You made me miss the Slick Rick gig

Today I finally feel like I’m out of my haze.  I got back to the gym this morning.  I’ve been trying to get to the gym for the last three days but just couldn’t get there.  This morning it was simple.  At the end of the day, things go the way they’re supposed to.  The funeral was last Friday and I was a snotty mess before anything even got going.  Like I said, I wish I’d put something together and spoke for the title plant, but as Auntie pointed out, if it was supposed to be that way, I would have been able to speak.  So today, I was able to wake up on time, get up on time and get to the gym.  Sadly Auntie left this morning.  I’ve been so sick I can’t remember when she got here, I think on Monday.  Apparently scotch is to Auntie what spinach is to Popeye.  She left without getting sick in spite of my disgusting condition the whole time she was here.

Part of the dilemna with the workout was figuring out how to do hand stand push ups with a runny nose.  Since I couldn’t figure it out, I didn’t do it.  Last night I decided that the Crossfit Warm Up was enough to start with so I would do that today no matter what.  The Crossfit Warm Up is:

3 rounds of 10-15 reps of
Samson Stretch (do the Samson Stretch once each round for 15-30 seconds)
Overhead Squat with broomstick

I can’t do a pull up so I use one of these.

When I started, to get to 15 I had to have 170lbs of assist, now it’s 130lbs.  When it gets to zero, I can do a pull up.  This morning I got up with the intention of just doing the warm up, but then today’s WOD was 5X3 front squats.  Easy peasy for me.  I dropped back the weight because I hadn’t been in the gym and knocked it out.  So far, it’s a good day.  Except Auntie is sitting alone at the airport an hour and a half before her flight leaves, because we took extra extra precautions due to the weather and normal morning traffic patterns.

Whenever it stops raining I think I’ll be able to get back on the bike.  I’m not going to be able to climb hills for another couple of days but I think riding will help clear my lungs.   My palate is finally back so there will be some jackassery to come.  Soon.

And we’ve been poisoned by these fairy tales

I had a nasty little head cold that seems to be wrapping itself up finally.  This time I went with Qin Chiao and Zicam.  I got the sore throat on Tuesday, naturally the DAY AFTER I gave blood so I had to call the blood bank and tell them that particular pint might not have been my best work.  Then I  spiraled downward Wednesday and Thursday.  Spent Friday down there and started working my way out on Saturday.  I’m not 100% but I’m almost out of the web.  Friday was the funeral for our friend.  I don’t believe there is much worse that watching a 22 year old kid get up in a chapel and say she’s going to miss her Daddy.  I wish I had put something together.  As it turned out, no one spoke for the title plant. Of course the title plant sat together in the back.  And went through a lot of Kleenex.  Between the cold and service I’m sure I was covered in snot and tears.  Friday was a rough day.  I left Old Republic in 1998.  They brought in a new plant manager who was such an idiot that I just couldn’t abide by that guy.  He was that special kind of corporate brownnoser that I so respect.  I spent the next 10 years having a great career until I ran into the Amateur Manager.  But we all pick back up like it was yesterday.  I had lunch with a couple of the guys afterward.  We just don’t miss a beat.

In other news, Bubba has blown his coat again.  He looks like an alien species.

He had a run of antibiotics for the abscess on his manhood.  I don’t know if that was a contributing factor.  I can’t remember how much I said about that, but he had something on his boyness.  The interns poked and prodded and squeezed and ultimately got a needle and aspirated it.  I stood over him repeating “I’m sorry little man”.  Little Bubba took it like a champ.  They gave me a run of antibiotics and it’s finally gone.

And in spite of lots of advice in the contrary, I planted peet pots and put tomatoes, jalapeños, habañeros and some of Rudy’s peppers in there.  Rudy’s seeds were 2 years old, but I got lucky and they sprouted anyway.  Everything came up except two of Rudy’s, so I’ve got four of them, 7 tomatoes, 2 jalapeños, and a habañero.

I’ve built a 4X4 raised bed for the peppers so that the soil will stay warmer.  They’ll go into the ground in the next couple of days depending on rain.  Somebody left a half of a squirrel on the back 40.  I discovered him yesterday.  I’m hoping the bird circling the yard really was a vulture and took care of the rest.  If not, I guess I have to bury half a squirrel later on today.  I don’t know who introduced him to his maker.  Rita got back there twice last week, but wouldn’t even pretend to venture back there yesterday when the gate was wide open.  I can’t’ imagine she wouldn’t have brought her prey back to me, but who knows with that dog.  She’s kind of sociopathic at times.  An owl or a bird of prey could have introduced him to his maker too.  That’s actually the way I’d like things to work around here.

What have I done?

I owe you and Jordan a final post on the wine, but I’ve come down with the flu so talking about wine isn’t interesting to me right now.  Give me a day or two. 

In other news the Concord Police came back and gave me yet another bullshit revenue generating piece of crap ticket.  I went out and told him I’d already been ticketed for the registration and I couldn’t afford to pay the registration right now.  He wrote it anyway.  And he was a pompous little jerk about it.  So I let loose on probably three or four years of aggravation on him.  I even positioned myself so he had to push me out of the way to get back into his car.  He would prefer I played musical chairs with my vehicles every day than just be understanding .  Happy Earth Day asshole.

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Give me a lifetime of promises and a world of dreams

I’m going to talk a little about Chef Todd Knoll today.    Chef Todd is the Evil Genius of the kitchens at Jordan Winery.  This guy is an über food geek.  His wife told me about his quest to make his own sea salt.  So they hump water from obscure places all over the world and he evaporates it and makes sea salt.  Somebody at the table told me he sketched out every menu on a scratch pad.  He does.  Yep, I got his wife to show me that too.

It’s a gift really.  I’m not an über food geek, but I’m getting a lot better.  I know I surprised the staff when I asked if the flower in the gougères was a fava bean bloom.  I know, it’s cheating, I’m growing fava beans.  The blooms are edible.  Actually so are the leaves.  Chef Todd makes his own olive oil, grows his own herbs, evaporates his own salt.  He is Bruce Almighty.

I’m planting my own herbs too Chef so stand down buddy!  OK, maybe not, I’ve got a ways to go.  A long ways.  It must be amazing to have free reign to dream up and create these amazing dishes and menus.  There is a guy at Jordan who runs the garden.  But it sure helps to have a guy there who’s job it is to bury the asparagus so it doesn’t turn green. He does an amazing job with that garden.

There is an entire row of strawberries down there.  And fava beans.  And all kinds of different sorts of goodness.  And just to be sure that weeds stay in check, there’s Barney and Clyde.

They keep them either penned up or on goat leads so that they don’t wander off and get eaten by a mountain lion or a coyote.  They’re very sweet little goats.  That’s Clyde, I’m pretty sure, I think, probably.

And Chef Todd has his toys.  And lots of them.  They are now building a pizza/woodburning/bread oven on the property.  We all know I want one of those so this was of particular interest to me.  It looks kind of boring right now but Chef explained that the foundation went deep into the ground, close to 6 feet.  They asked the local paper if they would like to cover the construction of the oven and they turned their nose up at the opportunity.  I think the locals missed the boat.  People are entertaining more at home in this recession and making improvements to their home.  There are people out there who would love to read this story.  I’m curious as to how it all goes together, but we know a bread oven is on the master plan for The Farm.  Part of a master plan that involves dropping off of the grid.

And there’s this one other toy.  This is where the magic happens.

Isn’t she gorgeous?  Now, what did Chef Todd do with all of that amazing goodness he had to play with?

Mero Seabass and Tasmanian Salmon

with Our First Peas and Ramps

Yes he did.  They paired it with the 2005, 2007 and 2008 Jordan Chardonnay.  More on the wine tomorrow.  I’m not sure what kind of bloom he’s put in there, but I’ve had them before.  Just gorgeous.

Second course?

Gilled Sonoma Lamb and this Morning’s Carrots

with Fava, Morels and Black Garlic Jus

Oh yes he did. That was paired with the 1999, 2005 and 2006 Jordan Cabernet Sauvignon.  I will not spoil tomorrows post by talking about this wine.  I will not spoil tomorrows post by talking about this wine.  I will not spoil tomorrows post by talking about this wine.  I will not spoil tomorrows post by talking about this wine.

Not only were each of these dishes beautiful on the plate, they were equisite on the palate.  We had a discussion at our table about salmon cooked poorly.  I guess it was to my advantage that my father didn’t like fish so we never had salmon as kids.  I’ve heard more stories about overcooked dry nasty salmon from people’s childhoods.  If my salmon is overcooked it’s because I’ve had an ADD moment.  For the most part I’m used to it being prepared fairly properly.  Rarely perfect.  Chef Todd put perfect salmon on the plate.  And perfect seabass.  In a beautiful pureé of baby peas.  It was a gorgeous dish, paired perfectly with their Chardonnay.

I don’t even attempt lamb here, but I love it when it’s done properly.  Once again they nailed it.  The presentation was in a deep flat bowl.  It allowed the jus and the vegetables to marinade in their own goodness.  It was an absolutely perfect dish.

Our garden tour was actually after the first two courses.  After that we came back up to shaded area for dessert.

Oh yes they did.  Yes, that’s gold flakes, I think on a tiramisu, that’s what it sort of played like.  A very high end tiramisu.  There is the shortbread like cookie drizzled in chocolate, I’m not sure what the one with the foamy sort of stuff on top was, it had kind of a cakelike base with almonds I think.  I skipped the fruit bars for no real reason.   There is also something that is not in this picture.  I believe them to be mini profiteroles with marzipan inside and dusted with powdered sugar.  That may not be accurate.  I’m not really good on dessert names.  Especially all the old French stuff they’re making again.  But they may have been something made with an egg white based dough too.  They were ridiculous.  I could have finished the entire tray, and certainly tried to.  I am a huge fan of anything lemon and tend to choose the lemon dessert off of most menus.  Those little lemon tarts were amazing.  I tried to eat the whole tray of those too.  Simply amazing.

When John Jordan talks about a world class experience, and then allows guys like Chef Todd to deliver, that’s where the rubber meets the road.  I’ve been blessed in my life to have been at the right place at the right time on numerous occasions.  I would consider myself very lucky to be seated at one of Chef Todd’s tables any day any where.  The man is a genius.

Dear FCC, we were all comped at Jordan Winery.  I was not asked to write about them.  If I didn’t enjoy the experience and learn something I wouldn’t have written anything because I think if you can’t say anything nice after you’ve been comped, then don’t.  And guess what?  I’m going to write about this day at least one more time.  So there.

You can check-out any time you like, but you can never leave

I spent the day yesterday up at Jordan Winery.  I’m going to write about the entire experience, but the experience was so amazing it needs to be broken up over a few posts. We got there at 11am and didn’t leave until 4pm, and they didn’t leave us there to our own devices, we were doing something with someone from the Estate every minute we were there.

Today I’m going to talk a little about what I took away from my conversation with John Jordan.  It was the first thing I did when I arrived.  He introduced himself as “John”.  I hadn’t done my homework so I had no idea that he was John Jordan the owner of the entire place.  Up until that fateful moment when I asked about the ownership, I thought he was either the GM or maybe the Wine Director or even the Winemaker.  His answer was simple.  Who owns this?  I do.  Ok then.  He is a pilot, a lawyer, an MBA and the visionary for where this estate is heading.

Jordan was started by his father, a successful oil man, in 1976.  His father signed the deed for the property on the day he was born in 1972.  They took the architect to France to see the great Chateaus for inspiration for the winery.  His father had a passion for food and wine.  John’s father had spent time in his young adulthood in France with a young lady and her family.  They taught him the beauty of food and wine the way that only the French can teach that.  John’s father learned the lesson well.  He shared it with his new wife, his son and now it is shared with everyone, it is the Jordan experience.

John Jordan has the vision.  It is an amazing vision.  Numerous times in our conversation and throughout the day he said that he wanted people who came to Jordan to have a world class experience.  When he first said “World class”, it affected me as if he’d said “Gourmet”, another word that has been diluted by over use.  Then he showed us a world class experience.  He can use that word.  All he wants.  He understands it.  He spoke often of the “pleasures of the table”.  And then his staff delivered.  Mightily.  What went in to that delivery will be in the next missive.

John grew up on that property.  It’s where his parents lived and where he now lives with Nimitz and Bismarck.

Nimitz is a 135lb Lab.  Bismarck is a very short little General who seems to be able to hold his own.  There is a lake on the property where John fishes.  This place is Mecca for adults who possess a sophiticated palate.  John was very passionate about how they did not want to run a “belly up to the bar” tasting room.  And they don’t.  As good as their wines are, they do not ask you to, nor could you if you wanted to, join their wine club.  They don’t have one.  He wants to deliver a world class experience and if you are so inclined to buy a bottle of wine, great.  If not, that’s ok too.  They don’t refund tasting fees towards purchases or any of those sorts of gimmicks.  They just deliver.  On every single level.

He didn’t want Vegas styled signs or advertising pointing the way up the hill.  He didn’t want a Disneyland sort of feel (Hello Rubicon, I think he might be talking to you).  Essentially, he wanted to deliver this “world class experience” he talks about.  And he has.  He talked about how the accountant used to run the business before he took over.  He talked about how his job as owner was to find the best people he could and give them the room to be great.  He doesn’t micromanage.  He does what a smart business man does.  Bring in the best talent possible and get the hell out of the way.  His winemaker, Rob Davis has been there for 34 years.  That’s the kind of company they run.

He talked about their place in a industry that is feeling the influx of corporatization and the importance of their place in that industry and marketplace.  He doesn’t answer to Wall Street, or some corporate wanker.  He answers to his customers.  His father said “I’d rather impress people and credit cards than critics”.  Well, John, you impressed my palate.

I was seated with the guys from Mutineer Magazine.  The photographer dude was talking about how other photogs will ask what you’re shooting with and kind of turn up their nose if you’re not using the right this that or the other.  Now, this kid has talent.  And passion.  And a ton of it.  So I pop off and ask them if they watched football.  Of course.  And you know Joe Montana.  They greatest quarterback ever he opines.  I tell him, no he wasn’t the greatest.  He had lousy footwork and a crappy delivery.  He was a fan and looked wounded.  Joe Montana saw something on the field that no one else saw and that’s what made him great.  He saw the play develop and opportunities present that no one else could see.  That’s what made him great.  The guys with all the fancy blah blah equipment?  So what.  I know you see things that no one else sees.  You could shoot it with a freaking Instamatic and it would be amazing.  And really, that’s the story of Jordan too.  They see opportunities and use them to present amazing service, extraordinary product and a world class experience.

Dear FCC, we were all comped at Jordan Winery.  I was not asked to write about them.  If I didn’t enjoy the experience and learn something I wouldn’t have written anything because I think if you can’t say anything nice after you’ve been comped, then don’t.  And guess what?  I’m going to write about this day a couple more times.  So there.

He put that bottle to his head and pulled the trigger

A friend of mine died the night before last.  I met him in 1984.  Bob Woods told me to teach him everything I know.  I didn’t.  I did teach him everything he knew.  He was my age, actually, a couple of months older than me, just starting out.  He had just gotten out of the service, had a new wife, new place, new job.  He went on to build a life for his wife and ultimately his twins.  The Doctors misdiagnosed and almost killed his wife during the last tri-mester.  I thought he was going to drive back to Livermore and shoot the Doctor.  He hated the City and his wife spent several weeks at UCSF, his twins were born there.  And he spent every single day they were there with them.

And then somewhere along the line something went wrong.  Another friend said last night he was a 1,2,3 guy who got dealt a 4,5&6 and didn’t know how to handle it.  I think on some levels it started with his back.  He had a surgery.  I told him not to, but he did.  Then there was another surgery.  And somewhere along the line the blood was tainted and he got Hep-C.  He would have never done drugs, it was the surgery.  And somewhere along the line he fell into the bottle.  Whether it was because or why his wife asked him to leave I don’t know.  Whether it was because or why he lost his job I don’t know.  But he couldn’t get up.  And now he’s gone.  And it’s just a damned shame.

We’ll be real world bachelor jackass millionaires

Hoo boy it’s been busy around here.  Here’s some bon mots and cheap shots.  First, stolen from TriMarni

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Way back in probably November or December of 2007 when I did my first transport I went down to Los Gatos and met a very famous Doberman breeder who had two trainwrecks in her truck.  She’d gone to Merced to get one and I think she might have gone all the way to Santa Maria to get the other one.  Of course Rita was the Santa Maria dog. The other dog was a big red named Honz.  He was a sweet, dopey dog.  Everybody thought I’d want Honz, but he didn’t have that devilment that I like, Rita did.  I knew that sweet boy would get a good home and he did.  Sadly, he bloated Saturday night.  The damage was so bad that he was PTS on the table.  Godspeed Honz, I know you were a good dog.

I’ve gotten some questions about the cycling.  My answer is it’s been rainy and crappy here.  And I don’t have to ride in crappy weather if I don’t want to.  I’ve been out several times a week, that’s for sure, I just haven’t started working up to the long epic rides yet.  Some of my riding pals are making noises about the Tour de Napa.  That’s in August and makes sense.  Quite honestly closings have been so slow that I haven’t been able to pay the entries.  The jury is currently out on the LiveStrong, although if I can swing it, I’ll get that one going.

I’ve also taken a break from powerlifting.  Not because I’m ready to retire from it or anything but because thirteen years of doing the same thing has taken its toll on my body.  As a matter of fact, if you see the March 2010 Powerlifting USA magazine, I’m on page 85.  But for now, I’m doing crossfit right now primarily because it’s something different every day and there is a sort of accountability there.  I am having to do the scaled workouts, and today’s for example will nearly kill me, but I’m keeping at them because I know the more I do something the better I get at it.  Crossfit has a lot of Olympic moves and a lot of broken down versions of Olympic moves.  They don’t bench press very often which is why every now and then I’ll go to max just to keep the muscle memory going, but they do lots of Deadlifts, Power Cleans, Clean and Jerks, Snatch Power Clean and Jerk etc.  I had never done a Snatch Balance before and those were on the menu last Tuesday.  It is essentially a movement that teaches the body balance if you fail on a heavier weight.  I did pretty good with them, but for a new movement, I really liked doing them.  Check’em out.

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The interesting thing with crossfit is that I’ve been working harder in the gym and being able to work harder on the yard before my back starts giving me troubles.  While I don’t have any of it under control, I do have most of the weeds knocked down in the front yard, some of the tree trunk dug up, about half of the weeds knocked down in the back yard and most importantly of all some fava beans starting to grow in the garden.  I’m about two weeks away from having enough of my own lettuce to stop buying it in the store.  Looking forward to that day again.  The regular compost pile is progressing as it should, the dog crap experiment is not going so well.  These guys crap a lot.  A LOT.  Might have to move to Plan B on that one.  Sometimes I wish these guys would crap on command like Beauregard did.  Now that was a good dog.

They all drowned when the air turned blue

This would be a total drive by this morning if I didn’t have so many tasty little morsels.  First up, oopsey.  Bill Foley overcharging customers, imagine that?  And wait a minute boys, did you think the elimination of affirmative insurance for creditors rights was really going to slip by me?  It didn’t.  That was one of the good things in working for the Bloodless Empire.  Their National Underwriter (who is of course long since gone) actually understood creditor’s rights and because I was smart enough to pick his brain, so do I.  Just for the record, I really hate all the people out there who attempt to write about subjects that they don’t bother to research.  I may have an opinion, but at least it’s based in facts.  On to today’s “that’s going to leave a mark” segment Bank of America sues First American Insurance Corp for failing to provide proper title searches.  Did they finally read a title report?  Don’t get me going on banks and their procedures this morning.  I’d just love to run in to someone who knew how to negotiate properly.  That would be gold.  Compared to some corporate monkey who can’t do anything that isn’t filled out in a spreadsheet that they were handed the day they took their $22k a year job.  I realize on some levels this is a response to corruption, but at some point you need to give your people the freedom to do what’s right.  At the end of the day, more often than not, they will do the right thing and the organization will prosper.  Just sayin’.  And look who’s snuggled up with Satan Bill Gates.  I have so many different passwords for every freaking website I have to work with and all my banks and credit cards.  What was your first dog’s 2nd cousin’s middle name?  Uh Bert?  Uh Henry?  How the hell should I know?  What’s your favorite color?  Well, it depends if I’m in a black mood or feeling the green, sometimes I like yellow best.  The third letter of your eldest sibling’s third child?  Now we get Microsoft asking us “Are you sure you want to answer that you don’t have an eldest sibling and this phanthom sibling has no children?”  Yes, goddammit Bill Gates, I’m sure I want to do what I told you eight friggin’ times that I wanted to do it!  Now quit asking me inane questions.

Two very interesting people passed on to the great beyond this week.  Wilma Mankiller was only 64.  She lived about six lives stuffed into one.  It took pancreatic cancer to take her down.  NPR played part of an interview with her from 2003 where she spoke about surviving a head on collision.  She talked about looking at death essentially straight in the eye and not being afraid.  And about the nurse straddling her in the ambulance yelling at her to stay here.  Malcolm McLaren lost his battle with cancer yesterday.  Love him or hate him or both, which seemed to be the case, he was interesting and changed the landscape of music.

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In other news, Bubba had a re-check this week for his gut.  [back story here for newbies]  He was out of Prednisone and they wanted to look at him before I got any more steroids for my dog.  For some reason unknown to me, I thought it was a good idea to wean him off of the pred as I got to the end of the prescription.  So I went to a half a pill and then a half a pill every other day, then every third day and then there were none.  He did ok but I got scared and took him in for the re-check anyway.  Dr. Johnson checked him out and said that he was going to give him some but he wanted me to wean him off of them.  Uh, I already did that.  Encina is a teaching hospital so he had two very eager little interns running around.  I mentioned that Bubba also had a, we’ll call it a “thing” on the end of his manlihood.  Maybe a pimple, maybe a little abscess, but bad enough that I figured since we were there they should look at it.  Poor Bubba.  The interns poked and prodded and then decided to aspirate it, take a smear and check out the slide.  Bubba showed what a great dog he is by just laying there (on the people couch) and letting them assault his maleness.  It’s nothing so a short run of antibiotics so it doesn’t get anywhere else it should be and he’ll be back in the saddle so to speak.

And if you had any questions as to why I change clothes the minute I walk into the house, this should clear that up.

Housekeeping note: The data base update left funky symbols in some of the older posts.  Since there is around 1200 posts on this blog and WordPress doesn’t seem to have a suitable work around I’ll be slowly going through the archives and getting the funky symbols out of there.  Do not adjust your dial.  It’s mySql acting an ass, nothing wrong with your machine.

Home brewed, home grown, where the wild seeds get sowed

Sometimes I’m certain that my life is just circular.  For the last week or so the neighbor’s place has been like Santa’s workshop, whirling and buzzing with activity.  Why there was even a truckload of Hispanic day workers over there doing something in the back yard.  I found this particularly amusing knowing that the wife is afraid of really just a racist, bigoted NIMBY bitch Hispanic day workers.  Then last night he comes over to announce that they have listed their house and it goes on the market today.  I know the reason is two fold and doesn’t have much to do with me, well maybe a little.  It has more to do with the crazy, bipolar Irish (was that redundant?) lady on the other side.  And the fact that they don’t have a Clayton address and Concord is so pedestrian to her.  On one side I say good riddance, but the other side knows that if they really do sell it, even though it’s grossly over priced, the new neighbors could be worse.  I know this.  But they didn’t list it with me and they know what I do for a friggin’ living.  So when he told me that last night I had some choices.  I chose to wish them luck.  And I was going to get out the weed whacker last night, but I chose not to.  And that was the right choice because they were on broker’s tour this morning.  I doubt anyone saw their house through all of my weeds.  And yes, I did stand on the porch and holler to one of my buddies to be sure everyone looked up and saw the weeds.

Holla back, y’all.  Yep, they’re up to the bumper of his truck.  Next plan of action is the get out the weed whacker on Sunday afternoon.  Because that’s when the open house will be.  Oh yeah, I made sure the dogs were running in the yard when the broker’s tour was at the house.  Passive aggressive you have a name and it was Wine Dog today.  I don’t care if they actually sell or not.  I don’t care what they sell for either.  Actually I’d be happier if it didn’t sell right now.  Then I could shake my head and tsk tsk, that’s too bad it didn’t sell.   Because it was chicken shit to not give me a chance to pitch it, and it was chicken shit to tell me the night before it went on.  And chicken shit begets chicken shit.  With a side of passive aggression, which by the way is best when fully embraced.  You see if someone is passive aggressive and doesn’t understand that they are doing it, they have no power.  The power comes from the knowledge.

And I know the new neighbors could be worse.  I’d rather take a less then perfect known than gamble on what could be.  What if I get a nut case that wants to complain or cause problems over the dogs?  What if one of those fresh young couples buys it.  You know the ones who think all of heaven and earth should stop moving simply because they bore children?  The ones that think their little snots will be the next Captains of Industry when we all know they’re the next dope addicts who we’ll have to pay for their rehab 50 times before they finally OD.  And they’ll be afraid of my dogs and cause me problems because their little snots are the most precious little shits that ever plopped out on the face of the earth.  So with that in mind, the racist, bigoted NIMBY ain’t so bad.  She is, of course a good Christian lady who is opposed to all things that her racist bigoted NIMBY church says she should be opposed to.  (That’s what the Pastor gets for delivering “Yes on 8” signs)  They are what is wrong with the church in it’s current configuration.  They are why when asked what he had against converting to Christianity Gandhi said:

“Oh, I don’t reject your Christ. I love your Christ. It’s just that so many of you Christians are so unlike your Christ.”


There’s a crack in the mirror

There’s so much to piss me off right now.  I guess Obama is really the catalyst to allow all the racism and hate this country has been holding on to for the last 40 years to boil over.  I’ll refer over to The Field Negro for the latest.  Or this wingnut.  Or this wingnut elected official.  What is the matter with Texas?  Seriously?  What’s wrong with you people?  Speaking of wrong, I’m sure there’s no connection between this and this.  (I hope the first link works for non-facebook users…are there any besides my mother?)

So let’s go to our happy place.

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This year’s Washington Post entries in the Peep Show.  And of course, our mascot.