The Status Is Quo

Things Are As They Should Be...In My Mind...


Well, they locked OJ up again. I'm not sure if he ever really spent one single night in jail before now, but he's truely one stupid negro brother black former pro football player African American if he couldn't manage to run far, far away from the US and US jails after escaping a life sentence back in the 1990's.

I just have to shake my head and chuckle at his silly ass.

Meanwhile, the rain has returned to the Georgia coast and we basically hid inside for half of Saturday and Sunday, and as a result I did manage to get some good cooking done with the production of a Hawaiian Pizza Saturday night and Chicken Piccatta last night. Missy the Turbo Pup made it on Pizza and Pizza crust leftovers quite nicely.

Sunday before it started raining I cranked up the air compressor and tried to make some metal cans blow up in my driveway as part of my forensic work on the Atlanta Westin laundry accident project.

Can you guess which can I've been fooling with from this picture?



(They were both the same height when I started.)

Nothing actually exploded because the air hose fitting came loose, but after a little modification I will probably make a hole in something before the day is out tomorrow.

Would everyone be so kind as to take up a collection for my bond after the GBI and the FBI show up to discuss my operations?

If you don't hear from me for a couple of days, someone send up a flare...

.

US Hurricane Season Still A Bust--Part II

Al Gore Still Doesn't Care...


Well, it's looking more and more like everyone should thank me for buying flood insurance for the first time this year.

On not one but TWO residences.

Both are within a couple thousand yards of the Atlantic Ocean...which, by the way, hasn't
risen up and flooded my dog and my bike off the front porch yet.

Wait a minute...

I just checked, and the Turbo Pup is in bed with Pat and the bike is still sitting comfortably where I left it.

Murphy's law working like it does, I suspect that things might have turned out differently if we had just resorted to sitting here with our eyes closed wearing our bathing suits and life preservers.

My generator is still sitting in the unopened box with a dry gas tank. I really want to get it out and play with it, but the salt air down here would probably disolve it into a pile of rust and faded plastic parts if I opened the shrinkwrap so I've resisted the urge.

I looked at the 2 AM forecast which has the latest threat, former tropical storm Ingrid, turning to turn north to die off shore in the cooler waters:




At the risk of jumping the gun, I think that I'll go take a bath in my emergency drinking water in celebration...


.

OJ Is Still A Criminal AND an Idiot

After That Realization...Why Does Anyone Actually Care?


I'd like to ask if someone would please call Mike Tyson and Michael Jackson and tell them it's safe to come out again in public?

I think that most of the silly Hollywood bimbos, Alex Baldwin, Sean Penn, and James Brolin might also stick their heads out of their asses the ground if they desire.

I Want To Be A Superhero

Just Call Me "Bitch Slap Man"


I just got of the telephone with Comcast. Their "retention" department.

My forehead has bulging veins and sweat running down it, and my blood pressure is probably somewhere near 200 over 150.

After I let the idiots in the "customer non-service department" charge me for an entire month of cable/Internet service that we didn't need because their records didn't reflect my demand that they cancel the service in my name over at the condo, I just learned that they were going to charge me for another month of service...

just for fun.

So I completed the THIRD CONVERSATION cancelling my service with them and made an Internet payment for another $16.37 for service from 9/8 until today, even as we pay an artificially elevated rate for the same service here in Pat's name because their inept customer service department screwed us when she signed up for new installation.

Either these people are completely and totally feckless and inept, else they're just plain liars and thieves on an institutional basis.

Maybe both descriptions are true.

I told Pat that if things don't settle down a little around here that she's going to end up visiting me in jail, and I'll be the one wearing an orange jumpsuit.

The charge?

Murder.

You see, during this move, in spite of two weeks of advance planning and communication, only one thing worked out as planned--that being the transition on the county water system.

The power company, the cable/Internet company, two moving companies, Renter's Insurance, Flood Insurance, the local telephone company, and our ex-landlord all managed to cost me money one way or the other.

Over three hundred dollars worth of unused, un-needed, and unnecessary crap to date...and without fail, instead of a "so sorry," all we get is a "you're shit out of luck" attitude.

Pay us right now or else we're calling Equifax and Experian.

Taking a big breath...

Now that I've calmed down a little, I suggest that I would probably be more likely to act in a manner that would allow pleading to a reduced charge.

The charge of spontaneous "bitch slapping" people in the public defense would be a possibility.

Yeah, that's the ticket...I could grow arms like the Rubber Man or Professor Gadget so that I can fling my hands outwards something like twenty feet...then I'd just walk around doing my regular thing and when I see someone acting up or taking advantage of another innocent consumer I would take aim and sling my arm at a high velocity in their direction and...

POW!!!

Right up side the head it would land (my hand...that is...)

When the dust settled, they'd be lying on the ground quivering and drooling on themselves, possibly having soiled their pants in the process.

Then they'd wake up and go home with their tail between their legs, put on some clean underwear, and think twice the next time they're sitting at their desk at work being a moron and not doing their job, in the process costing me dozens of dollars which I have to pay as ransom if I don't want them to screw up my credit or have the Repo-Man knocking on my door.

Other than that, everything is just peachy around here.

Dammit...

Burp

Oh...Excuse Me...


Last night I did what was perhaps my best Low Country Boil EVER.

The most satisfying part was that we had three witnesses to prove that I'm not lying guests over to share the experience with us.

If you've never done a low country boil at home, you really need to do one (unless you're allergic to seafood, but then I think that you could substitute par boiled chicken pieces or beef tips or something and still enjoy the experience.)

It's simple, simple simple--and here's all you need to make a hearty spread for six people:

four pounds of medium headless shrimp
two pounds of andouille sausage, cut into 4" segments
king crab legs (optional--if you're cleaning out the chest freezer--I did)

six ears of fresh corn, cut in half
twelve medium red potatoes
one large red onion, quartered
four large lemons, quartered

two bags Zatarains® Crab & Shrimp Boil
two tablespoons salt.

Cocktail Sauce:

three cups catsup
six tablespoons horseradish (more or less depending on your taste)
three tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
two tablespoons lemon juice


Toss your largest boiler, two thirds full of water, onto the stove top. It needs to be at least 12 quarts in size. If you don't have one, you can either go to Wal Mart or use two boilers like I did--one 8 quart and one 6 quart.

Now add your salt and the two bags of Shrimp Boil seasoning (one in each pot if you're using two.) Bring everything to a boil while you cut up your sausage and corn; make your cocktail sauce; and open yourself a nice chilled bottle of white wine.

Pour yourself a glass of wine and contemplate your seafood for a few minutes if you have the time.

Once the water is boiling, toss in your corn, potatoes, and sausage, then let things simmer for about twenty minutes. If you're using two pots, put your corn and potatoes in one pot by themselves, and spread your sausage links between the two pots. Add a few wedges of lemon to each pot also.

Now pull out a potato and check to see if it is done.

Is it done?

No? Well, put it back in and cook for another ten minutes.

When everything is done to your satisfaction, toss your seafood into the pot (or the big pot) and simmer for another five to seven minutes, then turn off the heat, dip your corn, potatoes, sausage, and seafood out onto a large serving platter.

If you can't dip everything out, pour the balance of the water out through a strainer basket, then grab yourself a plate, some butter, lemon wedges, and cocktail sauce, and go EAT.

I've got to go ride my bike over to get a newspaper now.

why don't you head out to the store to get some shrimp and things for dinner tonight?

.

Don't Screw With My Books

The US Postal Service Strikes Again...


This year I've spent a good deal of money with Amazon.com rebuilding my Engineering reference library--something that I lost back in 2001 when the old house burned down.

The fire probably took close to 500 books with it. Fifty to seventy-five of them technical references from my days at Georgia Tech and working in the consulting business.

My most recent purchases were Schaum's Outlines Calculus and a book on Drywall installation to support my construction adventures.

About thirty bucks worth.

Any way, on Monday I got an e-mail saying that my order had been delivered at 1:30 PM.

Whattttt?

Hurrrraayyyyyyy!!!

I ran around outside looking by the front door and in the open garage...

Nothing.

Then I looked in the mailbox, but I was pretty sure that Amazon didn't roll up 9x12 books in tubes so my order wouldn't fit in there.

I was right.

It didn't, but still , it being the US Postal Service and all, and being a patient, reasonable sort of a guy, I figured that I would give it another day.

So I did. Actually two days, and as of noon today I still didn't have my books.

On a hunch, while out running errands, we drove by the old condo and guess what?

MY BOX OF $30 BOOKS WAS SITTING OUTSIDE BY MY OLD FRONT DOOR...a place that they had not delivered a single scrap of mail to in the past six weeks.

A place where all of the front porch plants and chairs had disappeared.

The place that had all of the curtains open and that you could clearly see there was no people living in and no furniture sitting in.

Yeah, THAT place.

Now I'm really worried because I have a couple of thousand dollars worth of checks floating around in the US Postal Systems "never never land", and I don't know who to call and complain to.

%#@*&! Government Services...

Do I Somehow Seem Indifferent?

I'm Torn Somewhere Between "Pissed Off" And "Just Don't Care"...


Picture me, spinning around in a mental and physical funk, trying to avert my eyes from crap like Congressional responses to four star Generals making reports and Bimbos performing at the MTV Awards Ceremonies--a place featuring music I've probably never heard and so called artists I don't recognise.

I've got more musical talent in my nose hair than some of these people exhibit. Thus the loss I feel when I manage to get a nose hair hung in one of my harmonicas.

(OK, forget that mental picture delivered in a moment of candor and weakness...)

Then there is Hollywood and it's products...

Have I mentioned that I have not set foot in a movie theater since we moved down here to our little island in 2004?

I also haven't rented or purchased any films since then, yet somehow I don't feel any less human or culturally unsophisticated than the next slob that I pass on the road while riding my bike.

Let's just say that I have "issues" and right now I'm resisting spewing venom on a personal basis in a bunch of directions because I don't want any lawsuits for liable and slander--although what I have to say about a couple of individuals and companies is TRUE.

Meanwhile, the US Postal Service continues to prove that an address change is at best a happenstance event conducted at their convenience--usually resulting in a ten to thirteen day delay in the mail delivery process.

Any private company that continued to provide the inferior service that we're living with after almost six weeks would be out of business by now, but then again we all know that the US government continues to prop up the postal service even as e-mail and FedEX/UPS slices their legs out from underneath them.

If I were a younger man I would consider buying a few pony's and starting a package delivery service.

Wait...I think that someone's already been down that avenue...




BTW...here's a shout out to my old College Roommate Rusty on his birthday...Rusty's 48 today..."What's Wrong With Your Leg...Rusty???"

9/11

And A Moment Of Silence...

Not Just Another Day At The Beach

Survival Of The (un)Fittest


Well, after a fairly uneventful day spent sleeping in late and finishing repainting and re-assembling my bicycle transport rack, I talked Pat and Missy the Turbo Pup into joining me at the beach on Sunday afternoon.

About 4 PM we loaded up a few things into the Suburban and I ratcheted both bicycles onto the rebuilt rack, and in about five minutes we were in the Old Coast Guard Station parking lot heading toward the sun and sand.

As the Turbo Pup and I bolted down the beach ahead of Pat who chose to walk instead of riding her bike, I noticed three young men and two women ahead of us that--from their pasty skin tone--were obviously...gasp...tourists entering the water and wading toward the sandbar which had been exposed during the 1:15 low tide.

The problem all of the visting dumbasses lovely fair skinned visitors tourists don't understand about wading out to the sandbar down here is that our tide runs about SIX OR SEVEN FEET normally, and with the new moon, yesterday's tide was probably closer to EIGHT FEET from high to low.

Just last week a 32 year old woman drowned on the exact same sand bar chasing her own children, and close to a dozen people have died since we've lived here because of their insane desire to wander a half mile offshore without understanding the dynamics of the ocean in this area.

Any way, I spent the next hour worrying about the safety of these five souls, and marking lines on the sand to measure the advance of the tide while they lounged around on the ever diminishing sand bar.

Finally, after about 75 minutes, and trying to ignore the drama unfolding in front of me, I called 911 and reported their situation to the operator. After telling her who I was, where I was, and what was happening, the silly bitch tried to connect me with the State Highway Patrol, so I hung up the Cell phone and waited again because by then the stranded party had noticed their situation and started moving around.

After another ten minutes, when it was clear that they were still not leaving the sand bar, I pointed them out to another beach patron whom agreed that I should call the authorities on their behalf.

I dialed 911 again, and this time the operator had the presence of mind to connect me with the Coast Guard, and the gentleman on the other end of the phone started staging a rescue operation as I reported on the movement of the group off of the bar into the deep channel that had developed between them and the shore as the tide rose.

Before the authorities could really get things moving, other bystanders had entered the surf and the party made it across the deep water and started wading to shore, so we called the official rescue effort off.

I ended up talking to the coast Guard twice more on the cell and the Glynn county sheriff's department called me to verify that the people had made it back to shore, and I and another bystander gave them a good lecture as they stumbled onto shore quite embarrassed by the stir they had caused with their offshore expedition.

Two of the three men had to literally carry the third man part of the way to shore, and one of the two girls was also quite shaken by the event. If any one of them had suscumbed to the current, the entire party most likely would have been lost. They were carried several hundred yards down the beach from where they first entered the surf.

Still, I think that they really didn't understand that their experience wasn't just bad luck or some happenstance occurrence, but was a brush with a real and ever present danger that the ocean presents each and every day out of the year.

I've had the pleasure of growing up going to the beach quite frequently, and I've taken survival swimming classes in college, had Navy swimming training, in addition to being a certified scuba diver and spent hundreds of hours water skiing and operating powerboats on lakes and offshore, and I WOULD NOT HAVE GONE WHERE THESE PEOPLE WENT AND FURTHER, in my present physical condition I might not have survived the return trip.

Regardless, I was happy that they made it back and that we didn't need helicopters, rescue swimmers, or the coroner, but the whole experience basically ruined my afternoon because I didn't go to the beach to work, I just wanted to hang out.

I guess the most frightening thing I learned was how long it takes to get someone excited enough to mobilize a rescue effort on our beach during the offseason. I also believe that just because the government elects to pave a parking lot beside the beach, that every moron in the United States need to come down here to our little island and screw up my Sunday afternoon playing baby sitter for them and their inbred kids little darlins.

And no, as some of my fellow islanders said today, the government shouldn't be expected to have to put up signs telling grown people to keep their stupid asses and the bodies of the aforementioned inbred kids little darlins off of the bloody sand bar at low tide.

Lions, Tigers, Meerkats, and the rest of the animal kingdom still understand the concept of "survival of the fittest", and I think that it's about time that all of the government school educated, lawyer hiring idiots out there got a clue that an ounce of prevention is worth a whole damn lot more than a pound of government mandated and taxpayer paid-for cure for practically everything that potentially ails them.

For future reference, I'm telling you people (not everyone, but you know who you are), I don't think that you should expect any supermen to come racing to your rescue every time you choose to do something INCREDIBLY STUPID, so don't put yourself in the kind of position I saw these people in today else someone's probably going to a funeral.

Dammit...

Cigars Versus Cigarettes

I've Got Champagne Taste On A Beer Budget


Over the past ten years I've found myself inadvertently conducting a fairly interesting social experiment, and the results are predictably surprising (as opposed to surprisingly predictable.)

My laboratories are the bars and restaurants of the world, and the control substance is tobacco, something I've only starting smoking in limited quantities in this same time period.

Fortunately I don't have the nicotine addiction gene, so I never picked up the cigarette habit back when I was in college in the 1970's and smoking a 50 cent pack of Marlboro's was cool.

Thank God I never did, what with a pack of Cigs costing nearly FOUR DOLLARS now, and the government stepping in and passing laws telling private businessmen where they can and can't let their patrons consume their addictive drug of choice.

I do, however, enjoy a nice cigar on occasion, although my tobacco habit waxes and wanes with my financial fortunes and the availability of decent Dominican or Nicaraguan products. I have a little humidor that holds a single bundle or box of Cigars, possibly a few more of the smaller ring gauge, and I've found a decent Cigar dealer that is just around the corner from me and will sell me an occasional bundle of unbranded "seconds" for a good price

What kills me is that I, a non-smoker for most of my nearly fifty years, have sat in silence in smoke filled restaurants and night clubs while three quarters of the population puffed their lives away, and now that I elect to fire up a cigar every now and then, people will walk twenty yards across a crowded room to tell me my smoke stinks.

Back in the day, when almost everyone smoked, I'd come home from a "guys night out" shooting pool with the boys and my ex-wife would make me get undressed in the garage because my clothes smelled so badly of cigarette smoke, and now I've got people holding lit cigarettes in their hand bitching at me because I'm smoking a Cigar.

Seriously, I once had a lady walk into a club down in Ft. Lauderdale where I was smoking (she was holding a cigarette) and complain to me and her girlfriends about how cigar smoke made her sick. I had just cut the end off of a TWELVE DOLLAR Davidoff Robusto and fired it up, but out of difference to my vocal co-combustors I extinguished my cigar. Then not thirty seconds later the silly bitch and her entourage decided the place was too crowded and departed to "go somewhere else."

Just Damn...

The Cigar smokers in the crowd will probably agree that smoking a Cigar that has been previously lit is never quite the same as the taste obtained burning one in a single half hour uninterrupted session.

What is it about people that not only causes them to think that one form of carcinogenic vapor and particulate matter is socially more acceptable than another, but makes them come up to a complete stranger and demand that I take my tobacco elsewhere when they puff theirs in front of me and their friends and family 24/7?

After all, I smoke good cigars, not things sold beside convenience store cash registers that smell like vanilla or fruit or a dog turd wrapped in newspaper, and I generally verify that Cigars are acceptable with the management prior to lighting a match.

The King and Prince Hotel located down here on our little island has a humidor in their bar and sells overpriced mishandled Cigars if you really want one, but...

you can't actually SMOKE Cigars inside their establishment--even before Georgia changed the law to end tobacco smoking in restaurants.

A couple of restaurants I frequented in Atlanta had the same queer policy--selling you expensive tobacco that you can't use until you get into your car or arrive home.

Like my affinity for fine vintage Port Wine, I find it interesting to learn about Cigars and their history, and I will appreciate the day when Fidel Castro dies and we finally end the fifty year embargo on Cuba so I can get a real Cuban Cigar for less than $30. (Right now I have to settle for the product of Cuban seed grown somewhere else in the Carribbean.)

I've only smoked something represented as a true Cuban Cigar twice in my life. The first time was on a dive excursion out to Walkers Cay Bahamas back in 1997, and the second time was while enjoying a desert course at the Chicago Chophouse that same year.

Both times I paid $30 for the experience, and the Chophouse threw in a little glass of 1966 vintage Fonseca Porto for an extra thirty bucks.

Thirty dollars or two dollars fifty cents, I'll be damned if I'm putting out any more Cigars for anyone but possibly Pat and my Mother, so just take your allergies and your bad attitude elsewhere.

Me and my bad habits...what can I say?

My Left Over Rain Storm Finally Gets National Attention

I Are Your Weather Guru...


OK Ladies & Gentlemen, It's like this.

I'm pissed.

After all, how can I ever get into the weather prediction business if I keep on keeping my predictions to myself?

You see, it was exactly one week ago I was sitting here on the Internet and watching the Weather Channel, looking at a rotating mass of atmospheric energy that was anchored slightly offshore of Sapelo Island, Georgia.

It was basically a big giant blob of juicy clouds that insisted on soaking me and my Island home, and by default it saturated my Friday night football game halftime antics in the process.

I got over it since then, after coming home and applying a few pounds of Gold Bond Powder and Tinactin anti-fungal cream to the appropriate body parts, but I've still resented the little storm's imposition on my life as I watched it continue to spin away offshore over the past week.

Was I the only one that noticed it's features?

Apparently not, because now it's official...

My little local rainstorm has organized itself and now it's gotten it's own name. Here, take a look:



What bothers me most is that the Weather Channel's Jim Cantori gets all of the glory here, while I lived through the early stages of the storm's development and didn't have a camera crew or an airplane ticket thrust upon me to provide the coverage for all of the Katrina refugees and the balance of the American population that expects a storm to come knocking on their front door between now and November 30th.

Well, at least Al Gore and the rest of the Global Warming "Weather Weenines" get another storm to add to their 2007 listing.

Please excuse me while I yawn without placing my hand over my mouth...

Don't Fence Me In

Surrounded By Surplus Concrete...


Good news...the fence went in surprisingly quickly this morning. Home Depot was on site by 8:30 AM with my purchase, and I was home by 1:00.

I find it very satisfying to be healthy and physically fit again. Today I found myself strong enough to toss 900 pounds of quickcrete around not once, but twice (Home Depot loaded them on TOP of the fence panels so I had to move them) and still have energy to come home and start fooling around with some other projects.

Of course there were only four eight foot panels and five posts, but the little 2-1/2 HP auger I rented hummed right along digging 24" to 30" deep post holes before I could break a good sweat.

I've got to go back and install the hinges and latch on the gate next week, but otherwise the back of the property is secured and identified as a place where people shouldn't want to dump the miscellaneous BS that keeps showing up in the alley.

The surplus concrete came about through my miscalculation of the quantity required, and then when I realized that the auger only had a 6" bit, it was evident that the 4"x4" posts were going to sit in the bare dirt because I was too lazy to carry five gallon buckets of water from the kitchen sink to the property line.

I hate cutting corners, but since the fence isn't mine (or won't be in a few months) I felt like that the deep embedment would make up for the lack of cement. Of course the fence panels may take off and fly over to the Brunswick Marina in the next tropical storm, but there's a ten foot high fence directly across the alley about twenty feet away that should deflect some of nature's wrath.

Meanwhile, after moving all 18 bags of sackcrete once to get them off of the fence panels, I moved them again to load them into the suburban and hauled them home in anticipation of getting a $100 refund this weekend.

One less thing, I guess.

But...

Now our clothes dryer has decided to stop drying clothes--instead just tumbling them into knots and wearing lint off them in the process. It's probably the thermostat or the heating element, but now I have to get out my multimeter and jack around under it's hood looking for loose wires and making sparks.

Fortunately Kenmore has a good web site with diagrams and I've already checked on the price of the heating element, so at least this new adventure will cost less than my concrete savings.

I really should jump on a bus or into a carpool and run over to the football game tonight to wrestle with my big pyramid structure, but you know what???

I'm a bit tired of my volunteering efforts right now, and technically I've already trained a couple of people to handle things so I think that I'm going to stay home and work on my bike rack paint job, electrocute myself in my dryer, and possibly wander over to our local pub for free hors d'oeuvres and a couple of drinks at happy hour.

Then I'm gonna come home and grill a couple of Fillet Mignon's on the grill, toss some steamed asparagus on the side, and doze on the sofa watching Jeopardy.

Fall Approaches

And Young Men's Thought Turn To What?...Halloween?


Boy oh boy has the weather ever shifted gears this week here on our little island.

I can walk outside for five minutes to take out the trash or amble around the yard picking up limbs and globs of Spanish moss off the lawn and come back inside without searching for a towel to dry my body on. I can sit on the sofa after an outside excursion without Pat making me sit on a beach towel.

I'm able to walk out into my new garage and work on projects like repainting my bike rack and actually see what I'm doing without pausing to wipe sweat out of my eyes every thirty seconds.

Speaking of Spanish Moss, be careful what you ask for because I've always thought it would be cool to live under Live Oak trees draped with the stuff, and now I've found out that Spanish Moss would apparently enjoy living on the ground rather than up in the limbs of trees, because I've hauled a couple of wheelbarrow loads worth over into our ever growing mulch pile in the past month.

I've basically got Spanish Moss growing on practically every surface except my ears and butt.

Seriously, the stuff is everywhere around here, even in the shrubbery. I think that our house plants will soon have moss growing in them if we're not careful.

If you'll send me your address, I'll ship you a big bail after the next thunderstorm knocks it out of the trees into the yard--for free.

I'm also happy to report that we're on diligent lookout for popcorn lung, particularly since the new place came with a built in microwave oven and I've taken to popping a bag every day or so. Thus far I've managed to avoid contracting this new malady, but you never know...and I enjoy a good media induced panic just like the next sucker fellow.

I'm sorry to report that my blogging has been suffering for no other reason than a total lack of effort, not lack of time. I've just been coasting along while I rearrange my priorities and schedule as new things catch my attention.

Tomorrow is "fence day" over at the Brunswick job site, with Home Depot delivering a load of pressure treated fence panels, 4x4 posts, and a new front door for the building. The City of Brunswick finally followed through with their promise to remove the giant pile of debris that my nighttime visitors had deposited on the alley side of the property, and I want to get the fence in place before anyone has the idea of rebuilding the impromptu landfill again.

I'm renting a so-called "one man" auger to dig the fence post holes with, instead of killing myself with a set of post hole diggers for a couple of hours. I think that it will be $30 well spent, but it's still going to be interesting getting five post holes on a straight line across the property line.

I may end up with the world's most crooked fence, but any fence is better than no fence at all, I guess.

Regarding my Halloween reference...we're getting to celebrate Halloween here for the first time in years. We're actually expecting trick-or-treaters for a change. The family next door has FIVE kids--what they were thinking I'll never know, but I do have a pretty good idea what they've been doing after the sun goes down.

In Atlanta I was usually out at a costume party on Halloween, else we lived in a Condo complex populated entirely by barren men and women over the age of twenty-one that were too busy drinking and exposing their body parts to each other on Halloween to bother stopping by to beg for candy.

At the Sea Palms condos we never got any kids to come by, and everyone but us that lived there was closer to 100 than costume wearing age so I ended up eating all of the candy that Pat didn't consume.

So any way, I'm thinking about working up a new costume this year, based on the old Viking theme that I built in the 1990's and won a number of contests with. I spent about $100 on the attire back then, and I probably won about $500 over a three or four year period attending contests hosted by various establishments like Dave and Busters and some other local pubs & Taverns. I also wore the costume at private gatherings and usually was credited with having one of the most elaborate home made disguises in the crowd.

I think that the "Orc's" from Middle Earth in the "Lord of the Rings" movies will also have some influence on my design, so I've been re-watching the movies the past couple of nights looking for inspiration.

My friend Robin, the yard guy the landscaper, just got here, so I have to go wave my arms and supervise his efforts now.

Wish me luck.

Words To Live By

As For Me...I'm Living The Lord Of The Rings...


The quest stands but upon the edge of a knife...

Stray but a little, and it will fail...

To The Ruin, OF ALL.

Things You (Won't) Find On The Internet

And A Day Off On My Birthday...


As you probably noticed, I didn't write anything yesterday. It turns out that I also ended up not reading much on the Internet either.

In spite of it being a red letter day on my personal calendar, after much consideration and little fan fair, it was only at the last minute that I decided what I was going to do yesterday on my birthday. It was basically by default.

I still had a great time, however, because I live on an island, and thus I'm already where many people want to go on vacation. I sometimes have to remind myself of that fact, but not often.

Any way, besides smoking three killer cigars, my day consisted of sleeping late, having a late lunch at the Sea Palms Country Club, then lounging by the pool at our old condo for a couple of hours sipping cheep light beer--enjoying the company of Pat and Missy the Turbo Pup.

The weather finally broke for us, and I wasn't about to waste the breezy clear sky's and high eighty degree temperatures sitting inside, working on construction, or even blogging.

Dinner consisted of a wonderful slab of pork tenderloin, grilled to about 150 degrees F inside, and a couple of ears of sweet ripe yellow corn roasted to death in the oven.

After dozing on the sofa while watching Clemson beat Florida State in football, I capped things off by smoking the third cigar while doing a midnight bike ride covering five or six miles looping around the south end of the island and stopping to look at the lighthouse and stare at the beach for a few minutes, contemplating what is quickly becoming a half century residing on our lovely planet.

I don't think of myself as old yet...just "experienced."

In my first forty-eight years I've done some stuff that most people have never accomplished, some of which people usually try not to do.

For instance, have you ever:

Survived plugging a bobby pin into an electric outlet?

Won third place in the Soap Box Derby?

Built a balsa wood gasoline powered model airplane from scratch that flew away out of sight?

Played a trumpet solo, standing in the middle of a football field, in front of six thousand people?

Walked outside in the eye of a hurricane to use a chain saw to cut the trees off your parent's house and cars?

Took off and landed in a helicopter on an aircraft carrier? Flown a helicopter with an instructor pilot?

Helped dig bus passenger victims out of the mud from a landslide in the Philippines?

Been to Alaska?

Received a ticket for driving 110 MPH in a 55 MPH zone?

Had a shotgun pumped in your back and the barrel of a pistol broken off on your head in a robbery?

Took off and landed solo in an airplane? At more than one airport?

Driven a power boat 20 miles off shore, out of sight of land, and returned to the marina on time and without having to call the Coast Guard or appear on CNN?

Built over 400 industrial smoke stacks, and the process climbed a ladder 200' tall; or been lifted by a crane 250' into the air in a metal basket?

Designed and built your own house?

Attended a bowl game where your college football team won the NCAA Division I national championship?

Made a million dollars?

Lost a million and one half dollars?

Seen the smile on the face of a new homeowner when they get the keys for their new Habitat for Humanity house?

Survived having your house burn down?

Lived on the beach on the Gulf of Mexico?

Water skied in Montego Bay Jamaica?

Lived on a boat?

Lived on a Barrier Island?

Drank a beer with Travis Tritt?

Played the part of an insane guy in a mental institute? Or designed and built the set for a play?

Played harmonica on stage with Blues guitarist Theodis Ealy?

Written a Blog?

No?

Well, get busy then.

I've got to go now and try to think up some more stuff to do over the next 48 years...

UPDATED...

I almost forgot to mention these antics:

Taking off and landing from the water in a 1948 Grumman "Goose" seaplane on my way from Ft. Lauderdale to Walker's Cay Bahamas.

Scuba diving to the bottom 120' below the surface of the sea on the same trip.

Scuba diving with over 100 sharks (bulls, black tips, Nurse, Caribbean reef) and a bunch of other stuff with teeth on two different one hour dives on the same trip in 1997.

Dogs More Important Than Late Term Fetuses?

Michael Vick Found Out The Hard Way...


Take a look at this story titled "Vick Case Highlights Dog's High US Status":

DALLAS (Reuters) - Dogfighting is condemned as illegal in all 50 states, and this probably says as much about the dog's high standing in U.S. culture as it does about the cruelty of the blood sport.

It came under the spotlight after football star Michael Vick of the Atlanta Falcons pleaded guilty in Virginia last week for his involvement in a dogfighting case that will almost certainly land him in jail.

This high standing for dogs in the United States is not shared by all cultures, notably some Asian countries where dogs are food, and much of Africa, South Asia and the Arab world where they are often viewed with disdain.

"Dogs have a very special place in American culture," said Wayne Pacelle, president of The Humane Society of the United States.

Does anyone else but me wonder if Vick had been a licenced MD instead of a professional football player, and he had daily reached inside a woman's womb to punch a hole into a six month old developing fetus' head, and then vacuumed its remains out into a stainless steel tank; what these same Americans would have had to say about his criminal status, his ethics, and his humanity (or the lack thereof)?

I'd say he'd not only still have his job, but he'd probably be out shopping for a new car or possibly a 50' powerboat over the Labor Day weekend, instead of skulking away in seclusion somewhere offshore awaiting sentencing and avoiding the prying lenses of news reporters.

Maybe it's just me...(and no, I don't agree that he should not have been convicted for dogfighting.)

Monsoon Season On The Georgia Coast

Anybody Have A Human Sized Zip Lock Baggie?


Well, it started raining about 5 PM on Friday, and has only let up for a few hours at a time since then.

I worked my butt off from noon till about about 4 PM putting the finishing touches on the big pyramid sections, and then breaking them down to load into the equipment trailer. My heart was sinking as the sky's turned darker and darker

Kickoff was supposed to be at 7:30, but by then there was at least two inches of water standing over half of every grass and concrete surface in south Georgia.

The professional jock wannabe's "officials" that were in charge of the proceedings held off until it quit lightening, which was about 8:15, then the two football teams took the field while the band members sat in their buses and my pyramid lounged in its bungee corded position in the trailer.

Meanwhile I paced around from water puddle to water puddle in a throw away poncho wearing wet shoes and socks, and come halftime the band was on the field and my masterpiece was relegated to stay out of sight for the evening.

Dang it...the next three games are away games and I really don't want to start traveling with the team, but I also need to be there the first time to show the other volunteers how to handle the assembly and dis-assembly.

Meanwhile, the rest of the labor day weekend has thus far been cloudy and soggy--I bet we've had four or five inches of rain since Friday, and the pool and the beach has been out of the question.

The only good news thus far has been, confined indoors, that I've cooked some killer food, including a funky Portabello/Shitaki mushroom pesto pizza last night that ROCKED.

In fact, I think that it's time to go reheat some pizza slices for a leftover lunch...

Home Again

Up Early...Tired...And Quite Busy


Besides avoiding tapping my toes in restroom stalls, now I have to worry about helping getting nearly 100 kids and a giant pyramid onto the football field at half-time of the football game about 8:45 PM tonight.

It makes me tired just thinking about it...

Guns For Everyone...And Put Them On My Tab...

More Political Incorrectness


I've enjoyed reading the local edition of the Atlanta Urinal & Constipation Journal & Constitution for the past two days, and it's been amazing the amount of vitriol aimed at Michael Vick and his recent public statement(s).

All of the city's mindless boosters and pro-sports fans that declared Vick the end-all do-all handy-dandy panacea solution of the woes of the only team besides the Braves that spent zillions of dollars on salary for grown men to play boys games are continuing to bitch and complain and choke on their predictions of greatness and a football dynasty developing down at the Georgia Dome.

Another AJC article that caught my eye was this one about gun ownership here in the US compared to the rest of the world (click):


United States the world leader in gun ownership
ASSOCIATED PRESS
Published on: 08/29/07

There are nine guns for every 10 people in the United States, with about 270 million firearms in circulation, according to a report released Tuesday.

People well-armed: Worldwide, civilians now have access to 650 million small arms — from handguns to semiautomatic rifles — an arsenal that far outstrips what is held by police and militaries, according to the annual Small Arms Survey. It estimates that civilians account for about three-fourths of the 875 million such weapons in circulation.

U.S. the leader: The United States has the heaviest concentration of firearms. Of the 8 million new firearms manufactured annually around the world, roughly 4.5 million are bought in the United States.

Other countries with high per capita ownership include Yemen, with 61 small arms per 100 people; Finland with 56; Switzerland with 46; and Iraq with 39.

Much lower on the scale are Brazil, with nine guns per 100 people, England and Wales with six, India with four, China with three and Nigeria with one.

Of course the Associated press breathlessly reports these statistics like they are a bad thing in the headline, but then goes on to say that the level of gun ownership might not actually be the cause of crime when the true details are analysed.

I Agree totally, and having had the barrel of a crappy medium caliber revolver broken off its frame on the back of my hard head nearly thirty years ago in a robbery, I subscribe to the idea that anything can be a deadly weapon in the hands of someone that wants to hurt or kill you.

You can be killed with a salt shaker poked into your eye or other bodily orifice, and you can succumb to a pool cue or bar stool driven across your shoulder blades.

So why don't we ban salt shakers, pool cues, and bar stools along with guns?

After all, I bet the number of bar stools in Europe approaches that of the US on a per capita basis.

You can also drown in a Cool Whip bowl full of water if someone holds your face in it long enough--let's outlaw Cool Whip and water while we're at it..

All I can say is that the anti-gun weenies need to just shut the hell up and go home and eat some Tofu and recharge their stun guns and cans of mace and watch another evening of PBS TV programming.

By the way, I'm afraid that I'm guilty of skewing the statistics upward in a significant way, because if you come down to one of the places which I occasionally occupy here in the SOUTHERN UNITED STATES, you will find the gun to owner ratio to be more like SIX guns per person...

...and that "one person" would be ME.

Now put that in your pipe and smoke it.

The Main Difference Between Georgia and Rhode Island

May I Have A Drum Roll Please?


The answer to my question (In my considered Redneck Opinion):

"They still sell Guns in our Georgia Wal Marts. (click)"

AP
FBI Investigating Threats to U.S. Stores
Wednesday August 29, 3:24 pm ET
By Eric Tucker, Associated Press Writer

Bomb Threat to RI Wal-Mart Leads to Evacuation, Money Transfer; FBI Says May Be Broader Scam

NEWPORT, R.I. (AP) -- A bomb threat that caused the evacuation of a Wal-Mart and led employees to wire $10,000 to the caller appears to be part of a broader scam targeting other businesses around the country, authorities said.


...Damn Limp Wristed Yankies

.

Do You Think That (Some) Dog's Aren't Brilliant???

Then Take Mine Onto An Elevator


I've observed an amazing phenomena regarding Missy, the Turbo Pup, and her understanding of modern infrastructure in our last two visits to the Atlanta metro area.

She somehow understands the concept of walking into and out of an elevator, and the differences on each floor once she exits the "magic door" that opens and closes to lock her into the big metal box that moves her and her entourage up and down the building's entrails.

Think about it for a minute, if you will.

I would have expected that to a dog (or any other human or animal that hasn't graduated like Jethro Bodine from the Sixth Grade), one would expect when the door opens and closes that the same things, including people and floor plan, would be outside the opening.

Not so with the turbo pup.

She jumps on the elevator without any apprehension and makes left and right decisions upon her exit from the vertical conveyance better than I do.

Does anyone need an eight pound seeing eye dog?



Well, I'm sorry...but you can't have her.



.

They Paved Paradise

And Put In An Interstate...


Well, I've gotten through about 18 hours being back in my adopted home town of Smyrna/Vinings, Georgia without incident, but it took only about thirty minutes to remember why we left here in the first place.

GOOD GOD WHAT AWFUL TRAFFIC.

That, and Interstates like I-285 that have more pavement in a two mile stretch of eight or ten lanes than currently exists on all of St. Simons Island.

The traffic is amazing, and Pat's and my own driving skills have been dulled by the slow pace on our little island to the point where we have no desire to own things like radar detectors and run around eating bagels, reading the newspaper--steering the car with our knees while driving along in a dense pack of cars and semi trucks at 80 MPH.

Everyone else here at least tries to do things like that while we lope along at 54 MPH.

Once you get out of the rat race I guess that it's hard to go back, or to even understand why you were there and put up with two plus hour daily round trip commutes in the first place.

I waste more time on the computer each day than I used to spend driving to work for almost ten years, back before I started my own company and started working from home.

The next best thing I did after that lifestyle improvement was to move our "home" from inside the rat race to our little Island, and I have to admit that I can hardly wait to get back on the road tomorrow morning heading away from this old, vaguely familiar reality...

the daily reality for about four million miserable, mis-informed souls.

Ya'll come see us now...ya hear?

She Took A Friend Along

The Odd Couple

By the way Mom...we made it to Atlanta so you can stop worrying now.

On The Road Again

Willie Nelson I'm Not...


Well, we're off to Brunswick to finalize the big Pyramid structure, then it's up I-16 and I-75 back to Hotlanta for a couple of days.

Ya'll feel free to entertain yourselves in the mean time...

An Explosion In Atlanta

And I Get To Go Look At The Results...


I've mentioned in the past that I've been working for a while with a friend's engineering firm as a Forensic Engineer, looking into industrial steam system accidents that either damaged equipment or killed/injured people.

At the risk of sounding like a ghoul, I have to admit that it's pretty interesting stuff most of the time, even though there are a bunch of lawyers circling around the area getting in the way and, the people and the firms they work for are tight lipped--afraid that we're going to end up placing the blame with them or their company.

Any way, there was an explosion in the laundry area of one of the big downtown Atlanta hotels last month, and thus far all I've seen is pictures and had phone call discussions about what might have happened.

This Tuesday morning I'm driving up to Atlanta to take a look at the accident scene which has been preserved under OSHA and other government mandate while all of the vultures lawyers and their hired guns nerds expert witnesses look at the details of a pretty spectacular event that I wouldn't want to have been in the same room with when it happened.

Pat and Missy, the Turbo Pup, are going along with me as we take the opportunity to visit with some old friends and eat at a few of our favorite restaurants. This will be only the second trip to Atlanta (if you don't count changing planes in the Atlanta Airport), a place I resided in for 27 years, since we moved down here to our little island back in 2004.

My writing continues to suffer under my consulting work load and the pressures of fine tuning the new house and building my giant pyramid which I now have to deliver complete tomorrow--three days early--in anticipation of being in Atlanta this week.

I hope to be able to return on Wednesday or Thursday in time to be on the sidelines with the kids and my monstrosity creation for their home opener game, but who knows what opportunities will develop in the mean time.

I'll be sure to say hello to Michael Vick for you all if I see him, because the Federal Courthouse is just down the street from the accident scene...

.

Sometimes It's Like This At Our House

It's A Stampeed...Everybody Run For Your Life

Castro Dead?

Not At All A Bad Thing...IF It's True


I have to admit that I'm not on the ball right now with my Internet news reading, but one of my blog Idols down in Miami, Val over at Babalu Blog, has it on pretty good authority that Fidel Castro has finally decided to take the eternal dirt nap.

Of course the lamestream media is hesitant to report on the potential demise of the originator of the greatest government run health care system in the entire world. Even FOX news hasn't mentioned it (the rumor) in the past half hour.

I was born about the time this useless bastard took the reins down in Cuba, and for all of my life I've looked at the map and flown over the country in an airliner wishing that I could visit one day.

If it's true, I'll be on one of the first planes heading down there later this winter looking for some good cigars and the opportunity to visit the place that Hemingway called home for part of his life.

Keep your fingers crossed.

24 Hours To Pizza Night

Simple Pleasures For Simple Minds...


Needless to say that I've had a less than optimal week here, with most everyone that owes me money telling me why they haven't paid me or why they won't pay me what they owe me.

Then there is the problem with the ones that I owe clamoring for more that I actually owe. Even the water company has to get a presidential pardon issued to explain the six thousand gallons of water that escaped when the thieves ran off with my rental property's copper water lines a few weeks ago.

Finally, there is some other personal crap that's going on that isn't worth mentioning or writing about that won't end the world, but all the same it has managed to get in the way of a a good deal of productive time and caused my normal bitching and complaining attitude to sink into an un-presentable funk.

Thank GOD it's Friday and tomorrow night is PIZZA NIGHT...

I'm going out for dinner, then I think that I'll come home and start bitching again.

Get ready for a good rant or two...

If You Can't Say Nuthin' Nice (Or At least Intelligent)

Don't Say Nuthin' At All...


Sorry, but I'm taking my own advice right now.

Later, Y'all

PVC Pyramids

Plastic & Spandex Is Faster Than Stone...


I've spent part of the past week finishing up my design for the "Pyramid's of Egypt" prop for the Glynn Academy Marching Band's halftime show this season.

Thankfully, by both attrition and executive decision, the scope of my responsibilities was reduced by at least two thirds.

By last week the only thing left in the plan was a giant fabric covered Pyramid that would be constructed in three parts and moved onto and off of the field at each game.

The original 10' diagonal size produced a wimpy looking diminutive structure, so last weekend the band director gave me the go ahead to increase things by 50%.

Right now I'm stumbling around my driveway with 24 ten foot lengths of 1-1/2" PVC and a couple dozen elbows and tees trying to assemble my Egyptian vision in time for band practice at 3 PM this afternoon.

Then I have to beat a couple of delinquent female band parents into compliance in order to get 30 yards of 60" wide tan spandex sewn together in time for the August 31 opening game.

I wish I had a few thousand slaves to help me, but the Gatorade costs and toilet facilities are probably beyond my means.

Photos of King Virgil III's Tomb available shortly...

Lethargy Setting In

Somebody Poke Me With A Cattle Prod...


Today I did something I haven't done in a few years.

I cleaned out and organized my new garage.

I know that there are some of you out there which are green with envy, and some want me to stop by and do the same to their garage.

Fat Chance...

When I thought about it, I was surprised to realize how long it had been. I've been living in condos and on boats for most of the past 13 years, so the best I've usually had is a carport to shield my four wheeled conveyances from the elements.

Now once again I have a room with a giant overhead door full of washers, dryers, freezers, air compressors, boxes full of tools and construction supplies, and the obligatory garage "stuff."

Everything but an actual Automobile is in my garage as I write, and that is because I don't think that there is room because of all of the other stuff we have crammed in there.

That's OK...I feel so totally suburban and complete now.

Any way...I admit that my writing has been totally sucking the past few months with virtually nothing happening here on the blogs (other than keeping some sort of public diary,) and both books are at a total standstill.

I tripped over a two inch thick draft copy of the cookbook while unpacking during the move and it made me feel guilty. It has also forced me to start posting a few new recipes over at The Redneck Gourmet.

I guess that I have a hard time partitioning up my days to include physical labor like working on the duplex and then have the mental stamina to write intelligent or glib or humorous rants like I have done some of the time in the past.

Maybe I should just go back to being a virtual homeless unemployed slob and drag my computer around with me to places like Starbucks and other Internet hotspots and see if I can get some quality writing done. Even McDonalds has free Internet here on our little Island.

I had a publisher interested in the cookbook back a couple of years ago, but he's probably died or started selling real estate while waiting for me to submit a couple of chapters of edited manuscript.

He also told me that I should plan on getting some fantastic pictures of my food because pictures sell cookbooks, especially "coffee table" type cookbooks that people that never actually cook will drop $25 on at Barns & Noble. The only problem is that my cookbook is written with slobby middle aged divorced men in mind--guys that would starve to death eating Spam and Cheetos and would never get a second date with a decent woman if they tried to cook on their first date.

Instead of hiring a professional food photographer, I got a nice expensive camera and began a two year diversion fooling around with photography and entering photo contests rather than writing about cooking.

Now I've realized that taking publication quality pictures of food found sitting on your kitchen cabinet, dining room table, or on your stovetop with crappy fluorescent lighting or a single 100 watt bulb is next to impossible.

It was still a fun diversion in the end, and I do have some lovely pictures of my dog and my foot and some sunrises here on the Georgia Coast.

Over the years I've written some pretty serious stuff here on this blog, particularly back just before and right after the 2004 election. I like to think of myself as something other than a partisan hack, although I tend to vote with the Republicans most of the time because the Libertarians can't seem to field any serious candidates on the national political stage.

Writing about politics tends to either bore people to death else make them to try to find out where you live and come to your house to smear you with animal blood or stomp around on your car hood.

Thus I try to pick my topics carefully and then do a good deal of research before I place the first finger on the keyboard.

Still, I always love to pick on the "professional media", and a commenter who calls hinself/herself "Sommelier" and who is apparently a long term reader called me out this past week about something I wrote without knowing the real detailed facts.

Here's what they said:

I don't know where you get your statistics on media professionals, but I'm certain they are not even remotely accurate. You continually bash the "professional" media, yet you previously stated a "personal" dream that entailed working at a newspaper as a "professional" journalist. Sorry, pal, all your ranting appears nothing more than sour grapes.

And here's the passage I wrote that my reader is referencing from last Friday's posting:

As usual, the "professional" media is freaking out about the usual stupid things.

Things like hurricanes, the stock market, the housing bubble, and trapped coal miners.

I have to admit that I'm having a good deal of trouble lifting a finger and pointing it toward a keyboard to even offer an intelligent rebuttal. What can I say anyway?

The media is populated largely by the bottom 25% of each class of high school graduates and college freshmen that ended up in Journalism by default after they flunked out of the Music department because they couldn't play an instrument or carry a tune in a bucket singing.

On second thought, that assessment was probably unfair AND inaccurate, but in my defense it was written somewhat tongue in cheek if you followed the entire context of what I was saying.

Still, I offer my apology to anyone who is a journalist, is in Journalism school, or whose child or other family member or friend is a professional in the industry.

(Now I'm gonna probably piss Sommelier off again...)

In my defense, I just can't help myself sometimes because the product produced by the professional media SUCKS so badly so much of the time.

If Columbia University--a place recognized as having one of the best journalism programs in the country; a place that only accepts about 9% of their freshman applicants; a place that has graduates living and working in the highest positions of the print and "legacy" media--can't give the public graduates that produce a quality, unbiased, fact based product telling us what is ACTUALLY happening out there in the world rather than disguising EDITORIAL COMMENTARY published as substantial portions of each and every news story, then I feel obligated to take shots at them whenever I can.

By the way, if you went to the local Junior College to get your Journalism classes then I expect the same standards for your product also.

Facts, FACTS, FACTS.

Who What When Where.

Let me decide the rest for myself.

And yes, I have said that I aspire to write as a published writer, possibly in the news field, and NO I should not resort to generalities and "cheep shots" else I'm no better than those I criticize.

But...

I'll close by offering this analogy.

If the men and women working in the field of Engineering (something that I do know a great deal about and have a four year college education in) were to as a group consciously elect to perform their jobs in the same manner and with the same accuracy as many (but not all) of those working as journalists, we'd have Delta airliners falling out of the sky and Ocean Liners sinking to the bottom of the Seas on a daily basis.

Further, I'd never drive a new car across a concrete bridge ever again in my life and in fact, I'd be afraid to put a piece of bread in a toaster or Nuke a bag of Microwave popcorn for fear of having the house burn down or what little brains I have left in my head zapped with radiation.

How's that for an accurate generalization?

Pizza Revelation

A Saturday Night Tradition


After doing virtually nothing all day today (as opposed to getting virtually nothing done), I fired up the new oven and worked on my thin crust pizza recipe. The solution is coming along nicely, and I feel good enough about things to publish it for public consumption.

Here's what you need to make a nice 15" thin crust pizza...

For the starter dough:

1/4 cup of 110 degree F water
1 pack of yeast

3/4 cup of flour


For the main dough:

3/4 cup of room temperature water

1-1/2 cup flour
1 teaspoon salt
pinch of sugar

Toppings (add or subtract as you like, but you really should try this combo unless something on the list gives you hives or makes your spleen rupture or something...):

olive oil

1 pound whole milk mozzarella cheese, cut into little blobs and evenly distributed
Enough pepperoni slices to cover the affected area
Four (4) strips of bacon, fried crisp and crumbled
1 small chicken breast half--pan seared to about 140 degrees F
A couple of hand fulls of baby spinach leaves
Fresh sliced mushrooms
3/4 cup of diced colored bell peppers (I used orange, Red, AND Yellow)
1/2 cup sliced red onion
1 small can of sliced black olives
6 oz of crumbled feta cheese (put it right on top of everything when you're finished)

First things first.

Put your yeast in the warm water, stir it up well, and let is sit for about fifteen minutes.

Once you have a bunch of hungry yeast breasties, howling for something to eat, dump your yeast/water mixture into your 3/4 cup of starter flour, stir it up to form a blob of dough, cover it with a clean dishtowel, and walk away and ignore it while it rises for a half hour or so.

Make yourself a nice glass of iced tea or open a beer and watch TV while you wait.

Now here's the difference between thick and thin crust...

You DON'T do a secondary rise on the dough. It's just that simple.

You dump your 3/4 cup of water into your starter dough to dilute, stir it all up, then pour it into a medium mixing bowl with your flour, salt, and sugar mixture.

Stir, stir, stir.

Do you have a stiff, yet slightly wet dough mixture yet?

No?

Then add a LITTLE flour or water until you get it right, then dump it all out onto a floured surface and start working it over with your hands.

Preheat your oven to 500 degrees F.

Now the idea is to incorporate some more flour into the slightly wet dough, ending up with extra on the outside surfaces as you begin to flatten it out to form a crust. After two or three minutes of kneading, break out your rolling pin and roll things out to a nice uniform disk about 18" in diameter and 1/4" to 3/8" thick (I use a 15" pizza stone to cook on.)

When you're finished rolling, pick up your crust and carefully place it on your pan or stone (dusted well with flour), then fold and pinch the extra 1-1/2" of dough over around the edges to form a rim on the crust.

Next spoon out some olive oil (a table spoon or two) onto the middle of your masterpiece and smear it around the area inside the rim, then add your cheese, meat, and veggies, toss the whole thing into the oven for 17 to 20 minutes (depending on your oven), pull it out and let it cool a little, cut it into slices, then grab yourself a napkin and EAT.

I swear that there is a chemical reaction in my recipe that has the same effect of a sleeping pill, because I'm usually asleep within thirty minutes after eating my deluxe homemade pizza, regardless of the crust thickness.

My little Missy, the Turbo Pup, likes her pizza crust pretty well also, and tonight she ate her fill sitting there along with the rest of the family.

Life's good here on our little island...hope that the same is true for you.

Roof On...Dumpster Gone

Life Returning To Abnormal


Well, our roofers left here on Wednesday a little after noon, and a truck finally showed up to remove the dumpster from it's spot blocking my garage door about 3:30 PM yesterday, thus ending our torture in a mercifully short period of time.

The way things started, I was actually expecting at least a week long saga, but I was obviously wrong.

What kills me is how they managed to convert what should have been a one day job into three days of upset for the people residing in the property they were working on.

I guess that if you were born in a barn or spend your adult life living in a barn (with all due respect to Jesus) like most of these guys apparently did or do, there is a certain degree of satisfaction to be gained by interrupting the lives of "all them rich people" that live "out on that there island."

You might have to live here in Glynn county to catch the meaning and humor in that statement...

but any way...

As usual, the "professional" media is freaking out about the usual stupid things.

Things like hurricanes, the stock market, the housing bubble, and trapped coal miners.

I have to admit that I'm having a good deal of trouble lifting a finger and pointing it toward a keyboard to even offer an intelligent rebuttal. What can I say anyway?

The media is populated largely by the bottom 25% of each class of high school graduates and college freshmen that ended up in Journalism by default after they flunked out of the Music department because they couldn't play an instrument or carry a tune in a bucket singing.

I, on the other hand, continue to increase my mental powers and now spend my time contemplating issues far beyond the interest of the average human. In fact, I've discovered something akin to "Viagra" for the mind that is not only safe, legal, and readily available, but unfortunately occasionally causes swelling of my head that lasts longer than four hours.

When that happens, the blood supply to my brain causes me to look something like this:






I've got to go now and work on solving the world's problems...

Still Angry

But Going Away From Us

Latest Satellite Photo's In

Dean's Getting Angrier

Enough Said...I Think...

New Home Office

Information Overload


Have I ever mentioned that I've conducted my business from my home for the past 17 years?

Of course some of that time "my business" was "no business."

Some people call that condition being "retired."

Involuntarily or otherwise.

Over the past few years my property was downsized by choice and circumstance, until finally my home office consisted of a place on the sofa and coffee table. Since Pat also did her 8 to 5 work from home for a "real company", we always emphasized her office needs and gave her a a nice spot in a room by herself.

Not so here in our new Island Casa Grande.

It's super sized, and I've commandeered the formal living room as my own personal empire. Herein I'm in the process of establishing a computer workstation area, a drafting drawing area, and a painting/artwork area in addition to using the walls as a gallery to display my current and past work.

Perhaps the coolest part of the setup is my ability to connect the stupid old Comcast cable signal to my HP notebook and watch TV in a window while I work and blog.

Right now, in addition to watching Fox News, I have AutoCAD open in one window, a couple of browser windows open on the Internet, and I have the local Talk Radio Show playing on the Radio in the background.

I have a problem sometimes remembering which key to hit on the keyboard, but that's not in itself a bad thing...I guess.

Living In A Construction Zone

All Most Contractors Suck...


OK, don't start commenting and E-mailing me because your daddy or your brother or your husband is a contractor, because I--your lovely and talented blogger--are is am a contractor and have been in the contracting business for nearly 25 years in one capacity or another and I know what I'm talking about here.

Like I said...MOST Contractors SUCK.

That's right, in any given trade, specialty or area of operation, there is generally more work than there are competent, conscientious companies and more importantly--PEOPLE--to do said work, and so most construction, remodeling, and repair jobs are a serious study in insanity and human ineptitude and owner/customer patience.

Take our present home re roofing project, for example.

We found out on Saturday that our landlord had taken my advice and gotten some quotes on doing a new roof here at our new island home. Instead of getting the work done BEFORE we moved in, the late departure of the previous tenant and various other factors like procrastination caused her to wait until NOW to execute the project.

They were supposed to start work Monday at 9 AM.

Hurray...a new roof...we ran around in circles celebrating and made the necessary preparations like moving all of the plants into the garage and sun porch, moving my Suburban around the corner to a retail parking lot, and battening down the hatches and scaring off all the animals and small children in anticipation.

Then Monday came and went...and at the end of the day we still had the same old roof and the plants were undisturbed.

NO CONTRACTOR.

Yesterday morning at 7:10 AM we were rousted out of bed by the doorbell and guess what?

Our Contractor had arrived, with five pickup trucks, a flatbed truck, a dumpster, and a fork lift.

"Sir...can you please move your VEhickle?"

I complied, and for the next four hours they banged and pounded and scraped and generally raised a dust storm.

Then about 11 AM they left, presumably to go to lunch.

We haven't seen any sign of them since, except that a guy came back a couple of times to steal a piece of aluminum flashing out of a box laying on the driveway.

You guessed it.

Our CONTRACTOR JUST CAME BY TO MAKE AN APPEARANCE.

Our contractor is doing two or more jobs at once with the same crew.

Our contractor is going to force us to endure what should be a one and one half day job for two or more days, and not clean up when he suddenly leaves the job site each day, and make us enjoy having a ten cubic yard dumpster sitting two feet in front of our garage door.

I spent a half hour cursing and sweeping the back patio, front sidewalk, and driveway off to ensure that our contractor didn't injure a human foot, dog toe, or car tire with his hastily created debris.

I have just one question.

Why didn't this rocket scientist just admit to the owner and/or the residents that he was running behind, and start the job when he could finish it in a single mobilization?

THAT would have been too easy.

THAT would have made sense.

THAT would have been considerate to the people that have to live on the construction site.

But NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. can't do THAT.

Damn Contractors...

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Mean Dean Cometh

While FEMA Makes Me Wait...


Sorry about the light posting (OK, no posting yesterday), but between the new house, my consulting work, and planning for the construction of a giant Pyramid and my much neglected duplex project I'm a little past busy.

For those of you paying attention, the annual Perseid Meteor Shower was pretty much a bust down here on our little island because of the weather.

Sunday night, the peak, was obscured by remnant cloudiness from evening thunderstorms, and excursions out to the beach on my bike Friday night and last night met with conditions obscured by the evening "salt haze" that sometimes blows in off the ocean in warm conditions.

Oh well, at least I tried.

Meanwhile, all you have to do is turn on the TV to see what could possibly be our next weather event down here...soon to be Hurricane Dean:




Of course there is a good deal of leeway as to it's final track, but if you live anywhere between Puerto Rico and NY City you better be paying close attention starting about Friday of this week.

We still have our fingers crossed here as we have 17 days left in our waiting period for our new flood insurance to take effect on the new house.

Time to go get some more CAD work done...

Does Anyone But Me Not Care What The People In Iowa Think?

Yawn...


Just in case you haven't heard, they had something called a "Straw Pole" out in Iowa yesterday. I don't know if they were actually handing out the straws or if you had to think ahead and bring your own to the proceedings.

At least someone was smart enough to hold something resembling an election on Saturday so that the productive people that hold regular jobs could participate.

Of course it might not make much difference in Iowa because the brutal winters generally keep the homeless population to somewhere down around three or four people most years.

Homeless people favor warm climates like Atlanta, or even San Francisco because all of the Yuppies and old hippies have grown up feeling guilty and will actually pay you to be homeless out there if you will stay off of their street and not pee on the front door of their office building.

Any way, a bunch of people out in Iowa drove their Massey Fergusons to town yesterday and told America what they thought about the current slate of Presidential wannabes that are willing to put a "R" beside their name in November of 2008.

What is it about the state of Massachusetts that makes people want to vote for men from up there in that region of the country?

Looking at what we've gotten out of Ted Kennedy and John sKerry over the past thirty or so years, it would seem that the American people would run far far away from anyone from the Beantown State, yet here is former MA Governor Mitt Romney taking the lead by 14 more straws than anyone else.

Perhaps he could open his own Soda Fountain using his winnings as inventory?

Or maybe it's the baseball reference in his name...I don't know.

Any way, I just sit here and shrug my shoulders at the whole proceedings because it always amazes me that Iowa is such a big deal every four years. Most of the political elite on both sides of the isle generally consider people from Iowa right up there with all of us hicks from Georgia, Alabama, and Mississippi when it comes to intellectual savvy.

In my experience, when you own your "Sunday-Go-To-Meeting-Pickup" and your "every-day-working pickup truck" (and possibly a third one called your huntin' & fishin' pickup truck,) people in Massachusetts generally don't listen to much of what you have to say about things like Calculus and Social Security reform.

So what's the big deal about Iowa then?


Pandering?


Charity?


Just outright butt kissing, maybe?

I don't know, but now I hear that South Carolina is jockeying with the other states like the know-it-all-Yankees up in New Hampshire to be the second state to have a primary next year.

God help us.

The political elites and the left, along with all of the late night talk show hosts, will have an absolute field day with this situation if the trend continues.

Why don't we all just shut up and wait at least until the Democratic and Republican conventions next summer to start getting all worked up and hyperventilating, or maybe until November 2008 and let the chips fall where they may?

Or maybe they could line everybody up based on SAT scores or the state's average college GPA and have primaries...or better yet--play a football or basketball game to determine the candidates?

In my opinion, most of the people on the list these days are completely unqualified to run a Waffle House or Pizza Hut Restaurant, let alone become the leader of the most powerful country in the world.

Who are we fooling here anyway?

I remember that down in south Alabama we used to have this colorful fellow named Shorty Price that ran for virtually every office at the state level in Alabama in the 1960's and early 1970's.

Shorty was George Wallace's roommate back in the 1940's at the University of Alabama, but somewhere along the way they had a falling out and Shorty dogged George for the rest of his political career.

I say that if we're going to have to be forced to decide from a list making a choice between a bunch of unqualified Clowns, I wish there were a few more serious clowns that actually know they're clowns like Shorty Price on the ballot so I could make a conscientious selection when I finally go to the poll to waste my vote when election day finally gets here.

John Edwards and John sKerry are shallow images of old Shorty Price, in my opinion.

Shorty...where are you when we all need you for some comic relief today?

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You Can Take The Dog Out Of The Yard...

But You Can't Take The Yard Out Of The Dog

Here's my little Missy, the Turbo Pup...freshly bathed and wallowing in the dirt on the patio...

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Comcast Bites

New Blog Effort In The Blogging New year...


Hey guys, take the time to visit my new blog, Comcast Bites. I'm gonna bitch and complain and also report the facts in our efforts to kill the Comcast Internet bait and evil switch business.

They just basically told Pat "tough shisky", because she called to activate the service and she has no proof that the representative told her she could have the $19.95 monthly new customer rate rather than their normal rate of nearly $50 which I could have gotten for moving the account in my name.

Screw Comcast, I have at least an hour each day to moderate this new forum of disgruntled and disenfranchised customers.

Got a complaint about Comcast...I want to hear about it.

See you there...


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