Hat Tips to my local GOP Team Leader, Ace of Spades HQ, and to Free Republic:
Fox News just had a news segment where the Kerry campaign, in angry response to Bush claims that Kerry attended few Intelligence briefings, said that Kerry had at one time been the Vice-Chairman of the Intelligence campaign.
In response, the Bush people gleefully (Fox's word) returned fire by saying that it was BOB Kerrey, not JOHN Kerry who was Vice-Chairman of the Intelligence committee. [Free Republic]
And thanks to a helpful commenter there, a direct quote from Kerry's site:
John Kerry is an Experienced Leader in the Intelligence Field
– John Kerry served on the Senate Select Committee on Intelligence for 8 years and is the former Vice Chairman of the Committee. Kerry joined the Committee in early 1993 and served until early 2001.
[Bold Added]
Except John Kerry wasn't the VC of the IC. Bob Kerrey was.
As has been asked -- don't they have fact checkers at the DNC or Kerry's campaign?
Will this guy ever get anything straight?
Monday, August 16, 2004
Revenge is a Dish Best Served with Pinto Beans and Muffins
Via Right Side of the Rainbow:
Israelis to barbecue outside hunger strikers' cells (Houston Chronicle)
Now, for you Southeasterners, I'm sorry to disappoint you, it probably won't be pulled pork, but still, you gotta admit, this is further, funny proof that the Israelis are as smarta** as they are bada**.
Update:
Over at the Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler, the take on this is pretty funny, and the hot topic of discussion is which recipes the Israelis should use.
Israelis to barbecue outside hunger strikers' cells (Houston Chronicle)
Now, for you Southeasterners, I'm sorry to disappoint you, it probably won't be pulled pork, but still, you gotta admit, this is further, funny proof that the Israelis are as smarta** as they are bada**.
Update:
Over at the Anti-Idiotarian Rottweiler, the take on this is pretty funny, and the hot topic of discussion is which recipes the Israelis should use.
It's About Time
Hat tip to Right Side of the Rainbow
The title of this post was my first response, it was the first comment posted over at RSotR, and it's probably the overwhelming response of every Neocon, Paleocon (That's me!), and Realist who reads the article.
According to the Observer, President Bush plans to announce the redeployment of 100,000 troops from Europe.
Preferrably to somewhere a little less ungrateful.
UPDATE (Via Ace of Spades):
Democrats Question Timing of Announcement
Well, duh. Democratic timing, on the other hand, is unquestionably clockworklike. How do you reductio ad absurdem the already absurd?
Update II:
John Flipper Knuanced has weighed in, and Sir George over at the Rottie has ably fisked him.
The title of this post was my first response, it was the first comment posted over at RSotR, and it's probably the overwhelming response of every Neocon, Paleocon (That's me!), and Realist who reads the article.
According to the Observer, President Bush plans to announce the redeployment of 100,000 troops from Europe.
Preferrably to somewhere a little less ungrateful.
UPDATE (Via Ace of Spades):
Democrats Question Timing of Announcement
Well, duh. Democratic timing, on the other hand, is unquestionably clockworklike. How do you reductio ad absurdem the already absurd?
Update II:
John Flipper Knuanced has weighed in, and Sir George over at the Rottie has ably fisked him.
Head for the Boondocks, Then Turn Right.
I have a new favorite comic strip: Prickly City. It's funnier than Mallard Filmore, but just as conservative. It's got an art style that is reminiscent of Non Sequitur, but without the Kool Aide drinking. Check out Sunday's strip.
Saturday, August 14, 2004
Things You Probably Missed From the Opening Ceremonies
(Even if You Watched Them)
Hat tip to Rusty at MyPetJawa
OK, so I was in a pretty cynical mood when I posted that top ten list last night. I really was expecting some ugliness. But my wife tells me the crowd was fairly warm towards the US athletes. Of course, The Talkative Twins (Couric and Costas) had to point out that it's despite Greek opposition to US foreign policy, "Because the realize the athletes aren't their government." Had to get that dig in, didn't ya?
Well apparently, one group of foreign athletes decided to take out their feelings toward the US government on the athletes.
Hat tip to Rusty at MyPetJawa
OK, so I was in a pretty cynical mood when I posted that top ten list last night. I really was expecting some ugliness. But my wife tells me the crowd was fairly warm towards the US athletes. Of course, The Talkative Twins (Couric and Costas) had to point out that it's despite Greek opposition to US foreign policy, "Because the realize the athletes aren't their government." Had to get that dig in, didn't ya?
Well apparently, one group of foreign athletes decided to take out their feelings toward the US government on the athletes.
Friday, August 13, 2004
From the Home Office in Pistol River, Oregon
Top ten reasons I am out eating at Denny's and blogging from Kinko's instead of at home watching the Olympics:
10. Opening Ceremonies: 8 PM to 12 AM
9. Pregnant Wife's current level of food-in-the-house tolerance: -12
8. It's all Greek to me.
7. Opening Ceremonies: 8 PM to 12 AM?????
6. Singing and dancing keeps getting sillier and sillier.
5. No Gyro places are open in Eugene tonight.
4. Opening Ceremonies: 8 PM to 12 AM!!!!!
3. The only part I want to see is the Torch Lighting, and it's usually last.
2. Don't want to be there when the irony of the international crowd booing American athletes while cheering free Afghan and Iraqi athletes rips a hole in the fabric of the Universe.
1. If I have to spend four freaking hours listening to Katie Couric blathering away in some vain* attempt at relevance, I swear to you I will put a bullet through my head!
*Double meaning intentional
10. Opening Ceremonies: 8 PM to 12 AM
9. Pregnant Wife's current level of food-in-the-house tolerance: -12
8. It's all Greek to me.
7. Opening Ceremonies: 8 PM to 12 AM?????
6. Singing and dancing keeps getting sillier and sillier.
5. No Gyro places are open in Eugene tonight.
4. Opening Ceremonies: 8 PM to 12 AM!!!!!
3. The only part I want to see is the Torch Lighting, and it's usually last.
2. Don't want to be there when the irony of the international crowd booing American athletes while cheering free Afghan and Iraqi athletes rips a hole in the fabric of the Universe.
1. If I have to spend four freaking hours listening to Katie Couric blathering away in some vain* attempt at relevance, I swear to you I will put a bullet through my head!
*Double meaning intentional
Seared in His Sense of Direction
Kerry was in town last night. A coworker of mine sent me the following story of his encounter with the campaign:
So... I live in Eugene, Oregon. I affectionately (??) refer to it as "the lion's den." It's not easy being a conservative Republican here. I had a nice meal at our local mall and went for a little drive. Well... there I am, on a residential street and the traffic is going at a snail's pace. I look up and see some busses. As they turn, I see what's holding us up... the Kerry caravan (Kerryvan!). They go up a couple of blocks, stop, then turn around. They had missed the turn to the street I just came from so they could get to their stop for the night, the Valley River Inn.
As I realized they were lost, I was SOOO hoping they would ask me for directions... hehehe. "Sorry, I don't know the way to Gehenna." No such luck... just keep moving, Rick. Then I thought to myself... "What a perfect metaphor! The Kerry busses... lost." Seems like the Demo candidate is missing the mark in a lot of areas, including his position on the travel industry. LOL.
You'd think with $400M, he could afford up-to-date navigation software?
Maybe this explains the confusion about if and when he was in Cambodia.
Hat Tip to Rick V.
So... I live in Eugene, Oregon. I affectionately (??) refer to it as "the lion's den." It's not easy being a conservative Republican here. I had a nice meal at our local mall and went for a little drive. Well... there I am, on a residential street and the traffic is going at a snail's pace. I look up and see some busses. As they turn, I see what's holding us up... the Kerry caravan (Kerryvan!). They go up a couple of blocks, stop, then turn around. They had missed the turn to the street I just came from so they could get to their stop for the night, the Valley River Inn.
As I realized they were lost, I was SOOO hoping they would ask me for directions... hehehe. "Sorry, I don't know the way to Gehenna." No such luck... just keep moving, Rick. Then I thought to myself... "What a perfect metaphor! The Kerry busses... lost." Seems like the Demo candidate is missing the mark in a lot of areas, including his position on the travel industry. LOL.
You'd think with $400M, he could afford up-to-date navigation software?
Maybe this explains the confusion about if and when he was in Cambodia.
Hat Tip to Rick V.
Bon Apetit, Angels!
Via TacJammer:
Julia Childs has passed away. All those who love to cook will mourn her passing.
The modern craze of cooking shows can be traced back to a handful of pioneers, among them the Galloping Gourmet and Julia Childs.
I used to love to make fun of her, doing my own "a little more wine" routine lampooning her. But once I started watching cooking shows, and saw what a gracious, patient, good humored lady she was, I shut up. I remember watching her appear as a guest on Martha Stewart's show, and thinking how maddeningly condescending Martha seemed towards her. But Julia took it all in stride. She was unflappable, calm, and a damned good cook. She was Yoda with a skillet.
She taught America how to cook. She will be missed.
Update:
The Food Network will be airing a Tribute to Julia on Sunday, August 22. I'll be watching. So should you.
Julia Childs has passed away. All those who love to cook will mourn her passing.
The modern craze of cooking shows can be traced back to a handful of pioneers, among them the Galloping Gourmet and Julia Childs.
I used to love to make fun of her, doing my own "a little more wine" routine lampooning her. But once I started watching cooking shows, and saw what a gracious, patient, good humored lady she was, I shut up. I remember watching her appear as a guest on Martha Stewart's show, and thinking how maddeningly condescending Martha seemed towards her. But Julia took it all in stride. She was unflappable, calm, and a damned good cook. She was Yoda with a skillet.
She taught America how to cook. She will be missed.
Update:
The Food Network will be airing a Tribute to Julia on Sunday, August 22. I'll be watching. So should you.
Go Greyhound (and Leave the Idiocy to Us)
Hat Tip to reader LC Veeshir over at the AIR for this article over at Fox News:
Marine Denied Bus Ride
The clincher line is this comment by the Marine's mother: Carol says, "I don't think the driver intended to let him on from the very beginning."
I wouldn't be surprise, ma'am. How sad. This young man is giving up at least four years of his life, foregoing the usual freedoms associated with being young and American. If need be, he will risk and even sacrifice his life to defend the safety and freedom of the rest of us, including this jerk of a driver. At best he will be subjected to some of the most rigorous and arduous training known to man. But he isn't worthy of boarding a bus to get there.
Maybe the driver thought this young man would infect his other passengers with some nasty disease, like patriotism, or valor. *shudder* It might become epidemic. Or maybe he's just some aging hippie who didn't get a chance to spit on a vet after Viet Nam. Either way, he should be ashamed of himself.
Those of us who did not or could not serve owe those who did and do a debt of gratitude. At best, we should thank them, honor them, make sure that while in uniform they never have to pay for a drink in our presence, mourn them when they fall. At the very least, we can keep our mouths respectfully shut in their presence, and refrain from treating them like crap.
Greyhound has failed even that minimum level of respect. Guess how much respect I have for them in return.
Update:
Lord Spatula over at Spatula City BBS has an even more thorough rant on this. He even improves on the title of the rant.
Marine Denied Bus Ride
The clincher line is this comment by the Marine's mother: Carol says, "I don't think the driver intended to let him on from the very beginning."
I wouldn't be surprise, ma'am. How sad. This young man is giving up at least four years of his life, foregoing the usual freedoms associated with being young and American. If need be, he will risk and even sacrifice his life to defend the safety and freedom of the rest of us, including this jerk of a driver. At best he will be subjected to some of the most rigorous and arduous training known to man. But he isn't worthy of boarding a bus to get there.
Maybe the driver thought this young man would infect his other passengers with some nasty disease, like patriotism, or valor. *shudder* It might become epidemic. Or maybe he's just some aging hippie who didn't get a chance to spit on a vet after Viet Nam. Either way, he should be ashamed of himself.
Those of us who did not or could not serve owe those who did and do a debt of gratitude. At best, we should thank them, honor them, make sure that while in uniform they never have to pay for a drink in our presence, mourn them when they fall. At the very least, we can keep our mouths respectfully shut in their presence, and refrain from treating them like crap.
Greyhound has failed even that minimum level of respect. Guess how much respect I have for them in return.
Update:
Lord Spatula over at Spatula City BBS has an even more thorough rant on this. He even improves on the title of the rant.
Thursday, August 12, 2004
Roswellski, or Pravda is Out There
(Via Ace of Spades)
According to an article in the Washington Post, Russian Scientists have found what appears to be "Alien Wreckage" near the epicenter of the 1908 Tunguska event.
Now, I'm as big a Sci Fi buff as the next guy, but I also tend to be a bit of a skeptic when it comes to UFO's. Actually, QUITE a skeptic. So unless further information about this comes out, I'm filing this as the WaPo having an "Enquiring Minds" episode.
If it pans out, on the other hand, this is huge.
Stay tuned.
Update:
My best friend, Brian F., has sent me the following article:
Russian Alien Spaceship Claims Raise Eyebrows, Skepticism
Well, yeah, I already said they did. I don't expect this to be anything but a big hoax, but it's still fun to follow.
Update #2:
From friend on a mailing list, best comment yet regarding this:
Nice to see with the poor economic conditions inRussia since the fall of the USSR, that at the very least the potency of Vodka remains consistent.......)
He also provides a link to another article.
According to an article in the Washington Post, Russian Scientists have found what appears to be "Alien Wreckage" near the epicenter of the 1908 Tunguska event.
Now, I'm as big a Sci Fi buff as the next guy, but I also tend to be a bit of a skeptic when it comes to UFO's. Actually, QUITE a skeptic. So unless further information about this comes out, I'm filing this as the WaPo having an "Enquiring Minds" episode.
If it pans out, on the other hand, this is huge.
Stay tuned.
Update:
My best friend, Brian F., has sent me the following article:
Russian Alien Spaceship Claims Raise Eyebrows, Skepticism
Well, yeah, I already said they did. I don't expect this to be anything but a big hoax, but it's still fun to follow.
Update #2:
From friend on a mailing list, best comment yet regarding this:
Nice to see with the poor economic conditions inRussia since the fall of the USSR, that at the very least the potency of Vodka remains consistent.......)
He also provides a link to another article.
My Very First Rant
OK, it's not as curmudgeonly a rant as I hoped for, but it's my rookie effort. I'm probably going to torque off as many of my friends on the right as I will people on the left with this, but here goes.
I hereby move that the following three words be forever struck from the modern Lexicon: Homophobe, Metrosexual, and the newly touted "Retrosexual."
First, I'm not going to recycle the stale joke about "No, I'm not afraid of Homosexuals, how can I be a Homophobe? Hyuck hyuck hyuck!" I understand the actual meaning that is implied and even often stated when that term is used. I get that what it really implies is that a "Homophobe" is actually a latent homosexual who is afraid to face his own sexuality, so he compensates with belligerence towards "out" gays.
I have a couple of problems with this. The first is philosophical. It smacks of the old "does your wife know you're gay?" joke, or the idea anyone who says they're not an alchoholic is in denial, proving they're an alchoholic. You can't win. The more you protest your innocence, the stronger the proof of your guilt it's viewed. And furthermore, it's used as a cudgel to stifle dissent -- if you disagree with homosexuality, or any agenda adopted by the "Gay Community", well, you must be a homophobe, and your view is dismissed out of hand.
The second problem I have with this argument is the fact that I am morally opposed to homosexuality, and I know for certain I'm not gay. How can I be sure? As proof I offer all of the personality traits I sometimes display which most people associate with gays. What? Wait a minute, Brian, if you act gay, maybe you are gay. I didn't say I act gay, I said I sometimes act in a way people think of as gay. I drink wine almost as often as beer. I drink cocktails as well as Single Malt, and mix a mean Cosmo. I actually find those shows like Queer Eye and Trading Spaces entertaining, and full of great ideas. I can cook in the kitchen as well as at the grill. Yes, dammit, Hallmark commercials make me cry! I wanted a baby as much as my wife did. I'm actively involved in picking the name, as I was in planning our wedding. My wife, an esthetician, works at a spa, and I let her buy "products" which I use on my skin and hair. Some of them smell nice. We own a small, fluffy dog -- a Lhasa Apso. If I could, I'd wear nothing but kilts and sarongs all the time -- not because they make me feel "Feminine," but because they're comfortable (in the absence of any cultural context, I think kilts for men and pants for women makes more sense, really). When I lived in San Diego, my boss was gay -- he made Graham Norton seem straight. I envied him his class and taste, in cuisine and clothes and architecture and art and decorating. I wish I was that tasteful. Given that these are all things usually associated with being gay, you'd think I'd just get it over with and be gay. But the whole sex with men thing gets in the way. I mean, I even asked myself if it was possible. Even I had to admit that the things I have described calls my straightness into question. But when I thought about it, the response was, "Nah. I'm straight." Heck, back when I was not practicing my Christian faith as devoutly as I should, and was watching pornography, I'd only watch the Faux Lesbian Porn, because when I watched regular porn, it was ruined for me the minute the guy got naked. So I was stuck not being homosexual, but definitely seeming gay.
Oh, no, it's ok, sweetie. You don't have to be gay to like that stuff anymore. You can be a Metrosexual.
Thanks, I'll pass. But not for the same reason that most conservatives would. I reject the idea that any man who displays any of the traits attributed to Gays or Metrosexuals must therefore be less of a man (more on that in a bit).
Again, my reasons are both philosophical and personal. Philosophically, the addition of a title, especially the title Metrosexual, strikes me as way too self-important (believe me, the irony of that comment being made by a blogger is not lost on me). Look at the famous men who are supposed to represent the Metrosexual movement: Brad Pitt? David Beckham? I mean hell, these guys may be straight, but they're so damned narcissistic, they probably would turn gay if only they could clone and have sex with themselves! It's just a bit too much for me!
Personally, the problem is that while I have all these traits I've mentioned, I also have some very traditionally straight man traits. I like football. I like baseball. I like to camp and hunt and fish and own guns and eat red meat. I take my hat off at the beginning of the Nation Anthem, and wipe tears from my eyes at the end. I own guns and tools and am not afraid to use either. And if anyone lays a hand on my wife our our child, unborn or born, I will kill them.
Well, hell, son, you're an old-fashioned Retrosexual!
Not quite. I have a philosophical issue with this position too. I've already stated it, but here it is again: I reject the idea that any man who displays any of the traits attributed to Gays or Metrosexuals must therefore be less of a man. I resent the false dilemma that states I have to display only one set of traits or the other. I open the door for ladies, and show respect and protectiveness towards women, the elderly, children, and dogs. I have news for you, that isn't being a "Retrosexual," it's called being a gentleman. Furthermore, I'm less than comfortable with the attempt to tie the more admirable traits of "Retrosexuals" with the less savory ones, eg. a disdain for culture. Why not borrow the best from both?
Personally, I can't be a Retrosexual OR a Metrosexual because in both cases, I have some tastes and traits they reject, just as I have some they embrace. So what am I?
I'm a man, dammit. Isn't that enough?
I hereby move that the following three words be forever struck from the modern Lexicon: Homophobe, Metrosexual, and the newly touted "Retrosexual."
First, I'm not going to recycle the stale joke about "No, I'm not afraid of Homosexuals, how can I be a Homophobe? Hyuck hyuck hyuck!" I understand the actual meaning that is implied and even often stated when that term is used. I get that what it really implies is that a "Homophobe" is actually a latent homosexual who is afraid to face his own sexuality, so he compensates with belligerence towards "out" gays.
I have a couple of problems with this. The first is philosophical. It smacks of the old "does your wife know you're gay?" joke, or the idea anyone who says they're not an alchoholic is in denial, proving they're an alchoholic. You can't win. The more you protest your innocence, the stronger the proof of your guilt it's viewed. And furthermore, it's used as a cudgel to stifle dissent -- if you disagree with homosexuality, or any agenda adopted by the "Gay Community", well, you must be a homophobe, and your view is dismissed out of hand.
The second problem I have with this argument is the fact that I am morally opposed to homosexuality, and I know for certain I'm not gay. How can I be sure? As proof I offer all of the personality traits I sometimes display which most people associate with gays. What? Wait a minute, Brian, if you act gay, maybe you are gay. I didn't say I act gay, I said I sometimes act in a way people think of as gay. I drink wine almost as often as beer. I drink cocktails as well as Single Malt, and mix a mean Cosmo. I actually find those shows like Queer Eye and Trading Spaces entertaining, and full of great ideas. I can cook in the kitchen as well as at the grill. Yes, dammit, Hallmark commercials make me cry! I wanted a baby as much as my wife did. I'm actively involved in picking the name, as I was in planning our wedding. My wife, an esthetician, works at a spa, and I let her buy "products" which I use on my skin and hair. Some of them smell nice. We own a small, fluffy dog -- a Lhasa Apso. If I could, I'd wear nothing but kilts and sarongs all the time -- not because they make me feel "Feminine," but because they're comfortable (in the absence of any cultural context, I think kilts for men and pants for women makes more sense, really). When I lived in San Diego, my boss was gay -- he made Graham Norton seem straight. I envied him his class and taste, in cuisine and clothes and architecture and art and decorating. I wish I was that tasteful. Given that these are all things usually associated with being gay, you'd think I'd just get it over with and be gay. But the whole sex with men thing gets in the way. I mean, I even asked myself if it was possible. Even I had to admit that the things I have described calls my straightness into question. But when I thought about it, the response was, "Nah. I'm straight." Heck, back when I was not practicing my Christian faith as devoutly as I should, and was watching pornography, I'd only watch the Faux Lesbian Porn, because when I watched regular porn, it was ruined for me the minute the guy got naked. So I was stuck not being homosexual, but definitely seeming gay.
Oh, no, it's ok, sweetie. You don't have to be gay to like that stuff anymore. You can be a Metrosexual.
Thanks, I'll pass. But not for the same reason that most conservatives would. I reject the idea that any man who displays any of the traits attributed to Gays or Metrosexuals must therefore be less of a man (more on that in a bit).
Again, my reasons are both philosophical and personal. Philosophically, the addition of a title, especially the title Metrosexual, strikes me as way too self-important (believe me, the irony of that comment being made by a blogger is not lost on me). Look at the famous men who are supposed to represent the Metrosexual movement: Brad Pitt? David Beckham? I mean hell, these guys may be straight, but they're so damned narcissistic, they probably would turn gay if only they could clone and have sex with themselves! It's just a bit too much for me!
Personally, the problem is that while I have all these traits I've mentioned, I also have some very traditionally straight man traits. I like football. I like baseball. I like to camp and hunt and fish and own guns and eat red meat. I take my hat off at the beginning of the Nation Anthem, and wipe tears from my eyes at the end. I own guns and tools and am not afraid to use either. And if anyone lays a hand on my wife our our child, unborn or born, I will kill them.
Well, hell, son, you're an old-fashioned Retrosexual!
Not quite. I have a philosophical issue with this position too. I've already stated it, but here it is again: I reject the idea that any man who displays any of the traits attributed to Gays or Metrosexuals must therefore be less of a man. I resent the false dilemma that states I have to display only one set of traits or the other. I open the door for ladies, and show respect and protectiveness towards women, the elderly, children, and dogs. I have news for you, that isn't being a "Retrosexual," it's called being a gentleman. Furthermore, I'm less than comfortable with the attempt to tie the more admirable traits of "Retrosexuals" with the less savory ones, eg. a disdain for culture. Why not borrow the best from both?
Personally, I can't be a Retrosexual OR a Metrosexual because in both cases, I have some tastes and traits they reject, just as I have some they embrace. So what am I?
I'm a man, dammit. Isn't that enough?
Red Adair, Johnny, and Phil
(Title sung to the tune of Abraham, Martin, and John)
As in Johnny Cash and Phil Hartman. I miss all three. My brain works in weird ways, in fact my high school drama teacher called me "The King of Free Association." So I'll be quite impressed if anyone here gets the connection between the three (other than being dead and admired by me). But here goes.
Back when I was a newlywed living in San Diego, the only source of outdoor cooking we had was a little Weber Smokey Joe. The summer we moved back to Oregon, my father passed away, and I inherited his twin burner gas grill. I know, it's not "Real Barbecue", but it was free.
This summer I've been doing a lot more grilling than I usually do (which is a good amount to begin with) because the smell of food cooking make the wife even sicker than normal, so I do not cook indoors, I do not eat indoors, I even keep food PREP indoors to a minimum.
Before any guys give me hell for being "whipped", let me just say this. No matter what your feelings on family hierarchy are, when a woman is pregnant, she is to be obeyed!!!!! No questions asked. She has an alien in her, you put it there, and because of this, she's suffering worse fluctuations in body chemistry than Bruce Banner! If you piss her off, no court in the land will convict her of so much as a misdemeanor for anything she does to you. and they will not find the body.
So to make things easier on myself, I bought a bag of those frozen hamburger patties that you just slap on the heat and cook. Again, I know, this violates all sorts of true barbecue religion doctrines, but when work gets me home at close to 7 PM and there are all sorts of household chores and pampering duties to attend to, it's a lifesaver, no worse than fast food, and a heck of a lot faster and cheaper. The only thing I have against them is that they're 20% fat, while I usually cook lean meat, including hamburger at 7%.
Now, I am usually a fairly old fashioned guy, with a tendency to favor traditional, even ritual ideas, including the way I cook outdoors, and thus I've added a smoke box to the gas grill, and have almost all the tools (toys) they recommend you have for a good grilling experience, except one. I don't have a spray bottle for flare-ups. Gas flame stays pretty steady, so I never saw the need (see where this is going?). So a few nights ago I fired up the grillmaster, slapped a couple of patties on, and waited. Within a few minutes, the patties were ready to turn. So I opened the grill, slid my spatula under them, and flipped.
This is when I learned why I really should get a spray bottle. Three little words I mentioned earlier: Twenty Percent Fat.
Now, that's a fire!
As in Johnny Cash and Phil Hartman. I miss all three. My brain works in weird ways, in fact my high school drama teacher called me "The King of Free Association." So I'll be quite impressed if anyone here gets the connection between the three (other than being dead and admired by me). But here goes.
Back when I was a newlywed living in San Diego, the only source of outdoor cooking we had was a little Weber Smokey Joe. The summer we moved back to Oregon, my father passed away, and I inherited his twin burner gas grill. I know, it's not "Real Barbecue", but it was free.
This summer I've been doing a lot more grilling than I usually do (which is a good amount to begin with) because the smell of food cooking make the wife even sicker than normal, so I do not cook indoors, I do not eat indoors, I even keep food PREP indoors to a minimum.
Before any guys give me hell for being "whipped", let me just say this. No matter what your feelings on family hierarchy are, when a woman is pregnant, she is to be obeyed!!!!! No questions asked. She has an alien in her, you put it there, and because of this, she's suffering worse fluctuations in body chemistry than Bruce Banner! If you piss her off, no court in the land will convict her of so much as a misdemeanor for anything she does to you. and they will not find the body.
So to make things easier on myself, I bought a bag of those frozen hamburger patties that you just slap on the heat and cook. Again, I know, this violates all sorts of true barbecue religion doctrines, but when work gets me home at close to 7 PM and there are all sorts of household chores and pampering duties to attend to, it's a lifesaver, no worse than fast food, and a heck of a lot faster and cheaper. The only thing I have against them is that they're 20% fat, while I usually cook lean meat, including hamburger at 7%.
Now, I am usually a fairly old fashioned guy, with a tendency to favor traditional, even ritual ideas, including the way I cook outdoors, and thus I've added a smoke box to the gas grill, and have almost all the tools (toys) they recommend you have for a good grilling experience, except one. I don't have a spray bottle for flare-ups. Gas flame stays pretty steady, so I never saw the need (see where this is going?). So a few nights ago I fired up the grillmaster, slapped a couple of patties on, and waited. Within a few minutes, the patties were ready to turn. So I opened the grill, slid my spatula under them, and flipped.
This is when I learned why I really should get a spray bottle. Three little words I mentioned earlier: Twenty Percent Fat.
Now, that's a fire!
A Question of Blog Etiquette
So how long should my blog be in existence before I launch into my first rant?
Just asking.
Just asking.
Wednesday, August 11, 2004
Blog Plug
I know, my first day blogging, I should be getting friends to plug me, not plugging other blogs. But I never was one for doing things the same way as everyone else.
You'll see a link in my sidebar for a blog called Marine Corps Moms. I've never met them, they don't know me from Adam, but they're from Oregon, and their sons are serving our country. That's good enough for me. Go support them.
You'll see a link in my sidebar for a blog called Marine Corps Moms. I've never met them, they don't know me from Adam, but they're from Oregon, and their sons are serving our country. That's good enough for me. Go support them.
Dead Man Munching
So with the wife in her first trimester, and her family history of severe morning sickness (HA! Morning indeed!) taking its toll (though not as severely as we feared), I've been avoiding eating anything with significant amounts of onion, garlic, or spices. Otherwise, she can smell it a mile off, and it makes her ill (I swear, we can fire all the drug and bomb sniffing dogs, and just hire pregnant women).
So I walk into the Pita Pit today, and what's staring me in the face? A bag of Sweet Maui Onion flavored potato chips.
This may be my last meal.
So I walk into the Pita Pit today, and what's staring me in the face? A bag of Sweet Maui Onion flavored potato chips.
This may be my last meal.
Har! Wizkids Be Evil, Matey!
Even people who aren't incredibly geeky have been exposed to CCG's, or Collectible Card Games. The kid-oriented ones like Yu-Gi-Oh and Pokemon have even been made into popular cartoons.
But for snobbish, old school gamers like myself, they're nothing but crack for gamers. I'm an adherent to the old style RPG's and wargames, things that require dice and paper and pencils and books and maps or terrain and miniatures. Since I first saw friends playing Magic: The Gathering, I played a couple of times but avoided getting sucked into the madness. I never bought a single card.
Until now. Wizkids has finally hooked me. They've published a game called Pirates of the Spanish Main and I am HOOKED! It's not a true card game, in that you don't play a hand with cards arrayed in front of you.
Instead, each card is polystyrene, the size and shape of a credit card (ominously appropriate), and has printed on it the pieces of a ship which are cut. You punch them out, put them together like a model, and presto, you have a playing piece, a pirate (or British or Spanish) ship to sail around the playing table.
It's already sold out here in Eugene, and they won't print more until September. I managed to buy 6 packs, but I'm already jonesing for more.
But for snobbish, old school gamers like myself, they're nothing but crack for gamers. I'm an adherent to the old style RPG's and wargames, things that require dice and paper and pencils and books and maps or terrain and miniatures. Since I first saw friends playing Magic: The Gathering, I played a couple of times but avoided getting sucked into the madness. I never bought a single card.
Until now. Wizkids has finally hooked me. They've published a game called Pirates of the Spanish Main and I am HOOKED! It's not a true card game, in that you don't play a hand with cards arrayed in front of you.
Instead, each card is polystyrene, the size and shape of a credit card (ominously appropriate), and has printed on it the pieces of a ship which are cut. You punch them out, put them together like a model, and presto, you have a playing piece, a pirate (or British or Spanish) ship to sail around the playing table.
It's already sold out here in Eugene, and they won't print more until September. I managed to buy 6 packs, but I'm already jonesing for more.
About the Title
memento mori
\Me*men"to mo"ri\ [L.] Lit., remember to die, i.e., that you must die; a warning to be prepared for death; an object, as a death's-head or a personal ornament, usually emblematic, used as a reminder of death.
Source: Webster's Revised Unabridged Dictionary, © 1996, 1998 MICRA, Inc.
I read somewhere once that this was spoken to a Caesar once, but I could be wrong*.
But it's good advice. Remember thou art mortal, think about the future (to quote the Joker). But it's also important to remember that we all do stupid things. All of us. Well, ok, one man I can think of never did. But other than Him, even the most brilliant thinkers had their moments of sheer idiocy. I guarantee it.
I'd like to think I'm a fairly intelligent individual, but I am aware of my own failings. And that is why I named my blog Memento Moron: because I like silly puns, and because I think it's important for all of us to remind ourselves of what I said two paragraphs ago: I could be wrong.
Except about this.
*Update:
My good friend 51st State from over at the Rottie shows me that not only could I be wrong, I probably was. He writes:
If I recall, it wasn't said to the Caesars, but to the succesful returning generals as they were paraded through Rome to meet with Caesar. A Caesar was more or less deified, but the crowds cheered for the generals, feeding their pride. Thus, someone would remind them, "Remember, thou art mortal" contrasting them against the Caesar, humbling them. Could be wrong, but that's what I remember...
That makes a lot of sense. I knew it was from Roman times (The fact that it was Latin being my first clue -- duh), even if my details were off. Which just goes to show.
\Me*men"to mo"ri\ [L.] Lit., remember to die, i.e., that you must die; a warning to be prepared for death; an object, as a death's-head or a personal ornament, usually emblematic, used as a reminder of death.
Source: Webster's Revised Unabridged Dictionary, © 1996, 1998 MICRA, Inc.
I read somewhere once that this was spoken to a Caesar once, but I could be wrong*.
But it's good advice. Remember thou art mortal, think about the future (to quote the Joker). But it's also important to remember that we all do stupid things. All of us. Well, ok, one man I can think of never did. But other than Him, even the most brilliant thinkers had their moments of sheer idiocy. I guarantee it.
I'd like to think I'm a fairly intelligent individual, but I am aware of my own failings. And that is why I named my blog Memento Moron: because I like silly puns, and because I think it's important for all of us to remind ourselves of what I said two paragraphs ago: I could be wrong.
Except about this.
*Update:
My good friend 51st State from over at the Rottie shows me that not only could I be wrong, I probably was. He writes:
If I recall, it wasn't said to the Caesars, but to the succesful returning generals as they were paraded through Rome to meet with Caesar. A Caesar was more or less deified, but the crowds cheered for the generals, feeding their pride. Thus, someone would remind them, "Remember, thou art mortal" contrasting them against the Caesar, humbling them. Could be wrong, but that's what I remember...
That makes a lot of sense. I knew it was from Roman times (The fact that it was Latin being my first clue -- duh), even if my details were off. Which just goes to show.
I Question the Timing of this Blog
OK, I've finally gone and done it. I've given in to the Dark Side, I've acquired my own blog. I'd toyed with the idea for a while, but a comment by ccwbass of Way Off Bass (originally, I attributed this comment incorrectly to Mud Blood and Beer), and the encouragement of Rusty over at MyPetJawa, finally sent me over the edge. So here I am.
This probably isn't going to be a political Blog, though I will post about politics from time to time. But I have so many other things that my fetid little melon likes to think about, I don't want to limit myself. So it'll probably all go in here -- my love of my home state, the joys and trials of being married to a redhead, our pending parenthood, owning a small dog thast thinks it's a great dane, cooking, baseball (Real Baseball, not that wussy AL "designated hitter" crap), being a gamer geek, Christianity, politics, anything that comes to mind.
Although I've acknowledged his influence, I'd like to once again take a moment to thank Rusty for his encouragement and friendship. without his Blog, this one probably wouldn't exist.
As Bugs and Daffy used to sing, On with the show, this is it!
This probably isn't going to be a political Blog, though I will post about politics from time to time. But I have so many other things that my fetid little melon likes to think about, I don't want to limit myself. So it'll probably all go in here -- my love of my home state, the joys and trials of being married to a redhead, our pending parenthood, owning a small dog thast thinks it's a great dane, cooking, baseball (Real Baseball, not that wussy AL "designated hitter" crap), being a gamer geek, Christianity, politics, anything that comes to mind.
Although I've acknowledged his influence, I'd like to once again take a moment to thank Rusty for his encouragement and friendship. without his Blog, this one probably wouldn't exist.
As Bugs and Daffy used to sing, On with the show, this is it!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)