It's called "Big Wood Jack Pine Savage."
You, errrr, drink it.
Stay tuned.
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 17, 2013
More fun with headlines
A guy shouldn't josh about a death, but, but, but...
Please don't hate me; blame the potato-headed Des Moines Register for:
"Missing Tuber's Body Found in Cedar River."
I apologize again, but I can't help it that I yam what I yam
Holy Shorts
For once in my life I'm ahead of the prep curve for a little trip later next week.
--The camper is open and airing out nicely.
--The forgotten stuff in the camper refrigerator is in the trash. It, too, is open to the summer breeze so that I need not wear breathing equipment as I perform the straight-bleach procedure.
-- House-sitter Carrie and her Magic Alsatian are firmly engaged. (Yes, magic. He makes undesirable people disappear.)
-- A seldom used camper locker incubates .22 rimfire ammunition, about 220 rounds in those nice old Winchester plastic boxes. Or maybe I forgot it. Anyway, it picked up a skim of that nasty white oxidation. All is tumbling in corn-cob kibbles as we speak. When shiny it will be repackaged against the possibility that I am ambushed on a lonely road by a reinforced company of the 82nd Airborne. Note to self: Clean and oil the Ruger Standard before departure. (The TMR Legal Review Section advises me to warn you against tumbling live rounds. Freeken lawyers.)
--Most important, I have deployed resources from the almost-rag bag. Tees and other of my delicate underthings which, with luck, have exactly one wearing left despite rents and tears and long-retired elastic. Not meaning to preach, but this is perhaps the most vital travel advice you'll ever receive. Throw them away dirty. You'll be traveling lighter on the trip home...
-- ... Unless of course you stop at out-of-the-way flea markets and swap meets and thrift stores, picking up miscellaneous interesting stuff as you continue your eternal quest for that $12 Artillery Luger. (I, of course, would never indulge in that sort of nonsense.)
--The camper is open and airing out nicely.
--The forgotten stuff in the camper refrigerator is in the trash. It, too, is open to the summer breeze so that I need not wear breathing equipment as I perform the straight-bleach procedure.
-- House-sitter Carrie and her Magic Alsatian are firmly engaged. (Yes, magic. He makes undesirable people disappear.)
-- A seldom used camper locker incubates .22 rimfire ammunition, about 220 rounds in those nice old Winchester plastic boxes. Or maybe I forgot it. Anyway, it picked up a skim of that nasty white oxidation. All is tumbling in corn-cob kibbles as we speak. When shiny it will be repackaged against the possibility that I am ambushed on a lonely road by a reinforced company of the 82nd Airborne. Note to self: Clean and oil the Ruger Standard before departure. (The TMR Legal Review Section advises me to warn you against tumbling live rounds. Freeken lawyers.)
--Most important, I have deployed resources from the almost-rag bag. Tees and other of my delicate underthings which, with luck, have exactly one wearing left despite rents and tears and long-retired elastic. Not meaning to preach, but this is perhaps the most vital travel advice you'll ever receive. Throw them away dirty. You'll be traveling lighter on the trip home...
-- ... Unless of course you stop at out-of-the-way flea markets and swap meets and thrift stores, picking up miscellaneous interesting stuff as you continue your eternal quest for that $12 Artillery Luger. (I, of course, would never indulge in that sort of nonsense.)
Jul 16, 2013
The B-37 and the Coop
No, not this air plane.
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And not this Coop
This One
Who makes his living as a steely blue-eyed reporter for the Catatonic News Network where, last evening, he interviewed Zimmerman Juror B-37 and bombed.
Anderson in Duuhhh Moment No. 1: Did you know what went on out there that night?
Juror B-37: No one knew exactly what went on but (goes on to patiently explain what the evidence led jurors to believe occurred.)
Anderson, later, creating Duuhhh Moment No. 2: Did you know what went on out there that night?
Juror B-37: Look you brain-dead whack job, you need to either seek treatment for your short-term memory loss or stop doing interviews that last more than 40 seconds. It was a stupid question in the first place, but I answered it 'cuz I know I'm in a special-needs studio. Now I'm out of here. No, hold it. Why don't you stop picking your toes long enough to crack a dictionary and look up the meaning of "circumstantial."
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