Tuesday, October 21, 2014

First his feet, and now his freedom

I thought I heard a noise last night, so I reached under my pillow, pulled out my Colt Python and emptied six rounds into my cat. With whom I had recently had a nasty argument.

I then reloaded and emptied another six, just to be sure. I later told the police I thought he was a very tiny burglar.

None of this is true, of course, but does serve to bring us to the matter of Oscar Pistorius. Recently convicted of what we would call manslaughter, he was sentenced yesterday to five years in jail.

The good news for the Big O is that, according to South African law, he only needs to spend 10 months in jail, and the rest of his term under house arrest. Which, if you're rich, is not that bad a gig all things considered.

The net net here is that the guy is going to do ten months hard time for killing his girlfriend. That doesn't seem like very much.

Ahhhh. The World Series

I'm rooting for the San Francisco Giants, just so we're clear. But only if they let Tim Lincecum pitch at least one inning during the series. Otherwise I'm rooting for the Cows.

Of the 25 people on the Giants roster for the previous two series, my boy Timmy is the only one to not make a single appearance. Not a single one.

Where has all the magic gone?

Chorus: I don't understand your use of the word cows. Me: a little known fact is that the Kansas City Royals are named after a type of steer, and not anything to do with kings and queens and princes and people of that ilk. Chorus: hence cows. Me: exactly.

Sunday, October 19, 2014

Go Jets

Every football season involves three mantras. They are, in order: Go Jets, Go Giants, and Anybody but the Cowboys.  In a perfect world, we'd never have to worry about the third one.

But now, sadly, the first two seem to have flown out the window. The Giants may still right the ship and then who knows? But realistically speaking, all we can hope for now is for the Cowboys not to make the playoffs.

This puts us in the odd position of having to root for the Eagles. Which I'm okay with, because the mantra now is Anybody but the Cowboys!

Go Blue!  It's always fun to beat the Cowboys in Dallas.

Saturday, October 18, 2014

What are the chances?

I love this photo.  In a million years I couldn't draw a line of paint this straight across my thumb if I tried.

In the end, I decided to just leave it be and not wash my hands for a couple of days. Just to enjoy the majesty of the thing.

Eventually it wore off.

Friday, October 17, 2014

Go Mets

Quite a while ago a week or two at least I put up a post that listed three things the meds needed to do to get better next year. First one was to have one of the Molina brothers train Travis d'Arnaud and how to be a catcher. The second one was to move in the fences at Citi Field. I forget what the third one was, the dictating this I can't go back and figure it out. News flash! Earlier this week that they will be moving in at Citi Field. So we can check that box, if you are comfortable with a British ISM like take that box.

This freaking app! I try to say the words tic that box and in one case it says take that box and in the other case it says check that box. The first time I said it in this paragraph it still won't right tick, it writes I don't know what, I don't know what it right. Now I'm babbling. This dictation business is harder than it looks.

All that said, and under the adventures in blogging category, I decided to not check any of my copy for typographical errors and simply allow it to rest as it lies. If that makes any sense.

Thursday, October 16, 2014


I'm loving this whole blog from the phone business. Since I'm stuck with it for a little bit of time I believe I'm going to just press ahead full bore! I will, however, stop worrying about paragraph breaks and all but the most egregious typographical errors, &, as noted above, just press ahead. Today's deep thinking - - which would ordinarily appear in red - - involves the following question: did you ever eat at Chanterelle when it was still in business? If not, the opportunity exists to go to the restaurant reviewed below, Elan, and have some of their seafood sausage. Which, I have to tell you, based on remembering having done so at Chanterelle several times, is as close to going to heaven while remaining on earth as you can possibly imagine.

Chorus: this blogging from the phone business seems to bring out the worst in your syntax. Me: yes it does. But s*** happens. Chorus: does it bother you that the voice recognition app on writing s*** with a bunch of asterisks? Me: yes.

NYTimes: Shedding the Burden of Tradition http://nyti.ms/1ChSdxK

I find this troubling

I come to you via my cell phone and a voice recognition app.

My Mac, amazingly, is in the shop for service. Who knew they even broke?

The good news? For once in my life I actually purchased the extended warranty for an appliance. Which is something all the consumer experts recommend against, but now my repairs will be free and life is, comparatively, good.

If you read the article, take special note of the quote group quote Boilermaker comprised of a bottle of Amontillado and several Pony bottles of some expensive Cream Ale I've never heard of.

This I find troubling, and it makes me wonder what the hell is going wrong with the world we live in.

I also find troubling the fact that when I say quote group quote my app doesn't interpret it as punctuation.

Here is the article...

NYTimes: A Shot and a Beer: The Boilermaker Stages a Comeback http://nyti.ms/1toXULs

Sunday, October 12, 2014

Irby's up in Arms

This just in from the Times ...

A Nov. 4 ballot question that would bar the use of dogs, bait and traps for bear hunting in Maine has outside groups pouring money into the state on both sides of the issue.

My dog, Irby, as you can imagine, is up in arms ...

Even though he doesn't look particularly upset in the picture.

In case you're not totally in the loop, Irby's a redbone coonhound.  And redbones excel at treeing large animals -- cougars and bears in these parts.  Plus the occasional raccoon, which doesn't qualify as a large animal but try telling Irby that.  He looks so damned pleased when he trees one that I just don't have the heart to give him any shit about it.  I just shoot the damned thing and make a nice frickassee later.

In any case, nothing Irby likes better than standing with his paws against the trunk of a tree and baying at the bear residing temporarily therein.  At which point I pull out my rifle and blow that motherfucker to kingdom come.  The bear, not the dog, obviously.   Mmmmm -- good eating.  Julia Child has an outstanding beef bourguignon recipe that works great with bear meat.

This is my weapon of choice ...

When you put it together it's a Holland & Holland 375 magnum.  Double barreled.  An elephant gun, really, but as Daniel Boone might have said, had he had one, "It'll do for bar."  A really nice one goes for about $150,000, bullets not included.  But that's okay -- I'm a firm believer in owning a few nice things rather than a bunch of crap.

Irby and I like to go hunting with my boy Harbour, who, ironically, can't hit the broad side of a barn but he always brings a flask or two of outstanding Scotch.  So we tolerate the air being full of misguided bullets.

[Editor's Note:  If you don't read these pages often, I am obliged to tell you, under the Truth in Blogging statute, that none of this is true.  None of it, except the story in the Times.  Which is true.  Otherwise, none of it.  The dog is imaginary.  Likewise the rifle.  The jury is out on Harbour.  And no animals were harmed in the writing of this post.  So don't be writing in about shootin' bars in trees.]

Saturday, October 11, 2014

Lock and Load

Who knew there was actually a guy named Glock?  As in the makers of this bad boy ...

Me?  I love a long clip.  More bullets, as I understand it.  The mini-me bayonet is off the dial as well, although that's where the laser sight mechanism goes and I love those too.

Today's deep thinking:  If push has come to shove and you need to employ a bayonet attached to the end of your pistol, the need for laser sights has likely passed.  

Actually, upon deeper thinking, that may not be true.

Anyway, here he is, all 85 years old, with his nurseslashlover, Katrin Tschikof ...

Dude.  My boy Gaston looks pretty spry for 85.  In a world full of immensely powerful men dating inexplicably unattractive women -- Bill Clinton jumps to mind.  Likewise Arnold Schwarzenegger -- this guy appears to be ahead of the game.  With that last name she must be some version of Russian, but she looks positively teutonic.  Which is the best-case scenario for a German arms magnate.

Now the lawsuits are flying faster than bullets in South Troy on a Saturday night.  This from a piece in the Daily Beast ...
Meanwhile, Glock entertained clients and associates with lavish dinners and visits to a since-closed strip club, Atlanta’s Gold Club, Mrs. Glock’s complaint states. Glock used those strippers to represent the company at trade shows and flew them around on the corporate jet.
The complaint further alleges that Glock had a personal slush fund that he used to “cavort with women around the world.” One sham corporation was allegedly set up for the sole purpose of owning homes “to house and entertain his metro-Atlanta-based paramours.”
Outstanding!   I say live large my friend.

Nurseslashlover would be a great name for a heavy metal band.
Yes it would.