Midweek Freak Extravaganza

I've got a little time on my hands. I'm in the middle of three days off, I've run my errands, done some of the housecleaning I'd planned on, and I've decided it's a good time to take a break from preparing my documents for next week's visit to the tax lady. I looked back through my saved Google and Reuters email alerts, and my "ideas for blog posts" bookmarks, and realized I've got a backlog. While I like to do a quasi-regular Weenie-Waver Wednesday, it just seemed like this week's collection of sex offenders were more horrible and sad than entertaining. I included the clown because, well, he's a clown. But other than that, no weenie-wavers.

So consider this post kind of a review, a freak follies if you will--a little of this, a little of that, and the year's first Germany or Florida at the end.

Before I get started, a quick update on a former Freak of the Week: Mr. Garth Flaherty. Back in March, 2007, Garth was arrested for a series of panty thefts; police found 93 pounds of women's underwear in his home. In an example of why freaks like Garth are frequently found on this blog and not in an institution, Flaherty was sentenced to only 45 days in jail, of which 30 can be served as community service. So, after all those thefts, all those burglaries, all that damnable...creepiness, here he is: back in circulation with the rest of us.

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Part One: Women Behaving Badly

An unknown woman in Murfreesboro, Tennessee, popped her top so to speak: she removed her blouse and slapped a police officer after being asked to quiet down. Alcohol was involved.

An unknown Palo Alto woman created a disturbance at a local Whole Foods by screaming, stripping herself naked, and throwing her underwear before sitting down on the floor. Details were sketchy as to whether any passersby were struck by her unmentionables.
Nicole Josephson of Des Moines, Iowa, was arrested following a domestic disturbance at her home. Ms. Josephson argued with her boyfriend, Michael Hickman. That argument resulted in Ms. Josephson taking Mr. Hickman's pizza out of the oven and dumping it in the sink. Mr. Hickman took Ms. Josephson's hardboiled eggs off the stove and dumped them into the sink. Ms. Josephson stabbed Mr. Hickman with some scissors. Mr. Hickman retreated to the neighborhood tavern, where a caring bartender dressed Mr. Hickman's wounds.

41-year old Donna Sturkie-Anthony, of North Huntingdon, PA, was arrested after beating her 43-year old sister with the sister's prosthetic leg. The report does not indicate whether or not the offender yanked the fake leg off of the victim's body prior to beating her with it. It may surprise you to discover that this incident occurred in a trailer park.

Noted British testicle ripper Amanda Monti was sentenced to prison. The report does not say for how long, but it does contain this wonderful statement from Ms. Monti:

"It was never my intention to cause harm to Geoff and the fact that I have caused him injury will live with me forever. I am in no way a violent person."

According to this article in the Australian Courier Mail, and this story from The Sun, Ms. Monti became enraged that the victim did not want to have sex with her. She grabbed his sack, ripped away, and then tried swallowing his testicle. When she gagged and spit out the loose ball, an alert friend of the victim grabbed it and handed it back to the victim, saying "that's yours."

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Part Two: Australian and British Journalism

The Courier Mail "Weird Stuff" section has been a great source lately. In addition to the ball-ripping yarn offered above (which, I forgot to mention, also featured a gallery titled world's notorious penis-slashers and victims) I also found these stories:

Transplant eyeball sent to pub

Man dies in crocodile orgy (now you know that caught my attention!)

And, finally, I learned about a sad little Japanese man named Takahiro Fujinuma, "37, single and unemployed" who was arrested after calling directory assistance more than 10,000 times. Why did he do this?

Because he liked to be scolded by the operators: "I would go into ecstasy when a lady scolded me".

I think that I may seriously have to reconsider the entire Germany or Florida paradigm. It might be much more appropriate to do "Britain or Australia".

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Part Three: Send in the Clowns

Ugh. Michael Fernsler of Franklin County, PA, known as Chuckles the Clown, was sentenced to 26-52 years in prison for sexually assaulting children. Michael Fernsler was also known as Officer Fernsler, and was a foster parent as well. He performed at police and fire functions, and at a local church.

What the fuck? I thought that the combination of clown/cop/religious figure would not be seen more than once. I feel bad for the guys who worked with this clown; all the cops I know are as creeped out by clowns as I am, and I can't imagine they enjoyed working next to this freak.

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Part Four: Germany or Florida

Ok, you guys know the rules: guess the origin of the story, list your answers in the comments, and I'll name the winners in a day or two.

1. A sold cellular phone reveals video of a woman beating her child, leading to her arrest.
2. Neighbors complain about the scantily-clad model on the sign for a "gentlemans club" in their neighborhood.
3. A business owner fires three non-smoking employees for asking for a smoke-free environment.
4. A yuletide prankster torments his victim by placing Christmas trees in front of his house.
5. A man attempting to throw his old Christmas tree out of his apartment window falls three stories and suffers severe head injuries.
6. A travel agency offers a clothing-optional charter flight for customers heading to a beachside nudist resort.
7. A man sets his apartment on fire when he mistakes a bottle of gasoline for a bottle of booze, takes a big gulp and then spits it out. While smoking.
8. A hitman makes four unsuccessful attempts on an elderly couple.
9. A couple were fired from their jobs when their employer found out that, instead of attending a seminar, they went to an S&M dungeon on the company's dime.
   

Time for a hearty breakfast

Baby, it's cold outside.

And when you have to go out on a morning like this, it's important to have a good breakfast in your belly.

Just ask this clown.

A closer look at that bowl of Wheaties reveals that the clown has tried to jazz up his breakfast by adding what appear to be either prunes or cicadas.

Truth be told, what this clown really wishes was that he could have one of these fried egg with Swiss cheese and prosciutto on a biscuit sammiches that we like to make here at the compound:

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If you'll take a look at the music widget you'll see that I've changed the tunes for this week. It's all Mardi Gras music from now until Fat Tuesday. One of my favorite tunes on the list is "Jockomo" by Sugar Boy Crawford. It's the 50's R&B version of the song that the Dixie Cups later made famous as "Iko Iko". I got the Dixie Cups on there too. Maybe in the next few days I'll put up some more Mardi Gras and New Orleans related goodies. We'll be heading down there in March for spring break; it will be MizBubs and the girls' first post-Katrina visit. These next few days will intensify the anticipation.

I'd put up some stuff for Carnival, except that I know nothing about Brazil (other than I love their national drink, the Caipirinha). Maybe if we're nice Splotchy will share some of his wonderful collection of Brazilian music with us.

Stay warm.

This is rich

A friend of mine just forwarded a link to this here piece from Harper's Magazine:

The Illustrated President

The commentary deals with President George W. Bush's identification with a painting titled "A Charge to Keep", which GWB used as the title of his autobiography. That's the inspiring painting you see at the top of this post. You'll note that the rider in the foreground bears a resemblance to the current POTUS.

From Bush's book:

"I thought I would share with you a recent bit of Texas history which epitomizes our mission. When you come into my office, please take a look at the beautiful painting of a horseman determinedly charging up what appears to be a steep and rough trail. This is us. What adds complete life to the painting for me is the message of Charles Wesley that we serve One greater than ourselves."

Bush sees the rider in the painting, with whom he identifies, as a Christian missionary struggling determinedly against adversity.

Well, it turns out that the painting was commissioned for a western short story in the Saturday Evening Post in 1916, and it depicts not a Christian missionary but an escaping horse thief:

"...So Bush’s inspiring, prosyletizing Methodist is in fact a silver-tongued horse thief fleeing from a lynch mob. It seems a fitting marker for the Bush presidency. Bush has consistently exhibited what psychologists call the “Tolstoy syndrome.” That is, he is completely convinced he knows what things are, so he shuts down all avenues of inquiry about them and disregards the information that is offered to him. This is the hallmark of a tragically bad executive. But in this case, it couldn’t be more precious. The president of the United States has identified closely with a man he sees as a mythic, heroic figure. But in fact he’s a wily criminal one step out in front of justice. It perfectly reflects Bush the man. . . and Bush the president."

And there you have it.

Good morning. It's Monday!

Time to get your game face on and get back to work, you.

On a positive note (for me, anyway), today is actually my Friday. So I got that going for me.

The Compound Bloody Mary

Since Melinda asked, here it is--the official Bloody Mary that we make here at the compound. Sorry there's no picture (since I'm drinking coffee before work this morning). This version was a favorite at MizBubs' family Thanksgiving in Iowa for several years running. It tastes as good as the outstanding Bloody Mary served up at the Orleans Hotel Casino in Las Vegas. This is derived from a recipe by Emeril Lagasse.

Bloody Mary
(serves 10)

8 cups tomato juice (don't use V-8, and try to find a less-salty juice)
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon celery salt
2 teaspoons black pepper
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
2 tablespoons fresh lime juice
2 or 3 tablespoons Worcestershire sauce
2 teaspoons of Tabasco sauce
10-15 shots of vodka (we usually use Svedka as our house vodka)

Mix all the ingredients together in a big pitcher. Chill for at least a couple of hours, but it works best if you chill it overnight. Pour over crushed ice (but cubed ice works fine) and garnish with pickled okra.

Enjoy!

Fun with widgets random ten

I've always really admired folks like Beth, Dale and Splotchy who do cool things with their blogs, letting us hear their favorite music (and even, sometimes, the dulcet tones of their voices) when we visit.

I'm going to try something like that this morning. I've loaded my Friday Random Ten into the little widget you see to the right, so listen away. Here's what's playing:

'Deed I Do—Blossom Dearie

Eat My Words—Marti Brom

Across the Universe—The Beatles

Excitable Boy—Warren Zevon

Die, All Right—The Hives

Tombstone Blues—Bob Dylan

Raunchy—Bill Justis

Goin' Back to the Bridge—Asie Payton

Man Ray—The Futureheads

Honky Tonkin—Hank Williams

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As an added weekend bonus I'm going to throw in a recipe. This makes an excellent side dish or savory brunch item. What I did was take the basic bread pudding recipe from the Gumbo Shop in New Orleans, add an extra egg and some goat cheese, and substitute a couple of ingredients.

Savory Bread Pudding


1/4 cup of butter
3 cups of milk
1 loaf of french bread, a day or two old, cut into 1 inch cubes
4 large eggs, beaten
1 pound fresh spinach
1 tablespoon minced garlic
salt and pepper to taste
1/2 cup of sun-dried tomatoes, chopped (Costco has them in a nice 18 oz bag)
4-6 oz of crumbled goat cheese

• Saute the spinach with garlic, season with salt and pepper. Drain well, getting rid of as much excess liquid as possible
  
• Combine the milk and butter, heat in a microwave until the butter melts
• Pour milk/butter mixture over the bread crumbs in a large mixing bowl, let stand about 10 minutes so the bread soaks up plenty of milk
  
• Stir in the sun-dried tomatoes
• Stir in the spinach
• Stir in the beaten eggs
• Pour this mess into a greased baking dish or casserole and bake at 350 degrees for about 40 minutes.

I hope everyone enjoys the weekend. For me, this is like my Wednesday--I'm in my third day of my six-day work week. At least I can sense a delicious cocktail in my future this weekend...

On, Wisconsin!

Meet Ronnie A. Ballard of Madison, Wisconsin.

Evidently cheese isn't really all that binding, because Mr. Ballard was just arrested for repeatedly marking his territory by defecating in a laundry room, in people's laundry, and in footwear left in an apartment hallway.

Mr. Ballard has been charged with disorderly conduct, criminal damage to property and bail jumping. The judge also ordered him, going forward, to only defecate in toilets.

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I came up with one other candidate for freak of the week, this one from northern Europe.

A Swedish doctor identified only as "Doctor Anal" won an appeal in the Stockholm county court, overturning a warning issued by the Medical Responsibility Board. That warning came after the doctor used his technique to treat an elderly woman's headaches and back pain. The woman, after undergoing three treatment sessions, described it as "an incredibly offensive encroachment." At least after the third time. The first article I found is hilariously titled "Court gives thumbs up to anal massage technique."

The man has also been fired from medical jobs in Denmark and Norway. A Norwegian health board disciplined the man for telling Swedish jokes to a group of mourning Norwegians.

Doctor Anal believes himself to be the victim of a witch hunt. Says the doctor:

"I have a personality disorder, or rather a syndrome, a form of Aspergers. Just like Bill Gates or Einstein, for example...I have made it impossible for myself within the healthcare sector because I behave childishly sometimes. I am different, but cleverer."

HEY

Tom Jones and Shirley Bassey say good morning!

GOP Primary News

This news just in from the world of presidential politics:

It looks like having a great set of jowls

and a big-breasted trophy wife


just isn't enough to win the Republican nomination this season:

Fred Thompson Drops Out of the Presidential Race

This now leaves vegan gnome Dennis Kucinich alone in the low-polling candidate with an inexplicably hot wife category.

And you may ask yourself, well...how did I get here?

Ages ago (8 days in real time, 20 years in blog time) simian muckraker and presidential candidate Doctor Monkey Von Monkerstein tagged me and a few others with an interesting meme:

"The premise is: List five things that I never pictured being in my future when I was 25."

I've been thinking about this one. See, here's the thing--by the time I was 25 years old, I was pretty much on the path I've followed since then. While there have been surprises, my life now does not represent a total divergence from the life I would have imagined at 25. I was married, MizBubs was pregnant with our first child, and while I wasn't a cop yet I was working as a campus security officer and thinking about becoming the real police. So while there's undoubtedly stuff that I never pictured being in the future--the Interwebs, the GW Bush presidency and its open-ended war--none of the stuff that's ended up in my future is far out of whack from what I pictured at 25.

So the obvious thing to do is just change the rules of this meme. Instead of listing five things I couldn't picture in my future when I was 25, I'll list five things I couldn't picture in my future 25 years ago. Here goes:

• I didn't think that the union organizing drive I was involved in (at the now-defunct Kroch's and Brentano's bookstore) would lose. There's no way I would've imagined being involved in two more losing unionizing attempts 12 and 21 years later.
• No way I thought I'd ever do something like join the military, and I ended up doing that very thing just 8 months later, in early 1983, when MizBubs and I marched down Broadway to the neighborhood armory and joined the Illinois Army National Guard.
  
• If I had told anyone who knew me that I would become a cop they would have laughed their asses off. Not only did I do that, but I really liked the work and I'm now approaching my 20th year. I have a theory that much of life is driven by irony, and if you picture me at the age of 20, aimless, mopey, rebellious and hating authority, well...it doesn't get much more ironic than that. Now I'm not only an authority figure, I supervise other authority figures. I spend much of my time drunk with power, laughing maniacally.
• Own a house? In the suburbs?!? HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA... MizBubs and I were engaged for the first time, so we knew marriage was in our future, and we always knew we wanted to have kids, but we just assumed we'd be apartment dwellers for a long, long time. Back then owning a home was exotic enough, and the place we live now might as well have been Wisconsin, that's how far it seemed from Uptown.
• I never imagined I could be this happy or be having this much fun as a grownup. I wish somebody had told me this back then, so I could've enjoyed being in my twenties and thirties more than I did.

I tag MizBubs, Splotchy, Lulu, Tenacious S and Melinda June.

Making a few changes...sprucing the place up

Well, I'm sure by now you've noticed the new look here at Sprawling Ramshackle Compound. No, I haven't turned this place into the Eldon Dedini swankyville you see pictured to the right. Yet.

My youngest, whose blog is now linked as Penny Pigtails, sat down today and decided this place needed a makeover. I think she did a swell job. My favorite thing is the music widget; from time to time I'll throw in whatever pops up on the iTunes so you can have the Sound de Compound each time you visit.

That picture at the top of the page was taken by yours truly on a swamp tour in Louisiana a few years ago. Ms. Pigtails graciously photo-shopped a Gadsden flag over the Confederate battle flag that appeared in the original snapshot. The owner was wont to roll onto the porch and fire shotgun blasts over the heads of tourists, so I was told. I never got to meet him.

Sometimes I feel pretty obtuse

Like last night.

MizBubs and I found ourselves with some time on our hands and decided to watch Barbarella. I last saw it my senior year in high school at the old Parkway Theater on Clark Street, and it turns out MizBubs had never seen it. Our eldest, in her ongoing effort to dig completely through the vast junkpile of popular culture since 1940, had gotten it from Netflix recently.

So, here's what I want to know:

How come neither one of us had any idea that Duran Duran got its name from the villain in this movie? I mean, other than the obvious fact that neither one of us ever liked Duran Duran or owned any of their records. How did we miss that?

MizBubs noted an interesting reflection on attitudes toward aging in the swinging sixties. 42 year-old Milo O'Shea played Durand Durand, a 25-year old who has aged 30 years because he's evil. He was sooo OLD.

Also, am I a really bad person for liking sex kitten Jane Fonda waaaaay better than serious actress Jane Fonda? MizBubs said no, but I think she might just be humoring me.

Hopefully I'll have some time to ponder these questions, and many important others, over the next couple of days off.

John Edwards? Is he running for president too?

A new video from the John Edwards campaign:



How does John Edwards, now running statistically even with Obama and Clinton in Nevada, get only a tiny fraction of the news coverage that those campaigns get? Why does Mike Huckabee, a third place finisher in New Hampshire (like Edwards) get so much more coverage than Edwards? Here's an interesting analysis of media coverage during the week January 6-11. It's from the Project for Excellence in Journalism.

The mainstream media clearly decides on a narrative early on, and then crafts its coverage to fit that narrative. It is a disgusting spectacle.

And now, something for the ladies

Ladies, because the world is full of guys like Bill from that last movie, you might find yourself in the occasional dating slump. This film offers valuable advice:

"Grooming, and cleanliness, and letting the boys know you're around are all important."

Spend some time with Kay as she gets busy making friends with everyone.

Social Courtesy

Unfortunately for Bill the Internet is still 40+ years away, so he has to keep going to these parties and being nice to people instead of running a blog, digging up obscure film clips while in his pajamas.

Surly bastard.

Jamie Lynn Spears docudrama to air on Nickelodeon

According to the promo for this movie

"You will follow this girl as she gets into trouble, and finally learns the real facts of life which her parents never explained to her. In addition to the film there will be a brief lecture on how to use our bodies..."

muzak-free Friday random ten

I was driving in to work, stopped at a traffic light, and I got the strangest feeling. A sense that I was becoming kind of foggy-headed, almost sleepy, even though it was 8:00 in the morning. Then I looked to my right and saw the source of my growing torpor--it was the muzak van.

Resigned to my fate, I took a picture with my cellphone so that whoever found my body would know what had happened.

Then, lucky for me, the light changed and the guy behind me honked his horn. I snapped out of it and started moving, relieved to see that the driver of the muzak van wasn't wearing clown makeup, and I continued in to work. I enjoyed a muzak-free day from that point on, blissful in the total absence of what the muzak folks call "audio architecture".

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Here's the random ten:

Welcome to the Working Week—Elvis Costello

Bizarre Love Triangle—New Order

Foggy Notion—The Velvet Underground

You Know What You Are—Nine Inch Nails

Heroes—David Bowie

Whistle Bait—The Collins Kids

Country Darkness—Elvis Costello & The Imposters

Momma—Rasputina

God In An Alcove—Bauhaus

Dope Hat—Marilyn Manson

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I saw a cool little meme over at I, Splotchy. I've since seen more cool entries by Samurai Frog, Hot Lemon, Dr. Zaius and everyone's favorite mountaineering hockey ho, GKL, who scored a meme-killing hat trick.

Here's how it works, courtesy of Splotchy:

1. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Special:Random
The first article title on the page is the name of your band.

2. http://www.quotationspage.com/random.php3
The last four words of the very last quote is the title of your album.

3. http://www.flickr.com/explore/interesting/7days/
The third picture, no matter what it is, will be your album cover.

You then take the pic and add your band name and the album title to it, then post your pic.

So here's the hot little pop combo I'm promoting; they've got kind of an upbeat, Afro-pop vaudeville death-metal thing going:

Freak of the week, and the return of weenie-waver Wednesday

It's a new year, and here we are with the prospect of 355 more days of perversion and freakery ahead of us. So let's get started, shall we? We'll even have a little contest.

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Certain types of public exposure just aren't fit to appear in this blog's Freak of the Week feature. Girls Gone Wild-type displays by coeds, for instance. While entertaining in a sad yet arousing way, they don't represent the type of creepy, compulsive behavior that I like to spotlight. Likewise, routine stories about streaking, mooning and the like--they just don't have what it takes.

Women are seriously underrepresented in the freak of the week. Matter of fact, I think only two women have ever been featured. So, I was pleased to find a worthy female candidate this week.

Meet Marissa Rodriguez.

Ms. Rodriguez, a temp worker at a mental health facility for juveniles, was charged with two counts of Lewd and Lascivious Exhibition after she showed her nipple piercings to one of the girls at the facility. When confronted about the charge, she showed off the nipple piercings again. Flaunt it baby, flaunt it!

And man, check out that sultry gaze.

Moving right along...

Senator Larry Craig is back in the news as his attorneys appeal his conviction to the Minnesota Court of Appeals. On what grounds, you ask?

"...Larry Craig's attorneys are arguing the alleged hand swiping in a Minneapolis bathroom stall is constitutionally protected speech. Lawyers for the Idaho Republican also argue the bathroom encounter isn't criminal because it didn't involve multiple victims."

C-list reality show celebrities are always a welcome addition to any lineup of freaks and sex fiends.

Dog the Bounty Hunter sidekick Tim Chapman got caught in his truck in a shopping center parking lot, naked, choking his chicken.

When security guards approached he hopped into the front seat and drove off over the sidewalk, nearly striking the guard. Here's a splendid illustration of why people love defense attorneys:

Brook Hart, Chapman's lawyer, described the incident to the Star Bulletin as a "massive misunderstanding," claiming his client spilled juice on his pants and retreated to the backseat of his truck to change. When security guards approached the truck, which has tinted windows, and started yelling, Hart told the Star Bulletin that Chapman attempted to get away to avoid negative publicity.

"It was simply a man who wet his pants with orange juice inadvertently and was changing them, doing nothing wrong at all and believing he had sufficient privacy to do it," Hart told the Star Bulletin.

Finally, nothing rounds out a good collection of freaks like a member of the clergy.

Rev. Robert Whipkey, a Catholic priest, recently pleaded not guilty to indecent exposure charges.

Rev. Whipkey was arrested back in June for walking down a street in Greeley, Colorado. Naked. At 4:30 am. What did the good Rev. Whipkey have to say for himself?

"I'm a heavy man and wearing clothing while running makes me sweat profusely..."

Rev. Whipkey was investigated 8 years ago for "inappropriate personal behavior" according to the archdiocese, but that incident did not involve "physical or sexual contact with another individual".

Well. That's a relief.

Regrets, I've had a few...

But then again, too few to mention.

Until now.

I got tagged by the adorable, frequently raunchy, always awesome Katie Schwartz to reveal 5 things you regret and 5 things you don't. Go check out what she wrote, and when you're finished go and see what Amy Guth said about her regrets and non-regrets, and then check out Write Procrastinator's take on it.

I mentioned to MizBubs, over a delicious apres-work blueberry martini, that I had been tagged, and I explained the regrets theme. She replied that she certainly wouldn't want to share her regrets with other people, which surprised me. Turns out what she was describing as a "regret" was what I'd refer to as a mistake--basically, something I'd done wrong, someone I'd mistreated, some way I'd fucked things up. A failure. An embarrassment. Well, no shit, I don't want to discuss that stuff either.

You know that feeling that you wake up with when you wish you hadn't had too much to drink? Or danced like a monkey to Louis Prima, told a coworker "PIPE DOWN, FAT-ASS" and then puked three times before being delivered by a more sympathetic coworker to your front door at 3am, only to have your wife think you've suffered a head injury at work because she can't understand your pre-verbal grunting as you crawl up the stairs, and then you have to sleep until 3 in the afternoon the next day and you still aren't right, you know that feeling? Oh, wait, you don't? Well, anyway, that's not regret.

That's shame, and a sense of it is a healthy thing to have. Regret, in my opinion, not so much.

When I think of "regret" I think of sitting and wondering what if--not knowing what was behind that door you didn't open, what was down that side road you didn't take. I think of regret as a state of mind, a wistful way of looking back. It goes quite well with equal doses of melancholy and nostalgia. That's regret. And regret, especially in a middle-aged man, is (if you'll pardon me) regretful. I think of it as a potentially debilitating condition:

Main Entry:

²regret

Function:

noun

Date:

1590

1: sorrow aroused by circumstances beyond one's control or power to repair
2 a: an expression of distressing emotion (as sorrow or disappointment)
b: plural : a note politely declining an invitation

That's the thing about regret: most of the time, you can't do anything about whatever it is you're regretting. It's over. Maybe you can try and do better in the future, hopefully providing yourself with fewer things to regret as you get older.

I have said before that I am a lucky man, and things have worked out better than I ever would have dreamed 25 years ago. For a good part of my teens and early 20's I never expected to live this long; I had a difficult time even imagining it.

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Truth be told, I don't have many regrets:

1) I'm kind of sorry I never joined the regular Army or the Marines when I thought about it in the early 80's. I was already in the Army National Guard, and I came close to going full-time at a low point when MizBubs and I were in splitsville. Here's the thing, though-- I know that if I had gone, MizBubs and I would never have reconciled, and never have married...and I have had nightmares about not being married to MizBubs. So I guess this is maybe a semi-regret?

2) I regret not taking risks and traveling when I was in my late teens and early 20's. I wish I'd ditched whatever crappy low-income job I'd had at the time, taken my chances and done something like hitchhike across Europe. When I visited Galway City with my family in 2003 I had a strange moment. I had an intense physical sensation of sadness; sadness that I had not visited there 20 years earlier as a kid.

3) There are a few friends I've had over the years that I feel pretty shitty about not keeping up with. Same goes for a few of my cousins, who I love dearly but hardly ever talk with or see.

4) Sure wish I'd learned to manage money better about 10 years earlier than I did. It's ok now, though.

5) I don't know how I could've worked this, but there are times I wish we'd started having babies sooner, had a couple more than we did, and that I hadn't had to work so hard when they were in grade school. I wouldn't mind having a few years in the mid-90's back again so I could be a better dad.

Non-regrets? I got a ton of those. Here's a few for a top 5:

1) My crazy stalker behavior at a parish carnival paid off, and eventually MizBubs married me.

2) I've got two smart beautiful daughters who aren't embarrassed to be seen in public with me.

3) I've had a great career as a cop. I've been lucky enough to have a job that is at once its own penance and reward. I'm making an income that in my starving art student days I would've regarded as obscene. I've gotten to save someone's life once or twice, I've helped put some very bad people in prison, and I've been able to comfort people who needed help. I think, overall, I may be a better man now than I was 20 years ago. Lord, I hope so.

4) I was able to have some really good conversations with my dad before he died.

5) Did I mention MizBubs and the girls?

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This was an interesting experience. I'm reluctant to tag anyone specifically, but I'd encourage anyone reading this to give it a shot.

"There was no point in looking back, fuck no, not today thank you kindly. My heart was filled with joy. I felt like a monster reincarnation of Horatio Alger; a man on the move, and just sick enough to be totally confident."

--Hunter S. Thompson

Elvis in 1956

1956, the pivotal year, the year after which Elvis could never turn back.

Two songs: Heartbreak Hotel and Hound Dog. Watch Heartbreak Hotel first and dig his crazy energy. Watch him get gone on that instrumental break. He's playing with his audience, but not too much--it's a pretty straight performance. Ignore the half-ass horn section added on in the background by the TV people.



Now watch another TV appearance, this time singing the Big Mama Thornton number Hound Dog. He's got the Jordanaires backing him up; their job is mostly to clap and look spiffy. This time Elvis is definitely full of himself here--watch him tease his audience, grinning and goofing, telling them "this song here's one of the saddest songs we've ever heard." Check out how he pretends to start the song, then pauses, just to crank up the screaming from the audience. I love it. This man is having fun.

Happy Birthday Elvis

Elvis Presley was born January 8, 1935.

He'd be 72 years old today.

How cool would it have been for him to stick around like Johnny Cash and do something like Johnny's "American" recordings, free from the Colonel, free from all his fears of growing old, free from his fear of not being liked...



"Before Elvis there was nothing."
--John Lennon

Thank heaven for life's little routines

Little routines, such as the civilized habit of stopping to enjoy a cocktail. Ideally, for us, this is a Sunday afternoon ritual; our busy 21st century lives being what they are, though, sometimes we have to settle for Sunday evening.

Tonight's cocktail is a classic, one of the few cocktails not invented in the United States. It originated post-WWI in Paris, which makes it even swankier.

The Sidecar

Some recipes call for a 1:1:1 ratio, but we prefer the "English School" of Sidecar, a 2:1:1 ratio of cognac, Cointreau and lemon juice

• 1 shot of cognac (we use Meukow VS, a delightful inexpensive cognac, pronounced "moo-cow")
• 1/2 shot of Cointreau or triple sec (we use Caravella orangecello originale)
• 1/2 shot of lemon juice
• Mix the ingredients in a cocktail shaker and pour into a cocktail glass full of ice. Serve with a lemon twist.

*Note--the picture above shows a rocks glass and not a delicate little cocktail glass. Sometimes presentation isn't as important as getting your drink on.

Now I must get back to the bar. MizBubs wore herself to a frazzle shopping for clothes for our youngest this afternoon, and she is requesting another Sidecar to revive her spirits.

Hope you all had a wonderful weekend. Good night, sleep tight, and don't let Mitt Romney bite.

OK, it just hit me

So I'm sitting there with MizBubs, watching the Republican debates, drinking a little bourbon to take the edge off. And something's bugging me.

I keep looking at Mitt Romney, and something is just...bothering me, I don't know, and I can't figure out what it is. I mean, beyond all the obvious things. Like his pandering, and all the positions he's changed since deciding to run for president, and the inability to look at him speaking without wondering if he's wearing his celestial underwear.

Then it hit me.

Mitt Romney bears a striking resemblance to Bad Ash:

Well, ok, so Ash looks a little more unhinged than the Republican candidate in this particular photo, but hopefully you get the idea.

New Year Random Ten , looking back at 2007

Let's start with my first random ten of the new year. One of my resolutions this year is to learn some mad computer skillz so I can actually post music samples and not just these crappy song titles. But for now, crappy song titles is all you're getting:

Why Can't You Be Nicer To Me?--The White Stripes

Sal's Got a Sugarlip—Johnny Horton

Break On Through—The Doors

Terror Couple Kill Colonel—Bauhaus

No Time To Cry—The Sisters of Mercy

One Way Ticket—Bobby Lumpkin & the Kapers

The Pontiac—Tom Waits

You're Gone But I'm Left—Tyrone Schmidling

My Love is a Flower—Jonathan Richman & The Modern Lovers

Cypress Grove—Tav Falco

_____________________

Now on to other matters.

I tried this out last year after stealing the idea from my sister-in-law Kate.

Here’s how it works:

You take the first couple of lines from the first and last post for each month. You can edit as much as you want. Or you can just invent stuff that you never posted in the first place. And then you have it, your blog year in review.

2007

The Year in Review

January: Experts say all signs point to a massive attack by man-eating sharks some time in the new year.

Ever get stuck next to someone on a train, bus or airplane, and that person just really bugs you? Thanks to the wonders of forwarded email, here's a way of dealing with them.

February: Lulu recently posted a YouTube clip that purports to be the worst video ever. I won't dispute that claim.

Pissed off or depressed? I haven't decided which just yet.

March: DHL Import Express: One Invoice, One Currency, One Company, One Liver and Part of a Human Head.

I was looking through my clown collection for something disturbing to kick off the weekend. This is what I came up with:

April: I've been tagged by both Katie Schwartz and Johnny Yen, and if it's rude to ignore a tag, how rude would it be to ignore two? I had no choice but to comply:

Ask any of my close friends or family and they will tell you I am a model of rectitude and decorum, and would not normally even say the proper term for the female pudenda. But now that's changed.

May: Be proud, fellow midwesterners: it all started here in Chicago on May 1, 1886. The start of the 8-hour day movement...

There are three freaks this week. Let's have a little contest, shall we?

June: Here's a few tips if you're thinking about committing a robbery:

1) Don't get drunk before you commit your robbery

That's the nice thing about the Random Ten--it requires nothing but the push of the "shuffle" button and a little copying and pasting.

July: I had a bright idea the other day (at least I thought it was bright at the time, we'll see how it works out) of starting a blog to post pictures and descriptions of stuff I want to get rid of.

Sometimes I think about how my job has changed me. We all change over time, no doubt about it. After almost 19 years of doing the same job it gets hard to tell if the changes you see in yourself are a result of time, or a result of how you’ve been living your life.

August: Yes indeedy, it's Weenie-Waver Wednesday!

Today's story works on so many levels. It's got:

-Drugs
-Booze
-Driving while (partly) naked
-Christian radio personalities

I know you're all expecting to see another sex fiend for Weenie Waver Wednesday.

September: This man was, without a doubt, the best of all of us. There were no signs of depression that we could see, and he was literally the last person any of us would have thought to be at risk.

Beckeye and Coaster Punchman have sent me off on an 80's nostalgia trip. There are worse things.

October: Can't afford that Standing Rib Roast for the holidays? Here's an entree with all the panache, at a fraction of the price! Yes, it's a Wiener Tiara Bake

My friend Dena sent this, and I think it's a swell last minute costume idea: Make your own Christopher Walken mask.

November: It's hard to say goodbye to Halloween. Once again I'm having that post-Halloween letdown.

I just finished my last training run, a quick 3 miler. The starting temperature was 29, and what kind of Chicagoan would I be if I didn't throw in the wind chill factor, huh? That made it feel like 19.

December: A journey of 13.1 miles starts with a single step.

"I drink it when I'm happy and when I'm sad. Sometimes I drink it when I'm alone. When I have company I consider it obligatory. I trifle with it if I'm not hungry and drink it when I am. Otherwise I never touch it. Unless I'm thirsty."

NEVER FORGET

I owe you all an apology.

It's easy to become complacent. So easy to post drink recipes, and pinups, and pictures of the occasional predatory Santa. All these distractions have served to take my focus away from what I should be doing first and foremost, and the first week of the new year is a perfect time to correct the course.

What is it I should be doing, you ask?

Reminding each and every one of you that there is a war on. World War G. As I've stated before, mankind is locked in a savage battle with the order Crocodilia, and in this great nation we are specifically under attack by the family Alligatoridae--the alligator.

The most frightening aspect of World War G is the realization that certain humans have seen fit to cast their lot with the reptiles. In some cases a do-gooder "naturalist" might have convinced them that we can coexist with gators; more often though (certainly more than any so-called "authorities" would care to admit), drugs are involved. The alligator/cocaine nexus has been well-documented, nearly as much as the religion/porn nexus.

With that in mind, the news from El Cajon, California, is grim.

Christopher Shawn Hendry, Jr. avoided prison time and was sentenced to probation for illegally possessing an alligator, 27 venomous snakes, an illegal assault rifle, and a pistol fitted with a silencer. He also kept ammunition stored in his 2 year old daughter's bedroom, and had over 100 pounds of fireworks.

Sweet weeping Jesus on the cross, what kind of country do we live in that can't put a man like this in prison?

Of course the gator apologists in the mainstream media have downplayed this incident. Headlines like this one

Man Found With Exotic Pets in Home Sentenced

really don't paint an accurate picture. "Exotic pets"!?

How about a headline like this:

HEAVILY ARMED FREAK WITH HOUSE FULL OF KILLER REPTILES DODGES JAIL TIME

Now that's a headline.

_____________________

So, this is my pledge to you. I will never forget, nor will I let you forget. We will remain strong and vigilant in the face of danger. We'll stay focused. And, God willing, we'll prevail.

I'm going to start by posting these Alligator Safety Tips, courtesy of the South Florida Sun-Sentinel:

• ALLIGATOR SAFETY TIPS

• Never allow small children or pets near water by themselves.
  


• Do not allow pets to swim, exercise or drink from lakes or canals that may contain alligators. Dogs are highly susceptible to attack since they resemble the natural prey of alligators.
  


• Do not swim outside of posted swimming areas or in waters that might be inhabited by alligators.
  


• Alligators are most active between dusk and dawn. Leave alligators alone. State law prohibits killing, harassing or possession of alligators.
  


• Never feed alligators. When fed, alligators overcome their natural wariness and learn to associate people with food.
  


• At boat ramps and fish camps, dispose of fish in garbage cans. Do not throw them in the water.
  


• Never remove an alligator from its natural habitat or accept one as a pet. They do not become tame in captivity and handling even small ones can result in injury.
  


• Seek immediate medical attention if bitten by an alligator. Bites often result in serious infection.

Please, commit these to memory. They could save your life, or the lives of your loved ones. I would add one more to this list: stay away from that crack pipe, especially if you plan on hanging out near a gator hole.

_____________________

Finally, I'd like to unveil a project I began working on in 2007. This is just the prototype, so bear with me as I make improvements in the coming months (I gladly welcome technical assistance from any of you computer-savvy readers out there, and a grateful nation would thank you for your service).

Behold, the Sprawling Ramshackle Compound Alligator Threat Map:


View Larger Map

Remember, the watchword for 2008 remains

CONSTANT VIGILANCE !

Mmmmm...chocolate covered cherries

Happy National Chocolate-Covered Cherry Day.

All is quiet on New Years Day

What a day. I couldn't really tell you a single thing I did today, other than cook, but I mean that in a good way. The day just passed by in a pleasant, slow moving blur. Everyone relaxed, hanging around, talking. A perfect day for me to be the big shiftless hillbilly I am.

Today was a food day. I took a pound of sausage out of the freezer last night to thaw, and rinsed and put a pound of black eyed peas in a bowl to soak before we went out. The last couple of years I've gone running on New Years Day, but the snow and ice kept me from doing that this year. So I cooked, and I ate. I woke up before anyone else, drank some coffee and caught up on some reading. And then I started cooking. Breakfast was biscuits and sausage gravy--delicious and filling, and a nice lazy way to start the year.

Once we were sufficiently coffee'd up, and had some food in our bellies, the champagne came out. Today's drink was the Bellini; we cheated and used peach nectar instead of pureed peaches, and we used champagne instead of sparkling Italian wine.

Later in the afternoon it was time to start cooking again. Usually on New Years day I like to make hoppin' John. I was excited because this year I had a new recipe that promised to be more flavorful than the one I'd used in the past. Also on the menu were southern greens. I started the greens first.

Like all good southern vegetable dishes, you start with some bacon.

You chop a half pound of bacon, and fry it in a big pot until it starts to get crispy. Then you add a couple cups of sliced onions, and fry them with the bacon till they turn golden. Then throw in a tablespoon of minced garlic, fry it a little more, then pour in a bottle of beer, a quarter cup of vinegar and a couple tablespoons of molasses. Mix it all up, and then start adding your greens.

Lately we've been using the greens from Glory Foods, a mix of mustard, collard and turnip greens that come pre-washed and chopped. It saves a lot of trouble, I'll tell you, especially in January when the garden is snowed under and there's no farmers market. You add 3 pounds of greens to the bacon/onion/liquid mix described above and then you cook the whole thing on a low heat for about an hour and a half.

While the greens are cooking you can start on your hoppin' John. The first thing you got to do is rinse and soak your black eyed peas overnight

The recipe calls for a ham hock, but I cheated and used a big hunk of smoked ham, cut into chunks. You start by searing some ham in a big pot; after a few minutes you add a half cup of chopped celery, a half cup of chopped red pepper, a tablespoon or two of garlic, and a cup of chopped onion. Boy, does it smell good.

After a while you add a bay leaf, a teaspoon of thyme, salt, pepper, cayenne and a quart of stock. You bring it to a boil, and then reduce the heat and let it simmer for a little over an hour. I had to add about another cup of stock during the cooking. When it's all done you serve it over some steamed white rice:

We were going to make cornbread, but after a few Bellinis we just didn't have the energy. Which is kind of a shame, because MizBubs makes some damned fine cornbread.

_____________________

So the day went by in a pleasant haze of eating, lounging and drinking. Our youngest left for a sleepover, our eldest's boyfriend came by and had dinner with us, then they went out for ice cream with some friends. We popped in Kairo, the original Japanese version of Pulse. It was a cool movie, moody and dark, but I started to fall asleep and got up to go to bed. And then the phone rang.

It was an old friend of mine, technically an ex-girlfriend although I don't really think of her that way since I only dated her for a few months in my junior year in high school. She's one of a small number of people I've managed to stay in touch with since high school. From her I found out that one of my best friends in high school, someone I'd lost track of about 20 years ago, had died of brain cancer.

I cracked open a bottle of Knob Creek that my partner gave me as a Christmas present, poured a quadruple, and spent the next half hour on the phone catching up. I found out another girl I knew--my ex-girlfriend's best friend--also had cancer and was quite sick. We spent some time talking about our kids, talking about loss, about reaching middle age, and about the tendency of some folks in our age bracket to spend more time looking back than looking forward.

My friend Warren Stewart was one of the coolest people I ever met. He was one of those kids in high school who just had style and tastes that were developed far beyond that of any of his peers. He was wicked smart, and funny, and he loved good food and paid attention to good cooking years before I ever did. He was the first of my friends who knew how to mix a cocktail.

The last time I saw him was in 1984, when he visited me and MizBubs in Chicago, and I have vague memories of him and MizBubs dragging me home from a punk rock bar in the classic drunken sailor/crucifixion manner. I can't even remember how I lost track of him, and I feel kind of shitty about that.

It turns out Warren was living in Brooklyn when he died, and was loved, and will be missed by many many people. There's a memorial blog set up for him, and I spent some time reading the various entries. I didn't recognize the names of any of the posters; the lack of names from our high school years made the passage of time seem somehow more intense. I don't know why, but the idea that I had at one time been so close to Warren, and knew nothing of how he'd spent the past 20 + years, was at once disorienting and sad.

After a while I got off the phone with my friend, and went upstairs to tuck in MizBubs. She was curled up in bed reading, and asked how my call went. She had only met Warren twice, but they got along famously. I like to think he'd be pleased to see how we turned out. At one point I said that we've now officially hit middle age--we're at the point when we're starting to hear about friends getting sick and dying, and there's sure to be more of it coming in the next 10 or 20 years. Somehow, though, that thought's not depressing to me. It's just kind of curious, just part of the journey. Time marches on, and we all go on doing whatever it is that we do, and so does everyone else.

Tired and weary, or not, we must go alone. Hopefully we'll all find peace in the new year.