This is where I talk about a crusty old retired military guy trying to come to terms with the world
Life is Hard. Wear a Helmet.
Life is Hard. Wear a Helmet
Virginia State Constitution: Article 1; Section 13 That a well regulated militia, composed of the body of the people, trained to arms, is the proper, natural, and safe defense of a free state, therefore, the right of the people to keep and bear arms shall not be infringed; that standing armies, in time of peace, should be avoided as dangerous to liberty; and that in all cases the military should be under strict subordination to, and governed by, the civil power.
Danica Patrick took the pole position for the Daytona 500.
I didn't watch the qualifiers, so I was surprised by the flood of hits on my Danica Patrick Rule 5 post.
She did pretty well over all, staying in the top ten for the whole stretch. In contrast, our local boy Denny Hamlin went home early with a blown engine.
Watch out boys. She's more than just a pretty face and a smokin' hot bod. She's now one of only about a dozen drivers to take pole position in both Daytona and Indy.
It's going to be an interesting season.
One more Tim Wilson tune...that guy is funny.
A1C B is coming for a visit this week. He got some leave time and already dropped by the patriarch's bedside for a few days.
The crazy fucker drove clear across the Upper Peninsula of Michigan...at night...in February...in a snowstorm.
Route 2, from Iron Mountain to the Mackinac Bridge at 40 mph.
Remember what it was like to be that age, and have no concept of your own mortality?
Life was so much more of an adventure then.
----------------------------------- That Damn Dog
Has got a flatulence problem. Seriously. I'm not talking about the usual round of dog-fart jokes here folks. It's out of control.
Every day, twice a day, after he eats he lays around and produces the most noxious gas you can imagine for about two hours. I've even had to get up occasionally just to check if he's taken a crap in the corner of the room or something.
And he's such a lovable dog. After his meal, all he wants to do is curl up at your feet and hang out with you.
I can't stand it.
It just started about a month ago. It was funny at first, but it got really old after about a week.
He's eating the same Pedigree dry dog food he's been eating for ten+ years. So, either they've changed what they put in the dog food (plausible), or he's older than dirt, and his digestive system just isn't working as well anymore. (just as plausible)
I wonder, under the new people-control laws that congress is trying to pass, will I have to register him? He's definitely high-capacity, and might even qualify as a bioweapon.
Speaking of high-capacity....
---------------------------------- I used to shoot these things called guns...
It was fun. I had a great time doing it.
At least once a month, I would get out to the range for an hour or so and punch high-speed holes in paper at varying distances.
I don't do that anymore. It's gotten so a prole like me just can't afford to do stuff like that.
Every time I'm in Wally World, or whenever I spot a local gun store to pull into, I take a quick Gander at the ammo shelves. (See what I did there?)
I will sit on my current ammo supply and watch it corrode slowly into nothingness.
and that sucks.
Inappropriate humor in 3...2...
I got myself a three-pound slab of old man Deering's salt-cured and smoked bacon while we were up at the patriarch's house.
Deering's Market has been a landmark in Empire, Michigan for as long as I can remember.
A real old-school place, he still keeps a ledger at the register for credit purchases. (Locals only)
He cures his own bacon in his own smokehouse, and sells it in the deli section, sliced or in whole slabs.
I picked up a 2-pound slab almost as soon as I hit town.
Last time I was up there, I waited until the day I was leaving to pick up a couple pounds to take home with me. When I showed up at the store, I found out he had just sold out for the day.
I was crushed.
This time I was not going to miss out on my bacon, so I bought some right away and threw it in the fridge.
Then my brother-in-law showed up at the patriarch's house. I came wandering down the stairs the next morning to the sweet, sweet smell of frying bacon.
My brother-in-law called out cheerily from the kitchen, "Hey, MSgt B! Want some breakfast? How about some of this bacon!"
"Yeah, sure, buddy. Set me up...extra bacon." "Where's the coffee?"
So I went back to Deering's that day, bought a 3-pound slab, and threw it in the (covered) bed of the truck to freeze.
I left the other slab in the patriarch's fridge for whoever might want it. It was gone before we left town.
Those two slices to the side are what we call "Chef's Prerogative"
This morning I'm slicing some into chunks and throwing it into the crock pot with some beans for tonight's dinner.
This stuff is the kind of bacon that sends you on a pilgrimage five years later to go buy some more.
Best fucking homemade bacon I've ever had.
If you ever find yourself about 20 miles north of bumfucked nowhere, stop into Deering's Market in Empire, Michigan and grab a slab of that bacon.