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Posts Tagged ‘jolokia’

Well, it is a first crack I started playing with on Saturday.

“Meh.” captures my feelings so far.  Way less than “meh,” really.  It’s a 3-D render that leaves a lot to be desired for many reasons obvious to render-rats, p-shoppers, and critics alike.

I’ll keep plinking at it.

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Alert reader The Dude (aka Wilson) informed me of some global coordinates to put into Google Maps:

30.561265,-92.021019          

http://www.redditpics.com/wow-coordinates-on-google-maps-30561265-92021,105658/

In some states (commie-leaning American states, sadly) I could get sued by someone who found that image upsetting to their snowflake psyche, but I don’t live in one of those states (yet).  So there you go.

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Don’t give up yet…

Blogging took a backseat I’m afraid.  Had a rough few weeks with last night being the crowning touch.  I’m only blogging now because I’ve actually felt guilty about not posting anything in days.  I will go back to bed shortly.

Making sammiches for the kids, I turned my head ever so slightly (thinking of the next inane thing to say to Cruel Wife), and hit the floor.

You have heard me say that there’s pain and then there’s pain. I am used to vanilla pain. I’m not used to tear-your-spine-out-with-pliers-bit-by-bit-and-replace-it-with-molten-silver pain or badgers-just-chewed-outmy-hernia-and-appendix-and-are-working-on-my-liver pain. The amount you can actually do when hit by it sounds very disturbingly like what I’m told being tasered is like. You can’t *do* anything other than drop like a rock. That’s it. Your choices are to (a) drop like a rock, or (b) drop like a rock.

Some time passed before I stopped scrabbling my feet along the floor and punishing the front of the stove. Not sure how long. Cruel Wife just stood there in horror because if she did the wrong thing it could make things worse and she wasn’t really sure what the right thing was, either. Well, that makes two of us, because I didn’t know either.

After some time I grabbed the handle of the fridge and scrabbled along the stove and counter and hauled myself up. Moved glacially slow to my chair and sat down.

It’s 22 hours later (roughly) and not much has changed. I called CW a bit ago to see if that was her that called earlier when I couldn’t make it to the phone. She said “How you doing?” She KNEW what I was going to say:

Don’t worry about me. I’ve never felt better.

Easier to say that than for the millionth time “I kinda feel like donkey shiat”.

Back to bed.

Addendum:  NO, I’m not looking for “Sorry” or “Get Well” comments.  I was simply feeling guilty for not posting and then saying “WTF am I feeling guilty about?  There’s a reason dammit!” and then thinking “Geez, grow some, you puke” as I was writing all this out but figured I’d at least say something anyway so you didn’t feel like I was (God forbid) stopping blogging or something dire like that.  “Man up!” I said to myself as I kicked my own ass silly.  And then hit “Post” anyway.  It’s complicated.

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Curtal, you are a better man than I…

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First, thanks to Nicole, I was led over to Weasel’s place where her take on the Osama picture should make any American adult demand to see the photos.  I wanted to share one profound nugget, then you need to run over and buy lots of her shit.

[Obama] doesn’t own those photos. We do. We were wronged as a people and we have the right to see justice done. We watched office workers jump off the top floor of a skyscraper — jump rather than burn — and we have a right to see the dead face of the monster who ordered it.  – Stoaty over at Sweasel.com

Thank you, Stoaty.

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The Cleansing Fire.

I eat chilies daily.  Without them life would be a dreary barren place devoid of color and life.

I love them all – from the sweetest Bell pepper to the Jalapeno to the Serrano to the Cayenne to the Bird’s Eye to the Scotch-Bonnets and Habaneros and Red Savinas.

All of those chilies have their places.  Stir fries, soups, omelettes, salsas, sauces – all benefit from capsicum.

Thai food is a blessing in this world largely due to chilies, a culinary newcomer to the Thai, and they have done wonders with them – all the curries and noodle dishes and sweet/salt/savory flavors punctuated with fire tantalize the taste buds.

Endorphines are released when capsaicin in the chili burns the tongue and mouth, and the rush that follows the heat is better than Taco Bell after sex.  (To quote Aggie Sith:  Stop judging me!)

Imagine my joy that day when Cruel Wife brought home some Bhut Jolokias for me as a gift a number of weeks ago.  It spoke volumes to me – she in essence said, “I am in tune with your needs and what makes you tick.”   The bag of peppers had this scent of smokiness and danger.  You could feel the crinkle of the cellophane packaging as you squeezed the package and the aroma of peppers was lofted, given wings so that it might caress your sinuses.

So last night I was watching Dexter –  for some reason I get hungry when I watch Dexter- and  I said to Cruel Wife “Got any plans for that can of chili in the pantry?”  She said “Nope.” and bade me goodnight.  Then I cooked up a sausage, threw the chili in there, and made up a quick quesadilla.  So far, so good.  I wolfed all of it down.  It was really quite tasty.

As I put my plate in the sink I noticed a glint of light from between the flour jar and the food scale.  “Ho ho!” said I, gently teasing the package from it’s hiding place.

I shook a pepper out of its packaging and held it up.

It appeared much like any typical dried pepper.  It was not much bigger than a man’s thumb, was of a dark chocolate coloration, and had that unmistakable smell of smoke and heat.  I put it down and trimmed roughly a third of the pepper off with my chef’s knife.  There it lay, a pepper divided, next to a few seeds that had spilled out onto the cutting board.  I lifted the pepper, gave it a quick visual inspection, and popped it in my mouth.

As I have said, I know chilies.  I knew it was a dried pepper and that normally one would reconstitute it or cook it into a dish before consumption.  In this case I decided I’d chew it up and savor it as it softened.

Although the timing from thought to thought varied, my thought processes proceeded like this:

Mmmm.  Nice smoky flavor, not fruity like a habanero, some sweetness but more of an earthy tone.

Not a lot of heat though.  Hmmm.  Well, every batch is different.

Oh, there we go, nice!  It’s a delayed sneaky heat – I love those!  Heat and flavor still playing nicely… that there is some serious gour-may shit.

Wow!  Zippy!  I gotta tell The Dude about this tomorrow.

Huh.  That’s a longer burn than normal.  Maybe these aren’t such a wimpy batch after all.

Hoo-hoo!  Mr. Toad’s wild ride!  Hold on to yer butt!

Uh… wow.  Just… wow.

Uh… ow.  Damn, these are vicious.  Aren’t you fellas cute?

Holy ****.   Stop the ride, I want to get off.

JESUS CHRIST.  LIKE DRINKING ****ING BATTERY ACID.

(grunting, and the sound of flesh bubbling)

WHERE THE HELL IS MY TONIC WATER?

OH **** ME.  Carbonation makes it WORSE.  I KNEW THAT!   Am I… sweating???  I am!  Oh, this is bad.

(mewling noises and faint popping sounds as tooth enamel shatters)

Okneedaglass.  Wherearetheglasses?   Needaglassnow.  NOCLEANGLASSES, SH*T.  DIRTYONEWILLDO!  What is that in the bottom??  DOESN’T MATTER!

MILKMILKMILK, FORTHELOVEOFGOD MILK.  POUR, DAMN YOUR EYES!  POUR FASTER!  Does milk even have eyes?  POUR FASTER!

(willing milk to pour faster, now hissing with the sound of gravel on a metal rooftop)

(chugging sounds and the very audible hiss of milk flashing into steam)

Okay.  Calm.  Be calm.  Be cool.  Little Fonzies.  We got this shit cool…  Ow Goddamnit!  Be cool…

(glass shatters on floor)

IT’S NOT WORKING!!  WHAT NOW???   AAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHH!

(the smell of scalded burned milk grows stronger)

SUGAR!  ALTON BROWN SAID *SHUUUUUGARRRRRR*!

(Hands scrabble through the utensil drawer, narrowly missing sharp edges on items and tossing them on the floor:  Peeler, a grater, a cheese slicer, an apple corer, a meat thermometer sans cover, a bread scraper, and a pair of food shears sharp enough to cut through steel siding – no blood, no wounds – out comes a 1/3 cup measuring cup)

(pour contents of sugar container into cup – never mind asking why the sugar container could not have been tipped up in a pinch)

SSSSSHHHHUUUUUUUGGAAAAAARRRRRR!

OK… whew!  That was sure lucky that it…

(spleen and eardrums burst and starts bleeding profusely)

Oh damn.  That isn’t working either.  OW!

By now, ten minutes have elapsed, and it was still getting hotter.  At some point the brain ceases to register pain in  a linear fashion and everything goes mute, the brain having overloaded and blown a fuse.  This is not a circuit-breaker.  We are talking about honest-to-God old-style screw-in fuses and in order to get any use from one’s brain at this point requires removing the fuse and inserting a penny into the socket, then screwing the fuse back in.  That is the only choice beyond just waiting it out and going stark raving bugshit.  At least bypassing the fuse allows some mental capacity – enough to babble to one’s self, much like babbling to one’s wife when your child is being born.  It gets you there and seems ineffective at the same time and you have no idea what you said later on.  Yes, bypassing the fuse may cause the house to burn down.  It is  a calculated risk and I’ve also stretched the metaphor beyond the breaking point so just let it go, ok?

25 minutes after the event known as The Cleansing Fire the heat subsided to a painful fire and by 35 minutes the ordeal was over.

Exhausted by the ordeal, I slept like  a baby.

I woke with the worst case of the “zactlies” I have ever had, bar none.  The “zactlies,” as a friend once put it to me, is where you wake up and your mouth tastes zactly like an old tractor tire with lots of little furry things living in it.    My stomach, esophagus, nose, and mouth hurt.

This morning I discovered that your alimentary canal can move food through your system in eight hours or less if it really is motivated to.

Still hurting around lunchtime I went with The Dude as kind of a going-away lunch and ordered a ten-star thai meal  (they only go to four or five stars on the menu but will “kick it up” if you ask them to).  I figure if your stomach hurts you – you just hurt it right back!   Fire with fire, I say!

I had mashed potatoes and pork for dinner.  The butter was a little spicy but I ate it anyway.

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Toasting One’s Nads.

I ate a Bhut Jolokia last night.

The story will be told tonight about how the bottom 1/3 of a pepper can pack a punch.

The teaser?

My spleen is bleeding.

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One more change tonight to age/distress the gears and add whatever tweaks someone would like to suggest.  But largely the Chillipository™ product advert is done.

Only a very stupid or very desperate person would want to use the Extra Strength Red Savina or Bhut Jolokia Formulations. They could also be used repeatedly on child abusers/molesters to ensure maximum agony.

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A co-worker, I shall call her “Xerox: Collator Princess” hereafter, sent me this definition out of the blue .  It could be that she is trying to send a message.  If only I could decipher the cryptic female mind.  Might as well flap my arms and fly to Jupiter for all the chance any man has of doing that.

Main Entry: sar·casm

Pronunciation: \ˈsär-ˌka-zəm\

Function: noun

Etymology: French or Late Latin; French sarcasme, from Late Latin sarcasmos, from Greek sarkasmos, from sarkazein to tear flesh, bite the lips in rage, sneer, from sark-, sarx flesh; probably akin to Avestan thwarəs- to cut

Date: 1550

1 : a sharp and often satirical or ironic utterance designed to cut or give pain
2 a : a mode of satirical wit depending for its effect on bitter, caustic, and often ironic language that is usually directed against an individual b : the use or language of sarcasm

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Picking on a Down’s kid?  Jeez, that is terrible.  Even worse is posting a video of it, as if it were funny.  That shows zero empathy or remorse.  Lock the bullies up.

But locking up the Google execs because they can’t immediately check each and every video uploaded – for SIX MONTHS?

The entire E.U. is insane.

The complaint was brought by an Italian advocacy group for people with Down’s syndrome, Vivi Down, and the boy’s father.

I’d love to ask the plaintiffs what really can they hope to achieve when the end result could be to potentially shut down everyone’s video-sharing, much of it legit.

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Damn commies.  Only in California over on the Left Coast could this happen.

On the video, a man off camera can be heard saying: “I’m here for Ari David for Congress. Can we start this meeting with the Pledge of Allegiance?”

Hilarity ensues, most notably on behalf of an unidentified woman standing behind a lectern. Becerra, seated on stage, can be seen smiling and stifling his laughter as he bends slightly forward in his chair.

“No, I’m serious,” David’s staffer continues. “Congressman, shouldn’t we say the Pledge of Allegiance if we all want to be citizens? Wouldn’t that be appropriate to say the Pledge of Allegiance?”

“Sure, of course,” the woman on stage replies. “OK, let’s go for it — you lead.”

The pledge is then recited by everyone in the room, followed by raucous applause.

Yeah, I always thought the recitation of a pledge to be true to my country to be frickin’ hilarious, too.  Swearing into office requires an oath a bit more binding than that, right?  So technically he shouldn’t have a problem with the Pledge, right?  So why when he thinks he can get away with it does he mock it?

Because he only pretended in the first place -OR- is completely lacking in character.

David told Fox News he found Becerra’s reaction “completely inappropriate,” adding: “I was stunned as an American that one of our members of Congress would act that way.

Stunned?  Rightfully so!

Typical of attempts to re-write the record to cover up one’s deep abiding character flaws….

Becerra defended the reaction in a statement to Fox News, saying:

“On the morning of February 20th, I was invited to address some 500 people gathered to discuss the human tragedy of a broken immigration system and the need to fix it. At some point during that meeting, a political operative for a congressional campaign asked if we could recite the pledge of allegiance. The meeting was already under way and the question was unexpected. It took us all by surprise. When the speaker explained that he was serious and asked me specifically if we could say the pledge, I said yes and gestured to the moderator, who then led the entire gathering in reciting the pledge.”

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