I feel for The Spinster, because I don't like blustery frozen messes anymore than she does; but I saw something today that put it into perspective:

This is a USGS map showing the earthquakes in Indonesia over the last seven days; 19 in total (list with details). The larger the square, the bigger the quake. Each one you see is 5+ on the Richter Scale. The darker the square, the most recent. All of these are within the last week, the orange is today, the red is within the hour.

As bad as winter is, at least we know it's only temporary. But what the hell are you supposed to do when the spit of sand you call home threatens more than once a day to fall into the sea?

Posted by: shank at 02:22 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
Post contains 134 words, total size 1 kb.

I gotta say, I've come to understand that I belong in The South, particularly the Southeast, for many reasons. I love the weather, the people (or more appropriately, the lack thereof), and the cultural tapistry. I've lived in many places, but never in a place that felt so much like an integral part of a larger
'place' that stretches across so many states. I walk onto my porch and I could just as easily be in Umatilla, Hiltonia, or my own backyard.

Of course, it's not without its flaws. Like, say, Burmese Pythons. Firstly, the Southwest bit is pretty ridiculous. Burmese pythons are amphibious reptiles that need a constant source of water; and there doesn't seem to be any continuous geography like that in the Southwest.

The Southeast is another story altogether. As a matter of fact, there is already a wild breeding population in the Everglades. I'm sure we all remember the alligator vs. python pictures. That being said, I think if they moved any further north than Charleston, SC or maybe even where I'm at; the longer winter and lack of a consistent swampy wetland would drive them off.

Which is a bittersweet double-edged sword, because they would really help combat the rising population of another regional pest that we refer to as 'Yankee transplants'.

Sure, come visit, have some grits, maybe a little sweet tea; but for the love of God don't stay.

Posted by: shank at 08:24 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
Post contains 240 words, total size 1 kb.

Still working this one out, so put your water wings on and swim at your own risk. more...

Posted by: shank at 09:50 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
Post contains 603 words, total size 3 kb.

So I was perusing my local fishwrapper this morning and came across this little 'notable note':

Members of the church group located in Kansas travel around the country, mainly to the funerals of Marine soliders, protesting that it is America's fault they are dead.

Oh. Well, how very nice for them. The jerks.

[the]church group plans to make a trip to Camp Lejeune this coming Saturday.

Look, let me try and put this in a nutshell for you WBC twits:
Jacksonville, North Carolina is not where you want to be. This is will not be anything like attending the funeral of one of our fallen heroes in their hometown. Camp Lejeune is the largest concentration of Marines and US Navy personnel in. the. world. In the world!

Now, I know with 100% certainty that every one of those soldiers is under explicit orders to stay the hell away from the intersection of Lejeune & Hargett, even if that means they have to drive around their asshole to get to their elbow. I've also got a great deal of faith that the vast majority of those men and women have the discipline and composure to do just that. By the same token; I've got an equal amount of faith that every retired vet, friend-of-a-Marine/Navy sailor, and family member in a 100-mile radius is probably going to find a little time in their calendar to show up at that intersection as a show of support for the soldiers. Some of these people will be peaceful, and some of them will most definitely be pissed off. I'm going to be in Ft. Lauderdale this weekend, or I'd show up myself just to hold an 'FU' sign and watch the show.

You just can't go into a town that's populated by Marines, sailors, their friends and families; not to menion the large number of retired servicemen, and not expect some serious backlash.

You know, when I was a kid I used to pester the ever-loving shit out of my older brother; and a few times he took the opportunity to remind me that the reason I was able to enjoy chewing my food was because he had not yet chosen to rip my mandible from my twerpy noggin. I'd go moaning to Mom, and she'd say something like "Well, you asked for it."

WBC, you had better be careful. You've been asking for it for quite some time now, and it looks like you've finally found the place that's willing to fill your every request.

Posted by: shank at 10:12 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 425 words, total size 2 kb.

Ron, come here buddy; it's time for a little man-to-man.

I just want to say a few things up front. First, we really like your style. You've got panache and you've got balls, two qualities that some politicians lack.

Now that we got that out of the way, let's get down to the nitty gritty. That is to say, why are you such a fuckin' fruit loop?

Seriously man, what is your damage? I mean, we really think it's cool that you've pretty much locked down the MySpace voting block. You've gotten the kiddies involved in politics, and that's a noble deed. Unfortunately, this just makes you look like the mayor of Kooksville. Once people realize that we're trying to elect the POTUS and not the President of the Lollipop Guild, they'll rejoin the rest of us on planet earth and vote for someone who can actually win. I know the truth hurts Ron, but do you really, honestly think the Ron Paul Magic Carpet Ride stands a chance against something like the Hillary Clinton Bonestripper or the Obama Second Coming of Christ? Campaigns like theirs take great, almost sexual, pleasure in dismantling moonbat parades like yours.

I feel for you Ron. I mean, here you are at your pinnacle; the zenith of your nutty, fucked up outlook on life. You lay your policies, ideas, and passion out for everyone to inspect, and all they can say is "Oh. Cracker off his meds."

I just want to say, it was nice meeting you. Well, it was entertaining anyways. We wish you luck in the future, even though you're probably never going to see public office again. But take heart, tiny dancer; because there's always reality TV.

Posted by: shank at 08:53 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
Post contains 302 words, total size 2 kb.

Via the Don Instapundit, the blogfather himself; a posthumous post from one of our men who died in Iraq recently defending freedom.

I put the post in the extended entry below, just because The Wife and I read it together and found it so moving that we had to do something to preserve it for posterity's sake; but if you don't follow the link, you'll be missing out on the links to Olmsted's own milblog.

No political commentary here please, in respect of Olmsted's wishes.

more...

Posted by: shank at 10:08 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
Post contains 3018 words, total size 16 kb.

The old man and I have spent the past several months hemming, hawing, parsing, splitting hairs, and generally picking ourselves apart over what our new project car should be.

At first, we were thinking some classic muscle. You know, big displacement V8 with gobs of torque. As much fun as it would be, we just weren't that excited about it. It's hard to describe, but we both wanted something that was more of a driver's car.

Then we started reading about the '08 Nissan GT-R and it pretty much stopped us dead in our tracks. What a phenomenal car: twin turbo 480hp V6, all-wheel drive, 6-speed dual clutch transmission, 6-piston brakes, and a fully adjustable suspension; all mounted on a carbon fiber and aluminum midship platform. Absolutely breathtaking. As much as this car appealed to us; and I mean that in the powerful, primordial sense that only a true autophile understands; it presented a real problem for us. Why pay someone $70,000 to build you a car when:
1) It will only make you do things that are illegal and unsafe
2) It's so perfect that you're afraid of hurting it
3) You can build one yourself for less money, and still do all the same illegal and unsafe things.

Build one that's just as crazed and dangerous, for cheaper? Oh yes. You see, back in the early 60's, God blessed mankind with a tiny roadster that man named the MG. A few years later, in true human fashion, man corrupted God's vision of purity by chunking the underpowered four-cylinder engine God gave him with something directly from the bowels of hell: a good old American big block. Nothing screams "I want to die in a fiery wreck" like a 2,000lb car with a 300hp engine. Yee haw.

The more we think about it, the more we like this option. It's rear-wheel drive, which means it'll be fun to race. It's a conversion that's been done a million times; so there will be plenty of references, spare parts, and fully built cars to choose from. Most importantly, owning a classic car means not having to bother with lame shit like emissions, inspections, and seatbelts. Besides, seatbelts in a car like this would be a joke anyways. more...

Posted by: shank at 09:54 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
Post contains 420 words, total size 2 kb.

Alright, it's that time of year when it's blistering cold; and the best thing to warm you up is a hot bowl of hearty soup. Seriously, between this soup and beef stew; there's no need for central heat. Talk about comfort foods - gah.

Boil and mash three or four large 'baking potatoes' (Russett's). Dice two more (or three red potatoes) and leave raw. I use red potatoes in this second part becuase they give the soup more body. But whatever.

Sweat three leaks (sliced, white stalks only), a medium yellow onion, and a couple cloves are garlic until soft; not translucent. Add a couple teaspoons of thyme.

Add a quart or two of milk to the sweat, salt and pepper to taste, and bring to a bare simmer.

Toss in both the mashed and diced potatoes, maintaining a bare simmer. Salt and pepper to taste again, as this drastically changes the volume of the soup. Cook until the diced potatoes are soft enough to your liking. Check the spicing again, and when you're satisfied; remove from heat and stir in a cup or two of heavy cream. Garnish with parsley.

A note about the milk/cream: That's just a guideline. I was making this recipe one night and realized all I had was less than half a gallon of milk and a 1qt container of half-and-half. I couldn't leave the house, and using two quarts of milk was impossible. Instead I used: maybe two cups of milk, a cup or two of chicken broth, a cup or two of water; and instead of cream at the end I used a cup and a half of half-and-half. When I mashed the potatoes I mashed them up with maybe a tablespoon of lard just to make sure I got some of the fat back into the soup.

Regardless, the consistency should be not as thick as mashed taters, but not as thin as chicken noodle soup. Think thick chowder or something.

Posted by: shank at 10:08 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
Post contains 337 words, total size 2 kb.

So I was hanging out with the neighbor the other day. More and more, I enjoy tagging along with the guy. He's like my grandfather; battle-worn, self-reliant; but I suppose he probably drinks a little heavier than Grandaddy did at his age.

We were just having a couple of beers really, sitting in some rockers on the porch.
"So, looks like the economy might take a turn for the worse in the next couple months," I say.

"Meh," he grunts. "You know, a poor man never survived this life without being a do it yourselfer. I was raised in the Depression, and damned if we didn't grow or make nearly everything we had. There was no plumber or lawn maintenance crew when I grew up here. Hell, there was barely a grocery store. If we needed it, we had to figure out how to do it ourselves. That's how people live when they don't have money. Nowadays, people buy shit just to buy shit."

I sip my beer and stay quiet. I like to see how long his momentum lasts before he needs any kind of conversational input to keep him rolling.

"You know, I'll tell you a secret boy. Those people you bought your house from, they took out a line of credit on that home as soon as they could, and damned if they didn't get upside down in a jiffy. And for what? A boat. A big shiny truck to drive around town in. Both of which they had to dump like they dumped the house when they got divorced. You kids are morons, you know it? I'm not a money man 'er anything; but I've got some common sense, I tell you what."

"Wait. You've got a big truck just to drive around town," I motioned to the monster in his driveway. It's too big for his garage. "So what the hell?"

He rolled his eyes. "Boy, that's a 1989 Dodge Ram with a Cummins turbo diesel. I've put more miles on that one truck than you've driven or ridden in every car you've ever been in. It was paid for before your narrow ass was old enough to drive, and I keep it because it's free. See, common sense."

"Well, it's a real peice a shit. I can see why you so proudly display it in your front yard like that."

"Up yours city boy."

Posted by: shank at 11:30 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 404 words, total size 2 kb.

Religion, bringing the reason to the season since. . . 0.

Posted by: shank at 11:01 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 21 words, total size 1 kb.

I had a wild one last night. Actually, late this morning. I was at a beachfront hotel/resort with extended family. My wife, brother, his wife, Dad, Mom (!?), uncles, aunts, cousins, grandparents. I was snorkeling with two of my cousins, while the rest of the family ate lunch on a nearby veranda. I also noticed that some good friends from highschool and their kids had joined the party, as well as an old girlfriend and her child. I remember feeling really good, because all of these people were here and getting along. So I got out of the water and walked to the counter to return my rental snorkle equipment. While standing there waiting for the receipt, I notice this huge explosion a couple hundred yards offshore. Me and the rental guy are all "Holy shit!", and then I notice that there's at least one battleship out there, and a giant cruiseliner - the latter of which is steaming directly for the hotel.

I immediately assume that the cruise ship means me no good will, so I start sprinting up the stairs to the front exit with the rental guy in hot pursuit. Some of the guests are doing the same, while some of them simply clap and continue to sip cocktails like they're being ambushed by a dinner theater or something. As I'm running out of the hotel, I hear a swell of panicked shrieks well up behind me, and I shout to my family to head out to the street, putting the hotel building between themselves and the approaching behemoth.

As I'm running across the front patio, I look behind me and see that the cruiseship actually looms taller than the hotel, as its bow smashes through the roof and upper stories of the building. I try to judge where the debris is going to fall, if I should keep running or let it fall in front of me and then just climb over it. I decide to make a mad dash for the street since everyone else already has a headstart on me.

Looking behind me again, I can see the cruise ship backing up with a grinding metal growl. The screaming begins to swell again, as people realize this can only mean a second kamikaze run. I reach the median of the main street, maybe 100 yards from the hotel, which is about 100 yards from the beach, and begin to sweep the scattering crowd for familiar faces. I see my brother, yell at him, then see Mom, Dad, and my aunt and uncle running together. We collect ourselves into a group, and try to figure out what to do next. My brother and I are frantically trying to figure out where our wives are, wondering if maybe they're together, when I wake up. Sweating.

I had the strange sensation when I woke up that I wanted to stay in the dream. I guess to find out where my wife was. Odd.

Posted by: shank at 10:46 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 500 words, total size 3 kb.

Merry Christmas everyone! Hopefully, you all got what you wanted.

If you didn't, just remember who it came from, and send them a bag of poo next year.

Posted by: shank at 12:11 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 32 words, total size 1 kb.

more...

Posted by: shank at 03:07 AM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 588 words, total size 3 kb.

My Mother told me,
'for she passed away,
said 'Son when I'm gone, don't forget to pray'.
'Cuz there'll be hard times.

Alright, I won't do it anymore. She never was one for fanfare. She wouldn't appreciate it; matter of fact she'd feel downright uncomfortable about the whole goddamn deal. All these people harrassing themselves about something they can't change. They'd be better off just rolling with it and letting the whole damn deal be. But I won't deny that I'm so pissed. Mom, as much as you know I love to tell stories, I never thought the best ones would leave such a sour taste in my mouth.

So, in your memory, and in the only way I can figure how; I celebrate the one and only anniversary. I love ya, I miss ya; always will. But I won't piss myself away over your passing, no matter how much I want to. I know; 'I've got my own life, I'll have my own kids...' You were always that way. Why did you have to be that way. So much better than the rest of us. But I will, for you. I'll raise my kids and tell them about their parents, and their grandparents; and one day. Oh one day. They'll do something and it will remind me of you.

Why couldn't your legacy...
But you were the most...
It's so...
Dammit, you would say that!

Posted by: shank at 11:46 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 240 words, total size 1 kb.

From the Washington Times.
Key Quote: "Nothing creates cognitive dissonance in the mind of a true believer."

Oh, and 'Heh'.

Posted by: shank at 10:10 AM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
Post contains 22 words, total size 1 kb.

Finished painting the livingroom/entryway/hallway last night. It looks a lot better than the shit-brown the previous owners had slapped up. Quite honestly, it looked like they'd put a paintbrush in the hands of a blind epileptic and just let 'em go at it. We still need to go around the trim and ceiling to get all the overlapping brown off. They call it painter's tape for a reason. Yeesh.

Now that the holiday season is upon us, it's time to look back on the year 2007:

Britney Spears. Quite possibly the quickest celebrity spiral since Pee Wee Herman was caught in a skin flick theater in flagrante delicto. Words of advice to Britney? Well darling, you've pretty much screwed the pooch with complete abandon this year, so it can only get better. As long as you don't get caugh masturbating in a public theater. Well, on second thought, that might be a step up.

Michael Vick. I have to admit 23 months is pretty harsh, especially considering this is a man who pretty much has zero future left. I mean, we all know what goes on in prisons these days, and you can bet your ass (or, more appropriately, Mr. Vick's) that there's at least 17 seperate sick mofo's in the big house who can't wait to be the first to make Vick their girlfriend. Two years of that is going to turn him into the NFL's version of Mike Tyson, and the first time they let him back on the field he'll be biting people's ears off. The rest is history.

George Bush. He's like the crappy girlfriend or boyfriend. He makes stupid mistakes, your friends don't respect him, he says the wrong things at the wrong time; but you just can't get enough of the sex. That's right America, you're having sex with the president. If the man turns you off, don't sweat it because according to all the pundits, you can look forward to having sex with Hillary Clinton in the near future.

Appalachian State University. The only I-AA team to ever beat a I-A team, at Ann Arbor no less; and consecutive 3-time national champions. You wish you went there.

Hollywood writers. Rich people haven't complained this much since Cape Wind. Get over it you moaning dickbags!

Well, that's pretty much everything that happened in '07. I know you could swear that more things happened this year, but they didn't.

Posted by: shank at 12:40 PM | No Comments | Add Comment
Post contains 412 words, total size 2 kb.

So I started this new game, it's called "What Would You Do". Basically, I give a couple of scenarios and see what people would do given those circumstances. One of my new neighbors is this guy who's a real live yokel. He was born in the rural area we moved out to, worked there as a plumbing contractor his whole life, and is now retired. He gets up every morning as I'm leaving the house for work (about 7am), opens his garage door, and begins his daily activities. From what I can tell his daily activities include but are not limited to: smoking cigarettes, drinking coffee and cans of beer, talking on the phone, working in the yard, bringing everyone's garbage cans in, and rachet-jawing us all near half to death. In all honesty though he's a real character; so I decided to make him my first unwitting contestant the other day.

"So, what would you do if Hillary Clinton was elected president?"
"Holy shiet son!" His eyeballs got all wide and sunken in. "Don't say that kin' ner stuff out loud boy, you're liable to give me the vapors. Jaysus."
"If you could pick anyone for president, who would it be?"
"Oh. Hmm." He rubbed the permanent white stubble on his face. It's like he never shaves, but it never gets long either. "Do they have to be alive?"
"Well, yeah; I mean, then everyone would just pick John Wayne."
"Yeah, you prolly right on that 'un." More thoughtful hands rubbing thoughtful stubble. I began to wonder if maybe he'd forgotten the question when he said flatly, "Jimmie Johnson."
"What would you do if the entire Internet collapsed due to some kind of worldwide worm?"
"The inner what?"
"What would you do if the whole social order was disrupted, and we fell into utter chaos?"
"Boy, let me share something with you that my father used to say: 'If flies carried shotguns, frogs wouldn't fuck with 'em so much.' You see what I mean?"
"Um. What?"
"If your aunt had balls, she'd be your uncle!"
"WTF!?"
"Dammit boy, let me put this in words you'ns can unnerstand: Worrying about hypothetical bullshit is a waste of time, because things out of your control are either inveitable or impossible, in which case all you can do is deal with them as they develop."

Posted by: shank at 12:04 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
Post contains 398 words, total size 2 kb.

The Wife and I closed on our new house last month. I had heard that kind of thing was stressful, but boy did I underestimate the situation. Every day there was some kind of crisis: lost social security cards, inspection punch lists, then the moving began.

Now that we're in, there's a seemingly endless list of projects to take care of. Unfortunately, it sounds like the kind of stuff that will only end in the kind of hijinks a guy like me always gets caught in. So if I ever have any spare time between painting, hanging shelving, tiling backsplashes, and cleaning up all the resulting messes; there might be some new posts here at some point in the future.

Posted by: shank at 09:51 PM | Comments (2) | Add Comment
Post contains 126 words, total size 1 kb.

1 Gosh!

Posted by: Keith at December 04, 2007 09:40 AM (jbvVc)

2 Welcome to the wonderful world of homeownership!

Posted by: Moodie at December 05, 2007 12:54 AM (GN6CU)

Hide Comments | Add Comment

So I'm watching Pearl Jam on Storytellers tonight, and it's good. Kind of like visiting an old friend. Until Vedder starts pontificating his egotistical ass off. Jesus Christ, give me a break Eddie. How did this melodramic emo dork make it this far in life without slitting his wrists over all the flies that have died every day of his life?

Seriously, someone in the audience posed the question to him "How do you feel about the fans who have different ideologies than yours?" I paraphrase the question, but the answer is word for word: "Fuck 'em." Vedder then goes on to say that THIS decade is the worst ever; which I find hilarious. Of course this is the worst decade ever, because if you're not here, how could it possibly be a pivotal moment in history? I mean, the good lord wouldn't leave us to our own against the Great Satan without sending us...Eddie Vedder? Piss off. And he goes on to say that we're all going to be a part of the culmination of a revolution, that the fans who have different viewpoints should do research and gain knowledge, basically just get right with the lord. Such egotistical bullshit. We're the band, we're the artists, we're the ones who feel more than anyone else, and we're the ones trying to bring you into the fold. What the hell Vedder? Did you join a church or what? You get ordained cardinal of the First United Church of Bushmongering?

It wouldn't piss me off so much if they hadn't turned into such a bunch of pandering frauds. In the early 90's it really was about being different, about how being a nonconformist can be an expression of creativity. Now he gets up there and refers to himself, and by proxy his band, as the font of knowledge in which those who differ should baptize themselves.

Then I noticed that one of the guys in the front row is bald. And I don't mean "I shave my head" bald, I mean "I'm so old my hair is falling out of my old ass noggin" bald. Dude. These guys are just trying to target the largest segment of the population with the most expendable income - retiring baby boomers.

Suck my farts Pearl Jam. You friggin copouts. We should have known.

Posted by: shank at 11:50 PM | Comments (1) | Add Comment
Post contains 401 words, total size 2 kb.

I just wrote an awesome post, and the intarweb farted and dropped the entire thing into the techno abyss.

Glenn Reynolds can take his Army of Davids and march it right up his big orange Volunteer State ass. Technolgy is crap! Who's with me!

Posted by: shank at 09:18 PM | Comments (3) | Add Comment
Post contains 46 words, total size 1 kb.

1 .... hey, easy on the Big Orange there, shank..... it ain't their fault....

Posted by: Eric at November 19, 2007 08:57 PM (g02Hg)

2 Notepad everytime before writing

Posted by: Jeremy at November 24, 2007 01:26 PM (XPIu3)

3 At any time you would undoubtedly keep your secret by way of an opponent, reveal to it again never to anyone. clarisonic mia best price Sale clarisonic mia best price Sale

Posted by: clarisonic mia best price Sale at November 19, 2012 10:08 AM (DwQya)

Hide Comments | Add Comment