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.

Alabama State Constitution: Article 1: Section 26
That every Citizen has a right to bear arms in defense of himself and the State.

Thursday, February 28, 2013

Between Now and Then

I've always had trouble fitting in with Mrs B's family.

They're honest with each other, and share their feelings and stuff like that.

Memorial service is at noon Saturday, lots of stuff to do between now and then.

Tuesday, February 26, 2013

This is Gonna Suck

Mrs B's dad passed on yesterday.

Headed back to the arctic circle beautiful Glen Arbor Michigan for the rest of the week at least.

Deja Vu all over again.


Monday, February 25, 2013

Redneck High Holy Day has passed

Danica Patrick took the pole position for the Daytona 500.

(Quit giggling...)

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.

Sunday, February 24, 2013

Sunday morning sleep-in #39

The Prodigal Son returns.

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 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...

Saturday, February 23, 2013

Saturday Morning Coffee #52

Catching up.

Borepatch threw out a link to my bacon post, just a day after The Glen Arbor Sun hit me with a link to my video essay of the Chili Cook-off and Perch Fishing Competition.

Thanks for all the linky-love guys!

All the notoriety is going straight to my head.

I need to start watching my language around here.

Worth repeating.

Borepatch has a fantastic post up on How We Win the gun control debate. Go RTWT.


Blast From the Past

David (the beer guy) is showing his age again.

The hat sure is nice, but what I really want is that shirt Roy's wearing.

(I'm no slave to fashion.)
Inappropriate humor in 3...2...

Friday, February 22, 2013

Deering's Bacon

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.

Hungry yet?

Thursday, February 21, 2013

There I go being a Racist again...

Dood! I had no idea my skin color made me such a D-bag.

I feel so bad now.

Hat Tip to foO
Thanks buddy, my blood pressure was running a little low this morning, but now I'm just fine.

Tuesday, February 19, 2013

Lily The Dog

Alternate Title:  Chronic Canine Psychosis

Seriously.  That dog has issues.


Wednesday, February 13, 2013

See Y'all Later

It's time for the family to gather at the bedside of the patriarch.

The patriarch lives out in the fucking boonies.

Blogging will be light, or less.

Inappropriate humor in 3...2...

Hump Day Rule 5 - Catherine Zeta Jones

Sorry, Brigid. Seems redheads are going out of fashion this month.

(Cue loud protest from Larry in 3...2...)

It's not just her physical attributes, which are plentiful and a blessing to mankind everywhere.

It's the accent.

I understand how the horse felt. Poor guy.

One more for the road.

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

The Progeny: Then and Now


and Now...

That's all-natural. No roids. Helluva lot of hard work though.

I can remember him just a couple years ago, stuffing his hole with Twinkies and Ho-Hos and chasing them with a gallon of whole milk everyday, trying to make the minimum weight to join the Air Force.

Sorry.  I can't help bragging.

No matter how jacked he gets, whenever I think of him I remember the little skinny kid on the bicycle.

It's a Dad thing.