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Posts Tagged ‘fun’

Soon… soon…

Tomorrow is the surgery.  Fused-disc time.  No more foolin’ around.

I think you will be pleased with tomorrow’s posting.  Pleasantly so.

A friend has been invited to play and he accepted.  He will pour forth upon these pages a fun and twisted story.  He darkles.  He tincts.  Yar.

Or something like that.

All that comes to mind is:

Your soul is so dark it smudges mine.  – Zebra speaking to Rat, Pearls Before Swine

That’s not a negative commentary on our guest poster.  My soul has plenty of dark already.

Seriously, that is all that comes to mind.  I’m blank right now.  Even random stuff that normally comes to me is kaput.  And usually my brain NEVER stops spinning – at least three levels working at a time (which is not as fun as it might sound, in truth).  Today?  Nothing.

Oh well.  More later, eh?

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Good God I smart today – skull to tail.

You would not believe the amount of effort that goes into putting a show on.  I worked the whole day but with little ones and my physical condition I could not tear down – at some point I had to say “I’m sorry, I just cannot do any more.”  We started at 1:30PM and finally did a last walkthrough around 10pm.

Hey, buddy… did you just see a really bright light?

It was in the 90’s, it was humid, and the sun was oppressive.  I drank eight liters of Dihydrogen Monoxide, a Mountain Spew, three Dr. Poopers (diet), and a Sunny Deelight.  And never had to go use the litterbox once. 

Note:  Trade names have been changed to protect their corporate identities.

Missile Command and the Giant Dandelion of Doom

Did I mention how much effort is involved in this stuff?  There’s unpacking and setup of the tubes, unwrapping of the product, sorting, carting them out, loading strings, taping of buckets (open fuse ends), taping fuses to the frames, eating of pizza, walkthroughs and last minute checks.   I was a giant sponge – trying to learn as much as I possibly could by observation and instruction – I spent the day doing nothing more than having people say “Ok, now do this taping over here” and “help me do that over there”.   It’s one of those situations in life where you don’t want to f*** around because these things are dangerous.  They have classes where you can get certified to do a show and transport the stuff and I plan on doing that.  Until that time I can show up and help out but I couldn’t legally run a show or drive a truck to get it to a show – but helping out is very interesting and plenty.  I think I was exposed to only the scratched the surface of what needs to be done to do all that.

All sorts of rules like “Keep your cigarette on the opposite side of your mouth” and “No, you can’t sort the product next to the campfire.”  Rules almost as onerous as “You have to roll down the window before shooting rats from your pickup at the dump.”

No, there was no campfire and no one up there smokes cigarettes – only crack.

Red Willow

An interesting note:  When you cut yourself and you get the residue – saltpeter and sulfur – in your cuts the stuff burns and stings for like… forever.  Not bad, but enough to remind you that your skin suffered a breach.

But it was worth every bit of sweat, twinges, cut fingers, and screamin’ neck when I got to see my kids with ear-to-ear grins when the 5″, 6″, and 8″ shells started going off.  There’s this fierce out-on-the-bow-of-the-ship feeling you get when they go off.  When Cruel Wife went “ooooh” and “ahhhh” I got a big grin out of that, too.  I kept thinking to my self  “I was part of making that happen.”  Wonderful feeling of satisfaction.

Just part of the finale. Sorry I didn’t orient the camera horizontally.

Remember, the family is sitting as close as is safe to the things and they are going off nearly overhead so the boom is significant.  And when you are up in the enclosure thirty feet away they are setting off tests every now and then and the ground moves under your feet.  Obviously you can’t have family members in that area or where we unpacked and humped stuff around but I was able to leave and hang with the kids every now and then.

Cruel Wife picked me up a cane since I left the one I have at home.  So by the end I was getting around and letting the folks who were actually lighting the stuff off – I can’t move fast enough in my honest assessment – vie for the honors of touching off the 8-shells, and I just bounced from place to place.  Go hug the kids, talk to the wife, talk to the other family folks, drink some more pop.

That’s one thing I really appreciate about this crew.  Almost all of them are AA folks so I felt right at home.  Seriously nice bunch of people.

Wobbled up the hill and got up-close during the show.  Here’s something you don’t get to see every day.

2nd Act – Up close

When a 6″ or 8″ shell goes off at this distance you know something substantial just went off.  What is immediately obvious and subtle is that when they are going off overhead like that the entire surroundings light up but you don’t cast a shadow.  Very cool.

I hobbled over and talked with one of the firefighters, told him that years ago I was a firefighter and how we used to drive a truck out in front of the fire to get spot fires while crews tried to flank the fire, and I asked him how many gallons they carried in their truck.  He looked at me and said “Well, you know how it is – 300 gallons – just enough to kind of piss the fire off.”

We laughed about that one.  It’s only too true.  Any serious fire is going to require more than 300 gallons even with retardant foam.

Faint outline of our firefighter friends in foreground. Happy 4th folks.

Today’s Plan: Move slow, use the cane to steady things out, drink lots of water and pop, and remain drugged throughout.

Happy 4th of July, folks!  Just remember to educate the ignorant about what Independence Day is really about.  We didn’t break away from France for no reason.

Note:  I damn well know it wasn’t the French we broke away from.  It was the Scots.

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Here’s all your hopesy-changey at work:

That’s the good news. On the flip side, however, a country whose hallmark has always been a sense of irrepressible optimism is in the grip of unprecedented uncertainty and self-doubt.

You know what bothers me the most about that statement?  If it is actually true, then our true grit, that which made us such a force to be reckoned with, is gone.  I don’t think it is gone except for those who are naturally wired to piss and moan.  Dire straights like this should not be enough to dampen the celebration of Independence Day.  That’s what made the US great – intestinal fortitude – the desire to keep going on because, you know… it’s our “f*** you” attitude.  I’m talking about the attitude that says “We’re not giving up.  We may be beaten down but we’re still not giving up.”

Of course, there are a few things that might be cause for a case of the blues.  Enough to spoil the celebration?  Nah.

Well… maybe a bit bluer, but still not dampened, no.

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Could we please start hunting down and incarcerating “Star Chefs” when they do things like suggest Kobe Beef Sliders?

At $40/lb I’m not going to make sliders out of it.  I won’t even eat regular sliders.

In a world that is self-righting sometimes, it is recognized that bacon is the gateway meat.

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Oh, boo-hoo.

A Michigan inmate is suing Gov. Rick Snyder and the state over his prison’s ban on pornographic materials, claiming he is being subjected to cruel and unusual punishment, the Detroit News reported.

In a handwritten lawsuit filed June 10 in US District Court in Detroit, Kyle Richards said the porn ban has “been used as a method of ‘psychological warfare’ against prisoners, in order to both destroy the morale of inmates and break the spirit of individuals.”

I want prison to be such a miserable awful place that you never want to go there again, you wuss.  If you come out humbled and broken it’s going to be better for society than if you are strutting like the cock of the walk.

In another heartbreaker, prisoner’s kin suggest that the term “inmate” is stigmatizing.

The family of a coldblooded killer serving 25 years to life in state prison for shooting a man in the head complains he’s being stigmatized — by the use of the term “inmate.”

The label “implies that our brother is locked up for the purpose of mating with other men,” claims Marie Domond in a lawsuit against the state Correctional Services Department.

Oh it gets better.

“It’s something that’s bothered me for a long time,” Marie told The Post. “I couldn’t understand why no one recognized that somebody being labeled an inmate, why they wouldn’t recognize that. To me it just sounded very wrong.

Does it sound as wrong as shooting a guy in the head with a gun?

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So much for my new Korean cookbook50 Ways to Wok Your Dog.

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I must have a power guantlet… I must have a power guantlet… I must have a power guantlet.

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Hey, he died doing what he believed in, so stop it with these kinds of remarks.

The motorcyclist, 55-year-old Philip A. Contos, likely would have survived the accident if he’d been wearing a helmet, state troopers said.

As long as someone signs a paper somewhere where they absolve the rest of us from the responsibility of paying for the rest of their vegetative lives if they are severely brain-damaged, I don’t care if someone wants to wear a weasel instead of a helmet.  Have at, folks.

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We had guests this last week.  It was the first time my dad (Sparky) ever came to Michigan and he brought my stepmom (AngelHeart), with him.  Now, AngelHeart is quite possibly one of the ten most kind people I know.  At first I could not believe that she was for real and in the last year to year and a half I have come to realize that she is truly that kind.

So they came and we visited.

We had a blast.

We BBQ’ed, we went to Henry Ford Museum (Greenfield Village), we got pizza (which dad said was the best pizza he’s had in his entire 80 years of existence), we raided an estate sale, we took walks down the bike path nearby, we caught fireflies (you should have seen my 80 year old stepmom outside running after fireflies),  we took them out for their first coney island grub, we talked, we laughed, and then we parted ways.  I dropped them off at the airport around 1pm today, which was kind of hard because we know that they’ll never be able to come this way again and they do, too.  There’s even a possibility that I might never see him again but then again we may be able to – we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.

The kids absolutely adored AngelHeart and Sparky.  They were showing them things, chattering at them, saying all kinds of silly things, and whenever I told them to stop playing video games, watch tv, or get off the computer because they really ought to go hang out with their grandma and granddad they simply said “OK” and did it.  No hassle or complaints at all.

My dad assured me that my liberal stepmom was slowly but surely becoming conservative after a year of living with him – and I rejoiced.  Sparky did worry me a bit last night when he said he didn’t like Sean Hannity so very much and they asked to surf down to the CNN channel where we got to see Beyonce.  I said “Oh yeah, right – like you want to watch this.”

Then AngelHeart says “we’ve seen her on ‘Dancing with the Stars’ and like we like her”.  And they were content to leave the channel there.  Yes, she said “we like her”.  No, I’m not sure if it was DwtS, but it was either that or something of similar ilk.

Honestly I would not know Beyonce if she walked up and gnawed on my butt – I couldn’t even pronounce her name correctly – but the show and format immediately told me that it just isn’t the type of entertainment that I have the patience for (I prefer less ‘I’m a superstar lookit me’ kind of fare).

As I got up in confusion after plummeting to the ground after this world-rocking news my stepmom said “Your brother loves American Idol… he really loves J-Lo”.

In deepest distress I said to Cruel Wife “Yeahbut J-Lo has this HUGE a…. … … nevermind.”   I was shocked.  My brother, SuperTrooper, likes American Idol.  My vision contracted to a point and there was a dull roaring sound in my ears.  I couldn’t feel my extremities and I began to gag on my tongue.  My father likes Beyonce and my brother likes American Idol.

What next?  Mary Poppins becomes a porn star?   Dr. Lector goes vegan?  Cotton candy is made with Splenda™?  Cats become humble?

They saw I was becoming quite agitated and switched the TV back to Hannity.

I will write more later on this post but for now, I’ll end it by saying:

The last four days have been the best present I’ve gotten since Cruel Wife and I were married – when I got a blow-up sheep, the “I Luv Ewe”, at my bachelor party.

I just added the “Luv Ewe” thing to get your attention.  And no, “best present” does not include my kids because they weren’t given to us by a person.  Yes, having my dad come and visit trumped material goods by far.

Yes, I did get an “I Luv Ewe” from my buddies at my bachelor party – the sickos.  It had lipstick, even.  It was revolting.

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Yet again, someone takes humor meant for adults and manages to totally miss the context and humor because she’s too preoccupied with herself.

Subtitled “Wherein I Prove that I Need to Get Laid and Chill the F*** Out”.  (Hopefully Samuel L. Jackson can do a reading of another book addressing her issues.

Author Adam Mansbach is undoubtedly the kind of father who heaps love, affection and attention upon his daughter.  [I don’t think she believes that for a second.  – LK]  (He reportedly had the idea to write the book because of his exasperation with her at bedtime.) But sadly, his book accurately portrays the hostile environment in which too many children grow up.

For far too many kids, the obscenities found in Mansbach’s book are a common, everyday household language. Swearing is how parents across the social, educational and economic strata express their disappointments or anxieties, their frustrations and outright anger at their children. Sometimes the biggest bully in the neighborhood lives in the same house you do. Sometimes it’s your parent.

I’m having a hard time seeing how “Go the **** to Sleep” even remotely comes near the ills of child abuse.

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If you missed the awesome tempura food pic over at Soylent Green you should run right over there now and catch it.

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A Rush of Hormones…

… that could rival that of a pregnant woman’s…

… happens when I think of…

… the next installment of Deus Ex…

Deus Ex: Human Revolution

The first game ROCKED, way back in 2000.

The second game SUCKED, since the beginning of time to the end, alpha and omega.

This one makes me as gooey inside as Duke Nukem.  Speaking of…

Let’s look at that, shall we?  A h/t to Armed Geek over at Hookers and Booze.  I doubted him, and I’m playing it reserved, against any crushing of my hope and spirit once again – I’ve pined for the new Duke Nukem, ever since the first one.  But dammit, I’m going to go out on a limb here.   I sure hope this isn’t a horrible terrible tease of a joke.  I’ve been here before, and so have you if you’ve waited for another installment.  Twelve LONG YEARS.

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Update:  If I didn’t already say it, “Office Assassin” will no longer be referred to by that name.  She is now “Savior of Kittens“.

 

 

 

 

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Update:  Below I have updated the nasty spiteful and soulless graphic I first did (the B&W one).  I have since added some festive glow bracelets and splashes of color

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It’s quick, it’s dirty, it’s not done yet.  But here’s the work in progress.  I don’t like it, I must confess.  It lacks in many ways, but it’s still bound to piss someone off.

Here comes the update.  It is still weak but what the hell, eh?

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Hope you have a fantastic day today – just make sure at least once you think about the guts it took our forefathers (and ‘mothers) to say to England: “No more, please”  (Not the they did not say “No mas, por favor.”  Oh, maybe some of them said “Non, sil vous plait” or my german ancestors “No more, bitte!”)

I have a friend that does fireworks shows – we’re talking 8″ diameter monsters with a launching charge of 1lb of black powder.   We were just a few hundred feet of the launch zone with the familes of the guys doing the launches.  It’s a long and fun stoy that I’ll tell in a few hours.

I spent so much time hunting down my kids – running after them, swinging them, rolling them up in their sleeping bags and sitting on them – well, I’m paying the steep price that my neck demands.  I was already getting gimped because of the shop cleaning and garbage dump trip yesterday but… well, now I’m sitting here and only moving my fingers, nothing more.

Last night was the most fun I’ve had in fifteen years.

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In order to provide something to take your minds off of The Election That Lasted 1000 Years I bring you the following comic link that came to my attention by a co-worker. So, Constant Reader, enjoy today’s buffet. Or barfet. Whatever.

This is a pretty funny comic site if you have a warped sense of humor. This is the first one of an array of strips I read and starts with every parent’s dreaded event – The Child-Barfed-in-the-Middle-of-the-Night-Until-His-Nose-Bled-and-

He-Saw-the-Angels Eventit will set the stage.

When I think about this strip it reminds me of Frank Cho’s quirky ley lines of thought that went into Liberty Meadows.

Link to other Dr. McNinja strips…

~~~~~~~~~~~~Amazing Update~~~~~~~~~~~~

The earth just rumbled… must’ve been a 8.0 magnitude quake on my “funny feeling” scale.

South Dakota is the epicenter

Sadly. any idiot can sue for any reason and drive you under with delays and expensive court costs. Especially capable of economic extortion are those organizations with agendas that are well-funded.

“What happened tonight, we were not supposed to be able to do,” Phillips told a cheering audience. “Development projects like this are supposed to be outright rejected by residents and neighbors. But this project is a testament to our balancing the needs for growth and for protecting the environment.”

At stake was billions of dollars in capital investment and thousands of high-paying jobs. From the beginning, Hyperion executives said they would abandon its Union County site, just north of Elk Point, if a majority of voters failed to give their blessing to the rezoning.

While conceding defeat, opponents vowed to keep fighting the controversial project on every imaginable front, pressing on with a lawsuit it filed against the county over the zoning procedures and opposing Hyperion as it applies for a bevy of state and federal permits.

“We have strategies in place to slow or delay all the permit processes,” Ed Cable, chairman of the anti-Hyperion group Save Union County, said after the vote.

Tuesday’s historic election culminated a months-long, emotionally charged campaign that pitted neighbor against neighbor in this extreme southeast South Dakota county.

Supporters cited the once-in-a-lifetime economic opportunities the $10 billion project would bring.

An average of 4,500 construction jobs would be required over four years. With the refinery up and running, Hyperion pledges to create 1,826 full-time jobs at hourly wages of between $20 and $30.

“I think it would be a great opportunity for young people to stay in this area instead of leaving for other states,” Kelly Hoekstra, 31, of Dakota Dunes said after casting a vote in favor of the rezoning.

Opponents argued the massive development would not be worth the pollution and other troubles they claimed the refinery would bring. The health risks traditionally associated with a refinery weighed heavily on the minds of some voters.

“I live out here. I don’t need the pollution,” said Jim Schroeder of McCook Lake, after voting against the rezoning.

Yet, you’re perfectly willing to use oil and gas that came from pollution in somebody else’s back yard? Has anyone even looked into whether or not there have been great strides in pollution and wastes in the last 32 years? Crap, people! If the refineries are so gosh-darned bad in every way, why do you perpetuate the problem by driving around in an automobile?

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