God Speed Terri

She is in His hands now. We shall see what shall pass from this morass.

The rudder is stuck to starboard

I have too much on my plate. Yeah, I know, you could care less if the peas are touching the mashed taters. I have so much cargo and booty to load and unload that I need some hands to help me with a full-tilt work party. There is an adage that I firmly believe, "You always have time for what you put first." The only problem is that there are about a dozen things that need to be handled immediately. Are ye gettin' the picture here?

My partner in crime, codename: Desdemona (whom, he said parenthetically, just had to remind me of what her codename is) has girded her loins for battle on a familiar frontier – how to inflict great pain help various dunderheads fellows with projects about which they have no clue been struggling. Lord knows we have been struggling with their struggles and it's high time they learned how complex easy it is to keep track of everything and ensure that nothing falls through the cracks and the ship is kept on an even keel. These noobs don't know a sextant from a signal flag.

The concensus is that they should be given every grief assistance we can provide; and I agree.

"Fetch me six-fathoms of waterline, ye noob, and make haste."

Flap du jour

Ah, the flap du jour rises dead-ahead!

I am in the midst of a tempest in a teapot! Standby for heavy rolls as the ship comes about. Blogger.com suxors - and has for the past two days. If we weren't crazy, we'd all be insane. Moveable Type and my own url are on the horizon off the port bow - 1,000 meters and closing.

Thus spake the Emperor!

My Letters of Marque have arrived from the the Empire! (or is that EmpiArrrr!) Take heed all ye Moonbats dwelling in the known the Universe (and outlying counties), me corsairs be await'n' ye, lest ye be caught off'n yer guard. Ye have been duly warned as I have been dubbed, and humbly accept the title of Imperial Privateer! Ye should read the Darth Misha's blog entry here.

My Imperial Commission:

We, the Emperor Darth Misha I, Lord of all the Universe (and outlying counties), Wielder of the Cluebat of Doom™, Terror of the Idiotarians and Defender of the Holy Clue™ do hereby command ye, ZiPpo the Pirate, as follows:

That ye will with these Instructions receive and accept this our commission or letter of marque which ye are to enjoyn with all expeditiousness and to publish and put the same in due execution, according to the full extent and import of the same and that, for the accomplishing whereof, ye shall have all the assistance the Empire can reasonably give ye.

That ye are to make known to us what strength ye can possibly make, what yer wants may be in order to achieve a favorable outcome so that on due calculation of both we may supply ye with all possible speed.

That ye are to take notice and advise yer Fleet and Souldiers that ye are on the old pleasing Account of, no purchase no pay, and therefore that all which is got shall be divided amongst them according to accustomed and honorable Rules.

That in case ye shall find it prudential as by yer Commission ye are directed, to attain high ground against all enemies of the Rottweiler Empire and God blessing ye with victory and Glory for the Empire, ye are hereby directed, in case ye do it without any considerable hazards, to keep and make good the place and country thereabout, until ye have advised me of yer success and received my further Orders touching the same, lest yer suddenly quitting and leaving the Enemy capable of suddenly returning, beget us new work, and put on new charges and hazards for the second defeating.

That, in order to do this ye are to proclaim mercy and enjoyment of states and liberty of customs to all that will submit and give assurance of their Loyalty to the Emperor Darth Misha I, and Liberty to all Slaves that will come in; and to such as by any good service may deserve the same; ye are to give notice that their fugitive Moonbat Plantations are to be divided amongst them as rewards for the same & make them sufficient Grants in writing, both for their Liberties and for their Estates, reserving to the Empire of Darth Misha I the fourth part of the produce to be yearly paid for the yearly maintenance of such Forces as shall be required to defend those parts that they may forever enjoy the safety and blessings of the Empire's benevolent rule.

That, in case ye find that course to take approvable, ye are as much as will stand with the same, to preserve the Imperial infrastructure; but if it otherwise appear to ye, that in reason ye cannot make good the place for any long time, and that the Moonbats and Slaves are deaf to yer proposals, ye are then, to treat it as a Wilderness and return it to that state, putting the Men-slaves to the Sword and making the Women-Slaves Prisoners to be brought hither, and sold for the account of yer Fleet. Such of the men that cannot speak the language of the Anti-Idiotarian Empire, or any new Moonbat, ye may preserve to be done with as you please, according to the needs of your Fleet and any individuals that may have done you good service during the confrontation you may set free at your first port of call after your departure or give unto them the offer of joining your ranks for the Greater Glory of the Empire. If any Ships are present, you are authorized to carry them as prizes for the Empire, and, upon their arrival in an Imperial port, they shall be appraised and you and your men shall be issued your prize money according to the fair and just practice of the Empire.

That, upon thy departure from an enemy settlement that is not suitable for occupation, nor of any further value to the Empire, ye leave no living being behind and make sure that any structures are razed to the ground, those structures not lending themselves easily to razing to be set on fire, to serve as an example to Enemies of the Empire.

That ye are to enquire what usage our Prisoners in Enemy hands have had, and what Quarter hath been given by the Enemy to such of ours as have fallen under their power, and being well informed, ye are to return the same, or rather as our custom is to return kindness with unparallelled generosity and unkindnesses with mercilessness, endeavouring by all means to make all sorts of People sensible of yer Moderation, fairness and devotion to the Imperial Doctrine of "treat us good, we'll treat you better. Treat us bad, we'll treat you worse", so that yer unwillingness and loathing to spill the blood of men may not be mistaken for weakness.

Ye have hereby power to impose Martial Law, according to such military Laws as have been made by me, and the Laws made by the Rottweilian Empire for the government of the Fleet, which I approve of as fitting for the Service; and hereby authorize ye to put them in execution against such as shall offend ye, having first published the Laws unto them, that none may pretend ignorance.

If any Ship or Ships shall be present, which have not any Commissions, have the fighting capabilities suitable for a Ship of Empire and has not engaged in hostilities against ye, ye are hereby empowered to Grant Commissions to them according to the form I have used, taking security of $10,000 for the performance of the same.

What Ships in this Expedition ye shall keep with ye under yer Command and then order and dispose for the best improvement of this Service, not suffering the takers or pretenders to sell them until they come into their Commission Port.

In regard as many things may happen in this Action which cannot be by us foreseen and provided for in these Instructions, therefore all such matters are left to yer well known prudence and conduct, referring to ye that are in the place to do therein what shall be deemed needful, thus wishing yer success and this Empire made prosperous and more glorious thereby.

We remain, yer Emperor

Darth Misha I, Emperor of all the Universe (and outlying counties), Wielder of &c &c...

Get Kinky in 2006

Dear Fellow Texan,

Thank you for signing up with my campaign! Today, Texans have no choice for their leadership except paper or plastic. Political parties are for sale to the highest bidder, and lobbyists control the Texas Legislative agenda. A fool and his money are soon elected.

Please forward this email on to your friends and family and tell them that you're supporting my Independent Campaign for Governor. Ask them to sign up to restore real representation to the Texas Governor's office here

Current Texas election laws make it nearly impossible for a non-party candidate to get on the ballot. Perhaps this explains why only 25 percent of eligible Texas voters participated in the last gubernatorial election. The career politicians are keeping the elevator at the penthouse floor and not sending it down for the rest of us.

Texas was founded by independent, courageous, honorable citizens. The last great Independent elected governor of Texas was Sam Houston, over a hundred and fifty years ago. Texas needs a strong independent voice, if it is ever to regain its greatness. If you elect me, I’ll be the first Governor in Texas history with a listed phone number.

Please spread the word, we're just getting started.

Thank you,


Kinky Friedman

Opposing opinions

Let Terri Schiavo live … Let Terri Schiavo die.

The winner loses; the loser wins. It's a morass at best; a briar patch at worst.

Please join me, I think I will pray some more.

Why can't the Supreme Court read?

What is it that the Judicial Branch of our government does not understand about the Terri Schiavo case. It's right there, under their collective snot-noses, penned by Thomas Jefferson and a linchpin of the Constitution:

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness."

idiots! This is Amerika America, isn't it?


Picture swiped liberated from Something … and Half of Something; via Reuters.

Gabriel Keys is arrested by police officers for trying to take a glass of water into the Woodside Hospice for Terri Schiavo. REUTERS/Carlos Barria

Gabriel Keys is 10 years old. This is a child, a child who has been arrested. A child whose only "crime" is to try to save another human being's life. A child who tried to give water to a woman who is literally dying of thirst.

Texas Roadkill Chili!

So you want to be a Texan! Well, get out the skinnin' knife and a big pot, you're going to need them both. All Texans are born with a recipe for chili imprinted in their DNA.

1 lb. of roadkill meat - I leave the choice of mystery meat, skinning and gutting to you, but it's best to do it under the cover of darkness, depending on the roadkill. This mystery meat can be venison (especially abundant in the Texas Hill Country), possum, buzzard (although rare), dog, cat, skunk, snake, mule lips, armadillo - whatever presents itself. Just drive around these Texas highways with a spotter in the passenger seat to find your mystery meat. This may also be ground beef.

1 large Vidallia onion - of course, any onion will do.

1 clove garlic

2-4 drops of Liquid Smoke 

1 TBSP oregano 

1 TBSP crushed red pepper - the fresher the better

3 hot peppers of your choice - fresh serrano chile peppers is my choice (whatever you like best, I start with 2 and go up from there).

1 TBSP cumin 

2 TBSP chili powder (freshly ground is best) 

1 can tomato sauce

2 longneck beers - I prefer Shiner, but you may choose anything that is available, sipped and added as necessary

All measurements are variable. It is like when your mom says, "Just add a little of this and a little of that and taste it." Cumin and chili powder and seasonings should be adjusted as the chili cooks - don't dump it all in at once. Keep a cold beer with you at all times and share with the chili pot during the cooking process.

The secret to good chili is practice and the art of adjusting your seasonings as you cook the chili. Always remember to make small adjustments and you can always add more; add too much and it will be difficult, if not impossible, to recover the proper taste! 

1. To start Chili, you must brown the meat of your choice in a skillet. Cut the strips small, you want it to "fall apart" after all.

2. Add chopped onion, chopped peppers (green and hot), minced garlic, crushed red pepper, cumin, oregano, and chili powder.

3. Liquid smoke is added next, Be very careful to use only two to four drops; this can overpower your chili. 

4. Sauté ingredients, cook until onions and peppers become clear. 

5. Add tomato sauce to a consistency of soup but not too thin. It is always better to add a smaller amount and if the chili thickens too soon you can always add more beer. If you get too much beer inthe mix, just add Masa Harina if you have any on hand. This is a Mexican corn flour that is used to make corn tortillas. Some recipes call for Masa Harina to add flavor to the chili. I have used it and it adds a unique flavor to the chili.

6. Let it simmer for at least two hours. No beans are allowed.This is not Yankee chili, for God's sake. If the mix becomes too thick, add more beer. I find that one sip calls for one splash into the pot.

Mmmmm … Texas Roadkill Chili. And never, never, try to make chili from leftover meatloaf. Of course, Stomps With Foot makes all the chili at our casa - and this is all made up.

On being neighbors

I think that many people really wish they were Texans. If you aren't a Texan, click the preceeding link. There will be a test. Here is a photo I took of one of our State Mammals - the nine-banded armadillo. Kind of ironic to see the cross on the grill of the semi isn't it! Mmmmm … roadkill chili! But, I digress …



There is a persistant flocking of folks to our great state and they are all welcome here, regardless of their origin. There is just something about Texas; especially about being a natural-born citizen of Texas. It's a pride, a certain swagger that native Texans recognize in each other. It's like a state-of-mind thing, a mindset, reminiscent of the open range and the true Texas cowboy humility that comes with being raised here. The state motto is: Friendship.

Several years ago, some very nice folks moved next door to Stomps With Foot and me, citizens of Iraq. Kurdistan to be more specific - a very long way from home. A dad, mom, and four children, two of whom are attending the same elementary school that my children attended. They are fluent in both Kurdish (sorry, I don't have a better name for their native tongue) and English. It is a hoot to hear them discussing matters and intermixing the two languages.

Very hospitable neighbors who invite us in for a smoke and some very hot, very sweet tea. We chat, while their Kurdish newscast is beamed via satellite to their TV in the living room. We sit on "Persian" rugs, not on a couch. We take off our shoes when we cross their threshhold. They share their food with us; bring us Kurdish specialties of every sort imaginable. Stomps With Foot and I are a little uncomfortable with their constant sharing - because we know so little about their customs.

We are learning them though, and are richer for the experience.

We talk about politics, the left, the right, the Turks and the Saddam Hussien regime. We discuss tragedies and world misery. We discuss everything one would discuss with any neighbor and delight in the faces of their young children.

I think I will barbeque a real Texas meal for them soon.

Welcome to Texas - one and all.

"You know, sandpeople."

Jawa hits the nail on the head, AGAIN. Please read his post, he once again proves the power of satire.

I am a privateer of the blogosphere

Letters of Marque
If there is one thing that blogging has taught me, it is that the Pajamahadeen, that is the backbone of the Blogosphere, is more powerful than I ever imagined.

From Rathergate to Terry Schiavo, from the McCain-Feingold Act to the Federal Election Commission, the blogosphere has proven to be a powerful tool with an astounding sphere of influence; especially considering the relatively small percentage of people who blog on a regular basis. "Google it!" is one of the best examples of success. Once your name becomes a verb, you have arrived. It is exactly like "Fed-Ex" it, or go "make a Xerox."

Some say that blogging is just a fad. I find it to be quite the opposite, it is the finding and exercising of a voice. A very powerful, collective voice – and more and more people are noticing its effect on America. Congress returns early from their Easter break, and the President of these United States head to the White House to sign a bill to sustain the life of Terry Schiavo. Is there a connection? Methinks it be so.

There are folks like Michelle Malkin who have kept me on my toes since I discovered her blog last year. There are folks like El Capitan, who are wonderfully creative writers that inspire me.

There are radical leftwingers and rightwingers assailing the MSM and making people think. Instead of gorging themselves to heaping helping of media pablum, citizens of the blogosphere are making an impact on everyone's life.

Every single person that I met at the Texas Blogfest 2005, this past weekend, impressed me. Some more than others, but all of them impressed me as real Americans, as real people and as real friends; each of whom has a unique opinion that is more than worth a listen.

I am a privateer of the blogosphere.

Texas Blogfest! What a hoot!

El Capitan arrived Friday afternoon for our weekend excursion to the long-awaited and much anticipated Texas Blogfest. It was, of course, even better than I anticipated. Cap and I walked into Humperdink's and my eyes met Mamamontezz's. Instant recognition! Clasping hand shakes, giving hugs and generally sharing in the festivities, I can say that Lord Spatula and LCBeth put together a fantastic shindig in Dallas.


Pictured above, Lord Spatula and Mamamontezz manning the live-blog web-cam, Friday night!


Pictured above, Lord Spatula and Denita Two Dragons - No they were not upside down!

I took my Macintosh PowerBook, opened her up and she immediately found the wireless connection. No fuss, no muss - logged in and started passing her around. Every die-hard PeeCee user, to a man (or woman) drooled over her fine design and ease of use. Seems there may be some converts from the Texas Blogfest! Yar!


Nice tight grouping here! Gathered around the web-cam for the live-blogging event.

LCBeth was there for an hour or so, then off to DFW airport to pick up more attendees! She and Spats did a fantastic job of coordinating the insanity! Thank ye verily!

My new friend Andy, showed up in the proper attire - wearing his kilt. Loved it. Here is a photo of El Capitan and Andy!


Where Right meets Left.

Susan Nunnely (New York actress, via New Mexico) showed up and passed out "Count Me Red" (as in Red State) wristbands. We all promptly put them on (except Blue State Mind stuck in Red State - Andy). I wish he had pulled it on so I could have had a photo of that!

Saturday, Lord Spatula concocted a fantastic pot of stew and we got stewed as well. Went through 50 Cohiba's (La Habana, Cuba) and commisserated with Humble Devildog and the rest of the crew for hours. Humble Devildog treated us to two bottles of 25-year-old scotch, which I must say, really made it nice to be smoking Cuban cigars. Humble Devildog is the kind of man that once you meet, you like! Smart as a whip, and it was a true pleasure to meet him. Even LCBeth sucked one down. But I have to tell ya, she really needs more practice at keeping it lit - consant, gentle sucking is apparently an acquired methodology which she must perfect.

Deathknyte was able to travel back to Wisconsin with a box of Cohiba's for his dad. My pleasure!



From left to right - BOTTOM ROW:  Lord Spatula's dog, Pup-Pup, Humble DevilDog, Imperial Serving Wench (and co-organizer) Beth, Lord Spatula, ZiPpo the Pirate (Arrrrrrr!), Delftsman. TOP ROW:  Eric (Denita's husband and the father of the cutest little boy), El Capitan, Denita and the aforementioned toddler, Emperor Darth Misha I, Random Numbers and the Random Spouse, Mama Montezz.

I pooped- opted-out of joining the gang for the shootfest at the D/FW Shooting Range and spent the day recovering from too much fun!

Thank you all - you made for a memorable inaugural Texas Blogfest! And thank you, Mamamontezz!

Mr. Sun is shining today!

Happy St. Patrick's Day everyone.


Get ye over to Mr. Sun's site! and click on The Gayness That Is Kissing The Blarney Stone slide show!

Well said, Mr. Sun! Now all I need to know is when we can start drinking the green beer.

The serenade of the barking moonbats

No barking moonbat comments about the Senate approval of the opening Alaska's Arctic National Wildlife Refuge (ANWR) to oil and gas exploration will prevent it from happening, they should have spoken up sooner; let their representatives know how they felt. The refuge is about the size of South Carolina (dinky) and extends a bit more than 19-million acres in northeastern Alaska. Drilling would only occur in ANWR's 1.5-million acre coastal plain. It seems like the moonbats are conjuring up pictures of Spindletop.

There will be no wild wells spewing forth as there was when the oil and gas industry was not regulated. That is sooo 1901! So 104 years ago.

Not going to happen, there will be strict guidelines regarding the size of the drilling unit, 40 to 640 acres, per unit, maybe even larger. It all depends on efficient recovery management.

Seward's folly, indeed, our biggest folly would be to not take advantage of this nation's natural resources

Look people, a drill site is not very large. Sure you have to bring in a thribble or a fourable - depending on the well's drilling-depth target, dig mud pits, and operate the exploration, but it's not like we are going to poison the area. I have drilled for oil and gas, and been an oil and gas operator in the Ft. Worth Basin in the past. Environmental rules and regulations from the Texas Railroad Commission are very strict, and any conscientious operator knows what needs to be done to protect the drill site.

Republicans put the ANWR provision in the budget resolution because budget bills cannot be filibustered under Senate rules, as Democrats the barking moonbats had threatened if any measure that allowed drilling in the refuge was tendered. The budget resolution only needs a simple majority for passage, instead of the 60 votes needed to end a filibuster on other bills.

Drilling supporters also argued ANWR could eventually boost U.S. oil supplies by an extra 1 million barrels per day, reducing U.S. dependence on oil from those ever so American loving folks in the Middle East. The United States consumes about 20.8 million barrels of oil a day and imports account for 58 percent of supply. Get a grip … focus.

Seems one is already barking at the moon and whining about progeny not being able to visit that fine pristine area of the Alaskan frontier and thumping on H2 owners.

Here is A REAL HUMMER! Probably holds 100 and took 99 cars off the road in the process:


Read Michelle Maklin's take on the latest flap-du-jour from our barking bretheren, who are sure to begin baying, in droves, about the oil and gas exploration in Alaska

Yeah, right, like they were going to go the the frozen tundra for a picnic any time soon, or ever for that matter. It is a mosquito infested, fly-ridden, biting insect haven for God's sake, and that is only about three months of the year when it is hospitable to humans. Sheesh. Show me your ticket to Alaska you enviro-nazis, then get the hell outta Dodge and go up there to picket and complain, as is your right as an American.

The leasing has yet to begin - it's estimated lease profits will be five-billion dollars – the exploration is years away. By then gasoline prices will have skyrocketed. Oil is already knocking on the $60/bbl door. Rapping your bloody knuckles on a tree might help you feel better, but I feel better already; knowing that we will at least reduce some dependence on foreign oil.

Map of the ANWR 1002 area. Dashed line labeled Marsh Creek anticline marks approximate boundary between undeformed area (where rocks are generally horizontal) and deformed area (where rocks are folded and faulted). Boundary is defined by Marsh Creek anticline along western half of dashed line and by other geologic elements along eastern half of dashed line. Exploration wells are coded to show whether information from them was available for the 1987 USGS assessment of in-place petroleum resources. Dashed red line shows the offshore extent of the entire assessment area. Map from USGS Fact Sheet 0028-01. http://pubs.usgs.gov/fs/fs-0028-01/fs-0028-01.pdf

Maybe we should annex Iraq and call it New Texas; screw the plans for retreat "disengaging," after all, our military bled and died there and continues to do so. That should keep the barking moonbats at bay – engage them in a debate about annexation, after all, that's what the war in Iraq is really about according to the left-wing democrats that know not of which they speak. but that is not unusual is it?

In the meantime, the barking moonbats should gaze upon my hero, Penn … (unabashadly taken liberated from American Drumslinger".

Pirates and their wenches!

Blow me down! My previous post about my pirate ancestry has yielded a most unexpected treasure. This comment, from my long lost who knows what kind of first, second or third cousin; once, twice or thrice removed. I am hopeful that she will send me an email, (see my Profile, Jennifer).

Well, I stumbled on your postings.
I, too, am a descendent of Arsene LeBleu. He was my great-great-great grandfather. I descend through his son's daughter's son's son. That would be Arsene Carmarsac LeBleu's son: Arsene LeBleu's daughter: Catherine M. LeBleu's son: William LeBleu Oakes'son: Shelby T. Oakes, who is my father.

It is nice to read your postings. I was never told about Arsene LeBleu growing up. I knew that my dad was cousins to the LeBleu's in Vernon Parish and that my grandfather carried the name. I remember hearing that if we looked very far into our ancestry, that we might find out that we had pirates in our background. I was really excited to see the photographs. Do you have more information or photos? I grew up in DeRidder but have resided in Shreveport for the last 30-years. I recently visited the geneology library in Lake Charles. It did nothing more than whet my appetite to hear and know more.

Sincerly,
Jennifer

Whodathunkit? My post about my ancestral pirate family, the illustrious Captain Arsene LeBleu has netted a cousin, about my age. I have more information for her, I just hopes she returns to this particular harbor and reads this post.

I shared her comment with my sister, codename: Tadabug; who promptly replied to my email with this mysterious shot across me bow:

" … you are headed into very, very treacherous waters!"

Well, shiver me timbers! Parlez Parlez! This will be fun, especially since I love stirring things up! I am thinking bastard sons and daughters sired by some itteration of the Carmarsac's. The results of this flap-du-jour should prove most interesting to this particular pirate, considering the promiscuous behavior of the scurvy dogs. Ah, pirates and their wenches!

Standby for heavy rolls as the ship comes about.

My Game Ranger comrades will understand!

No church Sunday

"Somebody STOP ME! This is way too much fun!

Thus sayeth ZiPpo – Part Deux!

Here be the link for makin' yer own signs!

Thus sayeth ZiPpo!

Sermon in Dallas!

Yar! Raise the gangplank and hoist the mains'l. Man the jib and fly the Jolly Roger!

Nautical yearnings …

Sometimes the simple beauty of this world, combined with the words of great poets, long since departed, stirs our soul.  

Sea-Fever

John Masefield – 1878-1967


I MUST down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face and a grey dawn breaking.

I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must down to the seas again to the vagrant gypsy life.
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,
And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.

Sometimes …

Gizooglin' 'round my blog

I went to Gizoogle to see what it would do to my last post. Compare the two, discuss amongst yourselves, while I work on a Piratezoogle website. Seems like that would be even more edifying!

Important questions from tha dogg

SWF's cousin, Codename: Ell Dee sent this ta me this morn'n bitch ass nigga. It raises some very important questions, especially tha last one mah nizzle.

To: GOD
From: The Dog

Dear God: Why do humans smizzay tha flowa, but seldom, if eva, smell one anotha?

Dear God: I'm a bad boy wit a lotta hos. Whizzen we git ta heaven, can we sit on yo couch? Or is it stiznill tha same old story?

Dear God: Why is there ridez named afta tha jaguar, tha cougar, tha mustang, tha cizzolt, tha stingray, n tha rabbit, but not ONE named fo' a dog? How often do you see a cougar dippin' around?We do love a funky ass ride! Would it be so hard ta rename tha "Nigga Eagle" tha "Cracka Beagle?"

Dear God: If a dogg barks his heezee off in tha forest n no human hears hizzle is he stiznill a bad dog?

Dear God n shit: We doggz can understand human verbal instructions, hand signals, whistles, horns, nigga beepa, scizzay ID's, electromizzle energy fields, n Frisbee flight paths. What do humans understand?

Dizzy God: More meatballs, less spaghetti, pleaze.

Dear God: Are there mailmen in heaven? If there are, will I have ta apologize?

Dear God: Let me gizzle you a list of just some of tha sippin' I must rememba ta be a good dog.

1. I wizzle not eat tha cat's food before tizzle eat it or brotha tizzle throw it up.

2. I wizzy not rizzy on dead seagulls, F-to-tha-izzish, crabs, etc., just coz I like tha way they smell droppin hits.

3. I wizzy not munch on Poser in tha K-I-Double-Tizzy shot calla box, although tizzle is tasty.

4. The cracka pizzle is not a cookie jar. 

5. The sofa is not a face towel. Neitha is Mom n Dad's laps.

6. The garbage dawg is not steal'n our shiznit.

7. My heezee does not belong in tha refrigerizzles.

8. Ta help you tap dat ass. I W-to-tha-izzill not bizzle tha brotha hand whizzay he reaches in fo' Mom's hustla license n registrizzles and yo momma.

9. I wizzy not play tug-of-war wit Dad's underwear when he's on tha toilet.

10. Stick'n mah nizzle into someone's crotch is an unacceptable way of steppin' "hello."

11. I D-to-tha-izzon't need ta suddenly stand straight up wizzy I'm drug deala tha coffee table.

12. I must shakes tha pimp out of mah fur before enter'n tha hizouse - not afta.

13. I will not throw up in tha car.

14. I W-to-tha-izzill not come in frizzom outside n immediately drag mah butt.

15. I wizzay not sit in tha middle of tha liv'n room n lick mah crotch wizzy we have company fo gettin yo pimp on.

16. Aint no L-I-M-I-to-tha-T. The cat is not a squeaky tizzle so when I play wit him n he makes tizzle noise, it's usually not a good th'n hittin that booty.

And, finally, mah last question –

Dizzle God: When I git ta heaven may I have my testicles B-to-tha-izzack?


Thanks, Ell Dee!

Important questions from the dog

SWF's cousin, Codename: Ell Dee sent this to me this morning. It raises some very important questions, especially the last one.

To: GOD
From: The Dog

Dear God: Why do humans smell the flowers, but seldom, if ever, smell one another?

Dear God: When we get to heaven, can we sit on your couch? Or is it still the same old story?

Dear God: Why are there cars named after the jaguar, the cougar, the mustang, the colt, the stingray, and the rabbit, but not ONE named for a dog? How often do you see a cougar riding around?  We do love a nice ride! Would it be so hard to rename the "Chrysler Eagle" the "Chrysler Beagle?"

Dear God: If a dog barks his head off in the forest and no human hears him, is he still a bad dog?

Dear God: We dogs can understand human verbal  instructions, hand signals, whistles, horns, clickers, beepers, scent ID's, electromagnetic energy fields, and Frisbee flight paths. What do humans understand?

Dear God: More meatballs, less spaghetti, please. 

Dear God: Are there mailmen in heaven? If there are, will I have to apologize?

Dear God: Let me give you a list of just some of  the things I must remember to be a good dog.

1. I will not eat the cat's food before they eat it or after they throw it up.

2. I will not roll on dead seagulls, fish, crabs, etc., just  because I like the way they smell.

3. I will not munch on "leftovers" in the kitty litter box, although they are tasty.

4. The diaper pail is not a cookie jar. 

5. The sofa is not a face towel. Neither are Mom and Dad's laps.

6. The garbage man is not stealing our stuff.

7. My head does not belong in the refrigerator.

8. I will not bite the officer's hand when he reaches in for Mom's driver's license and registration.

9. I will not play tug-of-war with Dad's underwear when he's on the toilet.

10. Sticking my nose into someone's crotch is an  unacceptable way of saying  "hello."

11. I don't need to suddenly stand straight up when I'm under the coffee table.

12. I must shake the rainwater out of my fur before entering the house - not after.

13. I will not throw up in the car. 

14. I will not come in from outside and immediately drag my butt.

15. I will not sit in the middle of the living room and lick my crotch when we have company.

16. The cat is not a 'squeaky toy' so when I play  with  him and he makes that noise, it's usually not a good thing.

And, finally, my last question …

Dear God: When I get to heaven may I have my  testicles back?

Thanks, Ell Dee!

This makes perfect sense … NOT!

The headline on Yahoo this morning reads:

Ga. Courthouse Reopens Amid Tight Security

Followed with the byline: ELIOTT C. McLAUGHLIN, Associated Press Writer.

Mr McLaughlin then proceeds to tell the reader about how nervous all the workers are at the Fulton County Courthouse and that it has " … reopened under heightened security in the wake of the slayings of a judge, deputy and court reporter three days earlier."

I think it is insane that the reaction of Georgia's officials after this kind of bizarre case, is to make people queue for half-a-block waiting to get cleared through security checkpoints. The horse has already left the barn, for God's sake!

Oh, wait, I get it! They're trying to prevent another attack by further inconveniencing those who work at and use the courthouse by increasing security; this way the local populace won't be reminded that it was a huge security lapse that allowed this to happen in the first place! After all, they must've had NO security for this tragedy to happen, and if one increases security, well, then the problem that caused the tragedy will be overlooked. Right?

The perp, Brian Nichols has been captured. That's good news. Now back to the queue for more security checkpoints. I always feel safer after the barn door is closed and security checkpoints reinforced. Does this scenario seem familiar to anyone else, or is it just me?

McCoy looked at Kirk and said, …

"He's dead, Jim," said SWF on Saturday morning. She was sitting quite still by her Lime RevB iMac and staring out the patio door to her "fairy garden." "What?" I inquired, as I poured myself a cup of Joe, and glancing up through though the opening from the kitchen to the sun room.

"My iMac is dead, " she replied, barely able to keep her take on this tragedy under control. "It's all because you told it to go to "sleep."

Ok, here's some background, folks, it wasn't my fault, really. Two weeks ago, SWF sat down at the iMac and got a dialog box that said,

There is really some bad stuff going on with this machine. It needs attention NOW.

OK, OK, I am the first to admit that I have neglected the houskeeping chores on that old machine. It only runs Mac OS 9.2.2, and she has been keeping it on, 24/7 since last year, because of the neglect and constant reboot required when there are MAJOR DISK ERRORS. So, I started trouble shooting. Remember, this was two weeks ago. First, I suggested she rebuild the desktop. "Wha?" was her reply. I sat down at the old Lime iMac, carressed her gentle curves to re-establish rapport and restarted, invoking the command+option keys on reboot to rebuild the desktop. No good. I assured the iMac that I did, indeed, wish to rebuild the desktop but it refused. Once again it displayed it's dialog box requesting I bring out the big guns to help it.

SWF never throws anything away, and that is a good thing. We found an OS 9 version of Norton's Disk Doctor and I inserted the CD, restarted while holding down the C key and waited. Nothing. Nothing but a flashing folder with a question mark. Hmmmmm. I restarted two more times, holding down the C key to boot from the CD before it took hold. YES! Ran Disk Doctor. MAJOR ERROR, blah blah in bTree... do you want me to fix it? Yes, I replied. Then I received the dreaded, "Disk Doctor can't fix this mofo, shall I try again?" YES. Please, please, please fix it.

I went through the process about five times and it finally fixed all the extents and bizarro problems that it found. I restarted the iMac and it gave me the flashing folder with a question mark again. Reaching back to a long un-accessed portion of my brain, I remembered about "blessing the System Folder." Gotta tell you though, I pulled that one straight out of my ass. "You are a genius!" exclaimed SWF. It worked and I started cleaning out the hard drive, throwing away extensions and control panels that she would never need. Exensions, remember extensions? I booted with the OS 9 extensions only, and everything was fine and dandy, until Friday, when I suggested we tell the iMac to go to sleep after 30-minutes of inactivity.

Well, it went to sleep Friday night - probably sighing in relief as it was finally able to "switch-off" to sleep mode. Doink … deader than a doornail Saturday morning. I checked the power strip. Nothing. Unplugged and replugged and hit the power-on button. Nothing, no response. No power at all, not even the mouse laser was shining.

Well, SWF, he is dead. I will take him in tomorrow for a new power supply. She loves that iMac, and it's a lot less money to fix him than to go buy a new G5 iMac (which is what she needs).

In the meantime, she has an account on my G5 iMac, has dutifully begun using Safari and learning about tabbed browsing. She is going to hate going back to OS 9.2.2 when the iMac has a new power supply, but at least she will feel at home with Microsoft Explorer.

Those bush stumps don't stand a chance!

Mrs. Stomps With Foot spent the weekend trying to uproot a couple of bushes that we whacked back to the ground last summer. All that was left of these towering (8-feet) bushes were the stumps and the fingers that rose about two-feet above the ground. She got out the shovel and started digging around the stumps, gleefully piling up the rich soil on the driveway. Cutting off what she could with the pruners. She is dead-set on planting a garden of annuals in the place of these onery stumps.

She reappeared at the sun-room door after an hour or so and asked, "Where's the saw?" I told her to check my office tool stash and to look for the tree-saw. She returned with the hacksaw and asked, "Will this work?" "Well, honey, it's for cutting metal, but it will probably work. What you really need, though, is the tree-saw." With that said, she found the tree-saw and took both outside. She then commenced sawing on the remaining above-ground trunkage.

SWF spent the weekend wrestling with the stumps. I went out and did a bit of poking around with the shovel and those stumps are practically as hard as iron and almost as hard as her head! I told her she should stop wasting here time and energy on that project, especially after she got a nasty limb "snap-back" onto her left arm. That definitely left a bruise, and a cut.

The first time she asked me about removing the stumps I told her we needed about three good Mexicans yard-men. After further assessing the situation I suggested she call a stump-grinder professional out and get the dang things removed. I need her to have all her limbs, I don't care about the shrub's limbs!

Go here, do this!

The Online Coalition has written a letter to the Federal Election Commission over possible regulation of blogs and websites. You should read the letter and add your name and hit the send button!

Michelle Malkin says:

"A coalition of conservative and liberal bloggers has formed to help preserve and protect online free speech against overzealous FEC regulation.

If you haven't already been alerted to this issue then you need to get cracking by going here. There are plenty of links available for you to get the facts. Go forth and stir-it-up.

Old fashioned hand-tinting

After seeing my grandaughter's pictures yesterday, I decided to do some hand-tinting to the black and white photo. So here she is, my granddaughter, codename: Dunky!

Mrs. SWF has always wanted a black-and-white, hand-tinted family photo. I think I will have one done up for her at my son's (Codename: Jaeger) wedding.

Awww, my heart is doing the happy-feet dance!

Daughter unit: new codename: Mother Ship, sent me some photos of little Miss Bennett Renée! Wow! Mother Ship has a great eye - she undoubtedly gets it from me, but I just had to share a couple of them with you, along with editorial comments, as usual.

Bennett is almost two-years-old. With baby number two due in May. Now that will be an adjustment, as it is for all siblings when they realize they are not the center of their known universe. I think Bennett will handle a new arrival with style and grace! Righhhht!


Solid composition. Visually-striking grayscale with the chair and the shutters in the scene. Compare with the close-up below.


Capturing that moment of combined mischief and curiosity when Bennett is about to "hop down" (just a guess) from her throne to go grab the camera lense. A beautiful shot, especially with her hand on the chair arm, the open mouth and the implied impending approach. Man, I gotta get a sniff of that girl! I am having granddaughter-sniffing withdrawals. She smells scrumptious.


I love this shot! How much fun is that! Water to play with! When was the last time someone put you in the sink for a quick bath? And then picked you up and dried you off and dressed you! Well, that's too long, my friend.

Do Not Buy This Book!

American Traitor Bitch

I'm not fonda Hanoi Jane.

I despise the woman. In fact, Mrs. SWF can attest to the fact that I raised hell whenever she would put one of her workout videos in the VCR.

Hanoi Jane has written another book, to be released in April, 2005. It's not very creatively titled, there are a jillion books with the same name, but it's called My Life So Far, Random HLouse.

Here is a look at the cover on which you may spit.

Isn't she lovely, what a great fucked-up Amerikan, with her Martha Stewart turned-up collar.

For those of you not born yet, were otherwise occupied during those days, or if you were too stoned to notice, here are some archival photos of the memorable event, and a broadcast transcript of Hanoi Jane.


Hanoi Jane looking with admiration at the NVA anti-aircraft crew. (I am feeling nauseated.)


Hanoi Jane sitting on an AA, for Christ's sake. (I might not make it to the toilet before I spew.)


Hanoi Jane in living color, bringing death and torture to our troops in blood-red color. (Stomach contents really beginning to churn.)


Hanoi Jane - communism isn't just for North Vietnam anymore. (I could just vomit.)

The following  was submitted in the U.S. Congress House Committee on Internal Security, Travel to Hostile Areas. [HR16742, 19-25 September 1972, page 761]

[Broadcast]

This is Jane Fonda. During my two week visit in the Democratic Republic of Vietnam, I've had the opportunity to visit a great many places and speak to a large number of people from all walks of life - workers, peasants, students, artists and dancers, historians, journalists, film actresses, soldiers, militia girls, members of the women's union, writers.

I visited the (Dam Xuac) agricultural coop, where the silk worms are also raised and thread is made. I visited a textile factory, a kindergarten in Hanoi. The beautiful Temple of Literature was where I saw traditional dances and heard songs of resistance. I also saw unforgettable ballet about the guerrillas training bees in the south to attack enemy soldiers. The bees were danced by women, and they did their job well.

In the shadow of the Temple of Literature I saw Vietnamese actors and actresses perform the second act of Arthur Miller's play All My Sons, and this was very moving to me - the fact that artists here are translating and performing American plays while US imperialists are bombing their country.

I cherish the memory of the blushing militia girls on the roof of their factory, encouraging one of their sisters as she sang a song praising the blue sky of Vietnam - these women, who are so gentle and poetic, whose voices are so beautiful, but who, when American planes are bombing their city, become such good fighters.

I cherish the way a farmer evacuated from Hanoi, without hesitation, offered me, an American, their best individual bomb shelter while US bombs fell near by. The daughter and I, in fact, shared the shelter wrapped in each others arms, cheek against cheek. It was on the road back from Nam Dinh, where I had witnessed the systematic destruction of civilian targets- schools, hospitals, pagodas, the factories, houses, and the dike system.

As I left the United States two weeks ago, Nixon was again telling the American people that he was winding down the war, but in the rubble-strewn streets of Nam Dinh, his words echoed with sinister (words indistinct) of a true killer. And like the young Vietnamese woman I held in my arms clinging to me tightly - and I pressed my cheek against hers- I thought, this is a war against Vietnam perhaps, but the tragedy is America's.

One thing that I have learned beyond a shadow of a doubt since I've been in this country is that Nixon will never be able to break the spirit of these people; he'll never be able to turn Vietnam, north and south, into a neo-colony of the United States by bombing, by invading, by attacking in any way. One has only to go into the countryside and listen to the peasants describe the lives they led before the revolution to understand why every bomb that is dropped only strengthens their determination to resist. I've spoken to many peasants who talked about the days when their parents had to sell themselves to landlords as virtually slaves, when there were very few schools and much illiteracy, inadequate medical care, when they were not masters of their own lives.

But now, despite the bombs, despite the crimes being created- being committed against them by Richard Nixon, these people own their own land, build their own schools - the children learning, literacy - illiteracy is being wiped out, there is no more prostitution as there was during the time when this was a French colony. In other words, the people have taken power into their own hands, and they are controlling their own lives.

And after 4,000 years of struggling against nature and foreign invaders - and the last 25 years, prior to the revolution, of struggling against French colonialism - I don't think that the people of Vietnam are about to compromise in any way, shape or form about the freedom and independence of their country, and I think Richard Nixon would do well to read Vietnamese history, particularly their poetry, and particularly the poetry written by Ho Chi Minh.

[recording ends]

Gee, Jane-you-ignorant-slut, you make it all sound so wonderful. I was there and lemme tell ya, it was far from wonderful. The Hanoi Hilton had great room-service, and the attention to POW comfort was really nice, huh? Giving aid and comfort to the enemy is treason.

Many Veterans would have enjoyed seeing the following mug shot of Jane Fonda taken for her treasonous acts, instead of the bogus drug charge which was later dropped.

Hanoi Jane looking her best. Vomit leaves a better taste in my mouth than uttering that foul bitch's name. 

Don't you think she has made enough money on the backs of Vietnam Veterans? Do I feel strongly about this? Why, what would ever give you that idea?

Weapons red.

All it takes is money!

El Capitan has a wonderful post today. Here is a synopsis about this particular Blog-meme that asks you to list five items that you might purchase for yourself, if price was no object.

Blend that in with a few rules, "You must actually be able to take possession of the items you select without running afoul of local laws. No buying the moon or celestial bodies. And, oh yeah, nothing on the government-restricted armaments list.

Well, El Capitan wants a sword, and that is about as far as I got before starting to trip. The first thing that came to mind when reading his If Cost Was No Object … entry and seeing he wanted a sword was Kill Bill and my very own Hattori Hanzo Sword.

OMG, I found this!


My List

1. Bill's Demon Hattori Hanzo Kill Bill Movie Sword. This sword was seen in the scene where Bill shoots Beatrix with a tranquilizer gun! I have got to get one of these – all I have to do is convince Mrs. SWF that we can "baby-proof" it when the grandchildren come to visit. David Carradine has always been a hero to me, since the days of his Kung Fu television series. Can you imagine! Wow, I am still stunned that this item is available. Only two left, buy yours today


You have got to see this! Click the image.

2. Then there is my dream mode of transportation, the flying car! I would commission Burt Rutan and Scaled Composites to do that for me. After all, If George Jetson had one, it can't be that difficult to create. All it takes is money.



3. The late Gene Roddenberry came up with the transporter for Star Trek. I would need one of those as well, so I could beam myself from here to there - and carry my lighter with me when my destination was beyond the range of my flying car! I would have Stephen Hawking figure out the physics involved.



4. Land. I find that the older I get, the more land I desire. Land is the source of all wealth. So I would have to have land rich in oil and minerals. I would buy, outright, the title to all the land in The Great Republic of Texas and secede. Talk about a constant stream of income!



5. Finally, being the magnanimously-beneficient man that I am, I would give teachers a pay increase of $1,000,000 per year. Yes, teachers. God bless them all, for they are truly special people who deserve more than what they receive. Pay them what they are worth, for God's sake!

So, Cap, send me the monthly rent for the Astrodome - along with the pet deposit!

Bloggers versus McCain-Feingold Part Deux

Blatantly pirated from An Emigre With A Digital Cluebat. Go visit!