Can I just say here that I've had about all of the motorsikkle people that I can stand for one year? In general, I like those folks, but my dear sweet Lord, they listen to some supremely crappy music. I attribute it to the fact that their hearing is shot from riding around in the open air. Gawd -- I was ready to shoot the damn turntable when the damn DJ put on yet another freakin' Bad Company song.
Bad Company at 120 decibels is decidedly NOT why I like the big party thingies we have here. I'd rather lock the gate and hunker down by myself. One more of these to go -- if I don't haul off and unplug that summidge, it will be a miracle.
I might view this differently if there were more paying customers, but -- ahem -- there ain't. When my BBQ guy is on the warpath, it's bad, see.
My little blog-buddy Tiger, the only extant blogger in all of Somervell County, has come up with the idea of doing some sort of Texas blogger community, and I think it needs some attention. I freely admit that I enjoy a wide range of Texas bloggers...there's no question about that. I do love my state, perhaps to my detriment, but such will it always be. I will pretty much always listen first to a Texan of any stripe about durn near any issue and give it some weight, given that they are a) Texan and b) Texan.
However, I will also say that, as a general rule, most Texans I respect aren't much into joining things. I suspect that's true of others who ain't, so there's no need to tell me that an independent streak don't start and end at the Red.
I'm also not real hot on the name - "Defenders of Texas." I don't particularly reckon that we, as Texans, humble by nature and happy for the most part, have a hell of a lot to defend.
But I've struggled with the general concept, because I think it's a good one, and it's one that deserves some action. As such, my proposal is this: strike the damn Alamo (an overused (and still-somewhat-grating symbol), if ever there was one), and the letters/logo, and let's just go with a basic Texas flag -- the Lone Star. I don't much care about what California or Tennessee or Canada has done to any great extent, besides admiring their organizational capabilities. I'd even forgo the Lone Star flag for my second-favorite Texas icon, the bluebonnet.
If some literary, well-spoken type or perhaps a damn Ph.D. (yeesh...they're both doctors!) wants to jump in here and add some words, I'm all ears. If not, well, eff me...I'm pretty sure I've made my loyalties quite clear.
Now it's my turn to go get drunk, almost as drunk as that sackful of Japs mentioned earlier. Gonna go watch the bikers and some bands and eat some BBQ. I need it, badly -- spent three GDMFSOBing hours cleansing my brother's PC of malware. FWIW, I removed Outlook and Explorer (so much as you can) and restricted everything to Firefox and Thunderbird.
Yahoo! News - Spike Lee Receives Key to Dallas
DALLAS - Filmmaker Spike Lee (news) received a lifetime achievement award and a key to the city at the Fourth Annual Lyrical Underground, an event celebrating Black Music Month."He is an inspiration and an innovative filmmaker who is not afraid to think out of the box," city councilman Leo V. Chaney said.
That's nice, but does it rate Top Story status from Yahoo? I guess we've finished up the durn War on Terror when freakin' Leo Chaney is in the news.
I eagerly await the breathless notices of where Spike ate, slept, and partied while in the Big D. C'mon Frontburner...you can do it, I know you can!
PokerProf has done it again -- he scores an interview with Tom McEvoy this time. Excellent work.
We arrived at Tom McEvoy’s Las Vegas home in the early evening and did not know what to expect from the 1983 World Series of Poker champion. We were greeted at the door by an informal Tom McEvoy, the legend himself. He invited us in and the interview began with Tom warming up to our questions with a brief history of his early days in Las Vegas leading up to his WSOP win. He proudly showed us an original painting of the 1983 final table with himself and Doyle Brunson. Tom is a soft spoken former accountant that takes the game of poker very seriously. He is quite intelligent and has written more books on poker than any other player. Following is Tom McEvoy’s answers to our questions:
Milk-thru-the-nose, Steve Martin "I was born a poor black child" funny.
Hell, I want to buy one just to make him feel better. Poor thing.
MORE...My wife appears to be drunker than a sackful of Japs, and she'll probably delete this gorgeous treatise on ladies going tinkle when she wakes up tomorrow, so I'm saving it for posterity's sake, since it's just basically too damn funny. If you're a Japanese, well, excuse me all to hell and back...it's a great saying that I'm not willing to give up. All typos are hers.
TexasGigs ad to go teetee as of late. Whilst adjourning to the throne, Queen-TG noticed (yet) a(nother) display of Charmin draped about the throne area. Now mind you; Queen-TG has come across such drapery in the past and has found such toilet finery to always be the work of young Squire TexasGigs who tends to dominate (and spend buttloads *no pun* of time on said throne) MY throne. It means peepee from the weewee had gone all craazeee...So as I--er---Queen-TG expelled inhaled box wine from my her coveted crotch, I she pondered....
......
.....
...who da hell decided boys get to stand and peepee and gals gotta sit??? Then I started to really get all thinkin' and sh*t (no pun) and came up with this quizzical thought-provoking self conversation...*note to self--get a f*cking life*
If you're a naturalist, I would say that nobody decided anything -- that's just pretty much the way it worked out, given the physicalities and all. If you're a Christian, then I'd say -- that's the way God meant it to be.
Dudes always get all pissy (no pun) about us gals demanding that the terlet seat be re-put down after whizzin' has ended. Dudes always get all miffed about our demand request.
Well, really now, think about this. Dudes don't really listen to your demands, not that much anyway. Dudes get all miffed about the constant whining about the position of the seat. We don't really care about it, one way or the other...we just don't want to hear about it. A seat is a seat, and it's either up or down. How hard is that, I ask? Crikey -- I buy a house for four people with four thrones and I have to deal with the traffic jam at one of them? Sounds like a "talk to the hand" moment, if I may use some Oprah all up in here.
The thing is though---well---I mean---don't you dudes have to sit on said terlet seat to---lessee how to put this gently---shit? Is it okay to sit on your own peepee?
I think that you're closing in on the answer to your own question, my dear. It's probably best that you don't examine it TOO closely.
I think us gals should start our own potty stand-up brigade! We can stand and pee with the seat down at 2 AM with the best of 'em! Let the males rest their weary asses in OUR piddle early in the A.M. as they squat for a poop and a peak into the Sports Page.
Sadly for your proposed movement, I don't think there's a man outside of central Manhattan that gives a jolly damn what he might be sitting in when the mood strikes. There is work to be done at that point, after all, and it don't matter if it rains or shines.
Whew! That felt GOOOOOD!Now off to watch Strangers with Candy on Tivo...Goodnight everybody!
I'm sure that it did. Now...about this potty quotient...four people, four toilets. Take it from there.
Do I have to do all the damn work? It seems perfectly logical to me, and easy as pie.
I read the other day that the Army is issuing new uniforms for their ladies and men. That's cool and all -- zippers, wash-and-wear, no-ironing, boots that don't require shining (man, that's gotta burn some old timers!). But the one thing that stuck in my mind is velcro pocket closures. Me, I hate velcro on clothing, and I only barely put up with it in other places.
But man -- I would sure hate to be a pointy-end-of-the-spear dude, and have to rrrrriiiiiippppp!!! that pocket open to get out something important. Doesn't seem too stealthy.
There ain't no God in Mexico, ain't no way to understandHow that border crossing feeling makes a fool out of a man
If I'd never felt the sunshine, then I would not curse the rain
If my feet could fit a railroad track, I guess I'd been a train.
Go ahead and help yourself to a frosty Shiner, my friends.
If it's true that, as the Donk says, "The problem with the inevitable is that it always happens.", then it's inevitable that
mit Donkey, of course...
Yeah, it's very 2002. So?
Check out this excerpt on ESPN from Rob Neyer's new book, The Neyer/James Guide to Pitchers, written with (surprise!) Bill James. Should be a good one...put it on your Christmas list.
From the time baseball switched to overhand pitching, some pitchers have known how to make a baseball "hop" or "jump," and some people have known how to make a baseball sink. (Yes, yes, Egbert; we all know that a baseball does not literally jump in mid-air, it merely appears to do so to the batter. Very good; now sit down and shut up.) Ted Breitenstein, a .500 pitcher for the Cardinals and Reds through the 1890s, threw a rising fastball. Nig Cuppy, a minor star with the Cleveland Spiders, threw what he called a "jump ball"-a rising fastball.
There's also a cool list of Neyer's best fastballers for each half decade at the bottom of the article. Kinda weird to me how many of them were Rangers at some point.
Found it at the Baseball Crank...
Oh, dear sweet Lord, thank you for all you have given me. After helping The Wife get going on the new laptop, I needed a small bit of humor, and I found it with the Old Grey Squirrel Test. Thanks, limies!
Holy smokes! PokerProf has a 16-page photo gallery from the 2004 WSOP. It's got some good up-close-and-personal pix. Very nice, and very good work...a nice follow-up to the excellent work done over there during the whole tournament.
Fanboy here loves him some guitar talk...or in this case, guitar amp talk. King Pompadour probably knows Mikie...
