What size monkey do you have on your back?

Some folks have many, many vices. Over the years I have developed, discarded, and reacquainted myself with a whole series of vices.

Phase 1:
Loose women
Beer

These truly were my first identifiable vices. Bad, bad, bad for a teenage boy.

Phase 2:
Loose women
Whiskey
Beer

Doesn’t look like I go any better or more refined with time, does it? I am a weak, weak person.

Phase 3:
Caffeine
Beer

Okay, my list got shorter and I finally got the 1000 pound monkey of loose women off my back, but that doesn’t help too much.

Now, I know you are asking, just what does this have to do with the picture at the top of the page? As I sat around on my first full day of summer break, I made a decision to give up caffeine. That is right. Get rid of the big stimulant monkey on my back. Two naps and a horrible headache later I realized just how week I was. Actually, it was after my Coke fix that I realize this.

So, what does this have to do with the picture at the top of the page? I am now into Phase 4.

Phase 4:
Caffeine
Pickled Eggs
Beer

Yes, I have admitted it. The picture is of my 1-gallon jar of pickled eggs. It is a weakness that I cannot explain or free myself of. I live in fear of the day when the jar will be empty and I will have to boil two dozen more eggs and let them soak for a week or two before they are ready.

Of course, my wife has no idea about the 10 empty gallon jars I have stashed. If I filled them all with pickled eggs at two week intervals, I would never run out. NEVER!!!!!!

Maybe I need help?

"Hello, my name is Lenny. Will you be my bitch?"

Well, the jury has return. Skilling and Lay are guilty. Really big freaking guilty. There was dancing in the streets and at my house the medicinal booze was nearly pulled out and enjoyed. Yep, 38 year old whiskey is a good way to enjoy your CNN.

Especially when the most crooked and underhanded bastards in the entire country, (well almost, I think the pres and company take that title) are convicted of doing evil. For those who mock me because I believe in our judicial system, bite me. This is why I say it works. A jury decided these two swine deserve time in prison. Time in a FEDERAL PRISON. I hear rumors there is no parole from the Feds. It is time served. Period. End of Story. Twenty five years means twenty five years. It makes for better long term prison relationships.

But why am I not happy? Why is my joy being smothered?
No, it is not the fact that the evil clowns of Enron will probably only get twenty five years each. They deserve more, but at their ages, twenty five years in the pen will do them in. That, and a boyfriend named Lenny.

What has me upset are the theories that have begun to swirl about how these two will never see a day in the big house.

Theory 1: The judges instructions to the jury were not in line with the law. 75% of all appeals fail, but the 25% that are successul apparently revolve around improper jury instructions. Thus in this theory, the judge has screwed things up and in 2 years when the appeal is heard, they are free men.

Theory 2: The appeal will drag on for 2 years, then when president shrub is leaving office, one of his last ditch defiant acts against the intelligent and poor will be a full pardon for both Lay and Skilling.

See why my joy has been smothered? Understand my pain?

I wonder if shrub would pardon someone if they made Lay and Skilling dissappear?

Pretty vs Practical

Last year I listened to a prolonged discussion betweeen the Houston Astros' radio announcers about the Astros' shortshop, Adam Everett. The discussion was about the question "Would you rather be known as a slick fielding shortstop or a good hitting shortstop?".

Needless, the discussion had a point. Everett can field. He is a human fly trap when it comes to stopping baseballs and making amazing plays. The other side of the story was that he couldn't hit a softball with a tennis racket at that point. The one weakness in his game is his hitting. So in other other words, would you rather be Pretty (slick fielding) or Practical (hit the ball)?

This came to mind last week when a couple of my coworkers and I were discussing men who shave their legs, for no good reason. Apparently someone we know shaves his legs, for no good reason.

GREAT GOOGLYMOOGLY!!!! Is the man a professional swimmer? Does he perform death defying stunts that involve fire? Does he suffer from a genetic disorder which causes his hair to grow in neon colors? If you are a man and answer no to all of the questions above, there is no reasonable reason to shave your legs. Manly legs have hair.

Even if you have less than manly chicken legs, you don't shave them. I am serious here. What kind of man shaves his legs for no good reason?

I shave my head every summer. Why? Because it savesm money on haircuts and hair gel. It is easy to wash, keeps me cool in the Texas heat, and the chicks dig it. Really.

I would never shave my legs. If I was have surgery, I would only shave a patch on my legs.

Have I digressed? I think so.

Pimpmobile

Pimpmobile -noun-A large, flashy car used by a pimp.

Pimp-noun- a. One who provides means and opportunities for unlawful sexual intercourse; a pander, procurer. b. transf. and fig. One who ministers to anything evil, esp. to base appetites or vices.

I went out to the parking lot yesterday to get my lunch out of the car and what did I see? The Pimpmobile.

I was blown away. If I was going to be a pimp of any sort this is what I would drive. An aqua blue Cadillac Seville with a white cloth top.
That is class.
That is style.
This car says you are "THE MAN!"

When I arrived at work today, it was back. Pimpmobile Day 2.

If I drove this car, this is how I would dress.

The Force is Strong in You or: How to Bitch Slap Your Enemies From Beyond the Grave

Not long ago on a internet group where I post way too much I listed my top 5 Star Wars characters. Just my personal favorites and a little blurb as to why I like them. It spurred this response from a friend. I see his logic and agree, but Yoda is still the man in my book.

"Obi Wan should be on top. Yoda was his bitch, and I'll explain it to you.

Everybody thinks that Obi Wan was looking after Luke because he thought Luke was the Savior or something. Not so. Obi Wan actually did everything he did to honor his teacher, and shame Yoda because Yoda dissed Obi's teacher.

Obi Wan had Luke totally brainwashed and would have pimped Luke down the river to the darkside in a heartbeat. He just needed Luke to get Vader back from the Emperor - dead or alive - so that he could A) Set Luke up to 'save' Annikin from the dark side which would B) Diss the Emperor while having the side effect of C) showing Yoda up for a worrying old fool for not wanting to train Annikin in the first place because everything turned out all right in
the end. All of THAT was for the sole purpose of D) vindicating his dead Jedi instructor's actions while he was alive.

Obiwan, in that way proved that he was A) a true and loyal retainer B) a cold, calculating, devious, and brilliant warrior. By his actions he managed to setup a chain of events that bitch slapped BOTH sides (showing Obiwan's appreciation of the fine distinctions of the relative and the absolute) while elevating his Jedi master above all others.

The fact that anybody who would really appreciate this was either dead, mostly dead, or soon to be dead, made no difference in his plan.

Totally psycho. THAT is the mental realm of shinigurai. Obi Wan is simply THE baddest individual to EVER be depicted in literature of any kind.

Now, get this. On TOP of that, he still makes it into the 'great beyond' and is some kind of hero. I imagine that he now gets to taunt the ugly little bitch for the rest of eternity. "See, Yoda? My master was right all along. Don't you just feel so stupid?"

Sheesh. If I was Yoda, I'd disperse myself among the stars and just give it up."

Jury Duty

For the first time in ten years it was jury duty time for me yesterday. I look forward to jury duty since I do preach about it being a responsibility of all able bodied citizens.

I spent the morning in downtown Conroe. Most if it was spent in District Court 221 listening to the opposing attorney's asking questions and preaching about their clients. I really wanted to sit on a jury, but apparently I wasn't wanted yesterday.

I am pretty sure it was after I admitted that I dont' believe in giving monetary awards for mental anguish. Sorry. No amount of money is going to make someone feel better about the death of a loved one. To me, that reeks of greed.

Heck, if we deserve money for mental anguish, then the government should just send us a $100 check everytime someone dies in our families. It is all the same to me. Greed makes you a whore, it doesn't make your grief go away.

Needless, it was a civil case with a mother suing over the death of her child. I understood her grief, but not the desire to get money for it. Out of 55 candidates, # 20 (me) was passed over for the final jury selection. Dissappointed? Yes, I have never sat on a jury and I would love to take part in the process.

Maybe I am naive? Maybe I am idealistic? I don't think so. Greed is greed, no matter if it is wrapped in grief or not. Go home. Get some therapy. Get drunk if you have to, but get over it. I don't think your child would agree that a lump some payment was the way to define your relationship with them.

"Collect Call From Doom Cake, Will You Accept the Charges?"

Every now and then I have days that humble me. It is like walking into a room full of people without any clothes on and rather than laughing at you, someone walks up and kicks you in the balls as hard as they can. I don't like these days, but they do serve as a reality check of the worst sort. Not really a full serving of Doom Cake, but more like licking Doom Cake Icing off of my fingers. It only tastes good for a very short time.

After I had one of those days yesterday at work, I got to thinking about my friends. On most days I can list the folks whom I consider close friends quickly.

One is criminal defense lawyer who used to have a nasty thirst for cheap gin. Another is an actor who has beaten me to a pulp on at least two occasions (at my request). A major computer maker employees another buddy whose sanity I question regularly, but not in a bad way. One more is software programmer with a severe weakness for strippers. Yet another is a retired corporate lawyer who never had a taste for gin or fast women. Last, but not least, I would list KP, the computer/software genious whose weaknesses are too many to list here. In short, I have known these degenerates for years and trust them with my life. Gin, Strippers, and other bad habits included. I know where I stand with this crowd, even if they are administering a beating or pouring booze down my gullet.

If you are wondering where I am going with this, then I have deviated a bit from my plan. Lets get back to the huge dose of Doom Cake Icing that was shoved in my face. I won't give details, but lets just say that I goobed things up at work pretty well, and it was an honest accident. Being the boorish fool that I am, I didn't realize my goof and went cruising through my day like the village idiot. Rather than get blindsided like the Titanic, people jumped in and worked feverishly to save my silly little soul. Calls were made, emails were sent, things were altered quickly, just to keep me from crashing and burning.

All the time I was oblivious to my error or the efforts underway to keep my bacon out of the fire.

To make a long story short, I got a huge wakeup call. Doom Cake Called Collect and I had friends who refused the charges and hung up, FAST. It isn't like I don't know these people or we don't get along, but I just never realized that they would jump out on a limb and save me from myself. Hell, I would't do it for me.

It just feels good to know that folks have your back, even if you are public nusiance and should probably be flogged as a company moral booster. It is that little extra boost of love and sunshine that makes you feel special.

In my case, I learned who I shouldn't shit talk at work, EVER AGAIN.
Thanks folks.
Life is much easier with friends like these.

More Blogs Please?

I have decided to post a list of blogs that I read often, sometimes daily. Often daily, even though they don't change daily or often.

IF I have done this before, sorry. Also sorry that I didn't choose a template that allowed me to post links. Even more sorry that I don't feel like adding links to this template. Lazy I am.

Call these my guilty pleasures. They are fun.

The Examining Room of Dr Charles

Matthew's Foray Into Blogging

PostSecret

New York Hack

Neil Gaiman

Red Hot Mamma

Jokes and Funny Stories

Ask the Doom Cake

Okay here we go.

Question 1:
If the clock on a photon is stationary (Einstein says so, since it'stravelling at the speed of light) then no time passes between the creationof the photon and its conversion to something else. A photon emitted fromthe Big Bang and received by my eye has crossed the entire 15 billion year old universe in effectively no time. So, from the photonic point-of-view, the universe is nothing more than a Planck-length sized blob of unimaginable energy made up of all the photons in it: which is exactly what it was at the beginning.Therefore, the universe hasn't evolved since the big bang, for photons, and our apparent presence here, with all our space, and time, and American History classes, and unruly kids, is merely an illusion. Or is it?

Despite your best efforts to confuse me, I will have to say that illusions are for charlatans and circus clowns. Every morning for the last 5 years I have awakened, stared at the alarm clock, then declared "I refuse to accept this illusion. I disbelieve." My hope was that there would be a loud flash and a huge bang and then I would realize that I locked in a sensory deprivation tank as part of a mind control experiment. Ronald Reagan would still be President. There would be communists to hate. I would still be in High School chasing teenage girls.
No such luck. Our presence in the universe is real. No matter how you slice it. No matter how weird and unreal George Bush seems. No matter what point of view you have. We exist and it sucks.

Oh yeah, was that a standard or metric photon?


Question 2:
When will the pho restaurant on 242, the one advertised by the banner infront of a vacant space as “opening soon,” actually open for business?

"Opening Soon" is a Vietnamese term for "I can't get a liquor license." If you pay close attention you will notice that there are at least 3 other eating establishments in the same center that are "Opening Soon." Almost all of them are next door to each other. Not a good ploy in my book, but hey, I don't run restaurants, I just eat at them. I really do believe it is 1) a ploy to lure other businesses into the center or 2) I can't get a liquor license.

Don't wait. Go somewhere else, Willie's Icehouse is across the road. Not a Vietnamese Pho Bar, but think of it as a Texan Pho Bar. Instead of noodle soup, you get fried foods of all kinds. Oh yeah, they already have a liquor license so you can chase your Texas Pho Platter with a cold beer.

More Brain Candy

Back by popular demand. The one thing about this blog that just won't die. Not only strange, but sometimes disturbing. Its Brain Candy Time.

Wicked Lasers

Money Art

Nancy Reagan Music Video

Raising A Baby Bird

The Monk and the Fish

How To Put a BandAid on So It Stays On

Robot Body Builder

Microwaved Water and Plants

Shorts in the Office

Cartoon Archives

Just Not Sure What to Call This One

Mulcher From Hell

Ask the Doom Cake

This isn't a new idea and it probably won't work, but here goes nothing.

After reading that most folks freak because no one ever leaves remarks to their blogs, I realized that I too was a blog whore of the worst sort. I figured that I was doing this all for myself because there were never any comments, other than spam.

Ever wonder why I have a hit counter? Its not an ego thing, not really. I just want to feel loved and read. Really!!! So how do I prove that someone reads the stuff that pours out of my mind? I MAKE DOOM CAKE INTERACTIVE!!!

So here goes my first interactive feature that is neither new nor original. In fact, it is pretty freaking stupid and is probably going to fail. I call this little doozy, Ask the Doom Cake.

If you want a smart assed answer to a question, just email it in before Midnight on Thursday. Every Friday that I have a question or even two, I will let the Doom Cake respond.

Is this a bit silly? Oh hell yes. Will it fail? Oh probably hell yes. Will that stop me from trying? Oh Hell no.

So submit those questions about life, the universe, and everything for the Doom Cake to answer.

Everyone has a little bit of the Captain in them.

I came back to my classroom after being in the computer lab and found this on my chalkboard. Notice all the wonderful details: Tattoo on bicep, Hook on the end of one arm, eye patch, parrot. The only problem is that I just didn't get it.

Of all the strange things I do in the classroom, I didn't remember unleashing the dread pirate Vickers at any point. As I stood there admiring the artwork and wondering where the inspiration came from, one of my students made a profound comment.

"Everyone has a little bit of the Captain in them."

I nearly died laughing, but at least the picture made sense, in some weird kind of way.

It takes the smallest things to make my day at this time of the year and this just about made my week.

Superman wears Jack Bauer pajamas.

Yes, I watch the Fox show "24", but just for the last two seasons.
Yes, I like Jack Bauer. If Jack was a school teacher, KIDS WOULD LEARN.

Here is a Jack Bauer site that has me in tears. Some are just plain WRONG, but funny.

If you don't watch "24", then you won't get it, but believe me when I say, these are funny.

Know Your Enemy

With the arrival of spring, my time in the great outdoors has begun to increase lately. As with any instance where man and nature collide, there is bound to be conflict. This is where my enemies list comes from.

I am not twisted (well not too much) like Richard Nixon, who kept a list of "enemies" that the FBI watched for him, nor do I have a list of countries whom I consider the "Axis of Evil." No, I am the common man with common enemies.


1. Fire Ants (Solenopsis Invicta)- Oh how I hate this ruthless bastards. I spend hours and days contemplating genocide against them. I use every tool in the shed, and then some to wreck havoc on these stinging menances. I have poisoned them, boiled them, lawn mowered them, and worse. It may be a never ending battle, but it is one that I will pursue with gusto, smiting as many of these beasts as I can.

2. Gray Squirrel (Sciurus carolinensis)- These little beauties terrorize the Frankenfeeder and make me crazy. No matter how "squirrel proof" I make the Frankenfeeder, these furry tailed monsters tear it up. They dump the seed, run the birds off, and generally make a mess. The special ones in yard don't know about the pellet gun yet. I won't kill, but they will feel the sting of the Frankenfeeder's own personal sniper.

3. Copperhead Snake (Agkistrodon contortrix)- I don't fear the copperhead, they are just an unfortunate menace. Having lived with them for my entire life, I know how hard to see and devilishly sneaky they are. Being a person who has small dogs and a small child, I am pretty much forced to wipe out these creatures on site. This year alone (2006) I have done battle with 4 of them. One was a tiny one that the wife found as she weeded the flowerbed. Two were just as small, but had invaded a nieghbor's porch, so I had to slay the monsters before I left for work. The last one was a serious sized 24 incher that was hiding near a tree in the back yard. It was a bad day for him, since I had the gasoline powered weedeater in hand.