I showed them mine - now show us yours. Not a "guilty pleasure", but "a movie that is so awful that you actually love it and are willing to say so proudly."

I'm not gonna say here. If you want to know, you have to visit Joe Wack...

You can't fool me with your aloof view askew and your scant recollection of a time worn greeting. I know you missed me. Admit it.

I have been held hostage by the worst wireless internet service in the history of the modern world known as Comcast. Wait... let me generate some search terms. Hold on a second.

Comcast service. Comcast service record. Poor service Comcast. Customer Complaints Comcast. Comcast sucks.

It took them a week to recognize that my purchased modem was a direct connection and not a gateway. That is all. They had to change the provision on the modem. They didn't know how, I guess. So now here we are - back, but not until one last adventure.

I was on the phone with a guy tonite (on the second or third tier of service up the line from the start of the process) who said "it is on our end, we'll get you up tonite. I'm going to transfer you to the people who are going to do the actual changing of your modem's provision. Just hold on, and thank you for choosing Comcast."

So I hold and I hold and I hold. And then I hear a few blips and beeps and an automated voice say "please enter your phone number for verification" - just as if it were the start of a brand new call. Hmmm...

Well guess what? Oh you guessed it! The guy says "this is ____, how can I help you?" And he had no idea what I was holding for or who I was or the hour I'd spent previous explaining it. So he bips and boops and says "hold on, I see it." He has me reboot and replug and says "Ok now..."

Hello?

Hello?

Booooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooop.

That's right. Dial tone.

So I call a third time and explain the whole thing ALL OVER AGAIN. Then the Indian guy says. "I don't understand. Your modem is not listed as a gateway." And in an instant... I am connected. Then just to add insult to injury, before I can verify that all is OK... I lose the phone connection to the Indian guy too!

So here I am.

Once again, the search terms are: Bad Comcast Service. bad comcast service. comcast service record. Comcast service. Comcast servce. ComCast service. Poor Comcast service record. Comcast service complaints. Comcast. comcast. ComCast. COMCAST.

Sucks.

This being back on dial-up ever since the true nature of Comcast's suckage has come to a head has caused a change in behavior and I am wondering if it isn't all for the better.

I have returned to the era of sitting in front of my white screen while in the lower left hand corner the browser is telling me about all the work it is doing. 32 images left... 30 images left... and little by little stuff is revealed in front of my eyes - though sometimes the browser wants to save it all for a big eye-popping HERE IT IS!!! And in that time (3 days now I think) I have learned to slow down and truly observe and be quiet in my mind.

The only important difference between wireless and dial-up, of course, is speed. Everything is right there just like turning on your TV. And this is seen as a great advancement because we don't have to waste time just sitting there waiting for stuff to show up.

In fact we have a world of things like that now, all made so that we can do things in less time and therefore be able to do more things. And that is really all the "convenience" is for. So that we don't waste time when we could be using that time to do more things.

The problem is that human nature being what it is it doesn't exactly work out that way. I know this because I think the #1 reason we have to beg off doing some things is that "I don't have the time."

Which is absurd, considering we have all these time-saving things at our disposal. So it isn't the quality of time we have sought to enhance, it is the actual amount of time we have that we seem to be obsessed with restoring. Except since we've freed up all this time, what we've done with that time is stuff it full of other crap we weren't ding before because now we have the time to do all this other crap. Presumably. So now we're back to where we started. I'd explain it in more detail - but I'm a little short on time right here.

Anyway the Comcast mutant peon service droid who works for the single worst internet provider mankind has ever developed will be in here Wednesday to get us back to wireless and I can make my rounds again without growing a beard every time I click something.

In the meantime - slow down. The "Time Saving" theory is a hoax. Go outside and look at some nice limbs trees for a change. Do you a world of good old boy!

I am entering this post through a dial-up portal via NetZero because in the effort to physically change my modem and router to my own equipment rather than the garbage Comcast gave me, I have to wait 24 to 72 hours for Comcast to "recognize" the new configuration before I can re-access my wireless.

Is that for real??

Anyway, apologies all around to all my cohorts out there for the non-involvement of the last couple of days. Dial up is ultra slow, as you know, and I am just going to mostly sit on the sidelines until everything is back to normal.

But, in closing remember, Comcast SUCKS!

The other day, and somewhere down the page, I talked about the writing starting again. And I'm off work this week so yesterday I was sitting in the sun writing and after six glasses of wine I leaned down to a page in the back of the spiral notebook and scribbled "August 23, 2006 - face east or maybe north and bow five times to Lorri's memory in hopes it stays true." Well what the hell - it's six or maybe seven glasses of wine. The white went empty so I started the red. You shouldn't expect great art under those conditions.

When I was in my thirties I started up an alternative 'zine called the Fiction Review and sent a blurb out to Factsheet5 (it was a newspaper thing then) to try and attract writers and subscribers. There was a boom for alternative self-published 'zines in the late 80's and early 90's. The era of Nico Vassilakis and John M Bennett and my personal stuff was appearing in the same alt-zines as and sometimes next to some of Bukowski's last poetry.

The first time I had ever heard of Lorri Jackson she was one of the editors of the Poetry compilations at Columbia Chicago, my partial alma mater. As time went on I heard her name more and more. Even outside the world of poetry slams and this loose community of area writers and artists that had constituted itself in that era.

My little mag chugged along happily and I'm proud to say there are a few people featured in it who are now selling books at Amazon I could link you to and that's a good feeling.

But one day I got a story submission from Lorri, that fresh young alternative-media darling cult superstar who was not even 30.

And the story was written in the first person about a fresh young alternative-media darling cult superstar who was not even 30 dying from an overdose of heroin. It was magnificent writing and I sent back a note saying I'd be featuring it in next month's issue.

And a couple of days later I saw an article in the Chicago Tribune about how Lorri Jackson, the fresh young alternative-media darling cult superstar who was not even 30, was found dead of a drug overdose the day before. That would be the day my acceptance note was delivered.

I don't know why those things happen to me either.

When Lorri Jackson overdosed in 1990, she was just starting to get noticed in the small press world. -The Book Barn

The title of her story was "And the Corpse Had Numerous Tattoos."

Now excuse me while I go make my prayers for the day...

And the last time they were here, their 4th, the two little geeky fix-it guys with screwdrivers in their back pockets told me if I wanted good wireless internet equipment I shouldn't have bought in from Comcast because their equipment is garbage. This was after the time the third service call guy said I should have never been sold the service because my house was too old.

I get service most times. It's the hour and and half spaces where nothing works that get me. Usually every day in the afternoon and once or twice or three times again at night. I did what one service person said and put the box upstairs because she said "they should have never put it downstairs becuase these waves go down." They go down... see?

I'd like to know what I'm paying for... but guess what? I don't know of an alternative because they've BOUGHT all the alternatives I can find. And you can't speak to "management" because there aren't any.

So - tonite I promised that poor fellow on the phone (whose mother had to have sex with a pig in order for her to get pregnant with him, which I explained to him) that I would do this and here I am doing it.

Comcast not only sucks, they have no idea how to fix how bad they suck and they'll be happy to charge you an arm and a leg for it.

Just thought you should know.

Some things in the blogosphere I can do without...

Blogs that get all hairy-high school. Like an eternal cat-fight that just gets looped around again and again, especially if the participants are getting all snarked about this or that email you sent I did not that's not what I meant if you really felt that way you would have said if it really didn't upset you then why are you coming back to check what I said oh lookee what's in my mail today this scumbag that douchebag you this you that nyah nyah nyah. For Christ's sake GET OVER IT ALREADY. Especially if the blog was funny when you first started coming by. Then you come back and it is the same thing it was last week and the month before that and the year before that. And the people there have no notion that they've done that already time to move on. Pleh - Delete.

Blog owners whose first impulse is to tell you to "go away and get fucked if you don't like it" even before you've read one word. This is the blogosphere's version of a defense mechanism for people who are secretly crushed every time they are criticized. Sort of like the bravado displayed by someone who has been beaten up and, as they are running home to Mommy, yell out a last defiant screech over their shoulder as they are too far away for you to pound one more time. There's any number of these kind of things out there and the insecurity of it is astonishing. It is one thing to have the attitude, but another to wear it on your shirt so people can see it before they see anything else. Which leads me to the next thing...

Telling me, but never showing me. Sort of like people who talk a good fight. These are blog-writers who are forever telling you how tough or mean or wild or dangerous or brilliant or sexy or horney they are but never seem to get beyond the telling you all about it phase. If you're so cool, write it. If you're so brilliant, show me. That star above your head...? That's Arcturus. It's been Arcturus since anybody can remember and it'll be Arcturus when the stuff that makes up your body right now will be the shit from worms. So what makes you so special? Remember that. I used to know a writing teacher who used to say that when you are writing a story "don't tell it - show it." Meaning stop telling me your characters had an adventure - SHOW me the adventure.

This blog is my own personal ramblings and musings and I don't write it for the general public I write it for myself. Which, if examined, is not only bullshit almost every time it is written, but is really made into a lie when the person saying it compulsively checks their visitor stats every two hours. Another defense mechanism that really needs to go. Along with giving passers-by the finger for no reason at all other than you may be an idiot.

It is all part and parcel of something I hereby call "Blogacho." Sort of like how faux tough chicks adopted the phrase "femacho" to coincide with the male "macho" descriptive. All basically mean "tough-talking asshole who thinks they are the center of the universe."

There are male versions of it, female versions of it, and now - bloggie versions of it.

Ha! And if you don't like it...

Via Alphachimp Studios

It gets a little dusty in Texas and anyone who has been there, or who lives there, can attest to that without telling a tall tale.

Yes even MINIs attract dust in Texas. But Scott Wade uses the offending material as a medium to create a work of art. In this case a work of art on top of a work of art. Proving what other MINI owners have known all along... we are a strange bunch of folk, there, Chester. Uh huh.

And if you click this link to the Austin American Statesman web site you can see a Flash gallery of Scott's work - including a Santa Claus one for Christmas.

Put that in your SUV & smoke it.

...and I can't get it out of my head. I hope it turns out to be a good thing.

I got back from Meeting Sunday and felt extremely quiet in my mind. This happens sometimes on Sundays, but not always. It wasn't a particularly special Meeting. Nothing really happened. Just quiet.

I've had small things I'd written published here and there over the years. Nothing breathtaking or Earth-shattering, and in fact largely obscure by now. I haven't seen anything of mine in print for 10 years. No... 15!

All this time though, in the back of my mind, there was a series of unconnected vignettes and shards of scenes rattling around. Bits of dialog.

"You know what your trouble is?" He pointed his finger as he chewed his chips loudly through his words. "The trouble with you is that you were born in the wrong century. You're just an old-fashioned old bugger. You wish they still had monks that made wine and raised other people's bastards and lived a thousand miles from anywhere. And they don't have those places anymore. That's your trouble."

A series of words that conveyed a feeling so perfectly that they stuck with me all these years. In fact the germ of these ideas was first found in 1972 when I attended Columbia Chicago (before it was in the fancy digs it is in now). I wrote the description of the main character's rooms when I was 19. I'd thrown it away.

And it came back to me yesterday.

In fact these unrelated pictures and ideas came pouring out of me. Page after page. In longhand. I lit a cigar I knew would take an hour to smoke and sat on the deck just firing away. And it kept coming. It out-lasted the cigar! The cigar was OVER and still it was coming out. The right side of my face is sunburned, even. I couldn't stop.

This morning I looked at it and realized - I'd PRINTED out the words in longhand. I mean - you could read it right now, instead of the chicken-scratch I usually write in that you could never decipher to save your life.

He lived on the top floor of one of those buildings with three flats in the same neighborhood he grew up in. He lived there for thirty years and watched the neighborhood change from pleasant ethnic bakeries and VFW parades to an angry Mexican place with gang fights and people making a life on little crumbs of the pie, to gentrified and renovated tree-shaded lanes with parked BMW's and little restaurants that served small dollops of multi-colored foliage for thirty-five bucks a plate. Not to mention the skyrocket his rent had become and he the only one left who was actually from here.

And on and on. For the first time in years I felt like it was all happening slowly under my hand. I could take the time to write the words. No shortcuts. The stuff that had been brewing up there felt ready. And I hadn't even said "I'm going to do this today." It just happened.

And now it is page after page of un-connected things crying out to be threaded together that I had started in 1972.

Hopefully it doesn't take another thirty-four years for the way to do that to dawn on me now.

He has tagged me with a quadrameme! That rapscallion!

4 jobs I've had:
1. Sales Manager for a millwork company
2. CNC Operator
3. Editor of a small independent "zine"
4. Print Shop Foreman

4 movies I could watch over and over:
1. O Brother Where Art Thou
2. Being There
3. Unforgiven
4. Gulliver's Travels (1939 animated Max Fleischer)4 places I have lived:
1. One of Chicago’s suburbs
2. Chicago
3. Washington DC
4. Another Chicago suburb

TV shows I love to watch:
1. Monday Night Football
2. Sunday day football...
3. What Not To Wear (OK so I'm in love with Stacy London ok?)
4. PBS The American Experience

4 places I have been on vacation:
1. Ixtapa
2. Ocho Rios
3. Ireland
4. London

4 websites I visit daily:
1. Blogography
2. Agent Bedhead
3. E-trade
4. The Country I Am The Dictator Of

4 fave foods:
1. Scrambled egg sandwich on whole wheat toast w/ lettuce & mayo
2. Chicago style hot dog
3. Spaghetti and meatballs, garlic bread, wine, salad, I’m hungry
4. Any kind of fresh berries. Blue. Black. Straw. Boysen. Rasp. You name it.

4 places I’d like to be right now:
1. Brazil
2. Spain
3. The Caymans
4. Tristan da Cunha - no I’m not kidding.

4 people I am tagging:
1. Joe Wack
2. Gary Said
3. Jolie
4. NewRandom Mike

I've been going around reading your blogs and your comments on other blogs and I think I get it already. Seems to me there isn't one person left in America who can have a political thought without ending up in the mosh pit.

So no more political blogs for me until you people - conservatives and liberals alike - learn how to talk about an issue without resorting to invective, barnyard characterization, innuendo, suspicion and character assassination.

Until further notice your country will be a continual shithole until you elect me dictator. So shut up already. The lot of you!

Do you hear me?

(And third person titles are really odd)

Missed the lottery again. This time had two numbers in one game, two numbers in another, and two more all by themselves. I had all the numbers, but just not in the same places. There goes $4,200,000 right out the window.

And I was rather looking forward to winning $4,200,000. Not because that would make me rich ($4 mil hardly qualifies for "rich" anymore), but because it would have been the perfect way to start my vacation.

That's right. Sunday draws open bright and clear in high summer and the business world will have to do without me for a week. Tomorrow and Tuesday workmen will be arriving to put in the final 5 windows of a project that has been going on for three years called "Replace All The Windows And Doors But Not All At Once Because You're Buying The Best You Can Find And Obviously Won't Be Able To Afford It All At Once."

A long name for a game, I'll admit. But only a small waystation on the 10 year renovation project that has seen us living in a kind of half-way-to-there world. Meaning I don't know but that when it is over we will have spent probably $200,000 on the renovation of this house - the place we had built when the girls were little and now has finally become the perfect size for us.

So Monday and Tuesday will be workless but workmen-filled. I can't actually do any of the installs and hammer-banging myself. My talent is writing checks, though I'm good at taking out old stairways (Ahh... memories of me and Mr. Crowbar... sigh).

But by Wednesday full vacation mode. Coffee on the deck in the morning, shopping for fixtures to replace outside when the next crew comes in to change the siding, cigars, sun-bathing (I have never surrendered to the fear, you see), and fresh tomato sandwiches with 'matoes plucked right from the garden for lunch. Maybe a movie - which we haven't done in a while. I don't know, this movie has my interest, and I haven't had the urge to go to the theatre to see a movie in ages. I think the last movie I saw in the theatre was the first Star Wars or something. I can't recall. They've probably advanced the technology by now don't you think? The thing about movie theatres is that you can't control the kinds of people you have to share a room with. Hmmph!

And maybe a bit less blogging. But whatever the case; No Work Tomorrow. Maybe I'll play the MegaBall lottery Tuesday... should I wake up in time.

Just think - not five miles away from where I am right now the world famous Tiger Woods is puttering around the greens and wedging along the fairways. Well he is good and wet now I wouldn't doubt.

Funny thing about the "glory" that is Medinah Country Club... if you were to just watch the PGA on TV this weekend you would marvel at the beautiful course we have in our backyard. The trees, the grass, the splendor of the countryside and its clear, crisp air filling your lungs and giving rise to a feeling of well-being and rural peace and manicured elegance. It is a beautiful club and I think you could join for ten or twenty or twenty-five thousand dollars a year - if you were invited.

But the truth is what the cameras aren't showing you is that within a stone's throw of the course in just about any direction of the compass outside it's shuttered walls and newly-draped 12-foot chain-link fences, is the heart and throb of middle suburbia with its McDonald's and Jiffy Lubes and piles of strip malls, chain restaurants, congested suburban Chicago tollways, churches, Hindu temples, high schools, postage-stamp lawns, condos, junkyards, train stations, diners, thrift stores, car dealers, and marauding teenagers. Picture of gentrified bliss destroyed. Oh the horror!

It isn't a "thing" with me that I am troubled over. I don't play golf and would rather use the televised coverage of it as a sleeping aid on a weekend afternoon were I so inclined. Or reclined, as it were. Elsa Lancaster (the "Bride of Frankenstein") exactly expressed my view of the sport...

"Golf is a good walk.... ruined!"

But once again celebrity rears its ugly head in my beautifully cluttered suburban paradise. And it probably gets worse!

Wait until I tell you the story of Jennifer Aniston and Vince Vaughn buying property in a town I pass through on the way to work every morning.

These newcomers are going to RUIN the neighborhood! I think the time has come to move back to the city where one can be more anonymous and not have the glare of the public eye always around the corner! I mean really! This used to be a great place to live until all these Johnny-Come-Latelies decided to start moving in.

Mrs RW: Is that number of hits what I think it is?

RW: (proudly) Yes. 4,000 hits today!

Mrs RW: Oh my! You're very popular with that Blogger Preview fellow in Northern Illinois. Why he seems to come back every four minutes. Strange. Hope he isn't a stalker or something.

RW: Um... yes. Me too. Heh.

I am putting out a call to arms for any good fellows of a certain sartorial manner in the audience to help us form an affiliation of gentlemen.

If you are represented on your blog in a certain classical fashion and found yourself wondering just where you may fit in in this wild and wicked world of blogdom, look no further!

A cursory look through the current nominees should give you a notion of what we're looking for. So far there may be Carlton and a dashing fellow known as Joke.

Of course it should go without saying that one's content remains their own but we would not be terribly favorable to Partially Naked Days or any such low activity.

Unlike a few other gatherings online this one has no "meeting day" but is merely a link exchange under the auspices of a certain amélioration et grace. A brief trip through the fellows so far hopefully involved should give you a good idea of what we're after. Being a snob also may help. But in exchange for that you may use the team logo to adorn your venue.

Should anyone seek said affiliation please contact me using the email link in the upper left hand corner.

But dress appropriately.

...are on Don's mind today.

Dear Abby, Dear Abby...
Well I never thought
That me and my girlfriend would ever get caught
We were sitting in the back seat just shooting the breeze
With her hair up in curlers and her pants to her knees
Signed,
Just Married

Just Married, Just Married...
You have no complaint
You are what your are and you ain't what you ain't
So listen up Buster, and listen up good
Stop wishing for bad luck and knocking on wood.
Signed,
Dear Abby

Well okay, life was simpler then...

As usual I'm not being reimbursed for this or any feature of this article. I'm not telling you anything I'm not already doing myself. But hey - here's some public service stuff for all of my friends out there who, like me, are trying to make a million dollars.

Did you know that the average savings account in the bank down the street pays .54%? Which means if you had $200 in there you'd be lucky if it made $1.08 a year for you in interest. And that would suck, but you'd be surprised how many people are OK with actually LOSING money when compared to what even a small amount of inflation hits you with yearly. But if you were to have an ONLINE savings account at Amboy Direct from Old Bridge, NJ your account would be making 10 times that because having a regular savings account with them online grabs you 5.03% a year. So instead of making a buck / 8 cents a year on your 200 Simoleans, you'd make $10.06. I'd say something cute here like "you do the math" - but I've already DONE the math for Christ's sake, aren't you paying attention!?!?

Likewise an average 6 month CD bought into at $2500 in the bank down the street gives you 3.56% yearly. Because it is a "6 month CD" you divide that interest by half (duh) to see that you'd make $44.50 in interest before taxes in half a year. But What Ho, Sir Clackeywhack! An ONLINE 6 month CD from Nexity Bank in Birmingham, AL brings you 5.4% which is $67.50. Sort of makes you wonder what the bank down the street is doing with that other 23 bucks eh? Well - they're keeping it. For cry eye.

These kinds of things change from time to time and you can keep track of current lists and rates at Bankrate.com. Wherever you go, though, read the small print for any fees or time-lag in accessing your money. Most online banks are a walk in the park to deal with, but don't assume anything. Check it out before going in.

And speaking of checking things out, have you ever gone to one of these web sites that promises to get you your "Free Credit Report"? Well be careful. According to www.ftc.gov

"Only one website is authorized to fill orders for the free annual credit report you are entitled to under law - annualcreditreport.com. Other websites that claim to offer "free credit reports," "free credit scores," or "free credit monitoring" are not part of the legally mandated free annual credit report program. In some cases, the "free" product comes with strings attached. For example, some sites sign you up for a supposedly "free" service that converts to one you have to pay for after a trial period. If you don't cancel during the trial period, you may be unwittingly agreeing to let the company start charging fees to your credit card."

And for my trouble and effort I will get gino yawning and people wondering what's funny about THAT!? But just know that I wuvs the dickens outta you guys and I want you to be happy.

Ok so you can be happy - I'll settle for rich. Heh.

On a side note, you should know that I only offer venture capital once. If you can't see your way to using it, no worries then and ta!

But just in case you want to do something good with your fortune, you can do what old uncle RW does and put something back into the community. Here's one for instance I've been affiliated with for over a decade. It makes low interest loans to entrepreneurs in challenged communities, giving people a stake in things instead of just giving people a handout. I'm sure there is something like it in your town.

Think about it.

Our MINI passed 17,000 miles the other day and during that time I sure have learned that there are a lot of people with issues out there in the world. Gracie seems to bring out the worst in people and, really, I am not as competitive in it the last 5,000 miles as I may have been the first 12,000; so I can't take all the blame anymore.

People in larger cars seem very intimidated though.

Once when I was washing it at a do-it-yourself station a guy in a pickup drove by and said "are you gay?" I suggested he bend over and drop his pants so we could find out but I don't think he got what I was saying.

There are a lot of people who are in a hurry to get to red lights, I noticed.

There was this guy who looked like Zippy the Pinhead with a shaved head and a little fuzzy red goatee one time asked me how many clowns I could fit in the MINI. I told him there's always room for one more and he should hop in.

A guy at work wanted to know what it felt like to drive a "chick car." I told him my wife didn't like it much because all these women waved at me all the time. Well at least until they got a look at the driver and then they laughed behaved themselves.

The two coolest things I saw on other MINIs were a bumper sticker that said "I drive a MINI, what are you compensating for?" And a decal in a back window of another that said "ACTUAL SIZE."

I'm getting a combined 29.4 MPG city and highway but you know people don't buy this little bullet for the mileage. It comes with a book of snappy retorts for the verbally challenged, collected over time by wittier MINI drivers than I. And there's just enough assholes in the world to put it to use.

"HA! What's THAT gonna be when it grows up!?"

"$17,000. Heh."

Here's a bit of trivia, for those of us over "a certain" age, you might not have known about...

The Marky Maypo "I want my Maypo" television campaign debuted in 1956. But did you know that the commercial's creator, John Hubley, had to work anonymously on them because he had been blacklisted by the House Un-American Activities Committee? It is true. And what is even truer was that it was his former employer, Walt Disney, was a primary force behind the blacklisting because of Hubley's union work. RESOURCE

Hubley was also the man behind the creation of Mr. Magoo.

Step into my time machine...




Still want your Maypo? Click here.

Just came in from a beautiful day on the back deck (and will return there in a minute) where I put together a big batch of homemade salsa. I think it is going to be enough to feed 20 people and I didn't make it to can and put up, so I guess I better get busy eatin' it soon as it chills.

It should be noted that there are two things that make this recipe a success. 1. The tomatoes are homegrown and I just picked them from the garden just on the other side of the hedge. 2. The cilantro and the cumin are must haves in this concoctive. You can pare down the quantities, but I have a TON of tomatoes out there so I made a freakin' tub of this stuff!

6 Large tomatoes
1 medium-sized red onion
5 jalapeno peppers
5 tablespoons of chopped cilantro
2 teaspoons minced garlic
The freshly-squeezed juice of 4 limes
3 teaspoons of olive oil
2 1/4 teaspoons of salt
1 1/2 teaspoons of cumin
3/4 of a teaspoon of black pepper

Chop it all up(I like to put the tomatoes in last) and chill for at least two hours before serving. I did more chopping with a dicer once it was all combined so it isn't as chunky. Now this is pretty hot, especially because I am evil and leave all the jalapeno seeds in there. But just in case you're like me and feel hotter = better, I have the reinforcements drying on the side which I shall grind up into a powder in another day or two. Yeah... Thai peppers are kinda hot.



You may want to check out Capsaicin: 7 Powerful Health Benefits (Including Killing Cancer Cells) of the Stuff that Makes Peppers HOT.

See? I'm always looking out for you!

Thing 11 - Just A Little Less Emphatic, Please

This seems like one we keep going back to in a way, but every separate time it is addressed there is yet another nuance to it.

It is tied into carrying yourself with a little class, doing your best to steer away from the politics you're just going to use to make yourself sound intelligent, and taking some stewardship over the conversation. And all those past articles have something to do with this one - except this one is going to be a bit more demonstrative.

There is a right way and a wrong way to exchange ideas over a friendly meal in a public place. This is very important to allow people to experience a good time with you - and to the degree that you abuse this rule is the same degree that people eventually won't want to have much to do with you. And there you'll be - an old man wondering where the hell everybody went.

Well... they started leaving when they asked you what you thought of a certain movie you didn't like at all. The right answer was "I really didn't like it. It was too _____, and had too many ________, and I didn't like the way the director ________ _______ __ ____ ______. I didn't enjoy it at all." You state your position without being offensive, yet you hold true to what you really think.

But your answer was "I HATED that stupidass movie. The director is a stupid prick and it was a waste of my money. I DETESTED that inane movie, and I wouldn't even go so far as to call it a movie. It was an ABORTION."

Someone asks "Do you like maduro cigars?" The right answer would have been "I don't like any cigars, really. It makes me think of fat cats for some reason. Not my favorite people (smile). But I really think they are kind of overpowering and I don't think they're very healthy." Once again, your position is clear without seeming overwrought.

But your answer was "I HATE cigars. People who smoke cigars should be fucking CASTRATED. I DETEST cigars, cigar smoke, and anybody who smokes cigars. You have to be a complete IDIOT to think about even TRYING one of those ABORTIONS."

Someone says "I hope we see a day when there isn't so much trouble in the world." The right response would have been; "That stuff has been happening for a long time out there. Whatever we do we need to have our eyes open and be realistic."

But your sneering answer was "Oh don't give me that pollyanna bullshit. (makes a crying face) Ooohh, I hope the world is nicer boo hoo hoo. You're an intellectual snob who doesn't know what the hell he's talking about. You should have been ABORTED to save us all from this whining crap of yours."

Do you start to see a pattern here? It is one of being over-the-top, continually over-reacting, and way too dramatic for the situation.

It would be different if you were talking to people you had a need to compete with, but the norm within the company you pick to BE WITH is to interact with these friends from a point of some shared affinity.

There is a way to get your point across without browbeating people. And using words and volume just to "try to get a rise out of people" is really just another way of condescending to them. It's a way of saying "you're obviously not smart enough to get this so I will repeat it over and over in a loud voice until it sinks into your dull wit." Kind of "off" when said between sharing notes on the entree, don't you think?

If you have to waggle your fingers while other people are talking so that everyone shuts up and gives you their complete attention, rather than just joining in the conversation like everybody else, you might also want to fix your Pope's robes every now and again just for appearances sake as well. No?

In an earlier post this week I talked about stuff that occurs to you on a plane. Rule #29 was Don't be the old guy everybody "puts up with." That's actually a good piece of advice for this situation too.

So a little less emphatic, please.

Unless of course you truly are convinced the world just can't get on without your brilliance. But if that is what you're thinking, you may need to check the rear-view mirror sometimes just to see if people see you as some kind of insufferable boor without you actually realizing it.

Labels: 27 Things

Returned to Cab's last night and had kangaroo in a sweet barbeque sauce. Kangaroo is 99% fat free and is both a way to help Australia with its overpopulation of bounding vermin and a method of setting yourself up to be the target of no end of abuse by your table mates. Not that I need to have any extra abuse added to the pile I usually get for being a person who hasn't been right about anything since 1957; but I generally excuse the company and go along my merry way whether some folks want to play nice or not.

So I endured everything from people bouncing two fingers on the table and up my sleeve to being asked if that was a pouch I was growing. But I ignored the usual cast of smartasses (which is highly recommended for this crew anyhow) and enjoyed a tasty meal somewhat like venison with far much less of the "gamey" taste you can sometimes get with that. Then I had a great conversation with myself the rest of the night.

Besides which some people think kangaroos are cute. And I hate cute. So I ate it.

Nyah.

(Seared barbequed kangaroo loin with portobello mushrooms, butternut squash and green beans served with Asiago-roasted potatoes & saffron sauce). We needed to have an Australian Shiraz on the wine list by the glass here to follow through with a perfect pairing, but didn't see one. Opted for the usual fallback Zinfandel, but that was a second choice. Cab's Wine Bar Bistro.

Here's a deep one I stole from Gary who stole it from Kyra who I think invented it, looks like.

You have 6 months to live. No seriously. Stop laughing! You have 6 months to live, so If you knew you only had six months to live, and the world was guaranteed to end for you - how would you live?

Questioned thus:
What would you do?
At first cry. Then try to figure out how to leave things in good order. Then be curious about what happens after.

Would you spend your money, or save it?
I would probably spend it on one good trip, but my anal nature relative to money would probably lead me to want to save as much as I could to pass along to my wife and the daughters. See, deep down inside I am truly, stunningly boring eh?

Would you eat healthy/diet, or would you be into the ice cream and chips every day?
I wouldn't deny myself a craving, but I'm not a binge type personality.

Exercise?
You. Must. Be. Kidding.

Would you stay in your current job, or find something else to do?
Oh I'm out of there after a month. They've been good enough to me to make me want to be sure they had someone to cover but then - HE GONE! I am lucky enough to have enough cash available without busting into any larger plans to maintain my current position for six months.

Would you keep your current friends, or cut the ones who only waste your time?
Trick question! The ones that wasted my time weren't really friends to start with and are long gone. The people who are still here are life-long. Seriously.

Would you talk to every single person that you consciously make time for? Or cut your loses?
I would finally, I hope, achieve the goal of talking to everyone in my sphere as if they truly mattered. I say I am going to start doing this all the time but never do.

Would you stay where you live, or move?
Stay. The magic of equity for those who come after!

What things would you stop caring about, that you do now?
Um... my health. MWA HA HAHAHAHAHA HA HA. Heh...

Anything else?
I would definitely write some letters to a handful of close people I love to be opened later. I want to do this anyhow somewhere down the road, in this case I guess I'd have a reason.

There are much more deeper places to go with this one. If not working and not on "the trip" what would I do? I would lounge and talk and visit and smoke cigars and go out to eat with friends and call some folks maybe. I'd read and putter around the garden and finish some projects I have. I'd visit. I'd visit, I'd smoke cigars, I'd talk to people.

And the trip would probably be Spain or Brazil. And this time no one could tell me I couldn't go! HA!

You start thinking about just forgetting the whole thing and setting up a new home right where you're stuck! Or you come up with a meme...

Then again maybe we've been fooling ourselves that we have to do things the way we do things for appearance sake. In the days of business gone by it wasn't necessary to zip immediately here and there and open cell phones that make you look like you want Scotty to beam you up in order to get someone's orders. Decisions were well-reasoned and calmly made.

And the bad guys want us to put a gash into our economy and shake in fear in a cold corner like a junkie rather than boldly go about our lives as if they are nothing more than loud, unsupervised children in a grocery store.

I know you can't take trains across the Atlantic (yet?) but here's the proper response to all those who want to kill you on your next trip to Little Rock to talk to a guy about stair parts;

Dress up, get the best seat on the train, have a smartass drink in the club car, and carry out your business with flair and elegance. Start wearing a handkerchief in your suit pocket. Learn how to tie a bow tie. Tip people well. Speak in complete sentences. Smell good.

Then when the next al Qaida guy sends a spooky tape to al Jazeera pointing his boney finger at the camera and trying to frighten the children, we can respond by dressing up and going first class on the Baltimore Mail.

I think it would make them CRAZY!

I was very angry when I sat down to make this post earlier this evening. You have to understand that a very important part of my family can be found on airplanes going to and from the UK from time to time, and I'm a human being, and I let my protective emotions get the better of me for a second there. Then I realized that BLOGGER was down for some scheduled maintenance, and I couldn't post what I had written and it sat there for a few hours.

I wasn't saved by the delete key (a few readers who have seen some of my "regrets" on Bloglines will attest to the Mr Hyde version of poor silly old RW). I was actually saved by BLOGGER being down. I wonder if that's the first time someone admitted that.

Anyway in the intervening time period my grand daughter came over and my wife and daughter went to take care of some business. I played with Emma on the deck; sandbox, bubbles, really really good 3-year-old stuff. And now she's gone home and I took a look at what I wrote that BLOGGER wasn't up to accept and I cashed it in. I saw it in a different light. A just-spent-an-hour-with-the-grand-daughter light. I wouldn't want to scare people, after all.

But I wish - somehow I just wish - that we, for once, would remember that the definition of insanity is "doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results." As in - if you want to make a point with me, don't appeal to my anger and fear, but appeal to my reason. The stuff in the Middle East is revenge-based water-poor bloodsport, and the people who live there play the politics of vendetta. Over and over again. So why do we keep expecting different results, and the same question can be applied to the bogeymen out there.

So you should try appealling to my reason. Because if you prove to be as insane as everyone else I am perfectly capable of turning you off, you know. I can just get in the official Chase Car and you aren't even a butt pimple, Osama. And all you have then is a soon-to-be millionaire in a cool little car driving like crazy until you are out of his mind.

Oh and by the way, Osama, fuck off while you're at it, k?

1. I am a shareholder in TIVO because of some great money fundamentals and the chance for a superior rebound and I have no idea what it actually does. Booyah!
2. I wonder why I don't feel my body leaning when the plane turns.
3. There are far too many people who live in Charlotte North Carolina telling visitors about all the crime in Charlotte, North Carolina.
4. Rule #29 - Don't be the old guy everybody "puts up with."
5. How is it rates can constantly be going up in storage units when all they do is SIT there?
6. They have been killing one another in the Middle East for 6000 years and have spit out more blood on the sidealk than we can ever imagine. What makes us think we're going to fix it?
7. Every once in a while people you come across online have forgotten to take their meds.
8. Note to self - quit acting like #7 was something I just thought of.
9. What was that noise?

As in; NO I didn't hit the lottery, yet again. Which means very early Monday morning I will be getting on a plane and flying to Charlotte NC to make some rounds for the company. The best part of this is that I'll be on my second favorite kind of flight; a little American Eagle where I'll get seat 7A and not have to worry about anyone too big for their clothes sitting next to me. American Eagle runs 1 seat one side, 2 seats the other side and I am a happy camper in my seat BY MYSELF. Nyeh.

In the meantime I won't be back until Wednesday night - late. So instead of tapping anyone to Guest Host for me I've decided you should all get to know each other better. In case you've seen people comment here but never went to see their world, use me as a link farm until I get back.

The following people were regular contributors this past week and are well worth getting to know. Here's what they've been up to last time I checked:

bobgirrl resides at 1 Girl 4 Martinis and has just weathered an earthquake and was last seen mud wrestling with her WordPress. You know I wuv my Sadie Agent Bedhead, the pop culture online kyosk where Ashlee Simpson is giving some tongue. It looks like Jolie from Allrighty Then is enjoying the smell of her vacation. Huh - some of us have to work out here. And Avitable is disturbing little children again. Dave2 has got himself a hockey shirt, and is swearing at a cartoon on Blogography.

Gino (nor anyone else for that matter) has not had much political stuff to crank about at The Boileryard in ages, and - yes - the inside story is that team blog is longtime dead, Fred. Ville has been somewhat quiet at This Is Where I Talk & You Listen which means, I guess, that that is where we listen to her not talking? Brandon is Down With Pants and has a new car and yet another reason to hate Southern California. Mocha Momma, last I saw, is starting to talk in short, cropped, staccatto sentences. I think she's a little stressed.

Poppy Buxom, ever fond of feeding people Opiates, is demanding airtime on Good Morning America. And she probably stands a better chance than the Cubs do, anyhow. And don't forget Brian, who is in constant need of your inserting a title somewhere, and who is now hated by virtually all of his neighbors.

Thank you all for your comments this past week!

Now... The subject is "RW is going to be filthy rich."

Talk amongst yourselves...

Mrs RW: "Who called?"

RW: "Not sure. I'm holding. The girl said I'm going to get a very important message!!"

Mrs RW: "You've waited your whole life for something like this, haven't you, you poor dear?"

To the guy in Mt. Laurel New Jersey who has been here 7 times in the last few weeks based on his searches for foreign brides; I have no fucking idea why it sends you here. There are no foreign brides here, and there are no links to get foreign brides here. Go to Russia and ask them out yourself. What do I care?

Outside of the fact that the rest of the news is shit, why exactly am I supposed to care what Tom Cruise's daughter looks like, again?

Here's some ideas for blog posts and their openings that have never been tried before & you should really consider using them to make your blog stand out from the crowd:

Subject 1. "I'm going out on a limb here but Mel Gibson is a bad man."
Subject 2. "I hate slow drivers. Slow drivers really really piss me off. I realize it is breaking new ground to say this but somebody has to be the first to say it."
Subject 3. "If Mel Gibson was driving under the limit he is a douchebag."
Subject 4. "George Bush is a brilliant evil genius OR a stupid illiterate idiot depending on whatever point I'm right about at the time. So what's your problem?"
Subject 5. "It has never been understood before I know, but, people at work are boring. There... I said it!"
Subject 6. "I'm lonely and misunderstood and perfectly willing to be a victim for you. Call me, you asshole."
Subject 7. "Mel Gibson is a douchebag for not calling me."

I'm taking the rest of the day off. I've got a lot of thinking to do. I still can't see how Pam Anderson's marriage to Tommy Lee could have ever broken to all these pieces. I mean... I NEVER saw that coming.

I just can't get over it...

That's enough. We need Clark Gable back, and right now. Because I've had it.

At the bottom of my fourth Knockando it came to me that the Modern American Male is nothing better than a pussified wretch. I think it started with the first generation to be required to wear helmets when riding their bicycle. And soon after that it was Mommy coming to school to complain to the Principal about that schoolyard bully that kept pushing Our Dear Boy into the dirt. Then it quickly moved on to lawsuits for calling names, or was it just hot coffee?

Pretty soon it is "OK" to be seen crying in movie theatres when Julia Roberts "sees" her abusive boyfriend with new eyes. That bastard!

When Mommy and the lawyers are all junior is used to having, and he finally strikes out on his own, he never has to worry about doing anything wrong because it's always somebody else's fault that he broke the law or acted like a jackass to somebody! I mean Gah-odd! In fact any cruelty he may inflict on some person is perfectly explainable in the context of the terrible trauma of his having to go through the birth canal or having a pimple or being forced to do his own breathing or cut his own food. You just don't KNOW what a tough life he had.

Daddy never said "Your back shoulder keeps dropping, that's why you're popping up everything to the shortstop for Christ's sake." Oh No no no. Daddy always said, "Good try! Good try!" or told his whimpering son the Umpire was an idiot on the way home and the Ump was the reason he is going 0-for-Ever.

We've made self-respect into self-love, and have grown a generation of young men who are therefore perfectly self-centered. This is how they join the Army and cry to Mommy when they have to stop learning about computers and actually get deployed. "Oh Mom! I didn't know this could HAPPEN!" duh...

Here's the thing. A Man does what he promises. He secures himself, through his own talent and effort. He doesn't whine. He may cry from anger watching Schindler's List, but he offers a handkerchief to the lady crying at the chick flick. He lets Mommy and Daddy handle their own problems - until the time comes when he needs to help them. He defends himself. And he comes clean when he screws up.

It only takes a prick to get somebody pregnant. But it takes a Man to build a family. That's the difference.

Get me another Knockando. And pour one more for my pal Clark here...

Which are either somewhere near Memphis or Graceland or probably Cairo... are not what we're talking about today.

Since the "Food Pyramid" we've lived with for the last twenty-some years is officially wrong we need to make a new one. Sereena is leading the charge because she wants chocolate and alcohol and all kinds of neat stuff like that in it.

What do you want to make sure gets on the new pyramid?

I think I'll make the case for mayonnaise...

There are times when I am convinced that Joe Wack knows every move I make, every step I take, every shake I bake...

This week's "I Was Born On The Libra/Scorpio Cusp" Hairshirt Horoscope has once again exposed me with the pinpoint wizardry of a locksmith.

Libra: You're feeling bold and experimental in the kitchen this week. You're considering mixing together two TV dinners in a big bowl. You're like a shorter, hairier male Julia Childs for the new millennium!

Scorpio: You've got some disappointment coming this week, Scorpio. And you're going to need to find a better way to deal with letdowns than pulling down your pants and pissing on people that upset you.

It is quite obvious my drinking has not changed my personality enough to be able to remain a mystery to others just yet. Sigh. Off I go then... maybe if I drink enough I'll find out what I meant by that "pinpoint wizardry of a locksmith" crap.

Yeah even I don't get that.

RW: "My Dear...Can you please make just a little less noise cutting that bread?"

Mrs. RW: "I can get rid of that headache for you. Dear."

I get very frustrated trying to grasp why it is the world seems to want to constantly try to kill itself all the time. What we really need - just to get a little peace - would be a sensible person to run things for a while. Which of course would be me.

I suppose I could run for President and go about this the right way. But then if I was going to build a political career perhaps I should have started in my twenties and had some Daddy's Money. Being as it is - in my 50's with a change jar - doesn't exactly bode too well for a run at the White House.

Besides which no one really has to listen to a President. I mean, really.

No. The only way to get things done in the world is to be an absolute dictator. If I would want to solve the world's suicidal tendencies and straighten everybody out the only real way to get it done would be to rule by decree, with an iron fist, utilizing terrible retribution towards those who would not bend to my will.

Having never experienced everyone in the room standing up and saying my name in marshall unity whenever I strode in, I imagine that would be quite nice. Of course a really good dictator would have spies looking for people organizing an underground in opposition. Plus I'd also have to get guys to watch the first bunch of guys so they didn't get funny ideas. Voila! My answer to unemployment! But anyway... forgive the paranoid digression... I think I would rather enjoy having people stand up and cheer my name when I came into a room. Or rode down the street. Or came into a stadium to give a speech. Or went to a ballgame. I shall probably need food tasters too, you think?

Plus we could get some spooky throw-back uniforms going and look really mean and cool in a 1930's, throw everybody like Kafka in jail, sad winter of the mind, don't-mess-with-us, black-and-white kind of way.


And after enforcing servile obedience, getting a mean looking army, putting spies everywhere, and having people cheering me wherever I go, I'd also get some brooding and enigmatic poets like Ezra Pound to extol the virtues of the state on the regime-approved media. We could even get some neat art-deco stamps to use...

In fact I'd make ALL the stamps art deco. And the buildings too. Why before I'm through the whole world will be living in a place that looks like the South Beach Art Deco District.

Oh I have some great plans! And world peace into the bargain. And a solution to the energy problem. And crime. Just leave it to me. With our uniforms, postage, pastel-colored buildings, layers of spy networks, people cheering me wherever I go, and all the champagne I want, we'll be in a virtual utopia!

Heh. Fascism is cool.