Motorcycle Cage of Death: Juju vs. Mojo
It doesn’t get any better than things that have not yet happened.
Do I phrase my statements as questions and then answer them? Of course I don’t.
Frying and the element of risk
Some friends of mine are going on vacation. They ask me to house sit.
Upon my arrival, I survey the clinically modern kitchen. There isn’t much food. Thanks a lot.
I will come up with something edible no matter what is on hand. It is a challenge I always enjoy.
Figuring out where the utensils and implements are stowed is also part of the fun.
I wish I had my nice pans! How can people work with this junk?
Pushing back my sleeves, I begin washing my hands at the kitchen sink.
There is a pubic hair on the bar of soap.
It isn’t mine. I have not yet undressed.
Not Nearly Perishable
I’m not one of those boutique survivalists. You know the type: the ones who buy up every case of expensive thirty-year shelf life turkey chili they can find, and then gorge on it secretly, pre-Armageddon, while they’re alone watching Seinfeld reruns. They don their radiation suits and prance around in front of full-length mirrors. Drop water-purification tablets into bottles of Perrier. Fucking posers.
Frank’s story about Pierce
Them’s the breaks, as my half-brother Pierce used to say a lot. He’d spit it out like you had earned that bad thing comin’ and why didn’t you just get outta the way but nobody said it out loud when he got so drunk and walked in front of an F-350 dually. Twenty four breaks as I recall although that’s skipping the bones that got all crushed up like oyster crackers.
What I learned today while shopping
I take some paid time off the day before Christmas Eve and do about 95% of my shopping — with clarity and focus. No desperation gifts, just the rendered essence of giving; a reduction sauce of I hope you like this. I enjoy the day.
Did you know?
- After they have loaded groceries into their car, Trader Joe’s customers return empty shopping carts to the store instead of leaving them in the parking lot.
- Guitar Center makes buying musical instrument accessories as cool as a trip to Home Depot.
- Liquor stores could close January through March thanks to all the business they do this week.
- I took a little break and had some coffee. Newspapers are now printed on 15% smaller paper or I am 15% bigger.
- When they pull out into traffic, motorists in Miamisburg near the Dayton Mall will aim for your car.
- I’ll punch you in the neck if you say you have more Christmas spirit than I do. Fuck you.
Splendid Holiday Recipes — From My Home to Yours
Cook up some of these yummy, festive treats and it will be as if all y’all are here with me in the comfort and warmth of my own little kitchen. Enjoy!
The only thing I think about this time of year is sharing food and drink with my family and friends. My family, at least — I don’t have many friends besides old Mrs. Crotch next door, Doug (I think that’s his name) at the beer drive-thru, and Yelling Boy, that skateboard kid who screams at me when I walk out to my car after work.
No matter how delicious my recipes turn out, I thrust ahead on my journey toward culinary transcendence. My pilgrimage excites and terrifies me. There are so many foods yet to put in my mouth. I need more time.
Seasoned Greetings, fellow travelers!
Best Eggnog Ever
A traditional wintertime beverage, now with bold, modernistic tweaks.
1 qt. skim milk
1 dozen eggs
3 cups dairy sour cream
1 cup plus one tablespoon powdered non-dairy creamer
1 pint vanilla-flavored liquid antacid
2 cups canola oil
1 liter premium Scotch whisky (gin or tequila may be substituted)
1/2 teaspoon freshly ground nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon cayenne pepper
Whisk canola oil, non-dairy creamer, and antacid into the eggs and beat until mixture becomes blended and frothy. Slowly add sour cream and skim milk; mix thoroughly. Leave uncovered and allow to stand at room temperature for one week. Stir in liquor and refrigerate for at least two hours. Serve chilled and sprinkle with nutmeg and cayenne pepper. Enough eggnog for five or six guests.
It took me a while to figure it out
Michael and Sarah have the same last name.
No Comment about the Cat Food
I stop at the janky little supermarket to pick up a couple of things on my way home from work.
The kid at the checkout pushes my high-fiber lite bread across the scanner and says,
“Whoa, that bread is really soft!”
I smile and wish he would not talk about my food.
From Duncan
O Daddy
I am intoxicated by the liquor
of your butt crack.
Your sweet, sweet funk is enough
to sustain my joy—
just barely.
I can’t tell if you’re scratching my head
or pushing me away.
As if I care!
Throw the damned ball.
Throw it now.
Throw it.
Dear clusterflock,
Imagine not worrying about your financial obligations.
If you could pay for everything you think is essential to your existence and still have unlimited resources with which to indulge your passion for collectibles, what would you buy?
Read more
Baby and Bucky
The late afternoon sun broiled the self-storage units’ flat rooftops. A mirage effect created the illusion of a cool lake floating atop wide, low block buildings. Bucky leaned back until his plastic deck chair quivered on the blacktop.
“Why do they call it late?” Bucky said to Baby and no one in particular. “It’s here at the same time every day, more or less.”
Baby’s hair permanently screened her right eye like a curtain of fine blonde steel wool.
“You are the mighty oak that shades my babbling brook, King Dynamite,” she said with a yellowish smile. “I dream constantly of your stout trunk and overspreading limbs.”
Leonard “Bucky” Sawtooth was not handsome, unless he stood in a crowd of ugly men. Bucky did not seem to be particularly intelligent, unless he was packed into a room full of idiots. He was tolerated and mostly adored by his common-law wife, Doreen Shaker. Bucky called her “Baby.”
Midlife Banking Crisis
If I “borrow” something from you, at the time I receive it I really, really intend to give it back. It’s still yours — you’ll simply never see it again. When I ask my next-door neighbor if I can use his Husqvarna chainsaw, I always, well, almost never, return it. “Stealing” denotes acquisition through violence or sneakiness; “borrowing” is defined by unreasonable expectations of repatriation.
Excerpts from the Future Testimony of Harriet Miers and Karl Rove
MS. MIERS: I have no recollection of that conversation.
MR. ROVE: Could you repeat the question, Congressman?
MS. MIERS: I don’t remember.
MR. ROVE: Are you referring to the first President Bush or the second?
Fashion Week: As Luck Would Have It
The past thirty days have not been my best. It’s hard to focus on my work, or even on the possible reasons why I might not be able to focus on my work. Everything I eat tastes like aspirin and chalk. I can’t digest food or important information.
Brush Off the Fuzz and Dig In
Special Report — Today’s special: salmonella ‘n’ jelly sandwiches and tainted milk. Your choice of side dish includes cultured mayonnaise rind, fruit roll-up kimchee, or refrigerator-blackened cherry tomatoes.
Is the nation’s food supply at risk or are people just belly-aching?
Continued Wintry Mix with a Chance of Obscure Metaphor
I would have posted sooner but I had to let my computer warm up before I could get the ice off of it.
The Internet was very slippery and dangerous this morning. I couldn’t get any traction.
I wish I had gotten those new updates, at least on the front end.
People, please slow down and leave some extra distance between posts.
Go ahead and pass me, jackass.
As usual, I ended up against the guardrail.
You’re Full of It, Says Manure Industry
New York, NY — What a load. Hits the fan. Runs downhill. A lying sack of it.
Enough is enough, according to manure processors and resellers. Image is everything when it comes to marketplace perceptions, and the much-maligned poop business has decided to litigate for respect if it can’t earn it.
“It’s impossible to turn on the TV or use a computer without being bombarded by flawed examples harmful to our hard-earned brand equity,” Manure Trade Association president Raymond Tonewell said in a press release. “Gov. Rod Blagojevich, former Merrill Lynch CEO John Thain, indicted broker Bernard Madoff — calling one of these guys ‘the biggest pile of feces’ damages our product’s reputation.”
Unreleased Songs and Forgotten “B” Sides
“March of the Damned” — John Philip Sousa
“Razor Blades, Broken Glass, and Model Airplane Glue” — Alison Krauss
“That’s Not a Roll of Quarters in My Pocket, Darling” — Irving Berlin
Bacon Explosion
Kathy gave me an upright, gas-fired smoker for Christmas.
I seasoned the smoker according to the directions and then, for my first attempt, smoked a whole cut-up chicken, some boneless country-style pork ribs, and a seven pound beef brisket.
It all ate pretty good. I got a little carried away with the brisket’s dry rub. Zippy brisket.
I can’t wait for the weather to moderate a little so I can smoke the hell out of something, anything, else.
My brother-in-law asked me to try this recipe.
The Sucker Punch of a Brighter Tomorrow
Special Report — I awake in the 4:00 AM gloom, unable to breathe. A bearded, brown-eyed Cyclops wearing a feathery plumed hat lies on my chest staring at me. My Indiglo watch’s pale luminescence reveals the intruder’s identity: cat #27 nuzzling my pajama pants drawstring again.
I am by necessity a cat rancher. Felines are useful for their varmint-hunting prowess, pelts, and milk. A dozen or so can keep you warm when no other heat source is available. Milking them is not an enterprise to be underestimated, but I have small hands so no problem there.
“I am a free man.”
80-year-old British actor Patrick McGoohan dies.
Somali Pirates’ Suicides Confound Naval Forces
An international flotilla of warships has gathered to put an end to the cutthroats’ high-spirited shenanigans but has so far failed to make much impression on the maritime hijackings.
American, British, French, German, Indian, Russian, and Chinese warships are among the naval forces that have assembled to stop the pirates’ self-destructive tendencies, but with limited effect.
“If saving these poor scoundrels from themselves means losing few million tons of freight,” said Canadian Navy Vice Admiral Bruce Allen Haye, “then that’s just a small price we’re willing to pay again and again and again.”
Chronically Indigent Resent Influx of Nouveau Poor
Experts on sociological stereotypes insist the majority of beggars, bums, and homeless people live in poverty because of personal preference.
“Most of them are alcoholics, drug users, insane, or just plain lazy,” said Dr. Diane Reba Guzman, Dean of Socializing and Socialism Studies at CUNY’s Hunter College. “I mean, seriously, why else would you want to live like that?”
Mr. Baxter, a retired New York City councilman, refuted Dr. Guzman’s characterization.
“I’m a social drinker,” he said while stuffing a crumpled Wall Street Journal into his tattered Members Only jacket. “Society depresses me, so I drink.”
Grilling in the Dark
Excerpts from an Unfinished Detective Story:
He was a chalk outline waiting for a place to happen.
I had roused myself and gotten ready extra-early that morning. A four o’clock shadow now covered my face like cigarette ashes on a dinner plate.
“As much as I hate my life,” she said over her shoulder, “I hate your life even more.”
Lower Stories: Doug on Christmas Day
Stephanie is a grade school teacher and her husband Matt is a graphic designer.
Stephanie’s father Doug died on Christmas Day. Doug had owned and lost several Subway sandwich shops and other franchise opportunities. The restaurants always failed but Doug would take an entry-level job somewhere and save money until he could invest in his next venture. He always had a plan.
Doug suffered from chronic swelling in his legs and ankles but refused to get medical attention. There were blood clots. Doctors tried to remove the clots but Doug’s 47-year-old heart stopped during the surgery. Doug worked as a sandwich-maker until the day before he expired.