James Dobson doesn't speak for me

I think that would be pretty obvious to anyone who's ever visited this blog. I still think it's worth saying.

Saying this, loudly and clearly, is a group of pastors led by Rev. Kirbyjon Caldwell, a pastor who led the benediction at Dubya's first inaugural. They've started a web page titled James Dobson Doesn't Speak For Me, and it's a simple, perfectly stated point by point refutation of every piece of nonsense that came out of Dobson's mouth regarding Obama's Christianity.

I just found out about this website when it was mentioned in a piece on Time magazine's website: Is Dobson's Obama Hit Backfiring?

By way of background, Dobson referred to a speech Obama made in 2006 at a Call To Renewal event, sponsored by Sojourners. Dobson accused Obama, the constitutional scholar, of having a "fruitcake interpretation" of the Constitution. He also accused Obama of "deliberately distorting the traditional understanding of the Bible to fit his own world view, his own confused theology" and "dragging biblical understanding through the gutter." Jim Wallis, the president of liberal Christian Sojourners, also responded with a good statement that you can read here.

I'll be honest. I'm a terrible Christian. I pray for a loving and forgiving God, because if you name the 7 deadly sins, I got most of them covered. "Backsliding" would be a polite way of referring to how badly I've fallen. But I do try, and believe it or not there are a few bible passages that I cling to and try to live up to. I especially love the Sermon on the Mount (ever notice how right wing fundamentalists love to refer to the blood thirstiest parts of the Old Testament but hardly ever refer to the Beatitudes?) and there's a passage from the book of Micah (6:8) that has always been a favorite since the first time I heard it:

"He has showed you, O man, what is good;
and what does the Lord require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?"

So you can imagine how pleased I was to see this referenced on the James Dobson Doesn't Speak For Me website. Here is the entire statement:

James Dobson doesn't speak for me.

He doesn't speak for me when he uses religion as a wedge to divide;

He doesn't speak for me when he speaks as the final arbiter on the meaning of the Bible;

James Dobson doesn't speak for me when he uses the beliefs of others as a line of attack;

He doesn't speak for me when he denigrates his neighbor's views when they don't line up with his;

He doesn't speak for me when he seeks to confine the values of my faith to two or three issues alone;

What does speak for me is David's psalm celebrating how good and pleasant it is when we come together in unity;

Micah speaks for me in reminding us that the Lord requires us to act justly, to love mercy and to walk humbly with Him;

The prophet Isaiah speaks for me in his call for all to come and reason together and also to seek justice, encourage the oppressed and to defend the cause of the vulnerable;

The book of Nehemiah speaks for me in its example to work with our neighbors, not against them, to restore what was broken in our communities;

The book of Matthew speaks for me in saying to bless those that curse you and pray for those who persecute you;

The words of the apostle Paul speak for me in saying that words spoken and deeds done without love amount to nothing.

The apostle John speaks for me in reminding us of Jesus' command to love one another. The world will know His disciples by that love.

These words speak for me. But when James Dobson attacks Barack Obama, James Dobson doesn't speak for me.

I don't think I have anything to add to that.

Post your spam random ten

Hot Rod Baby—Rocky Davis

Funguss—Skinny Puppy

You’ve Got Everything Now—The Smiths

Love Me Two Times—The Doors

Goody Two Shoes—Adam Ant

Help Me Somebody—Brian Eno & David Byrne

The Book I Read—Talking Heads

Mary Ann—Lord Invader

Kizmiaz—The Cramps

A Maiden’s Prayer—Willie Nelson

_____________________

There, the first part is out of the way. There's today's random ten. No time to install the tunes on the music widget though, got to get moving. Yes sir. Today's the penultimate day of this week's work week, and it's gone fast. Tomorrow is shaping up as a 17 hour day; the first 8 at my regular job and then the rest at what looks like might be a very interesting side job that I probably won't be able to discuss here. I've got another training gig lined up for July, and the house looks like a tree full of monkeys as we plan for our big July 5th shindig.

The heightened vigilance that the discovery of the Chicago River alligator caused will not be short-lived. No. As I said before there have been some scary developments in the conflict known as World War G. I have some important gator stories in the pipeline and I promise I'll get them to you soon.

In the meantime, alert reader Katie Schwartz sent this story my way:

So, a crocodile walks into a bar...

Australians are just as good as American rednecks. What better way to deal with a marauding crocodile than to turn it into a bar mascot?

_____________________

Remember a couple weeks ago I suggested posting some random spam on Friday along with your random ten? Consistency is not my strongest virtue, so I didn't do it last week. I forgot, ok? Still, I think it's a worthwhile idea, so here's this week's entry:

I sense the smallness in you, come over to the large side now.
--Jungblut

I don't know about you, but I get kind of unnerved when random spam seems able to sense my insecurity.

Happy Birthday Anthony Bourdain

Today is Anthony Bourdain's 52nd birthday.

Happy birthday, Mr. Bourdain!

The new season of No Reservations starts July 7.

Thank God

Thank God that in this crazy, mixed-up, gator-ridden world of ours, we still have pie.

Strawberry rhubarb pie.



I'm telling you, everyone should have a MizBubs to freshen their drinks and bake them pie. She looks adorable, and she even gave me a few fresh strawberries to muddle into my bourbon. Tasty.

Phrases I never expected to think of, let alone say out loud

For instance, this phrase: "hot chubby Latina midget."

Actually, there were two of them walking around the carnival tonight. Neither one of them had any tattoos visible, and I lost sight of them in the crowd. Really, though, only one of them was hot. The other just acted like she was.

Clowntime is over

Lately I've been clowning around, taking the easy shots with various clown-themed posts. I haven't been visiting other blogs much, and when I did visit I probably didn't comment.

I apologize.

_____________________

You might ask what's roused me out of my early summer torpor. I'll tell you what:

Alligators.

While I've been plodding along, ignoring my duties, there have been terrible developments in the ongoing struggle I like to call World War G. And I'm convinced that at least one of these incidents is due directly to my own lack of attention.

On Friday I decided to take advantage of a friend's offer to spend the afternoon canoing down the upper Des Plaines River in Lake County. I'd just worked the annual carnival detail for two nights in a row and I figured I could use the time relaxing in the outdoors. It sounded like a simple proposition: throw the canoe on the car, quick drive north up Milwaukee Avenue, put in, paddle, hop out and drive home.

Ask anyone in my family and they'll tell you I'm a hyper-prepared traveler, especially when it comes to outdoor trips like camping or canoing. I make checklists, I lay out the gear for inspection before packing, I spend hours going over weather reports and maps. I have never gotten lost in the woods, I have never had a tent blow down or leak in a storm, and I have never gotten dumped out of a canoe.

My preparation for yesterday's paddle consisted of looking at the weather.com website and cutting the tags off a camping hat that MizBubs gave me for my birthday. The thunderstorms that hit the area passed by around 1:30, the sun came out and we were on our way.

So here's what happened. I dumped the canoe the instant we put it into the river. I fell out sideways, cracking the side of my ankle on the gunwale, and went in up to my armpits. My partner who was already seated in the bow got thrown in headfirst, directly down into the brown water under the canoe. He bobbed up quickly, spitting water and gasping for air, relieved that he didn't get brained by the canoe.

We righted the canoe, drained the water out, and started over.

Pretty soon I noticed that there were a lot more mosquitoes than I'd thought there would be. I was not wearing repellent. Within 20 minutes we arrived at our first obstacle--dead tree limbs and debris totally blocking the river. We got out, crawled over the logs and dragged the canoe over without incident and resumed paddling. The current was fast, faster than I'd expected, and it had a way of whipping the canoes across the river every time you rounded a bend. There were quite a few strainers and submerged logs, and it was a more challenging experience than I'd expected.

We ended up having to get out of the canoe two more times, at one point wading through knee-deep water and muck for about 100 yards before we could get around the deadfall and back into the main channel. Ironically, we were able to get in and out of the canoe and maneuver through all these obstacles without tipping the canoe once. I helpfully pointed out to my companions that at least we didn't have to worry about alligators or venomous snakes.

Then the storms came. There's nothing like paddling by a golf course and hearing the lightning warning siren sound as you sit, exposed, in a boat out in the water away from any shelter. Since I was already soaked and half-caked in mud from our initial dumping, there was no need to put on the rain suit I brought with.

We saw a lot of nice birds, though--herons, waxwings, woodpeckers, a Cooper's Hawk and some goldfinches. And when I got out I was miraculously free of ticks and leeches. Still, throughout the afternoon it seemed like something was out of whack, and I couldn't figure out what.

Until I got back in the car and heard the news item: an alligator was discovered in the Chicago river. You heard me right. A marauding scout gator, right in my own backyard.

I've gotten sloppy, letting them get this close. Rest assured, it won't happen again.

My dog has a blog

Maybe, at some point in the future, I'll have something to say.

For now, all I have to report is that my dog has a blog.

Law Enforcement Quote of the Week

"He was a self-employed, part-time clown."

-Nassau County, New York police detective John McGee, referring to the arrest of the above-pictured birthday clown Alexander Zacarias for multiple counts of child pornography.

"Self-employed, part-time clown"...

Are there any scarier words in the English language?

Late night, half-ass Random 5

Being the shiftless hillbilly slacker that I am, I procrastinated and put off doing my presentation until the last minute. Friday afternoon I have to do a 7 minute presentation on the brachial stun, one of my favorite techniques. I picked that as a topic because I've done it a bunch of times and know I can fill the time easily. Good thing, too, because I also got distracted by dishing out Las Vegas drinking tips to a friend of mine who's planning a trip there soon.

So...

I really need to be in bed, like now, so instead of a random ten it's a random five this morning. I put them up in the music widget on the right.

Here goes:

Swordfishtrombone -- Tom Waits

Saving All My Love For You -- Tom Waits

Chelsea Hotel #2 -- Leonard Cohen

Hello Operator -- The White Stripes

Inside Me -- Jesus and Mary Chain

______________________

We did make it out to Tiki Terrace Wednesday night, and we were damn near heartbroke to find out we missed Amy Guth. She arrived there a half hour or so before we did, and split shortly thereafter in the face of a capacity crowd.

The brothers did a fine job and the place was full. We may have missed Ms. Guth, but we got there in time to watch a half dozen red hat ladies knock back the rest of their drinks and roll out tipsy. I managed to take just this one photo of the interior, but you can get an idea of the love that went into the place. This is a photo of the stage:



The taro chips were mighty tasty, and they have dropped the ill-conceived spam sushi from the menu. Life moves on.

On Friday, June 27, they're doing an Elvis "Aloha from Hawaii" dinner revue. Tickets are $17.50 and include grub. I think I might need to go see this.

Finally, it's Tiki Night

Remember, Wednesday, June 11 is the grand re-opening of Tiki Terrace at 1591 Lee St, Des Plaines.

MizBubs and I will be there some time after 7. Hope you can make it!

I'll tell you who that clown is

That clown is New York photographer/artist Cindy Sherman, shown here being honored at some gala event.

Much of Cindy Sherman's work consists of self-portraits arranged as part of a theme. In the past she's appeared as film noir actresses, and in 2004 she did a series of clown photos.

If you thought those other clown pics were scary, check out the cover of her book:



Sweet dreams.

That clown won't go away

At least, not until someone guesses who it is.

Come on. Isn't there a New Yorker or art fan among you who can figure this out?

Maybe a couple more pictures will help:

Yes, we're ready

The question is, what are we ready for?

In the immediate sense, I'm ready for the next few days of firearm instructor school. I know, I know, it looks like I'm preparing for the impending zombie apocalypse, but that's just the stuff I need for school this week: a handgun, three magazines, a shotgun, cleaning kit (the Otis Elite, a present from my thoughtful bride) eye and ear protection, 300 rounds of 9mm handgun ammo and a few accessories. And really, how cool is it that there is a gun-cleaning system named after the town drunk on a 1960's TV show?

One of the things about this class is, I have to come up with a topic, prepare a lesson plan for it, and then do a 7 minute presentation. This is pretty basic instructor development stuff, and I've done this kind of thing before, so I figure I'll have a little fun. Here's my proposed topic:

"Recognizing and responding to the early stages of a flesh-eating zombie outbreak."

Hopefully the instructor has a sense of humor.

_____________________

All this talk of zombie outbreaks has me thinking of bite wounds. And bite wounds make me think of my eldest and her ongoing experiments with special effects makeup. The other day she got hold of some dental casting materials--alginate, trays and plaster--from a special effects guy she met recently. This guy is making a set of fangs for her, and she's going to wear them at Flashback Weekend in Rosemont later this month. She's going to model the fangs, and then do a casting for anyone who's interested in buying a pair. She'll pass the castings to the sfx dude, and the purchaser will get a custom set of fangs within a couple of weeks.

In the meantime her dental casting experiments are providing us all with loads o' fun:



I told her that with these materials it would actually be possible to duplicate and then plant someone's fingerprints at a crime scene. She's only going to use her powers for good, though. She also asks, while you're at it, to please come down and root for her in the Zombie Pinup contest. She'll be the zombie nurse.

I'm proud of her.

Who is this clown?

It's a good thing I checked my class schedule last night before I went to sleep. It turns out that this class is not the typical 8 to 5, but is scheduled from 1pm to 9pm.

Which gives me a moment or two to give you this picture, and a question to go with it:

Who is this clown?

Tick-proof and ready for adventure

Ticks are disgusting.

Nothing ruins an outdoor adventure family fun day like the discovery of these disgusting little parasites on one or more family member.

Here in the midwest we mostly worry about catching Lyme Disease from these guys; out west it's Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever. But did you know ticks also transmit tularemia, tick-borne relapsing fever and, for those of you south of the Mason Dixon, something called Southern Tick-Associated Rash Illness?

The Centers for Disease Control offers a helpful page on ticks and tick-related diseases. It includes this handy chart on relative sizes and stages of development of common American ticks:



You might want to consult this chart, or the CDC pages I've provided, next time you decide to take a restorative stroll through the fields and meadows near your home. I'm just saying.

The eldest and I are setting out today on a quick run up to Wilton, Wisconsin, to meet some people from our church. We're going to camp overnight, cook a big pot of campfire chili, and then spend tomorrow canoeing down the Kickapoo river. Even though I have the cautionary words and advice of Grant Miller echoing in my head, I'm still looking forward to being out of touch with the rest of the world for a day or so.

Before any outdoor adventure I always treat our clothes with my favorite outdoor product, permethrin. Since finding out about this stuff, I have not found a single live tick on anyone in our family. It keeps off mosquitoes as well. And we no longer have to slather ourselves in DEET, which makes kissing MizBubs while in the middle of nowhere a lot tastier.

Starting Monday I get to cross another career goal off my list. I will be in school all week, being trained as a firearms instructor. This is the third or fourth time I've requested the training, and for some reason this time I didn't get blocked because of politics. This is shaping up as a perfect week: camping, canoeing, and non-stop shooting with a break on Wednesday for a trip to a tiki bar.

Good times.

Post your spam Random Ten

Down The Line—Buddy Holly & Bob Montgomery

Bertha Lou—Dorsey Burnette

Trust Us (Take 9)—Captain Beefheart

Because—The Beatles

Get Rhythm—Johnny Cash

Fatback—Link Wray

Blue Moon—Elvis Presley

The Old Main Drag—The Pogues

Armalite Rifle—Gang of Four

What Keeps Mankind Alive—Tom Waits

_____________________

I was sitting here with my coffee this morning, having just deposited the youngest at the steps of her school for the last day this summer, trying to think of something to write about.

I got nothing.

So, here's what I propose. In addition to Friday's random ten, why not post a random piece of spam, as a quote, with the quote attributed to its "author". So, without further ado, your Random Spam for today:

"Great things begin with your huge apparatus" --Martinenas

Here's hoping that you and your apparatus enjoy the weekend.

I can admit it when I'm wrong

Not too long ago, while conducting some interviews at the scene of a fire, I told a coworker that apparently one sure way to get the pervasive urine smell out of a nursing home was to set fire to it.

Today I stood in a soot-blackened room for a couple of hours while other investigators took pictures. After a while I noticed a little something extra coming through the lingering smell of stale smoke and charred wood. Something pungent, not the burned smell I'd gotten used to. Then I saw a nearly full plastic male urinal still sitting, blackened but otherwise undisturbed, on a shelf on the opposite wall.

My initial observation regarding the relative strengths of fire damage versus nursing home urine smell had been wrong, and I'm man enough to admit it.

Guess I better get busy

DEAD AT 82

cancer

I found this cheerful time-waster over at Twist of Lemon. Have at, folks.

Sore but happy

I've been thinking of making chocolate chip cookies without chocolate chips. I think that what I want lately is more stuff without stuff in it.

-Youngest Daughter, expounding on her new theories about seeking simplicity in her diet. She said this after a dinner of pan-seared scallops, grilled zuchini and asparagus, and ravioli with a light sauce of butter and caramelized onions. She cleaned her plate while telling us that she prefers "normal" food, and thinks it's a result of the way we cook.

____________________

I still didn't know what to make for dinner tonight when MizBubs, hardest-working gal in suburbia, dragged herself home from the library. Yesterday, while I was at work, she made the first official pork-based Sunday dinner of summer (baked ham, scalloped potatoes, a chilled salad of green beans, herbs and yellow cherry tomatoes, and an amazing fruit salad featuring pineapple, watermelon, mango and blackberries dressed with honey, lemon juice and mint leaves.)



It drove me nuts that I didn't cook any of it, and I couldn't wait more than a day without trying in my very manly and competitive way to match her.

Lucky for me I found a few slices of bacon in a ziploc bag in the fridge, and a frozen bag of Costco scallops in the deep freeze. When you find bacon and scallops you didn't know you had, well--dinner just practically cooks itself.

And I know this is late, but yesterday was also the first mint julep of the season. My bride cleaned up the garden beds, and our mint plant is about a foot tall and a foot around now. We've also got chives and garlic chives from last year, basil, dill, cilantro, marjoram, thyme and some extra lettuce. We've got rosemary, sage, tarragon, lemon thyme and thyme in planters on the back porch. For now the back porch remains the last trashy holdout, so there's no pictures of that.



So, yesterday's official Sunday Afternoon Cocktail is the mint julep:

• 8 mint leaves
• 1 oz bar syrup
• 2 oz Wild Turkey 101 bourbon

1. Muddle bar syrup and mint leaves together (for best results, leave the mixture overnight to bring out a stronger mint flavor)
2. Pour syrup/mint mixture in the bottom of a tall glass
3. Add bourbon
4. Fill with ice (preferably crushed, but we were too lazy to do that yesterday)
5. Top with a splash of water if desired, and garnish with a sprig of fresh mint

_____________________

You'll note that the hand holding the mint julep is bandaged and the manicure shows signs of wear. This is because MizBubs, girl dynamo, worked her fingers to dirty nubs this weekend. The de-whitetrashification of the yard continues. We had reached a point a few weeks ago where we were precisely one car up on blocks, one overpriced bass boat and a sofa on the porch away from total trashitude. I briefly considered giving up on cleaning up, and just using the pile of free wood chips as firestarter to end the whole mess.

But we stuck with it, and we're almost ready to enjoy the summer in the yard. The native garden in the front is weeded and doing well:



The vegetable garden is planted with kale, chard, lettuce, haricots vert, burgundy bush beans, Armenian cucumbers, radishes and mixed miniature gourds.

_____________________

Want to know the coolest thing that happened this week?

MizBubs, without my knowing, sneaked out to the backyard, back where the biggest bunch of wood chips had been piled. Under cover of night and early in the morning she worked swiftly and silently. With some basic hand tools, a 5 gallon tub of varnish and a sketchy plan from a 1949 Popular Mechanics she shaped those wood chips into a 17 foot long canoe! Boy, was I ever surprised!




On Saturday, when we got done with our chores, we took the new canoe out to Busse Lake and paddled for around an hour or so. Man, did it feel good. We haven't been in a canoe together for about two years, and we've missed it bad. We floated around and saw a raccoon nosing around the water, and saw a bunch of cool-looking birds that we thought were cormorants. Mostly we just paddled around grinning. At one point the wind kicked up and we were paddling directly into it. We both went quiet, and without saying anything we each started paddling harder to keep going into the wind. The feeling of shared exertion, outside, is perfect.

It wasn't until later that night that I realized that following several hours of shoveling and yard work with an hour of vigorous canoe paddling is probably not the brightest idea. Oh well. Sore but happy is not a bad way to go through life.

IT'S TIKI TIME!

Yes, friends, it's tiki time!

I just got an email from the newly-relocated Tiki Terrace. They've moved to what I've been told is a bigger, cooler space at 1591 Lee Street, Des Plaines. The place is run by three brothers who are all good guys, and they have a real love for all things tiki.

Anyway, their grand opening in the new digs is Wednesday, June 11. Here's what I got from the email:

Wed, June 11, The Official Tiki Terrace Grand Opening! Make sure to stop by on our Grand Opening! We are giving away 100 tiki mugs, raffleling the official Grand Opening-Hand-Carved tiki by the Zuziak brothers, offering a $3.00 Mai Tai all day, featuring music and dance entertainment by the Barefoot Hawaiian, and more! Its a once-in-a-lifetime Tiki Terrace event and you are invited!

MizBubs and I will be there around 7:30. We look forward to having a couple drinks with you. Seriously, short of a dollar a gallon drop in gasoline prices, or shooting off some fireworks, can you think of a better way to start your summer?

Here's a map:


View Larger Map

The pile is dead

Very first thing in the morning Random Ten

Diddle My Skittle—Peaches

Give My Love to Rose—Johnny Cash

Paradise Place—Siouxsie and the Banshees

You’re a Heartbreaker—Elvis Presley

Perol—Tropical Orchestra of Trinidad

Pretty Boy Floyd—Woody Guthrie

The Chase—Chaino

Road to Ruin—The Libertines

Let the Jukebox Keep on Playing—Carl Perkins

Mamma Mia—Abba

Everybody Ought to Have a Maid

Slap-happy Sunday

I'm still happily exhausted from last night's fundraiser for the New Orleans Public Library Foundation. We got home well after 1 in the morning, and ended up sleeping until 10:30. Ahhhh.

Amy Guth raised $4,000 in one night, and she is to be mightily commended. Watch her blog, because I'm sure she'll be posting a bit once Pilcrow ends tonight. I was thrilled that, in the end, I could use my powers for good by providing an armed escort to Ms. Guth when she deposited the proceeds at the bank. At one point one of my daughters asked if I was drunk, but then realized that it was just that my eyes had taken on that watery just-about-to-cry look that I get sometimes when people start talking about New Orleans.

What a wonderful night. I ended up bidding on, and winning, a rebuilt book from author Timothy Schaffert. He had re-worked a library copy of The Phantom Limbs of the Rollow Sisters with some doll parts and an antique key. My youngest fell in love with it. After the auction Mr. Schaffert stopped by and chatted, and my daughter told him that his rebuilt book reminded her of the movie Tideland. I think he took that for the compliment it was intended as.

Katie Schwartz... Katie Schwartz! She's now part of our family, and we look forward to her return in October. I wish I'd had more time to talk with her friend Jonuel (I think that's the spelling?) because he was engaging, witty, and a great conversationalist. Meeting Katie and her friend, and seeing the response that Amy Guth got to her inaugural Pilcrow outing, reminded me of the experience we had at Johnny Yen's birthday party last weekend. In all cases I was impressed by the ability of good people to draw other like souls to them, and the gift it is to be able to introduce people, and turn strangers into friends.

_____________________

So now, how do we enjoy a day with nothing to do? (yes, I know about the pile of wood chips, pipe down, ok, I'll get to them tomorrow when I'm done commemorating our war dead.) Here's how we spend a day like that. We cook pork, putter around, and drink something tasty.

Right now we have 6 pounds of boneless pork ribs grilling over hickory smoke in back. According to MizBubs the back porch smells like a restaurant. I made fresh barbecue sauce, which I think came out pretty well, and she's made a huge bowl of Maw-Maw's slaw, an Emeril Lagasse recipe involving cabbage, kale and homemade mayonnaise. There's a pound of fresh asparagus waiting to be grilled, and ice cream from Capannari's.

And MizBubs, bless her, decided to make today's Sunday Afternoon Cocktail: Sangria!

1 bottle of rose wine
1 bottle of Pinot Grigio
1 Cameo apple
1 Valencia orange
1 pint of blackberries
1 cup of triple sec

• Chop the apple and orange, and place in a large pitcher with the blackberries
• Add the triple sec and let sit for a while
• Add the wine, stir, and refrigerate for one hour
• Serve over ice and enjoy
  

Bottoms up!

Show the Pilcrow some love

If you're in the Chicago area, and you'd like to maybe have some fun and also contribute to a good cause, I got an idea for you.

Why not come to the Fixx Coffee Bar at 3053 N. Sheffield, Chicago, Saturday at 8:00 pm? It's a reception and fundraiser for the New Orleans Public Libraries, and a whole bunch o' hep authors will be auctioning off their rebuilt books.

Pilcrow Lit Fest is doing workshops and events all weekend, but this is the only one I can attend. Let's get together, hang out, talk with some writers and have a few drinks. Come on--you know you want to. I even put a little New Orleans music in the widget over there to help put you in the mood.

Groggy random ten

Good morning. I'm happily exhausted from my night out. For now, here's the random ten this morning. The list is heavy on music from my eldest:

Words of Advice—William S. Burroughs

Flower Pot—Captain Beefheart

Something About England—The Clash

I Am Forever—Rancid

Cat Man—Gene Vincent

Valentine #1—The Sisters of Mercy

Cry Baby Cry—Narvel Felts

Ayami—West African Rhythm Brothers

Cascade—Siouxsie and the Banshees

Ziggy Stardust—David Bowie

Another couple cups of coffee and it's back to the pile.

Alright, enough with the wood chips already

Nothing is ever as simple as you think it's going to be. Before the wood chips can be toted to the back yard, there's weeding to be done. And the creeping charlie was pretty thick in some spots, and then there were the weeds that grew through the boards in the back deck, and between the stones off the back porch, so that meant a trip to Homeowner Hell for some vegetation killer, and in between there's phone calls from work...you get the picture.

I finally got to work hauling chips, and after about 30 or 40 wheelbarrows full, this is what the pile looked like. Time to drop the blinds I think.

So far the best thing about today was a phone call that interrupted my work. My eldest came outside with the phone and a funny but pleased look on her face. "Dad, it's Katie Schwartz!" No shit! The delightful Ms. Schwartz called to say hi on her way to her fabulous downtown hotel, giving me a perfect excuse to drop the shovel and bullshit on the phone a little. I was dying just listening to her talk--she's a hoot.

Well, like I told her when she apologized for taking me away from my chores, considering the size of that pile it didn't matter if I worked another 10 minutes or another 2 hours. The rest will wait until tomorrow.

Because now it's time to get ready to go hear Schwartzie read at the Fixx, and my eldest daughter is coming with. Sadly, MizBubs is slaving away at the library until 10, and youngest is swamped with year-end homework.

FREE WOOD CHIPS

We got em.



The friendly folks at Birchwood Tree Service just dropped off what my eldest described as a "metric f*ck-ton" of wood chips. I called and ordered them on Monday, and here they are.

Now I know that Thursday morning will involve shovels and wheelbarrows, and eventually a tidier-looking back yard. The de-whitetrashification continues.

As an added bonus, we all get to hone our tactical driving skills as we pull in and out of the driveway. Good times!

I did not shoot the chili

I realized I committed a classic eats shoots and leaves error in my last post. For you chili rights activists, no, I did not shoot the chili. I did cook it, though, and we ate it. And lord was there a lot of it.

MizBubs, saint, knows that if I'm left alone I'll cook too much food. She knows that, no matter how well-prepared we are--for a camping trip, a party, a family dinner--there will inevitably come a moment when I turn to her, brow beginning to furrow, and ask "do you think we have enough food?" I've learned over the years to control the anxiety and to shop and plan accordingly so that we don't end up with 3 meals worth of extra food after having guests for dinner. It's a fragile state, though, and all it takes is one person to say "maybe we could use a little more..." to set me off in a frenzy of extra buying and cooking.

Which brings me back to the shooting range on Monday. Six or seven times a year my department uses an outdoor range in Wisconsin to train with our rifles. I've never had a bad time up there, and I've even managed to have a few perfect moments.

Another thing is that we eat well up there. Over the years we've had your standard burgers and brats, sure, and Italian beef, and your usual deli sides. I've been asked to cook two things: biscuits and gravy, and chili, and I've done them both a few times. The range master and senior firearms instructor both love country food, and I got the request to make chili this past Monday. They fueled my excess by insisting that I use more meat than usual, and they supplied the meat.

About an hour into the training I ducked back to the area behind the shooting booths and set up a little field kitchen for myself:



I have a few variations I do on a recipe I found years ago for something called "Buzzard's Breath Chili", an all-meat Texas chili recipe. Here's what the stuff I made Monday looked like while it was cooking:

Shooting Range Chili

Ingredients:

8 pounds coarse-ground beef
5 pounds ground venison
2 pounds bacon, chopped
2 large sweet onions, chopped
1 green pepper, chopped
2 sweet red peppers, chopped
5 heaping tablespoons chopped garlic
8+ tablespoons ground Ancho chiles
5+ tablespoons ground red hot chiles
2 tablespoons cumin
1-2 tablespoons Mexican oregano
2 tablespoons ground red chipotle
(all spices from Penzey's)

32 oz of tomato sauce
1 bottle of beer
1 square of Baker's unsweetened chocolate

• Fry bacon in a big pot until it just starts to get crispy
• Add onion and peppers, and cook about 30 minutes until they start to wilt
• Blend together the meat, chile and spices and add to the pot
• Cook the meat until browned, stirring frequently and breaking up lumps
• Add tomato sauce, beer, chocolate and salt to taste
• Cook at least one hour, closer to two hours is better
• Serve over rice

I used the burner from my turkey fryer, and if I'd known how much meat there was I would've used the turkey fryer pot instead of my regular chili pot. This recipe, by the way, is even better if you cook it over a campfire. We topped the chili with sour cream, shredded cheese and chopped onion.

Let's get some new tunes

I just realized that it's been a while since I changed the songs on the Sound de Compound. Here's some new choices for your listening pleasure, just click on the widget over there to check 'em out:

It's a Good Day--Peggy Lee
Dixie Fried--Carl Perkins
Golden Rocket--Hank Snow
Hit the Road to Dreamland--Dean Martin
I Just Don't Know What To Do With Myself--Dusty Springfield

I'm off to spend the day outdoors, shooting and cooking chili.

Please, not so fast

You can read more about Fucking, a town in Austria, here. They pronounce it like the Irish do, "fooking". I don't know if there's another town pronounced "fecking" but I'll try and find out.

It's a splotchy virus

Let me start by saying I am intimidated by any tag that requires any type of creative thought. Like this latest one from Splotchy. He's come up with another story virus, and it looks like he's coughed all over my salad bar and stuck his unwashed fingers in my soup. I have the virus now.

Here's a link to his original post, with the story virus recap.

This is the beginning of the story:

I had been shuffling around the house for a few hours and already felt tired. The doorbell rang. I opened the front door and saw a figure striding away from the house, quickly and purposefully. I looked down and saw a bulky envelope. I picked it up. The handwriting was smudged and cramped, and I could only make out a few words.

And now I continue:

_____________________

I looked up and down the street but didn’t see any delivery truck, or any car for that matter. No FedEx, no UPS , no creepy-looking porno'd-out conversion van with a half-assed delivery service sign taped to its side. Nothing. It's like delivery man just disappeared. I stepped back inside, re-set the deadbolts and took a closer look at the envelope.

Mentally I ran through the checklist of letter bomb warning signs. The handwriting on the envelope, smudged and cramped as it was, was laid out in a tiny, obsessively neat block lettering. It practically screamed recently-de-institutionalized loner with time on his hands. No ticking or whirring sounds, that’s good. No odd smells, no leaks or stains on the package. Check. Weight seemed evenly distributed, that’s good too. I decided to open it.

Inside I found a plane ticket to Pensacola, a business card for a lawyer in Niceville, five crisp $100 bills and a four page handwritten note. Well. This was different. I poured a cup of coffee, threw some meat to the dogs to stop em barking, and sat down to read.

_____________________

I now call on these bloggers to get down with the sickness:

Write Procrastinator
Katie Schwartz
SkylersDad
Splotchy
Grant Miller
Beckeye
Kirby
Dale
Justacoolcat
Bad Tempered Zombie

If you decide to get down, please link back to the original Splotchy post.

Freak of the week: midweek sex & death edition

That got your attention, didn't it?

Sex:

An unnamed Japanese civil servant was suspended for three months after he was caught surfing porn in his office. More than 177,000 times in July alone. The office computer filters successfully blocked more than 30,000 attempts to access porn sites. As happens with many sexual escapades, he was discovered because of an infection--his computer was repeatedly hit with viruses. He apologized but never did explain his behavior.

Death:

On, Wisconsin!

A 15 year old girl, a 12 year old boy and their mother in Necedah, lived for two months with the decaying body of their deceased 90 year old grandmother sitting on the toilet of the home's only bathroom. Why? Because the family's self-described "bishop" told them the corpse was about to come back to life.



Police went to the house on a well-being check and spoke with the daughter, Tammy Lewis, aka Sister Mary Bernadett, who told them granny wasn't home. Tammy is pictured above. She initially refused to let the deputy in; the alert cop noticed a little something extra in the smell department, in addition to the incense and woodsmoke. Once inside she ultimately found "something piled on what appeared to be a toilet". That "something" was the remains of Magdalena Alvina Middlesworth.

The freakshow got better when Bishop Alan Bushey (pronounced Boo-Shay) arrived. The bishop informed police that he had "received signs that God would raise her from the dead with a miracle."

The 12 year old boy told police "he had considered running away because he was uncomfortable with the situation. He said Bushey told him that demons were trying to make it look as if Middlesworth wouldn't come back to life, and that if she were to be discovered he and the girl would have to go to public school and get jobs because Middlesworth paid the bills."

Surprisingly, since this was Wisconsin, there was no necrophilia or cannibalism involved. Tammy and Alan were charged with felony counts of causing mental harm to a child.

Sex:

This is possibly the best headline, ever:

Penis Pump Judge Gains Release

Former Okie judge Donald Thompson, featured here in October 2007, was released from prison recently. The article doesn't say if it was a full release and there's no way of knowing yet if this story will have a happy ending.

Death:

Kevin Jones and Matthew Gonzalez were each arrested and charged with desecrating a corpse, after they dug up the body of an 11 year old buried in 1921 and removed the skull. Why did they do this?

"They cut the jaw off of it and wrapped it in electrical tape and used it to make a bong," Houston Police Department Officer Jim Adkins said.

Check out the lively, engaged eyes on this duo:



The skull has not been recovered, and police are seeking its return.

Sex:

Some people, you just want to ask them, what the hell were you thinking? Because, really, I'd like to know. I'd like to ask that question of Mr. Thomas G. Findler, of Hamilton, New Jersey.

Mr. Findler was caught by a church custodian at 8:30 in the morning, in a nun's office, viewing pornography on the nun's computer. Investigation revealed that Findler had been creeping around the church for approximately a month, and using the computer to visit "teen and fetish" sites. Findler, 42, is single, is employed as a civilian by the NJ State Police, and lives with his father. He was charged with theft, theft of services and burglary. I could not find a mug shot.

Bonus round:

When Lisa Bess of Ocala, Florida, returned home, she couldn't figure out why her bathroom door was locked and water was running inside. She called the police, and when they got there and kicked in the bathroom door they discovered Tom Wilkerson.



Naked, sitting on the toilet, demanding to be allowed to "finish his business" after having let himself into the house earlier that day. Wilkerson tried to convince police that he was a friend of the family.

Two lessons here:

1) Don't leave a key to your house outside, no matter how well-concealed you think it is, and
2) Make friends with your neighbors, so when they see a burglar standing on your porch smoking, and coming and going from your house during the day, they don't assume it's your friend.

_____________________

Now it's time for a poll. Vote for this week's Freak of the Week by clicking here:

I'm it, baby

Tagged by Freida Bee, so here it is:

Ten years ago, what were you doing?

May 1998...I was working, a lot, as a detective (I got promoted in February 2000). Let's see, that was a busy spring. I was part of a newly-formed homicide task force as a forensic specialist, helping to set up a youth peer jury program, taking on more of the department's use of force training, and helping out with a sister city delegation from Ireland. In July 1998 I looked back on my schedule as I sat in an orthopedic surgeon's office. I was waiting to get my broken hand re-set. Anyway, looking back at my schedule over the three months before I went on vacation I noticed I had only had 9 days off in three months. That's days off without doing anything work-related, like court, training, overtime details or meetings. I will never, ever go back to living like that.

Five things on today's "to-do" list:

1) Start a 5 day fast and try not to go mental from lack of caffeine or fried food
2) Work on setting up a side job
3) Do laundry
4) Go to work in the afternoon, assign cases and arrange honor guard stuff for Memorial Day
5) Call my brother, whose beautiful wife is expecting their third child any time now

If I were a billionaire I would...

First of all, secure a big ass chunk of land with good water, and build a very green, energy efficient off-the-grid house somewhere down south. Set up the armory. Then breathe a sigh of relief once I had that done, and throw a big party for family and friends--the kind that involves chartering a plane and flying people in. Then I'd ask each of my family members what they had always wanted to do, but were afraid to, or didn't have the money for, and I'd help them do it. I'd sit down with MizBubs and my kids and figure out what charities or organizations to give money, and then I'd roam the earth for a while.

Three bad habits I have are:

Sloth
Gluttony
Wrath

Five places I've lived:

Louisville, Kentucky
Port Washington, New York
Teaneck, New Jersey
Yardley, Pennsylvania
Chicago, Illinois

Five jobs I've had:

Grocery bagger
Bookstore clerk
Shipping and receiving clerk
Catalog photographer
Cop

Anyone reading this, consider yourself tagged if you like!

End of the day

I hope everyone had a decent weekend.

Contrary to what I posted earlier, MizBubs did not just want a drink and a smoke and to be left the hell alone today. Nor did my mom. So we forced them to gorge themselves on sushi and ice cream cake, then I got my better half home and plied her with champagne.

Yes, the Sunday afternoon cocktail today is champagne. Served in a wine glass, not a flute, because a flute just doesn't hold enough and we were too lazy to keep getting up off the couch for more. Here we sit, watching Bobby Flay and some blonde chick cook pork shoulder. I just watched two of the throwdown judges describe themselves as "certified barbecue judges" and I thought...hmm, how does one become a certified barbecue judge? I must find out.

_____________________

So MizBubs, relentless girl dynamo, worked her ass off this weekend prior to Mother's day. Our youngest celebrated her 16th birthday by having a few friends over, and we had to get the house into shape. Our place was still looking pretty disastrous from having a few rooms painted while I was out of town. We spent Saturday morning cleaning like crazy before I left for work, and before the teenage girls arrived.

We made a few changes in the living room and tiki bar, and honestly I can't wait to have some of y'all over this summer to hang out, eat and drink with us. I'll spare you the before pictures and just go right to the good stuff.

This is how it looks from the kitchen, walking back:



Here's the youngest, reclining:

A friend of mine had an early 60's hi-fi console that he didn't want. I got it from him in exchange for a bottle of Cabo Wabo tequila. We've always wanted a big-ass tropical plant, and MizBubs ran out today to IKEA and treated herself to a Majesty palm tree for $15.



The shelves behind the tiki bar got cleaned up and reorganized, and I put some thrift shop record album covers up on the wall.

And here's the tiki bar, with all the crap cleaned off it:



So here we sit, sipping our champagne and contemplating our next move. There's a lot in the pipeline, I'll tell you.

________________________

I thought I'd done a pretty thorough job of reviewing the current alligator issues facing us. Sure enough, as soon as I sat back and felt satisfied, a new threat emerged. Fortunately, intrepid law enforcement intervened and disaster was averted:

Burglary suspect caught driving with alligator passenger

Yes, that's correct. A police officer stopped a car for driving erratically, and it turned out the driver had just committed a burglary. He had also dragged an alligator out of a ditch and stuffed it into the backseat of his car, where it remained until the officer stopped him. Alcohol was involved.

_____________________

So what's going on this week? Well, I'm making some big personal changes to shake this malaise I've been suffering and get back into running shape. I'm a physical disaster. I've been putting off visiting my allergist, I'm prone to wheezing, and I weigh more than I have in years. All this starts to change tomorrow. So that's good. I got a few projects to work on, including some honor guard stuff. Hopefully I won't ruin anyone's Memorial Day like I did last year. I'm working on another corporate training gig that may put some cold cash in my pockets.

And we're only a couple weeks from Pilcrow Litfest. Come on, folks, we're almost there. Someone throw a few dollars their way so I can take that widget off my page. It's slowing things down.

Thanks.

Happy Mother's Day!

Happy Mother's Day to all a you child-bearin' ladies out there!

I know in the past I've said that mom wants some bacon, or at least a phone call. Maybe you and big sis could've got up early and baked her a delicious Mother's Day pie.

But you know what mom really wants?



A drink, a smoke and probably to just be left the hell alone for a while.

The Saturday morning you'll get nothing and like it

You'll get nothing and like it.

Friday night at the compound

While MizBubs and I were out at the California Clipper tonight, our beautiful and talented eldest was busy working on a new effect. She sent us this photo to show us what a good job she'd done:



I hope she uses her powers for good. Lord only knows how I'll respond if she springs something like this on me as a surprise after a night of drinking.

Get Ready

For pandemics, frogs falling from the sky and the flesh-eating zombie apocalypse. The end times might be closer than ever before. Why do I say this?

Because Las Vegas is losing money. Newsweek magazine says so, in an article titled

Down on Its Luck
Las Vegas used to be a recession-proof oasis. Not anymore.

According to the article, only once since 1970 have gaming revenues fallen, and that was in the aftermath of 9/11. At that time gaming revenues dropped 1%. So far this year revenues are down 4%.

The formerly fabulous Tropicana has declared bankruptcy.

Part of the problem is that non-gaming revenues now account for 60% of all income, as opposed to the last big economic downturn in 91/92 when non-gaming revenues accounted for about 42%. As Las Vegas has made itself less of a gambling destination, it's made itself more vulnerable to the current economic downturn.

In the whistling past the graveyard department, though, there's still $30 billion in new construction scheduled, and 40,000 new hotel rooms scheduled to come online by 2011.

I've written a bit about Las Vegas in the past, mostly about casino implosions and our visits there. I like it, and it entertains me, but New Orleans has no need to get jealous. Even though I'm pretty sure I'll visit Las Vegas again, I can take it or leave it. If airfares continue to go up, Las Vegas will no longer be a cheap getaway, and we'll stop going.

The folks at the Las Vegas Convention & Visitors Authority are afraid of this, and they've launched a new ad campaign titled "Vegas Right Now." The ads urge potential visitors to stop thinking and "do Vegas right now".

The Newsweek article closes with this quote from a Las Vegas "regular", responding to the ad campaign:

"The message is 'Don't think about how crappy your economic situation is, just come to Vegas, damn it. If you don't, you're a wallowing loser."

That's Vegas, baby!

And that's George W. Bush's America, here in the year of our Lord 2008. The house of cards collapses, and even the fake city built on gambling, fake boobs, gluttony and greed takes a hit.

May as well have another drink, put on some Richard Cheese & Lounge Against the Machine, and dream of better times:

Alligator alert heightened during mating season

The alligator is wily, kill-crazy and resilient. Even without the assistance of human dope fiends the alligator has shown an uncanny ability to expand his territory.

Every year at this time there is a spike in alligator-related news stories, probably corresponding with alligator mating season. Alligators begin courting in April, and most mating occurs early in May. A fierce and warlike species, alligators are polygynous, with one male alligator servicing up to 10 females in his territory. The males provide no care for the young, and females little more than that.

After the first year the young are abandoned by their mothers, who move on to attend to their new hatchlings. Eighty percent of young alligators die in the first year, often in the jaws of other, larger alligators. By the time they are a few years old they are battle-hardened and bloodthirsty, and ready to assume their role as "exotic pets" or, as I refer to them, "scout gators", probing human communities for signs of weakness.

What, then, are the alligators up to lately?

_____________________

Dogs are widely known as "man's best friend". Many people keep dogs as pets, companions and protectors. So, logically, what would be one of the first targets of an alligator attack? The family dog. Just like a special forces operator taking out an enemy sentry, the alligator frequently targets dogs. Especially small barky dogs, like terriers. In Tampa, the first casualty was Freddie, a 5 year old terrier, pulled to his death during a walk in the park.

A crew working in Chicago's Lincoln Park Zoo south pond discovered a small alligator in the shallow water. The link to the original story is no longer available on the Sun-Times website. Once again the MSM covers up the truth. There was some confusion because other articles mentioned a nearly-frozen scout gator discovered in the same location three years earlier.

From time to time alligators will attempt to interfere with human commerce, disrupting transportation and shopping. A recent example of this occurred in Fort Lauderdale, where a 9.5 foot alligator stopped traffic on a major highway before being put down.

In addition to preying on crackheads and small dogs, gators will occasionally target the elderly. A 69-year old Oldsmar, Florida woman narrowly escaped death when an alligator broke through her back door and rampaged into her kitchen.

Like the modern terrorist, the alligator also looks for soft targets. The alligator adapts, and seeing the wave of fear that any school-related incident causes in our society, a 10 foot alligator decided to target children at a school in Windermere, Florida. Police were called in to escort children safely to and from the building. The alligator was apparently working with a spotter, a smaller female alligator who concealed herself in a nearby pond until she was captured and destroyed. As of this writing the larger gator has not been captured. He has been described as "as big as a dinosaur."

_____________________

So now you know. The next logical question is, what is the human response to this onslaught?

I wish I could describe our response as strong, resolute and unified...but I can't. While I detailed the problems of drug-related alligator incidents in an earlier post, of equal concern is the human tendency to simply not take alligators seriously as a grave threat to our existence.

This is an American blog, and I'm a proud American, so normally I don't report on foreign alligator news. But this story was disturbing enough to make an exception:

An unknown thief walked out of a Norwegian aquarium with a small crocodile concealed in a bag. What is his plan? Sure, this might have just been a simple theft committed by someone with a desire to own or sell an exotic pet. But it might have been much more. Maybe the first part of a plan to breed cold-resistant crocodiles, for instance. I shudder.

Three assholes broke into an alligator farm in St Augustine, Florida, and stole video equipment after vandalizing the property. Even worse, they tormented several of the imprisoned alligators by throwing water bottles at them. Relations between human and alligator are bad enough without idiots like this aggravating the situation.

In another example of failure to properly educate our young people, 5 Sigma Alpha Epsilon pledges from Embry Riddle University were arrested after trying to steal a live alligator from a miniature golf course. This begs the question...why are there alligators being kept at a miniature golf course? This is yet another example of the way pro-gator apologists and their dupes minimize the alligator threat, denying the true nature of the alligator menace.

_____________________

Sometimes, though, the news is encouraging.

Alert police in Pullman, Washington, broke up an alligator infiltration conspiracy and arrested a man attempting to sell a baby alligator for $350.00. The hatchling was taken into "protective custody."

A plucky angler in Brookline, New Hampshire, nearly captured a 5' scout gator while fishing in a local pond. Conservation authorities have encountered alligators in the Nashua and Connecticut rivers in the last two years. The article I linked to details several other alligator incidents in the same area over the past few years.

As if more proof were needed that snorkeling or scuba diving in alligator-infested waters was a bad idea, we have this story from Tampa, Florida. 62-year old Dwight Monreal was diving for golf balls, in full scuba gear, when he was attacked by an 11' gator. Monreal reacted by jabbing his thumb into the eye of the alligator, but it continued to chew on him.



Fortunately for Mr. Monreal, prepared American Matt Johnson was playing golf nearby. Mr. Johnson attacked the alligator with a rake and a four-iron, freed Monreal and then drove him to the clubhouse in his golf cart. Monreal was treated for a crushed and dislocated shoulder, broken arm, and bite marks. Next time Mr. Monreal, who has been diving for golf balls for 14 years, will probably stay away from the 13th hole water hazard, at least during mating season.