Pappy's Blog

Pappy has a blog at:

http://bohemianlogic.blogspot.com/

That's a lot of rage, man.

Wabanusee County Fairy Tale

HD sent the following in an e-mail today, and I thought that it warranted wider dissemination:


World's Shortest and Best Fairy Tale:

Once upon a time, a guy asked a girl "Will you marry me?"

The girl said, "NO!" And the guy lived happily ever after and went fishing and hunting a lot and drank beer whenever he wanted.

THE END

Sunburn

Everytime I go to the beach I get sunburned. I'm a frickin idiot. My Swiss/Irish skin tone soaks up the sun like H.D. and Pothead at the Holiday Inn all-you-can-eat seafood buffet: no restraint at all, and within minutes, total destruction.

Miami Beach was a pretty good weekend. Except for our hotel. They over booked the hotel, and even though I called ahead and told them I'd be checking in late, they didn't have a room for us. So they moved us from the FOUR POINTS SHERATON to the best-fucking-western.

I was not pleased.

Still, in the end it turned out ok. We spent the night in the bw and then moved over to the Sheraton the next day. Then, I talked to the manager and ended up getting things straightened out: we didn't pay for either night while we were down there and we got a free night the next time we stay at a Sheraton. All in all, I would have preferred to just not have any problem.

The best part of the trip was that our rental car got upgraded from whatever crappy compact car we had reserved to a brand new Mustang. Red. With less than 500 miles on it. I ragged the shit out of it. Cruising up and down Collins and Ocean Avenue was pretty cool.

One final point: my sister is a liar. I didn't see very many thongs down there at all. Although I did see (1) pretty good looking chick sunbathing topless on our not-topless beach (that was cool) and (2) some lady out for a walk on the boardwalk with the legs of her shorts tucked into her swimsuit -- I'm guessing that she didn't want tan lines from her shorts, but either way she looked ridiculous (that was not cool, but made me laugh).


P.S. Miami Beach and South Beach are exactly like Grand Theft Auto Vice City. Exactly. (which is the main reason I ragged the shit out of the Mustang)

Miami, and why my brain works this way

This Friday I am leaving work, the construction in front of my apartment that requires me to take 50 extra steps per day, three boxes of documents that I haven't looked at and my blackberry charger all behind here in Chicago and heading to MIAMI. It is my bride's birthday tomorrow, and Miami is her present. Not the whole city--just the trip there. There is a chance for rain, but I could give a shit. I am more than willing to sit in a puddle in the sand, watch a storm over the Atlantic and let my brain decompress. It should be a great weekend (although, we did choose a hotel with the requirement that there is high-speed internet access in our room so that I could work from down there if needed, so that could blow).

We need to take this trip because my brain doesn't work anymore. It's full, and nothing else is going to fucking fit. The first thing that I thought of this morning, even before "Shit. It's really cold in here. I hope she gets up and turns off the AC so I don't have to.", was that I needed to finalize the materials for the call at 3:o0 and needed to make sure to leave a voice mail about telling the client to give notice and had to send an e-mail to check in with the specialists to see what progress they were making. Before I realized that it was fucking cold. That is what is wrong with my brain.

Also, lately the randomness of my thoughts has really kicked it up a notch. Like now.

Two Favorite Toasts at the Moment:
1. "Here's to wives and sweethearts. May they never meet."
2. "May you be three days in heaven before the devil knows you're dead."

See. Where the hell did that come from?

I think the problem is that sometime in the last 4 or 5 years, God put posi-track in my brain. Posi is that thing that makes it so that when you get stuck, both drive tires spin, and you aren't sitting there with one tire on dry ground doing nothing and the other spinning on a sheet of ice. In college, there was no posi in my head. Sometimes, I could have one wheel running like crazy, and the other would kick out. Now, I can't seem to get anything to disengage unless I am (1) sleeping or (2) . . . I don't know where I was going with that.

Come to think of it, posi-track has nothing to do with it.

Fuck.

If a bear shits in the woods and no one is around to hear it, does an angel get its wings?

PETA: People Eating Tasty Animals

If we are not supposed to eat animals, then why are they made of MEAT?

Stupid hippies.

Top 10 1997-2001

10. Building a 5 foot loft to make a double decker couch. Then sitting up there selling cups at parties to the huddled masses begging for beer.

9. Running from the police in the General. Over, and over, and over, and over . . .

9. (tie) Pothead steals pliers.

8. "Feeling" our way there.

7. Rouletter, etc.

6. Bar fights and pissing contests.

5. The Big Lebowski/PS2 marathons.

4. The really, really hot lesbian Kearny neighbors.

3. Rocky Ford Tavern (pre-fire)

2. The 5 hours right before I got arrested.

1. Drinking in the shower.

Pothead's Blog, etc

The furry little pothead blog is at http://adbt.blogspot.com/

Also, you can now post comments to this blog without being a member. Just click to leave a message as "other" or "anonymous" and leave your name in your comment.

Preparedness and Kentucky

Today in her blog, eeds (http://www.blogger.com/profile/4005141) said "For me, it's that feeling that something is horribly wrong and there's nothing I can do outside of prayer and monetary donations," in regard to her feelings about Katrina's aftermath across the Southern Coast.

I think that one other thing that people can do is to prepare themselves for future disasters by putting together survival kits, learning about the emergency plans in their area and just generally educating themselves about how to react and to survive in the event of a disaster. In all seriousness, the lives that would be saved by this preparedness would be a tribute to the lives lost and the lessons learned from Hurricane Katrina.

So, eeds, Pothead, Pappy, Heath (how come you never got a nickname?), Snot, Captain Idiot and assorted other minions and monkeys, in the event of fire, hurricane, tornado, nuclear disaster, terrorist attack, swarms of mosquitos, bad smells, attack penguins, low oil or running out of whiskey, you should proceed immediately to Pothead's house in Kentucky. That will be the staging area, because it is in the middle of all of us, it gives Heath and Snot the greatest possible distance to drink and drive the backroads, there is a lake and lots of game around and the collective intellegence of the population is so low that we should have no problem at all establishing ourselves as warlord kings of the state.

Pothead, you are in charge of all other preparations. Start filling up the giant bladders of gasoline.

Pappy, you are in charge of getting yourself there and not being a virgin when you show up. There is no room for virtue in post-apocolyptic Kentucky.

Snot, you bring the Shitzhu dogs. You know why.

Heath, beer, firearms and ammunition. And turkey calls.

Captain, you track down trolling motors. A whole shitload of trolling motors.

I'll be in charge of the mercenaries and missionaries.


Since preparedness is dependent on practice, the first drill will be conducted tomorrow. Pothead, tell your wife to buy some extra Ranch, b/c there are going to be some extra people for dinner.

Spanish Speaking Crawdads

You can't fit a horse in the front of a regular-cab truck, and you can't talk to crawdads who only speak Spanish.

Even if you promise the horse that he can sit by the window, they are really fucking stubborn. Even if you say "oh, come the fuck on. get in the truck you stupid horse." They really have something against floor mats or something.

And Spanish speaking crawdads, they are a whole other type of problem. You would think that a little mini-lobster would be a really conversive little bitch. They just dig holes in the mud, eat little bugs and swim in the water all day. Not a bad life. But those little fuckers won't even acknowledge you until you speak en de Espanol. You can be like "hey, how's it going little mini-lobster? I bet you are happy you aren't in the ocean, because you are a fresh water little lobster and if you were in the salt water you'd probably be thinking 'SHIT, I'm in the OCEAN!'," but they still won't answer. But say one thing about taco caliente adobe mufflefuck and they start chattering away. Silly crawdads.

Life is more fun when viewed through a haze. Or sunglasses. Polarized sunglasses (en Espanol: "el polarizedo sun glasees")

Less than 96 hours.

How in the fuck, in less than 96 hours, did the city of New Orleans descend to total shit?

The hurricane hit LA at 6:15 AM on Monday, Aug 29. Now, even considering that the first 24 hours were a hurricane storm, people are behaving like animals.

I was starting to get mad or at least upset that FEMA and the govt. hadn't made more progress in taking care of things. Then, I realized that in the 72 hours following when the storm actually left, they have rescued thousands of people trapped in the flood waters, moved over 11,000 people 7 hours away to Texas, and worked to set up a support structure in the middle of a flooded city. Even while assholes were robbing hospitals, destroying stores and firing at the very people trying to save them.

I am supremely disappointed in the people of New Orleans.

And don't give me that crap about "you don't know because you weren't there". I was around when the NYC blackout hit a few years ago, and there were no looting problems. In fact, New Yorkers (of all people) actually pulled together. I was around when 9/11 hit, and people weren't down in Manhattan breaking windows and stealing stuff. They weren't taking shots and the fireman and policeman helping evacuate. I was around when the floods in '93 swamped the entire midwest and washed towns and homes away. No one used that as an excuse to justify stealing tvs and dvds.

Animals. Animals. Animals. I mean it.

This nearly ruins my faith in people. My survival kit (if you don't have one yet, go make one today) now includes a 12 gauge, and I think that is sad.

And if I ever see a looter, not someone stealing food for their family, but a looter, I am going to shoot them.

Wrap Them in Bacon. Mmmmmmmmm.

Dove season opened today in Kansas, and I am sitting in my office in Chicago. Crap.

Every year from the time I started hunting until the Fall of 2001 (the beginning of the law school era), the opening day of dove season was a hallowed day that involved getting up early, driving out to a field or a pond dam, and blasting the bejeezus out of lots of little doves. All of which is vital for population control and preservation of the species. But today? Nope. I woke up early, walked to work, and haven't blasted the bejeezus out of squat.

This all leads to the irrefutable conclusion that responsibility sucks, and the more of it you get, the fewer things you get to shoot.

Hunting dove is definitely on my list of the three best things ever invented in the history of the world. (The other two are beach chairs and beer.) Dove fly to the pond in flocks, so you get to say things like "they were coming right for me," and you can actually hunt from a tailgate. Genius. Also, unlike other gamebirds (specifically, ducks) dove actually taste great, although they can get a little dry when you grill them, so you should wrap them in bacon. Mmmmmmm.



Tomorrow's topic: Shooting Looters -- Sport or Public Service?