Gonna slink on over to my other crib for awhile.

Beating to weather...so to say

It is all about square footage.

This photo is of a fractional rig sloop, who some believe to be superior to a mast head rig. By using a fractional rig, you are able to rack the mast further aft, which allows a performance advantage in some conditions. To weather, you can make the sails flatter...which equates to speed. The large mainsail provides most of the power...upwind and downwind. The smaller head sail is easier to control for a smaller crew. On reaches, the spinnaker and bloopers are smaller, so you don't get the power or square footage of a masthead rig.

I prefer a masthead rig...takes more people to drive, but when you get it right...ain't nothing like it. Downwind, a masthead sloop with a Tri-radial spinnaker, and a nice Blooper are hard to beat. The thrill of getting the boat balanced is worth it, although, rounding marks can be very interesting. I'm telling you from experience...you can get your ass killed being a foredeck monkey on a nice boat in a good blow. Stuff happens fast...really really fast.

I started out as a sewer rat...moved to foredeck cat, and then to a trimmer. My decision...moved back (forward) to the foredeck because that it what I'm best at. Although, I can trim with the best...the fordeck is where the action is.

No good foredeck monkey...no win races.

I can also handle driving, but I yell at everyone too much because they're not doing it exactly like I would.

I can tie bunny knots and pack sails like you wouldn't believe.

Racing sailboats is a passion of mine.

I miss it....

This is on my short list...

"A test of will, courage and skill against the best (or more accurately, worst) nature has to offer." would be accurate. "The ultimate sailing adventure." would also be accurate.

I've followed these races since the early 70's. This is the Catdaddy of all. I would suspect you would be a changed person if you crossed the finish line.

This is not the America's Cup, where money determines how fast you can make it around a short triangular course.

This is about life...endurance, stamina, will, trust, and brotherhood.

Over Twenty Eight Thousand miles is a hell of a long race. Many things can happen.

This could be, in my opinion, the ultimate test of character. I would do it in a second.

Just my opinion.

This would be just about getting down with one of my favorite boats

In this photograph, they're obviously tight to weather, which is a smooth ride...but when you get her on a broad reach with a tri-radial spinnaker up...you'll be cooking with gas, so to say.

Of course, I do loves me a tight reach with a starcut...

Everything depends on the trim.

Awesome piece of the good times.

It takes a bunch of "like minded" people to drive one of these...but when you get in the groove...you are in the groove.

I need a helmet because it has been raining Acorns. They are falling so fast is it just plain dangerous to venture into my backyard. I must have a hundred thousand of them, or so. The year before last, I raked 'em and filled five, forty gallon garbage cans.

This year...I say fuck it!...they stay as they lay.

I was outside the other evening, enjoying a nice cigar and a glass of wine...Ka-Bamn...wine glass explodes. Direct hit from a fucking Acorn.

I kid you not...

...The man driven by his demons is the easiest of all to lead or corrupt through his desperation. The man content with himself and his world is least likely to succumb to temptation. Threaten the latter with that which he holds most dear and he will bend...

Domino senses and understands something of antitheses or mutual correlations in human perceptions going on...dual concepts...so to say.

Nothing is black and white. It is much more complicated.

Honor: is the evaluation of a person's trustworthiness. Can you keep an important secret to yourself?

Integrity: must be constantly proven over time. It is the basing of one's actions on principles and their honor.

Trust: is a moral value. It is someone in whom we can place our trust and rest assured that the trust will not be betrayed.

Loyalty is a combination of the above.

Betrayal is some Bad Bad Juju.

I'm just saying.

The Merriam-Webster Dictionary defines Stamina as: Staying Power,,,Endurance.

I define Stamina as making it home safe and sound after three 4 o'clockers in a row at the Helen Blogmeet.

Damn, my ass is worn out.

More later...

Also, my woman took over 500 photographs...stay tuned.

Double also, if any of you attendees would like me to burn a CD for you, just shoot me your address in an email.

Be cool with it.

Yesterday evening, I called a good friend of mine. I told him, "you need to be the first to know". He said know what about what?" I said, "I'm whoring out your wife." He said, "really?". I said, "yes". He said, Can we make any money?" I said, "probably." He said "cool with me".

I have never thought of myself as a pimp, but you never know...

Bwahahahahah!!!!!!

I swear, I can't make this shit up!!!

I'm just saying...

Sam has too much banana

Yabu has way too much banana.

But, my boy Riprock...has got way too much Dick.

Bwahahthefuckinghahaha!!!

Is the grass always greener when you're looking in someone else's yard?

Just a thought.

...so is Fuck, or how many times can I say Fuck?

I use to be an avid golfer...three, four, maybe five times a week...but over the last several years...it has been once every two years or so.

I played with some friends today...can you say..."Fucking Circus"?

We pull up to the first tee. I pull my Driver out of my bag, and guess what comes out with it?...a fucking birds nest, thats what...there was a fucking birds nest in my fucking golf bag. Do you think they fucking laughed at that?...Damn.

We did the customary tee flip and it pointed to me, so I went first. My first ball went into outer space...my Mulligan went into the fucking woods....my third ball, the Clancy, went into the fucking parking lot. All this one in one out shit is confusing. My fourth ball went straight down the fucking fairway. After that, I had about 150 yards to the flag, and what do I do?...Smacked that fucker into nowhere land...un-fucking findable.

2nd hole tee box.

I'm last of course. What do I do?...I hit that fucking ball about 10,000 yards right down the middle of the fairway. I set up my second shot, and hit that fucker into the fucking lake. I drop another, and hit that fucker into the fucking woods...un-fucking findable.

3rd hole tee box. Par 3.

I hit a beautiful shot if you think landing right in the fucking middle of the fucking sand trap is a fucking good shot. Damn...I'm pumped. My second shot went into the fucking woods...un-fucking findable.

And so it goes...and on and on and on...for 15 more holes.

I lost every fucking ball in my fucking bag, but at least, I finished with all my clubs.

I fucking love fucking golf.

It is, what it is...

The first time I ever slow danced with my bitch, while her parents were watching, was to this song.

We were in the groove...couldn't keep our minds on anything but each other.

It was, and still is, good.

As Domino would say..."it is, what it is"

Back in the day, I did boo coo Nunchaku. I use to be quite proficient with two of 'em. I started "practicing again". I might be moving too fast too soon, because I just hit my elbow so fucking hard I was down on my knees in pain. Problem is...I tagged the same elbow I did last week. It was nowhere near healed.

Damn...that hurt...really really hurt.

Anyway, cool thing about the sticks is they can make a 4 footer equal to a 7 footer.

Always remember...you can't block what you can't see.

That reminds me of a ship (her name was VooDooToo) I passed at night...but that is another story altogether.

Nunchakus are pretty much the ultimate close in weapon...easy to conceal, and as efficient as you want them to be. You want to scare someone...no problem, you want to hurt someone...no problem, you want to kill 'em...no problem.

Whatever...time for a hot bath.

...one of these. A stainless (does not really matter if it is stainless or not) .357 is just a plain bad ass ride.

I'd also grab one of these while I was at it.

A Walther PPK is a bad ride as well...just doesn't have the punch of a .357.

Fuck it...get 'em both.

I really don't need either, because Stretch never leaves my side.

I'm just saying!!!

...and I ain't talking about sport fucking.

I happen to drive an automobile that feels as comfortable at 150 mph as making love to a beautiful woman without a rubber...but you do need some nice "real deal" tires. Better to be safe than sorry...right?

So, today I put a new set all around...took that bitch to 145...and everything was cool...sweet. I guess you get what you pay for....although when I signed the tab...I felt like I'd spent the night with Velociman.

Seriously...I'm ready to slow dance...

Bwahahahahah!!!!

The Drudge Report went with the headline "Brokeback Bathroom."

Larry Craig...is done.

Let it be said that we in The Brier Patch do not tolerate "Packing of the Fudge".

I feel bad for his wife...and worse for his mother

If a male and a female want to glide one in, in a airport bathroom...or wherever...I have absolutely no problem with that, but I do have a problem with queers. I think we should just shoot 'em, and be done with it.

Just my opinion.

I have many friends. Some tell me I'm full of shit...some I think are full of shit...but we're still friends. That's half the battle. I believe I'm always right, but in the larger scheme of things...maybe I'm not. Who knows? I love a good debate. At least I realize that. I actually like people who disagree with me, but I detest people who say they do when they don't or say they don't when they do...if you know what I mean. People interpret things in different ways. What might piss me off might not piss off someone else. Fine. Friendship is volatile, but above everything else...friendship must be true.

I'm just saying...friendship is earned, and there is honor in that. Friendship is mutual and reciprocal.

So, you might be thinking that I have some problems with my friends...quite the contrary...I was just thinking about how fortunate I am to have as many friends as I do...because if one has no friends, they really have nothing.

Now, on a serious note...I overdosed on Gooey Cake. Christina Sweetie Baby Honey Pie...next time you send me a package...send ammunition. It will be quicker.

Bwahahahahahahahah!!!!

Some people know I have a dog named Stretch. Most people don't know his middle name is Cornbread. Yes, in fact it is. He is registered as Stretch Cornbread. I did that when she wasn't looking. My woman told some friends I wanted to name my new puppy Cornbread...they asked her why, and she said, because he (me) likes cornbread. One of her friends said, "I like chicken, but I wouldn't name my dog after one".

Bwahahahahahah!!!!

To the point:

Stretch learns like a Velociraptor in a bad fiction movie. He is becoming much more proficient in his hunting skills. Today, he brought the granddaddy home...dead. I saw the last ten seconds of it.

I usually deal with my squirrel problem with a .177 hollow point, but that is no fun for Stretch. He loves the thrill of the chase. Boy dogs are like that.

He has learned how to work out the distance between the squirrel and the closest tree. The biggest and oldest squirrel in the neighborhood made a fatal mistake today. He is no more, and my dogie is strutting around like he owns the world.

It was a good kill.

I have always flown an American Flag from before Memorial Day to after Labor Day...also on Veterans Day, etc. I raised my flag, as I always have every year, a week before Memorial Day. 2001 was no different...it is still flying...it will never come down. After 9/11, everyone was flying the flag...not now...what happened? Why is that? Was it trendy?

I heard some people saying today, that if Hillary Clinton is elected president, they'll leave the country. Fuck that, if the Hildebeast is elected, we'll probably all have to evacuate...we'll be under attack with some bad stuff. I swear to the Maker, I will personally, if possible, make Alec Baldwin and Michael Moore, and all of their coward ass pussy friends, stay and inhale the germs and radiation. They should experience first hand what they're fighting for, ya think?

Many many years ago I obtained a Buck Titanium folding knife. 5 inches closed, 9 inches open. Sweet. It has been missing for a long time...I found it today...sweet.

I have / had a lot of computers. I'm cleaning my office, and after I removed multiple hard drives from seven or so machines...I worked over the insides with a crowbar, and I beat the ever loving shit out of what was left with a sledge hammer. They will never run again, trust me. On the advice of my friend Zonker, I kept a laptop. I'm gonna stake that fucker like I staked this one., and then do some horseshoes. The Zonkman is as crazy as I am.

I called the Junk Yard Dogs to come and haul off the mess I made today...with some other stuff. Anyway, I like their pricing scheme...based on refrigerators.

I always have a bunch of fireworks laying around. While making my mess today, I found a bunch of mortar shells, but I couldn't find the launching tube, so I fired 'em up and tossed like a grenade.

Big mistake...I set the fucking front yard on fire...I had to scream for my woman to bring on the hose. No shit, I set the front yard on fire...looked like something you'd see on the news. She had to put water on the yard, and the roof. I can tell you for certain, I have not heard the last of that.

Anyway, not much going on around here...just another day in the Brier Patch.

"A great civilazation is not conquered from without unitl it has destroyed itself from within"

- W. Durant

Of course I'm talking about "fill in the blank",,, if you would...can.

This is a rough sketch of Yabu and Domino drawn by John Cox...of Cox and Forkum.

This guy is amazing...he did this with no photos, as there are no known photographs of these two. It was all done verbally, and with a little written inspiration.

More later.

Domino can certainly put pen to paper.

Ya think?

A couple more below the fold.

I might have said something about this before.

I absolutely hate it when one of my neighbors fires up his fucking lawn mower at 7:00 am on a Saturday or Sunday morning, but I also hate how loud my bean grinder is...another but: It is my choice when I grind my beans. I have no control over the time my neighbors decide to cut their grass.

I'm thinking of a little early morning sugar in the tank mission.

Or, have Yabu horizontally launch some of his rocket stash at 'em.

I'm just sayin', Yabu WILL do it.

I can think it, but I can't put it to paper like Christina.

There is nothing else I can say...

Me: Stretch, there seems to be some dirt in the fuel line.

Stretch: I hate it when that happens.

Me: I'm a honorable and loyal man, and I hate it when I receive Hate Mail from someone I once considered to be a friend.

Stretch: Play her the song.

Me: OK...that is why you're my best friend...you dog you.

This is for you Bitch...you are Pretty Fucked Up

Right, wrong, or indifferent...I remember everything.

What's the best thing about dating a homeless girl?

My woman grew into some fairly serious food allergies about ten or eleven years ago. I'm talking Anaphylactic Shock kind of serious, as in three ambulance rides to the Emergency Room within two weeks. She could've easily died without the emergency medical treatments. Scary stuff. One time, I was standing at the end of her bed in the emergency room...she was surrounded by six or seven doctors, nurses and technicians, and her eyes rolled back and she rose up, and then collapsed. I thought she died, and I think they did as well. I will never, as long as I live, forget that.

She had the full battery of skin tests then...eighty plus pricks and under-skin injections on her back and arms, and it was determined she was MAJOR allergic to Soy, Peanuts, and all tree nuts. Soy is in fucking everything...even a Hershey's chocolate bar.

We adjusted our diets accordingly, and just dealt with it as best we could. We really could not go "out to eat" unless we went to a nice restaurant with a chef who knew EXACTLY what was in the food they prepared. For example, we generally make all of our bread...Soy is in 99.99% of bread. We had cards printed, in several languages, to give to the dumber than dumb-ass servers we usually encountered. For the last ten or eleven years I have read every label on everything I've purchased in every store. I upped my optical prescription because the fucking print is so small. Better than the alternative.

It changed my life just like hers. I do loves me my sweetie.

We adapted together. We had to...no choice. No big deal, actually it is a much bigger deal for the people we're around because they just don't seem to understand what Anaphylaxis is. Don't get me wrong...some do, but more do not.

Six years ago we moved from point A to B, and had the same tests done which provided the same results...Major life threatening reactions to Soy, Peanuts, and tree nuts. Oh well...business as usual...we decided to just keep on keeping on...actually, we had no choice.

Two weeks ago...we had the same tests done...same results, but this time I / we were a little more concerned because she tested major positive for tomatoes and onions, which we eat everyday...and green beans. It didn't make any sense, to me / us.

We were consulting with the doctor, and I was telling him basically he was a Voodoo Man and I was gonna put Yabu on his ass, and I / we didn't believe the diagnosis. There is no way she is allergic to some of the food groups she tested positive for...we eat 'em everyday. We were suspicious.

Bombshell:

He said maybe we should do some blood work.

Excuse me, but I said, "What the fuck are you talking about?" I don't care if it cost a million fucking dollars...do it...why didn't you do it before? The jury is still out on that one...I don't think the tests were available when this nightmare started...but I'm going to find out. Find out for certain. There will be no recourse; we just want to know.

My Sweetie goes in and gives 33 vials of blood...one for each food group that is suspect. The results come back with a BIG GOOSE EGG across the board. WTF is going on with that? The results state that she is allergic to NOTHING. They state that EVERY test she has had returned a false positive. WTF is going on with that?

11 Fucking Years!

There is no doubt that she went into Anaphylactic Shock on several occasions, but the cause was apparently misdiagnosed...multiple times. Something caused it for certain, but I don't think it was food...I think it was more likely environmental.

Two Days Ago:

She goes in for the Soy Challenge, because we just don't believe the results. The challenge is done in a controlled environment in the Allergists office or the emergency room...whatever is more convenient. I kid you not.

The doctor used Soymilk for this first test. His call. First they smeared some on her arm and checked it twenty minutes later, and then they put some on her lips, and then she drank a teaspoon, and then she drank a tablespoon, and then another tablespoon, and then she did a shot, and the she drank a cup...and there was no reaction. None Whatsoever.

What does this prove? I'm not sure, but I will say skin tests for food allergies are a bunch of voodoo. You are just as likely to have a false positive as not. Go for the blood work.

Note: We used several different doctors in different states, but until the blood analysis became available, we lived a different life.

Am I pissed? Yes and no. Are we going to pursue this, as in going after anyone? Absolutely not. Are we better cooks? Absolutely.

The next challenge (July) will be peanuts.

Life is good my friends, just understand we had second and third, and fourth, and fifth opinions...and they all got it wrong...except for this last guy.

This will be a life changing experience for us...in a positive way, but she will always have epinephrine with her, in an EpiPen. Always.

I am such a dumb ass, and slow to catch on.

If you're in the presence of Christina, and she flips you the peace sign...extended index and bird finger...she doesn't mean Peace...she means Strike Two, or your ass is real damn close to being put in Time Out...or worse.

Bwahahahahahahahah!

I am honored to have been flipped by her. She runs an efficient, but tight, ship.

I kid you not, and her children will agree.

Wee One to Zonker and I.

"You look like Won Tons. Me, really?... Wee One, yes, and I'm gonna fry you up...Me, really?...Zonker...no? Wee One...Yes...and then she looks at me with those beautiful slang eyes and says..."I'm gonna fry you first because you're smaller"

By the way, Zonker was on his knees...and he was damn near as tall as me...I was swearing him in for the weekend.

Damn, I can't make this up.

My little buddy Wee is a pistol; which ,I guess, goes hand in hand if you're from TEXAS.

Bwahahahahahahahahahahah....

I do loves me a cute girl.

I rarely post a comment I've received...but this one is too good not to.

It was on this post.

I am so sick and tired of hearing about global warming. I think it's become a religion for those on the left, I really do. I also think global warming is a load of bullcrap considering the fact that Mars itself is also suffering from "global warming," too. Is man the cause of global warming? Hell, is man the cause of global warming on Mars? Could it be our nasty SUV's? Or could it be the sun is going through a cycle of shining hotter, not to mention expansion? No, that wouldn't have anything to do with what's going on. Yes, our planet is a little warmer than it's has been, but so what? It's all normal and it'll level itself out.

By the way, someone really needs to ask the global warming crowd as to whatever in the hell happened to their global cooling fiasco of the 1970's. Remember when they said that we were heading for an ice age? Uh huh, whatever happened to that? Not a liberal lunatic is to be heard, anywhere.

And why in the f*ck should I subscribe to the liberal left's accusations of us (us, being mankind) being the cause of global warming when our own weather forecasters cannot even accurately predict the weather four days in advance? The hell with global warming. It's nothing more than a religion involving the acquisition of political power, nothing more, nothing less. And really, why doesn't O-Zone Al Gore set a REAL, SOLID example if he believes that mankind is the cause of global warming. Why doesn't he cut back on his $30,000.00 a year utlility bills? Why doesn't he stop getting his ass hauled around in jet planes too? Nope. Why? Because when you're a liberal Democrat, it's *just* different. Do as I say, but not as I do.

Here's another interesting bit for those who subscribe to the left's take on global warming:

The polar ice caps are just that, ice. Ice which is floating on water. Ice which is displacing water as it floats. Think of a hot cup of tea which you drop an ice cube or two into in order to cool it off. Since the ice cube(s) are already displacing the water, the water doesn't run over. The same goes for the polar ice caps. If...and it's a big IF the polar ice caps were to completely melt, no flooding of our coastal cities would occur. Why? Because the ice caps themselves have already displaced the water they've been in. That's another thing no one ever asks people like O-Zone Al.

Al Gore can take global warming and shove it all up his big you know what.

And that's my final answer. :-)

P.S. Sorry for the "novel" of a comment.

Posted by Braden at May 9, 2007 08:37 PM

"She tore apart the chest cavity, ripped out the heart and ate it," ... "It was like she knew that's what kept it alive."

A little something to have with your coffee...or understand about women.

Never, Ever, take a leak after cutting a Habanero.

...but still true

Bwahahahahahahah!!!

This guy and his buddies didn't get where they were by being stupid.

[O]f course, the people don't want war. Why would some poor slob on a farm want to risk his life in a war when the best that he can get out of it is to come back to his farm in one piece. Naturally, the common people don't want war; neither in Russia nor in England nor in America, nor for that matter in Germany. That is understood. But, after all, it is the leaders of the country who determine the policy and it is always a simple matter to drag the people along, whether it is a democracy or a fascist dictatorship or a Parliament or a Communist dictatorship. . . . [V]oice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is tell them they are being attacked and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism and exposing the country to danger. It works the same way in any country.

--Hermann Goring

Does this remind you of anything?

Damn!!!

What A Dumbass

The shooting occurred moments after Paige told the children that he was the only person in the room professional enough to carry the weapon.

Now he is suing. Give me a break.

It is strange the way the ignorant and inexperienced so often and so undeservedly succeed when the informed and the experienced fail.

--Mark Twain

Is it all about the money?

What happens if we don't do this?

The sad fact about this deal is that it makes one think of that old saying that capitalists are so intent on a profit that they would eagerly sell you the rope with which you intend to hang them.

Shut 'em down? The points of entry that is. I don't think so.

I understand the deal, and I'm against it.

We can do it without the United Arab Emirates.

I personally think the Nation of Islam (and I'm not talking about Louis Farrakhan) should have absolutly nothing to do with anything American.

Have we lost our minds?

Bottom line is that we're about to outsource more than goods...security...and it will be a problem. We only need to make one mistake, and the Islamofascists know that. They are waiting in the wind.

When approved...this will be a huge mistake.

via The Grouchy Old Cripple

You're a scientific intellectual.


What Sort of Intellectual Are You?
brought to you by Quizilla

I'm old enough to know better and too young to resist.

That is a fact.

You've got to try this.

Stretch's Buddies

This grew overnight.

My man who drives the Tight Ass Cadillac has tagged me.

That is cool with me.

Here goes:

What were three of the stupidest things you have done in your life?

1. Adding just a little more gunpowder, like Emeril 'kicks it up a notch'. Blew up the garage, and damn near burned the house down.

2. Jumping off the Seven Mile Bridge in the Keys. I almost died that day. Trust me: It is a long way down, and there were sharks waiting. That was really a close call.

3. Entering into a relationship with the Daughter of the Devil. People say there are two main problems in life. Money and Women. I’m here to tell you; that bitch was some bad medicine; it had nothing to do with cash.

At the current moment, who has the most influence in your life?

My wife. She has the perfect disposition. Enough said. I am a lucky man.

If you were given a time machine that functioned, and you were allowed to only pick up to five people to dine with, who would you pick?

1. Sitting Bull

2. Sun-Tzu

3. Winston Churchill

4. Christopher Columbus

5. Marco Polo

If you had three wishes that were not supernatural, what would they
be?

1. No need for a job.

2. The ability to participate in the Whitbread around the world race.

3. No reading glasses

Someone is visiting your hometown/place where you live at the moment.
Name two things you regret your city not having, and two things people should
avoid.

1. No airport.

2. No 'Mom and Pop' Italian Restaurants

Name one thing that has changed your life.

Broadband. Plain and simple.

***UPDATE***

I tag my good friends Dax Montana and Dash Riprock.

I've posted about my love of squirrels on many occaisions.

The Baboon Pirate witnessed a Two-Fer this morning.

Bwahahahah!!!!!

Sometimes I receive comments on an old post. I put this one up on 12/04/2003.

The question is:

Is there such a thing as an original thought?

The response I received a short while ago was:

"Any attempted original thought is simply a modification of an old one or a new application of and existing one, similarllly an invention is just a modification, addition of, or a compilation of existing stuff. A genuine invention would contain an original thought(s)"

Interesting.

As you know, Dick Penn sunk his rescue boat as he set out on his rescue mission with his rescue entourage and rescue documenters. Problem is, they didn't have enough room in the boat to rescue a turtle.

Hypocrite! He should have stayed in Iran. Fucking Traitor!

They all got wet.

The plug is useful for more things than sticking it up your ass.

Dumbass!

Bwhahahah!!!

My Internet Chic is Hard Core.

I love that woman.

Here's the link to the The Times-Picayune.

For obious reasons, and for the first time ever, they can only publish electronically.

They get a little more personal, and go a little deeper, than the nationals.

Check 'em out.

Not that it matters, but...

...I've been negligent lately...been really really busy.

Anyway, I met this woman in New Orleans...she is downtown, she is cool, she is a keeper. She is so rolled!!! I'm calling her the "Attractive Stranger".

Why? Because I can.

"No real gentleman will tell the naked truth in the presence of ladies."

- Mark Twain

Check out the COUNTDOWN on my left sidebar.

Stretch is learning how to fly.

Let me set this up.

I’m doing some work in my office this morning…Stretch is asleep on the couch in the other room... all is calm.

All of a sudden I hear him go ballistic. I bolt for the den, and as I turn the corner, I see my damn puppy flying through the air about eight feet high. He busted his ass when he landed. I mean…busted it.

In that split second, I was tense. I thought someone threw him…how else could he be flying a foot lower than the ceiling? I’m thinking, I’m two feet from a gun…good…where’s the person who threw him.

In the split second after he busted his ass on landing, he was on the top of the back of the chair…balanced. At that instant, I saw two flashes…one from each eye. The first one made me duck…it was a reflex…bird in the house. The second one made me sprint like a wide receiver. Stretch, who resembles a football with ears when he’s flying about head level, dove at that damn bird as it flew by...and was headed for another bad landing. The bird missed, I missed, and Stretch missed, and busted his ass again. Big time.

I’m not going to bore you with the rest of this story, but suffice to say…it was hilarious.

A Daschund is resourceful, fearless, determined, and stubborn. At least, mine is.

I’m still smiling.

It won't be long before I head up to the Blue Ridge Mountains in Virginia to watch the annual migration of the Red-Tailed hawks. From late August until late October, you can see 'em soaring above the ridges, heading south. Prior to their migration, you usually only see one or two at a time, but when they fly south; they do it in force. It is not uncommon to see hundreds, together. A magnificent sight. Anyone who has seen this knows what I'm talking about. They'll do the return trip in late March or early April.

Red-tails can grow to 25 inches in length, have a wingspan of 52 inches, and weigh three pounds. During the summer months, when the birds suddenly stop singing and all but disappear, you can bet there's a RTH in the neighborhood. I once saw one take a dove out of my garden, and all that was left was a crater. I kid you not...it hit that dove so hard...dirt was flying.

I like to watch stuff like that.

What do a Ping-Pong ball and some fishhooks have to do with your digestive system?

Go here to find out.

I’m glad this guy is a friend of mine. Damn glad!

I Want To Talk About Pain

I’m really trying to determine how to best deal with comment and ping spammers. I like MT, the MySQL database, the interface, etc… and I’m not switching, period. I like my host (Hosting Matters), and I’m not switching.

Hosting Matters is evaluating and testing a security module that intercepts comment / ping requests before the actual request is made to the script on individual blogs. They are also considering incorporating a master blacklist of known spammer domains into the security module. The effect of this would be to block requests that are spammish in nature. The master list would be pulled in by every server on a set, automated schedule, just as the email spam lists are. This will allow them to easily add entries to the master list quickly and have those changes rolled out without having to go to every server.

Although I don’t completely agree with this, it has become, or is becoming, a necessary evil. I’m downtown with it.

But,

That’s not what this post is about. I want to talk about pain, and I’m asking for your input.

I want to discuss Torture.

The scenario is: I capture a spammer(s), alive, and I’m going to share ‘em with you.

How do we kill ‘em? What is the most painful way to die? How long will it take? The longer, the better…you think?

If you were the devil, how would you do it? Behead them immediately? Inflict continuous pain until they expire? Let them live their lives knowing when they die a natural death…they’re going to hell, or worse?

I’ve never asked for a comment or ping, but this time…I want to know.

What Is Worse?

Walking with a full cup of coffee (as far away from any place to sit it down as possible) and having to sneeze?

Or,,,

If The Brier Patch scares you beyond belief, mentally scars you, and makes you want to destroy your computer…you probably should. I would suggest throwing it out of a third floor window…I’ve done it before; and it works every time.

Following is an email I received.

Dear Mr(s) Moore, I am writing to inform you that recently your site scared me beyond belief. My name is also Sam Moore and being an MSN user, I was searching for a display picture. A simple noose was what I was searching for when this happened when I searched for the word noose: As you can see your site is the first result and was perfect for a display picture. When I followed the link and found the address needless to say I was mentally scarred and for a brief moment destroying my computer was seeming a good idea. Just a quick note to tell you this and how you made my day enjoyable, but at the same time making me appreciate the value of life in this small world. Thanks for taking the time to read my e-mail.

Love Sam Moore

P.s. Are you a male or female Sam Moore, in either case wanna meet up for a drink sometime? MSN me if interested, or e-mail.

And NO, I don’t want to meet up for a drink anytime.

Cyberspace is fascinating, don’t you think?

It is all about communicating.

I have a tendency to leave the screen door in the kitchen wide open.

This afternoon, I noticed a note attached to the screen that read, “Shut the dam door.”

I informed my wife that she misspelled “damn”, and headed out on patrol with Stretch.

When we returned, there was a new note, which read:

"Shut the F___king Door!!!"

Oh Well!

Bwahahaha…

My 1100 fps .177 Benjamin is bad to the bone, and (almost) silent. Yesterday, I popped another two, maybe three, rats with bushy tails. At a decent range, I must add. I don't know where they're coming from; but make no mistake, I'm under attack, and I intend to win.

Between Stretch and me, they don't stand a chance.

Bastards

...or Three Mile Island

I just returned from some major debauchery here (photos below).

Business, real business…as in closing the damn bars every night. My ass is worn out, plain and simple.

I usually don’t sleep well in hotels, but the Hotel Hershey is different. They actually have comfortable beds with all the down. I’m down with the down. I slept like a drunken baby, but like I said, my ass is trashed. I get up with these people about once a year, and trying to squeeze 362 days into 3, is a "crash and burn" situation if I've ever seen one. Did I tell you, my ass is dead?

Anyway, to get there, you fly into Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, and the Three Mile Island Nuclear Plant is, literally, at the end of the runway. There are no federal regulations limiting how close you can fly to it. If there were, they'd have to shutdown the airport. No can do.

Three Mile Island forced us to evaluate how groups of people react and make decisions under stress. Some believe the accident was exacerbated by incorrect decisions made because the operators were overwhelmed with too much information. Some believe it was operator error, without regard for the data. Much of the information from the sensors was irrelevant, misleading, or incorrect.

After the TMI incident, nuclear reactor operator training changed. Before TMI, operator training focused on diagnosing the underlying problem, apparently with bad data. Afterwards, the training focused on reacting to the emergency by going through a standardized checklist to ensure that the core is receiving enough coolant. The key is: You've got to keep the core cool. In my opinion, this is the opposite of thinking out of the box, but in some scenarios; thinking out of the box might not be the best thing. The Monkey Checklist, sometimes, might be a good thing.

It took the operators 16 hours to realize they had a major problem, because they had too much information. Right, wrong, or indifferent; they had too much information.

Too much information is something to think about. Sometimes, it's not a good thing.

Conversation with Wife:

Me: Listen to me, I am the voice of reason.

Her: Bullshit!

Man...I love her.

I'm headed out to hobble through some airports. My toe is Whacked, with a CAPITAL W.

About three quarters through my four and a half hour telephone call with this guy, Stretch comes running inside with some nasty looking shit. On closer examination, I realized it was the torso (no head or front or rear legs) of a damn squirrel.

The day before, it was pouring cats and dogs, and I looked out from my kitchen door over Kill Zone One, and saw a damn rat with a bushy tail peering out of a hole in a tree about thirty-five yards away. I pumped the .177, drew a bead, and capped it right between the eyes. There was no way I thought I could make that shot in a severe thunderstorm. I fired up the binoculars, and sure enough, half his head was blown away. I felt so good about that hit; I shot it again, removing most of the rest of its head.

So now the dead ass squirrel is hanging half in, and half out of the hole, and I thought it was probably high enough that I wouldn’t smell it as it rotted. I checked before I went to bed, and it was still there. I checked when I awoke, and it was gone. Stretch and I did a patrol, and it was not on the ground. He would’ve found it. How did he find it seven hours later, and what snagged it during the night? Hell if I know.

So what does popping a squirrel have to do with a four and a half hour phone call? I’ll tell you what; I didn’t think I could make that shot, and I damn sure didn’t think I could have a telephone call of that length with someone I’ve never met face to face. I enjoyed every second of it, and if anyone has any questions about anything, just give one of us a shout, because we solved ‘em all.

Bloggers are cool.

Just Damn!

I've got a new blaze on my skates, or tires on my ride, or whatever.

Cost me an arm, leg, and half my dick, but they are sticky.

Feels good.

Yeap...I just downshifted from a number three, to a number two, all the way around.

It feels good.

...or Spring Is In The Air.

The Dogwoods and Azaleas are blooming, the birds are chirping, my car is now greenish yellow, and I’ve been sneezing about a thousand times a day. I love this time of year, really I do.

Due to the Jekyll Island diversion, via a couple of days and nights in Charleston, I’ll be setting out my garden later than usual. I’m going to till the same size, but instead of a hundred tomato and pepper plants, I’m going to plant about sixty. Over the last several years, I’ve apparently planted everything too close together. I guess I was trying to get greedy with Mother Nature, so this year I’m going for pod size and longevity, not quantity. The last time I did it right, I still had fresh Habaneros in November. A fluke? Probably, but what the hell, it worked.

As for my squirrel problem, between Stretch and my new pellet gun, it no longer exists. The squirrels must know my garden is right, smack damn dab, in the middle of Kill Zone One. Believe it or not, they aren’t stupid, and the ones that aren’t dead, have moved out of the neighborhood, so to speak. I’m sure I’ll get a few more, but for all intents and purposes, they’re done. When Stretch is on patrol, the rats with tails stay in the trees, which makes for a safer shot. I don’t want to accidentally shoot the neighbor’s kid, know what I mean. Don’t let anyone tell you a lead pellet won’t ricochet. Stretch and I are a team; we work well together. He trees ‘em, and I pop ‘em. I just wish I had a Badger for him; so he could test his genes.

He is a Dog.

Happy Birthday Rotten.

How did this, become this, in one year?

He definitely lets me know when I need to reach for this.

…but, I wish the media would get their ducks in a row.

The Pope is dead…wait a minute, he is not dead, his brain is still functioning…wait a minute, the Pope is dead…wait a minute, he’s still alive…wait a minute…let us backpedal, because “we really don’t know what the fuck we’re talking about”. We're just