to fish, rather than handing him food stamps, free government cheese and a $2,000 FEMA "debit" card when he's hungry. There's a lot of wisdom in those sayings.

I still think my Daddy's favorite saying was one of the best ever: "If it was easy, ANY asshole could do it."

Notice how every one of those slogans say the same thing, really? You make your OWN luck, good or bad, by the decisions YOU make in life. Champions know it, and losers don't want to admit it, but it's true.

That's why losers hate champions so much.

my advice? leave it alone

This friend of mine has a serious dilemma on his hands. I don't fear many wild animals, especially not if I'm holding a loaded shotgun at the time, but Jim has found one of my exceptions to that rule in his yard.

Somewhere buried in my tangled archives is a post about MY Close Encounter of the Skunk Kind when I was camping on top of Blood Mountain with my partners Cop3 and Steve Hamby many years ago. I pitched my hammock between two good trees, put a plastic garbage back over my pack, and secured it up in one of the trees that my hammock was tied to. I hung the pack on a broken limb as high up the tree as I could reach.

I was awakened in the middle of the night by the sound of that garbage bag rattling (and not from any wind), then starting to tear. I heard that noise and figured that a hungry racoon was attempting to feed himself a midsnack on MY tab. I've seen those clever bastids to THAT kind of thievery more than once before.

I always slept with a flashlight in my sleepinbg bag with me, for just such occasions. I knew that it wasn't a bear I heard, because a bear would NOT have been that subtle. A bear would simply snatch the pack out of the tree, swipe me right out of my hammock to roll halfway down the mountain, and then rip my pack to shreds while stuffing his mouth with anything he could eat.

Naw. That wasn't a bear I heard. Probably a racoon. I just hoped that the thing was NOT rabid as I rolled over in my hammock, shined my flashlight at the intruder, and slapped my hand on the ground. "GEDDOUDAHERE!" I yelled, in my most fearsome, macho voice.

I almost screamed like a girl and pissed my pants next, as I quickly turned the flashlight off and pulled my sleeping bag quietly over my head, until I was fully cocooned. That was no racoon. That was a SKUNK!!!! A BIG, FAT, honking, wildcat-sized, whipe-striped, grinnin' bastid standing there on its hind legs looking like Pepe le Pew hisownself as it grabbed for my pack with its most terrible and frightening business end pointed right at meeeee!, less than two feet from my farookin' FACE!

I would MUCH rather have see a bear.

The damn thing gave up on my pack, but must have become curious about that trembling, gasping creature cowering in the sleeping bag, because it gave me a most thorough and terrifying examination. It hopped up on its back legs again, started pawing at the top of my sleeping bag and making loud SNUFFLING noises as it checked my scent. That skunk never new just how close it came to getting a blast of its own stink-medicine right then. I almost shit my pants.

The skunk did that paw-walk all the way down my body to the other end of the sleeping bag, dropped to all fours, walked UNDER my hammock and hopped back on its hid legs repeated the pawing, snuffling process back up the other side of me. I don't believe anything else so incredibly... uh... thrilling has EVER happened again in my life.

The skunk finally became bored with attempting to scare me to death and wandered down the slope to where Cop3 had gotten drunk on Scotch that night and left HIS pack just layin' on the ground. He turned on HIS flashlight once, too--- but made a sound kinda like a squeaky hinge on an old, wooden door and put that light out fast. The skunk cleaned him out. Ate EVERYTHING!!!

The next day, I investigated a Wilderness Shelter on top of the mountain and discovered a wire-bound notebook that campers had been making diary entries in for a little over a month. Almost EVERY ONE mentioned the skunk waddling through the front door and making itself at home while everybody in the room suffered massive heart attacks.

It was a female with a litter of at least TWO skunklets, because Mama took her young'uns inside the shelter with her on a couple of occasions. I'm glad I never saw THAT!

So, based on my vast experience with skunks, I'm gonna offer Jimbo this expert advice. DON'T FUCK WITH IT!!! If it wants to live under your shed, let it. In fact, if it wants to walk in your front door and raid your liquor cabinet--- LET IT!!!

It'll leave you alone if you leave it alone, and I think that's a damn good deal, especially for a lawyer, because I believe that you have to be related to such animals to pass a bar exam. But trapping it??? I don't think that's a good idea.

Not unless you can hire a got-dam fool to do it FOR you, while you go out of town for a few days...

i just noticed

I'm not very far away from hitting the THREE MILLION VISITORS mark on my blog. That's even WITH my Cracker ass being banned by Google.

I'm kinda impressed by that number. Hell, I'm probably well over FIVE MILLION "HITS" by now, since I didn't have a Site Meter on my blog until it was almost six months old. I also am very flattered, too.

That ain't bad for a decrepit old Cracker in the teeming metropolis of Rincon, Jawja, which ain't exactly a real hot-spot for commercial blogging. I may never be a Tall Dog in blogdom, but I haven't done too badly, considering that I've never spent ANY time behind-the-scenes here on shameless self-promotion, blatant ass-kissing on other "big-time" blogs or trying to pass myself off as a Serious Journalist by joining a circle-jerk outfit such as Pajamas Media.

Okay... I DID hand out (for FREE!!!) 250 bumper stickers, some of which ended up in trash cans all over the WORLD, but I don't consider that act to be anything close to some of the serious whoring for attention that I've seen lots of other people do.

I built it, and y'all came.

I get to write the way I've always loved to do and I actually have people who enjoy reading my words. That is VERY flattering to me and I thank everybody (except the got-dam spammers) who ever visited my not-so-humble site and deemed it worthy of a return visit or two.

Thank you, folks. And I hope to keep doing this "ceaseless quest for adoration" a lot longer, too. Every time I get depressed and think about quitting, I get a clever comment or a friendly email and I realize just how much fun this silly, self-aggrandizing exercise has been--- and still IS--- for me.

If y'all are still willing to read, I'm still willing to write. And thank you.

I really MEAN that!

I agree... kinda

Chaining a dog up is cruel. You teach a puppy. My German Shepherds know their yard and stay. Because they were taught that. If you must confine a dog, than use a chain link enclosed run. Hope he's got some shade and fresh water.

Posted by MM at June 22, 2006 07:04 PM

I've never liked the idea of keeping a dog chained to a tree, either, but it's better than letting it run wild, raid people's garbage cans and get its fool self killed in the street. Still, I think if you want to keep an outdoor dog, you ought to fence your yard. Have it spayed or neutered, too.

That "teaching them boundaries" works just fine until a female goes into heat anywhere within three miles of an ungelded male. If a male dog gets a whiff of ripe coochie in the wind, he'll forget all about those "boundaries" and follow his dick wherever it leads him. Hell, sometimes they'll even climb a six-foot cyclone fence when pussy nature calls.

I did know a guy once who set up a pretty good rig for his dog, though. He ran a small line of four-strand wrapped cable, the kind you see used for guy wires on power poles and such, between two trees about 20 yards apart in his yard and kept his dog hooked to that on a sliding tether that allowed the dog to roam pretty much all over the yard, and that worked pretty good until the dog figured out a way to hang himself on it.

I just don't like seeing a dog tied up like that, whether he ends up being hanged or not.

The best thing I EVER saw to keep a dog in its yard was that "invisible fence" thing that you bury underground and then put a shock collar on the dog. When that jolt of electricity bites him on the neck a couple of times, he learns real quick where the boundaries are, and he won't cross them again.

In fact, one neighbor I knew when I had my mini farm got to the point that he didn't even keep his invisible fence powered up after a while. He had TWO dogs, who learned their lessons the hard way and remembered them.

I was amused to watch them come barking and raising hell to the edge of the yard and suddenly STOP DEAD and decide to do their barking from right where they were. Once or twice burnt, they learnt. You couldn't lure them across that invisible Line of Pain with a chunk of raw steak, even when the line didn't exist anymore.

That may sound just as cruel and heartless as chaining a dog to a tree, but it's a hell of a lot better than having to scrape your dog off the road with a shovel or ending up in court because YOUR "loose" dog got carried away and bit a child on a bicycle in the street.

I still say, however, if you want an outside dog, fence your yard.

ugh!

I had a bad night and felt sickly all day today. That's probably what I get for making my own rice, refried beans and tacos for supper yesterday evening. Just damn! I musta used un gato malo for the taco stuffing...

I like to cook with authentic Mexican ingredients, but I had to settle for what was handy. I never could catch the damned chihuahua that was running around my neighborhood yesterday.

i don't do math

... but I still got eight out of ten correct on this test. I guess I'm not completely ignorant after all. Of course, it WAS only 8th grade math, but still... that's not TOO shabby for an English Major.

It would be nice to know which ones I got wrong.

June 22, 2006

late quote of the day

"I made fun of Cindy Sheehan, calling her "Joan of Crawford," and I insinuated very strongly that she was having a ball with her son's death. And I think she was. But I think she's a special type of soulless parasite; a true worm of a person. Like a rat that feeds on corpses."steve h..

That guy can write.

He says he can cook, too, but I'll believe that when he proves it at a blog-meet. Make me some biscuits, boy! And be quick about it!

sharp people

I am embarassed. I have some real dumbasses reading my blog, which doesn't say much about me. Maybe I need to start writing more like the "Dick & Jane" authors from my elementary school days.

Naw. Wouldn't work. "See Spot? Run, Spot, run!" would still sail over a lot of flat-heads today. The disturbing part of that realization is knowing that such people don't KNOW they're dumb as a red brick. THEY believe that they are SMART! And they vote, too. For Democrats, such as Ted Kennedy and Cynthia McKinney.

Lemme try to keep this simple... Damn! I'm not sure if I can, since I have to write it, which means you have to READ IT, which probably leaves a lot of people locked out of the door right there. But I'll try.

Ahem... pay attention now... if someone ever says "It's as clear as MUD," that's a... well, you won't understand. Just do this. Take two identical glasses right out of your dishwasher. Fill one up with distilled water and fill the other with MUD. Hold them up to a light.

Notice the difference? The distilled water is clear, while the glass of mud is... NOT CLEAR. Get it? When someone tells you "It's clear as MUD," they mean it's just like that glass of mud you're looking at. The one in your OTHER HAND, dummy, not the one with the distilled water in it.

NO, dammit! NOT THAT HAND!!! The one with the god-dam, cock-sucking, mutha-fucking, MUD in it!!! You fricking idiot! Just stop right where you are. Gimme both glasses. Now...

SMACK! CRASH! SLAM! Okay, I broke BOTH glasses over your pointy, empty head, you moron. So, we can forget that question now, as long as you don't step on the broken glass on the floor. If you do THAT, I'm gonna drag you off and shoot you.

Now... let's try another one. And I really, really want you think hard about this. Concentrate, or it could get nasty. "Wish in one hand and shit in the other, and see which hand fills up first."

NO, got-dammit!! Pull your pants back up! I didn't really mean for you to shit in your hand, you fricking cretin! Oh, never mind. You've already started, so go ahead and finish, you nasty... bejus... By the way, where is your wish? In that empty hand? How are you gonna wipe your ass, with that wish filling up your free hand?

That's great. Just drag your bottom across the carpet like a dog with worms...

All right, let's try this one... "A stitch in time saves nine." What? Yeah, you're right. Who needs stitches when you've got a tube of super-glue. Aw, fuck me dead! Did you just glue your ass-cheeks shut? And you're stuck to the carpet now? Well, I guess you shoulda wished as hard as you shit. Then you wouldn't be in the shape you're in...

One more time: "When the cat's away, the mice will play." No, I don't know the cat's name. Maybe it WAS the one that I shot in the ass with my pellet gun, but that's not relevant here. No, I'm not claiming you as a relative of mine. Where the hell did you get THAT idea? Oh, from holding a handful of shit and having your butt super-glued to the floor? Yeah, THAT'LL make you think, won't it?

NO, got-dammit! That quote has nothing to do with a computer. I'll click and delete your ASS if you ask me another dumbfuck question. I've got your mouse right HERE, danglin'...

Let's start all over again. "It's as clear as MUD to me!"

Anybody got questions now?

i have a question

What is the difference between a blithering idiot and a shining genius?

Tell me. A lot of people don't seem to know anymore.

dog on the run

I went outside to check my mailbox today and saw a big, black dog running around as if it were out of its mind. It was dragging about three feet of chain still attached to its collar as it cavorted merrily along, hither and yon, with a pink tongue flapping in the wind, like a big, hairy spastic.

I recognized the dog. It belonged to my next-door neighbors. They weren't home. (Thank Bejus, or else they would have thrust their stinkin,' squallin,' pukin,' screamin' BABY into my hands again.) It dawned on me that even though I've FED that dog before, lots of times, I didn't know its name.

So, I gave it a name of my own creation. I yelled, "Hey, ASSHOLE!! What are YOU doin' runnin' around loose?" The dog came right up to me, all friendly and tail-wagging and just as happy as a brainless bag of hair can be. I petted the critter and said, "Dumbass. You're gonna get killed if you keep this shit up. C'mon. Let's go back where you belong."

I grabbed the chain hanging off the dog's collar and allowed it to lead ME back to its home. It was just as happy as a dead pig in sunshine. If dogs could talk, that one would have said, "Looky here! See what I done? I got LOOSE!!! All by myself!!!"

I found the other end of the chain and attached it to the broken link, just making it hand-tight, because I didn't have any tools with me at the time. I shook my finger in the dog's face and said, "You sit tight. I'll be right back. Don't you run off again, or I'm gonna be really pissed at you." The dog kicked up a dust storm with its wagging tail and hung its tongue sideways out of its mouth.

I ran (okay... it wasn't exactly like running... it was more like hobbling) back to my garage and I fetched a pair of channel-lock pliers. The dog was waiting obediently for me when I got back, so I repaired the broken chain and petted the dumb bastid again.

The dog started licking and slobbering all over my hand.

I can't help it. I am a got-dam sucker for a good dog, so I sat down in the sand and let the dumb bastid lick my face and crawl all over me, while doing that all-adoring, love-you-so-much crap that dogs like to do. Yeah, I love you, too, you dumb bastid, I thought, as I wallowed in all that shameless adoration. It was a beautiful moment--- a real tear-jerking scenario.

At least he didn't start humping my leg.

I wobbled back to my house and grabbed a piece of Kielbasa sausage from my refrigerator that I had left-over from an omelet I cooked yesterday. I walked back to my neighbor's house and fed it to the dog in tiny pieces that it ate from my hand. That made me feel good.
The dog seemed to like it, too.

Know what? I think I like that dumbass dog more than I do that nasty-assed baby they have over there.

"as clear as mud"

I never saw my mama get angry often in my life. She left that pitch-a-fit-stuff for my daddy to do, and he was damn GOOD at it. But I did see my darlin' mama lose her temper one time, over something that a government official came by our home to tell her, for her own good, of course, and my mama damn near exploded.

I don't remember what it was all about, but I DO remember that fuck-head in a coat & tie saying, "Mrs. Smith, I think I've made this perfectly clear to you..."

And he never got to finish his sentence, because Mama yelled, "It's about as clear as MUD to me!" I never will forget hearing her say that. I think she went back to her bedroom and grabbed Daddy's .38 pistol and told that prick to get off her land and NEVER come back, and he ran like the wind.

Mama stood at the door shaking with anger for a moment, with a loaded pistol in her hand. She turned her head, saw me and hissed like a snake. "Go to your room! Stay there until I call you!"

I ran like the wind, too. My mama wasn't very big, but she was a mighty force when she was angry. She damn sure was THAT day.

I never did learn what that crap was all about, but I'll NEVER forget hearing my mama say what she did that day.

"As clear as MUD to me!"

Maybe you have to be a hillbilly to understand...

maybe some light

... and I hope it ain't a train coming at me. I talked to my "Personal Banker" today, and he gave me a name and number to call about my IRS problems. I like the way he summed things up:

"Hell, Rob, I WANNA help you! Trust me... I would much rather have your $60,000 in one of MY managed accounts than see it go to the IRS!!! Guys like YOU are how I make my living!"

Heh. I called the number he gave me and guess what? I think I went to high school with that lawyer's brother. Small world, isn't it?

Reckon that might help me?

cat-lovers in action

Yeah, this is pretty sickening, too.

Corrupt politicians. Nasty cats. Shit-filled houses.

Not much difference, really, is there?

government in action

This is sickening. Try to remember this the next time "War Hero" Murtha jumps up on pedistal to show his unwiped ass.

Bastid.

i never understood it

Leftards started bleating like the sheelpe they are when we went to war in Iraq. "Bush lied, people died!!!" My aching, Cracker ass.

Our troops didn't uncover WMDs right away, so they never existed in the first place. Forget this. It never happened, because Saddam Hussein didn't have any nerve-gas and he NEVER used it on his own people. That's all YOU need to know.

And don't listen to this shit, either, because it'll get you all confused about the "facts" of this matter, and everybody already knows what THOSE are. Iraq had NO weapons of mass destruction, Saddam NEVER gassed any Kurds and he was a really nice guy, when he wasn't feeding people into shredding machines or binding their hands and throwing them off of tall buildings.

If you think with your pussy and not with your brain, it's all plain as day.

War is evil. Bush is a monkey. Cindy Sheehan is a saint. Saddam was just... a really nice guy, if you got to know him. Poisonous gas attacks on Kurds? Never happened, because we didn't find any weapons of mass destruction when we illegally and unethically invaded that peaceful country.

Yeah. And Hitler never killed any Jews, either.

I've been drunk as a skunk MANY times in my life, but I've NEVER worn beer-goggles as thick as leftards wear every day. Reminds me of a song... "living is easy with eyes closed... misunderstanding all you see..."

But it's all right.

war

Time does take its toll.

We don't have many people still living today who remember World War II. Can you imagine how modern leftards would have squawled, squeeked and pissed down their pants back then? When we carpet-bombed German cities? When we set Tokyo on fire? When we actually had the balls to drop an atomic bomb on our enemy?

Oh, Bejus! My ears ring with the howls that would have come from blithering idiots back then if they were anything like today's "enlightened" and totally pussified leftards. War is bad for children and all living things. Whaaa! Whaaa!

My aching ass. I recently wrote a post where I said that I hoped NEVER to get in another fist-fight in my life. I meant that, too.

But that doesn't mean that I will EVER run away from a real threat. It doesn't mean that fighting is NEVER necessary. Sometimes, pure brute force is all that makes any impression on truly evil people. And if you ain't willin' to do that, the truly evil people will walk over you like sandals on a sidewalk.

That's basic Human Nature 101, people. Read your history. Shit--- grow up on the same playgrounds I did. I learned my lessons about bullies and fighting the hard way, which was by fighting. And any pussy who believes that you can go through life without EVER fighting is gonna end up getting picked on, having his lunch money stolen and wind up sitting on his beat-up ass crying a lot.

I won't do that, and this great nation shouldn't, either. How we EVER got the insane idea in our heads that we can fight a WAR without inflicting ANY civilian casualties is a complete mystery to me. William Sherman didn't think that way when he marched through Georgia. Neither did Dwight Eisenhower when he planned and executed the D-Day invasion. Neither did Harry Truman when he gave the okay to drop an atomic bomb (excuse me... TWO atomic bombs) on Japan.

War is dirty business. The only way to win is to kill the enemy before he kills you. It's a brutal exercise, and if you ain't willin' to be brutal, roll over on your back and surrender now.

Part of the pussification of America today is the bizarre idea that we can just kinda roll over on our side, and semi-fight, because we don't want anybody to be HURT in a war. What kind of bullshit is THAT? It's totally asinine and it gets soldiers killed.

I could NEVER be a politician, and this pussified country damn sure don't want ME as President today. Oh, I'd pull ALL our troops out of Iraq, right now. And as soon as they were in the clear, I'd turn that place into a sheet of glazed glass, using B-52s with atomic bombs falling from 50,000 feet.

Then, go in and start over. Millions of dead wimmen and children? Well.. war is hell, isn't it?

I also would tell Iran, "Hey, fuckhead! See what we just did to your neighbor? Keep going the way you're going. You're NEXT, buddy!" And I would DO IT, too.

But that would be racist and intolerant and politically incorrect. Can't be doin' that shit anymore. Pussy lips would flap enough to generate hurricane winds.

And THAT would be bad for the "environment."

saying good bye

We drove to the airport in Jacksonville. We arrived early and had a couple of hours to kill. We bought some downright obscene, hulking cinamin rolls and two large cups of coffee from a place that smelled so good that you couldn't possibly pass it up. (I don't remember the name, Joanie. Do YOU?)

While she sat on a bench and ate her cinamin rolls and sipped her coffee, I walked to a bookstore and bought a copy of Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil, a book that I promised to buy her when she first saw downtown Savannah. I borrowed a pen from a girl behind the counter and wrote something witty and clever on the inside cover-page and gave that book to Joanie about 30 minutes before her flight began boarding.

That was a strange goodbye. We hugged. We kissed. And BOTH OF US started crying, right there in the got-dam airport. We both had enjoyed the visit and I hated to see her go. But she had her book and her ticket home and I had a two-hour drive back to Rincon. She walked down the runway, I went back out to my truck, and we never saw each other again.

I didn't learn until the next day that she experienced the Trip from Airline Hell, where she was stranded in Atlanta for a few hours, which meant that she missed ALL of her other connecting flights, so that she didn't make it back home after what SHOULD have been a six-hour plane ride, until almost 16 hours later.

She said the she almost ripped out a charge card and flew BACK to Savannah, just to cut the bullshit. Now, I wish she had. We could have hopped in my car and DRIVEN all the way back to San Diego, as long as she didn't push me for time. I coulda done that southern route through the desert trip I want to do and tooled along the Pacific Coast Highway, too.

But she got home around midnight that evening, thanked me for the trip, and told me that she read the entire book I bought her before she ever landed in California. I was pissed because THAT book is not one you should gobble at one swallow. And I coulda showed her the places and people featured in the story.

But, that's what happened. I'm just glad that she doesn't hate me.

Maybe she would if I ever introduced her to this guy. Savannah would NEVER be the same..

June 21, 2006

i'm going to bed

I hurt and I don't feel very good. But before I turn in for the night, I just want to say a few things:

* Big government is NOT a good thing. The bigger it gets, the worse and more out of touch with the "American People" it becomes. The way I see it now, the only difference between Republicans and Democrats is NOT whether they want big government or not, but what Big Government should demand that you do.

* Don't EVER wonder how Adolph Hitler did what he did. Read some leftoid blogs. Listen to leftoid politicians. That's all you need to know.

* Some wimmen are absolute, insane, constantly-on-the-rag nutballs. If you don't believe me, read some of my comments. Does the name "Tessa" ring a bell?

* Some wimmen are truly kind and wonderful. My mama was like that. So are a few others that I know. Does the name "Chablis" ring a bell?

* The older I get, the less I trust ANYBODY. What causes that?

* Not too many people think today. They react, which is totally different from thinking.

* This country is becoming totally pussified. People who want to eliminate "Risk," are going to kill us all. They'd VOTE for Adolph Hitler today if he promised them safety.

* Guns are NOT dangerous, when handled by people who know what they're doing. They are dangerous when handled by CRIMINALS.

* I dare not write about this shit for fear of being called a racist. Truth is brutal sometimes. And if you run from it, you end up with an Adolph Hitler ruling your country.

Am I crazy? I mean, I see this stuff plain as day in MY eyes. Look at 10,000 years of history. Am I all fucked up for thinking the way I do?

Maybe so. A LOT of people voted for Al Gore. They voted for John Kerry, too. Bejus. Did they really want that kind of jackass running our country? Would they vote for Hitler, too, if he promised them a chicken in every pot and a check in the mail?

I don't know and I don't care. I'm going to bed now. Y'all sleep tight and worry about global warming, or affirmative action or gun control, or free prescription drugs for dottering old farts with a million dollars in the bank.

I'll worry about the IRS taking everything I have.

Guess what? I have a lot more to worry about than YOU DO. And I have my government to thank for THAT!