Progress Report on My Conversion to Conservatism

Man, I’ve been learning a lot reading these, whatcha call conservative political blogs lately. I've been learning what’s right and what’s wrong and what a good American is supposed to believe. I must confess, there are still a few things that I get hung up on but I’m sure that’s just me. I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed by any means. Here’s what I’ve learned so far:

It’s ok for politicians to be affiliated with religions that have cult-like roots, bizarre separatist rituals, a record of institutional racism, and/or systematic protocols to cover up sexual abuse;

However…..

It’s not ok for politicians to have a church pastor that dares to speak out about the U.S. Government’s foreign and domestic policies, or it's record on human rights. That is just wrong because it is hateful and divisive.

*********************************

It’s ok to use the church pulpit to speak out against the evils of homosexuality, the Nation of Islam, feminism, and liberalism in general. The Bible tells us it’s ok to hate “sin”;

However….

It’s not ok “that a minister would use the sacred Christian pulpit to push his politically driven agenda and use rhetorical techniques to whip up negative and destructive emotions in his congregation” (sacred words of Janice Shaw Crouse not mine). God forbid this ever happens!

*********************************

Its ok to use acceptable methods of supporting U.S. troops such as displaying yellow ribbon magnets on the backs of SUVs and voting for candidates that support the war effort.

However……

It’s not ok to support our troops by advocating, promoting, or fighting for peace in any organized fashion. Such futile endeavors demoralize our soldiers and annoy those that would otherwise steer our nation in an unobstructed path toward economic superiority.

*********************************

It’s ok to advocate for tougher immigration laws to keep those undesirable Latin American aliens out of our country.

However……

It’s not ok to criticize the economic policies, consumerist principles, and dependence on cheap labor that created the opportunities for immigrants in the first place.

*********************************

It’s ok to be extremely skeptical of any scientific research that would support the existence of global warming and to scoff at those that believe the future of our planet is in jeopardy. Such belief is simply reactionary and alarmist and supports a subversive agenda.

However……

It’s not ok to criticize the EPA or any government sanctioned scientific body that would have the where-with-all or political motivation to falsify any research that might threaten this country’s economic agenda. They are simply the best and most independent group of scientific minds in the world. Just ask them.

*********************************

Ok, that’s enough for one day. I’m sorry if I got any of this wrong. I’m still learning all these conservative principles so please cut me some slack. I’ve been told that I can learn even more, at a quicker pace, if I tune in to AM radio stations owned by Clear Channel Communications. I think I’ll try that. Maybe then some of these universal truths can sink in better. I hear they've got some damn fine radios for cheap over at the Wal Mart. I’m there. Later,

Peace, er… War I mean,

Phil

Tornado Damage in Driver

I have the distinction of growing up in a town that virtually no one has ever heard of. Even many folks born and raised in surrounding areas such as Norfolk, Portsmouth, or Hampton are likely never to have heard of it. Imagine my surprise when I read this in the R-T-D following the storms that devastated Suffolk this week. After 100 plus years of anonymity, the little village of Driver gets news coverage for being blown off the map!

Driver is one of those sleepy little crossroads that once functioned as a supply and social hub for the farmers that made up the largest part of the population in Nansemond County. Nansemend County no longer exists, having been swallowed up by the City of Suffolk in the 70s. As a child, I grew up accompanying my grandfather on his daily visits to Driver where he was one of the better known farmers in the area. He was a avid participant in the political affairs of the town, with daily meetings held in the feed and grain store run by his good friend Captain Jack. Then it was on to Mr. Arthur's General Store where the Post Office was located. Mr. Arthur was the town's Postmaster, Grocer, and one of the principle landowners in the township. The store had one of those old glass displays containing their entire selection of assorted candy and treats and if I would stare through the glass long, and longingly enough, I would be granted my choice of the day. Then, if my grandfather would be caught in another extended conversation, I would go across the street to the Driver Variety Store to travel the aisles of old shellaced wooden shelves filled with dusty odds and ends that no one ever bought. Most of their inventory was either outdated or useless, but fun to look at nonetheless. The store was run by Mrs. Birchard, an old woman of part Native American descent, who appeared to me to be at least 120 years old. She sat around an old pot bellied stove with a shawl around her and never had to move because no one ever bought anything. It is that same old store that was completely demolished this week by the tornado.

As all of my family from those parts have either died or moved away, I don't get the chance to visit anymore. With the recent storm however, I feel the need to go back there just to see if anything is left of the boyhood memories I am now struck with. Funny how we never really realize the importance of things until they are gone.

Cats Are Strange Creatures

Cats never cease to amaze me. This story from the BBC made me laugh because our cat, Harley has a curious habit of leaving for extended periods (escaping actually), only to show back up a couple of weeks later acting as if nothing has happened. We have never figured out where he goes when on one of his walk abouts. But, he never comes back dirty or emaciated so he must enjoy himself. Who knows, maybe he has another family someplace that wonders the same thing when he comes back to us. At any rate, cats are entertaining and that's why we put up with them.

Freaky Food Foto Friday!

Who knew pictures of food could be so creative and fun?
Happy Friday and bon appetit.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY ANGIE!!!!!!!!!!

Today is a good day. Not only is it Friday, it's my beautiful partner, Angie's birthday. Birthdays are always fun for us as we are one week apart and get to celebrate both for an entire week. Our birthday weeks usually involve some type of vacation or special road trip to mark the events. This weekend will be spent on the Appalachian Trail with friends and the dogs, revelling in the beauty that is the Blue Ridge in Virginia. Spring should be in full costume now and, with all the recent rain, the shades of green should be quite a sight to behold.

It's hard to believe that we are entering our fourteenth year together. Each year is somehow more special than the last and for that we are truly blessed. Happy thirty-something Ang! It's your day and your world. We are glad to share it with you. Love and Peace,

Phil

Another Thing I Will Not be Doing in China

The countdown has begun and in a couple of weeks I'll be barnstorming the People's Republic. I've been joking to friends that I will be wearing a "Free Tibet" tee shirt upon my arrival; however, after seeing this story in the R-T-D, I'm definitely re-thinking that one. These dudes are serious about not freeing Tibet.

God, I’m a Sick, Sick Man

For those that read my warped crap on any regular basis, questions as to my sanity (or lack thereof) may have already been answered. Given the following e-mail exchange this morning between me, my beautiful partner, and another couple, all doubts or remaining questions may be definitively put to rest:

From Joe (pseudonym)
To: Phil, Angie, Natalie (pseudonym)
Subj: Indian for Lunch

Indian anyone?

From: Phil
To: all

Joe, I thought you were a vegetarian. You can’t be eating Indians for lunch! Sorry, I’m a little punchy from lack of sleep. What time?

From Joe:
To: all

Anytime after 11:30.
What did you do last night?

From Phil:
To: all

Chased Angie around the house in my shark outfit while she pelted me with water balloons.

From Joe:
To: all

If the balloons would have been filled with butterscotch pudding, you would have just described my fetish fantasy. Can I borrow the shark outfit?

From Phil:
To: all

Certainly, as soon as I get it back from the cleaners. Has a few mustard stains. Won’t bore you with that story.

From: Angie
To: all

You guys have fun, I can’t make it. Have tight deadlines and an exhaustive day ahead.

From Phil
To: all

Shame. Guess that also means you’ll be too tired to play on the trapeze tonight.

From: Natalie
To: all

Y’all are sick. I can’t do lunch either.

From: Phil
To: all

I’m still in (if no cannabalism involved).

From: Joe
To: all

Me too, I want to hear the mustard story. Meet you at noon.

Freaky Foto Friday!!!!!

Have you ever wondered what our favorite Hollywood celebs would look like if they were just everyday working class shit kickers. You know the kind of good old plain folks that grace the local Food Lions and Wal Markets of America. Well thanks to our friends at planethiltron.com (whoeverthehellthatis), you have to wonder no more! Enjoy:

Pamela Anderson



Jennifer Anniston




David and Posh Beckham



Tommy Cruise



Johnny Freaking Depp!! (hillarious)



Cameron Diaz



Nicole Kidman



Jennifer Lopez and that skinny guy she's married to



And finally, the true Jessica Simpson

Time for a Potty Break

A little toilet humor for your enjoyment.

Click on the image to enlarge.

Well, Who Knew?

I received one of those "fun facts" type e-mails today informing me how I could tell the difference between organically grown and genetically engineered produce. I was immediately skeptical and hopped on snopes.com to see if this was another urban legend making the rounds. Well, turns out this one is true.

Fruits and vegetables have those annoying little stickers with PLU (price look-up) codes on them. Ordinary vegetables have a 4 digit PLU code. But, if the item is certified as organic or genetically modified, it will have a 5 digit PLU code. The organic produce will have a PLU code that begins with a 9 (i.e., 94825). If a produce item has been genetically enhanced, modified, or otherwise scientifically screwed with, the 5 digit PLU code will begin with an 8 (i.e., 84825).

This is useful information for anyone that cares about what they put in their bodies. For years, sneaky little GMOs (genetically modified organisms) have been weaseling their way into our food supply. Initially, screwing around with mother nature via genetic tampering was seen as a way to grow bigger, better, disease and insect resistant, or somehow healthier stuff. As with most things too good to be true, we have now come to realize a myriad of potential and real risks associated with genetically altered plants and animals. The concerns range from threat to the environment to danger to one's' health. Today, scientific concern, if not plain old common sense, should be impetus enough for anyone to try and avoid GMOs whenever possible. Now, when I cruise that beautiful produce section at the local market, I can feel a bit more confident about my choices.

I think that's pretty freakin cool! Who knew? Uh oh, now I wonder what kind of grain is going into my beer, naturally occurring or genetically modified? Hmmmm..., something else to worry about now. Shit!

Peace, and healthy eating!

Let’s Quit Being “Bitter” and Move On

The proverbial straw grasping and nit picking that’s going on as a result of some candid and pointed conversation between Mr. Obama and a group of voters in San Francisco would be hilarious if not so telling about the limitations of each candidate in this presidential race. No matter how the candidates try to spin this “bitter” thing, it all boils down to throwing shit into a hard wind. Each ends up with turd on their face.

In the case of Ms. Hillary’s spin, an equally large can of worms threatens to escape if the issue is pushed too far. Take for example this statement from the Clinton Machine:

"I saw in the media it's being reported that my opponent said that the people of Pennsylvania who faced hard times are bitter. Well, that's not my experience. As I travel around Pennsylvania, I meet people who are resilient, who are optimistic, who are positive, who are rolling up their sleeves. They are working hard everyday for a better future, for themselves and their children."

I would wager that there are more than a few working class voters in Pennsylvania that are just as off put by this rah rah, pep rally spin. There are pissed-off people in the hills, dales and heart lands that hold no faith or hope that their voice will ever be heard by elected officials in this country. Do these folks want to be characterized as resilient and optimistic? No, they want to be heard. Seems to me the pot may be just as “out of touch” as the kettle here. Hillary, it might be time to just back away from this issue and move on to a bit more substantive rhetoric.

Johnny McCain might be better advised to back off as well. His camp’s spin, issued by spokesman Steve Schmidt may have some potential for deadly retort as well. He states that Mr. Obama’s observations show “an elitism and condescension towards hardworking Americans that is nothing short of breathtaking”. Further, “it is hard to imagine someone running for president who is more out of touch with average Americans”.

Well, excuse me, Mr. Average Joe McCain, what would you know about average Americans anyway? What the hell has your party, or any party for that matter, done in the last umpteen years to help the economic condition of “average Americans” in this country? I’m sure there are many waiting anxiously for the itemized list. Every attempt by the McCain camp to align themselves with the working class of this country is apt to wind up as fodder for the opponents to make political hay. Again, John and company may be better served by simply backing away from the self righteous table.

When all is said and done, I believe that every candidate has, at one time or another, engaged in candid, analytic discussion of the demographic voter base they are faced with somehow reaching. When one engages in this type of discussion, generalizations are going to be tossed around in an attempt to make sense of the data. Such was surely the case when Barry fell into the briar patch in San Francisco. Let’s look at an expanded transcript of his remarks rather than the isolated text that’s been circulating the spin market.

So, it depends on where you are, but I think it's fair to say that the places where we are going to have to do the most work are the places where people most cynical about government. The people are mis-appre ... they're misunderstanding why the demographics in our, in this contest have broken out as they are. Because everybody just ascribes it to white working-class don't wanna work -- don't wanna vote for the black guy. That's ... there were intimations of that in an article in the Sunday New York Times today -- kind of implies that it's sort of a race thing.

Here's how it is: in a lot of these communities in big industrial states like Ohio and Pennsylvania, people have been beaten down so long. They feel so betrayed by government that when they hear a pitch that is premised on not being cynical about government, then a part of them just doesn't buy it. And when it's delivered by -- it's true that when it's delivered by a 46-year-old black man named Barack Obama, then that adds another layer of skepticism.

But -- so the questions you're most likely to get about me, 'Well, what is this guy going to do for me? What is the concrete thing?' What they wanna hear is so we'll give you talking points about what we're proposing -- to close tax loopholes, uh you know uh roll back the tax cuts for the top 1%, Obama's gonna give tax breaks to uh middle-class folks and we're gonna provide healthcare for every American.

But the truth is, is that, our challenge is to get people persuaded that we can make progress when there's not evidence of that in their daily lives. You go into some of these small towns in Pennsylvania, and like a lot of small towns in the Midwest, the jobs have been gone now for 25 years and nothing's replaced them. And they fell through the Clinton administration, and the Bush administration, and each successive administration has said that somehow these communities are gonna regenerate and they have not. And it's not surprising then they get bitter, they cling to guns or religion or antipathy to people who aren't like them or anti-immigrant sentiment or anti-trade sentiment as a way to explain their frustrations.

Um, now these are in some communities, you know. I think what you'll find is, is that people of every background -- there are gonna be a mix of people, you can go in the toughest neighborhoods, you know working-class lunch-pail folks, you'll find Obama enthusiasts. And you can go into places where you think I'd be very strong and people will just be skeptical. The important thing is that you show up and you're doing what you're doing.

I personally applaud Barry O.’s candor and attempt at analysis, but must concede his remarks should have been tempered with an acute awareness that everything he says will likely be used against him in a court of public opinion. What seems evident from the expanded text of his remarks however, is much less of a case of elitism on his part, and a greater case of determination to reach a demographic group that needs a bigger voice in government.

That being said, Obama, like his fellow talking heads, needs to back away from this issue and move on. Further attempts to explain context, indignantly retort, or make light of the situation will just keep this ball of shit in the air longer that it needs to be. Mr. Obama needs to keep his head down and continue to do what he needs to do. See the people, hear what they have to say, and spread his message to all that will listen. Just like that kid from Hope, he needs to keep it simple. Most folks want the promise of a little positive change and an opportunity to feel the slightest bit of inspiration from the one that would lead us down the path of darkness for the next four years. Leave the analytical discussion for the staff of true insiders behind closed doors.

The Clinton Legacy aka Freaky Foto Friday

For all those that would refute the impact that Mr. Clinton had on Washington, this photo is proof positive that the Clinton legacy is secure for many years to come. We miss you Billy Boy!

In Search of the Finest Ass in Beijing

Thanks to the gruesome gourmand, Andrew Zimmern, host of the Travel Channel’s Bizarre Foods show, my upcoming trip to Beijing, China should be full of adventurous, if not perilous, dining experiences. As luck would have it, Mr. Zimmern recently featured the city of Beijing in one of his shows. For those unfamiliar with this show, let me provide a succinct description. Andrew Zimmern travels the globe in search of the most unique and, in the eyes of most Westerners, utterly disgusting foods one could imagine putting in their pie holes. With great gusto, Zimmern noshes on everything from sheep testicles to cow utters, all the while oohing and ahhing over the magnificent flavor and preparation of these bizarre delicacies. Never once have I seen this dude gag. I’ve even seen him eat penis with a smile and a smack of the lips. Dude’s crazy.

Being the quintessential world thirsty travelers we are, Angie and I watched the Beijing episode of Bizarre Foods with great interest. I’ve vowed for months now that I’m going to sample a wide variety of bizarre foods while in Asia. After all, why not? When in Rome…as they say. I’m up for scorpion on a stick, fried beetles, tree larvae, and the like; however, Zimmern has upped the ante on me with his visits to some of Beijing’s more unique dining establishments. Who knew that donkey was a delicacy? Turn’s out there’s an upscale joint over there that serves the finest of fare, all featuring donkey meat. That’s right, the meat of the dreaded and lowly ass. Their ass is served cold, braised, boiled, stir fried, baked, broiled and fricasseed. They even feature dishes made with thinly sliced and fried donkey skin! As most Westerners would be, I was initially a little repulsed at the idea of eating donkey. After all, donkeys are close relatives to horses and we don’t eat horse here in the states. But, after watching Andrew plow through a variety of elegantly prepared dishes of donk, Angie and I are looking forward to finding this four star ass establishment. The meat looked quite lean and is reportedly quite healthful and full of omega-3 fatty acid (like yak) so what the hell. I do hope we can find the same restaurant where he ate because I’m definitely not going to Donkey King or McDonkey’s to get my first donkey fix in China. I do have some standards.

Before writing me off as a complete nut, I must say that I do have limits. Andrew featured one restaurant in Beijing that I will not be visiting. Recently opened, Beijing is now home to one of the finest restaurants of its kind in the world. In a luxurious setting, bizarre food aficionados can now enjoy a wide selection of animal penises from around the globe. One can enjoy dog penis, deer penis, donkey penis, and every other kind of mammal appendage, all served in a variety of succulent ways. They feature penis hot pot, penis fondue, raw penis, pickled penis and, for the indecisive, a penis platter. In other words, this is a penis emporium, the likes of which, no penis lover has ever seen before. Furthermore, if one is wealthy enough and places an order months in advance of their visit, that lucky diner can even feast on tiger penis for a mere $5,700 a plate. Who cares if tiger penis is only obtained through illegal market trade and is threatening to endanger this noble species of cat? They sure do have some tasty genitals. In all seriousness, I will be avoiding the penis at all costs. It’s just not my thing. Call me squeamish. It ain't happening.

I go to visit my physician tomorrow and plan to discuss my intentions with him in hopes he will provide me with an variety of antidotes should my adventurous palette prove too much for my delicate American digestive system. I would truly hate to spend my time in the Middle Kingdom holed up in some infirmary ruing the day I got my first piece of ass in China. Sorry, I couldn’t resist.

Peace, and happy dining.

Demon Alcohol, Damnable Flu, and TGIFFF!!!

Where did the last three weeks go? Well, let’s see…. there was a week in Savannah for St. Pattie’s Day celebration, a week of detoxification, exacerbated by the worst case of flu ever, and a week of excruciating back pain brought about by laying on my ass with the flu.

Thanks to abstinence, Nyquil and a variety of pharmaceuticals, today I find myself some worse for the wear but human once again. Hard to believe it’s been three weeks since my last blog entry. But I’m back just in time for Freaky Foto Friday!!!

This one was taken by a fortune hunter searching for that illusive prize at the end of the rainbow. Finally someone was able to locate and photograph the fabled pot. However, to his and everyone else’s chagrine, the pot was not filled with gold. The dream has been shattered once and for all. Wouldn’t you know it!

Freaky Foto Friday

OVERDOSE VICTIMS

I'm posting these graphic pictures of overdose victims not for shock value, but rather in the hope that you will have a frank discussion with friends and family about respecting moderation, understanding limits, and knowing when to just walk away.




Remember...
This did NOT have to happen...

Grace Potter: Not a Secret Anymore

Grace Potter and the Nocturnals, pictured here on the recent cover of Relix Magazine and dubbed "America's Best Kept Secret", played an amazing set at Toad's Place last night. It's the fourth time I've had the privilege to catch her live and every appearance has been a musical and visual treat. She's got it all. Looks, appeal, energy and, most importantly, immense talent. Her vocal range is incredible and she's got great chemistry with her band. She's able to transition seamlessly from ass kicking rock to soulful, bluesy standards. In short, GP&N rock big time. If everyone in the house didn't know beforehand, they do now, Grace and the boys won't be a secret much longer.

Car Theft in Richmond's Fan District

A friend of mine, who will remain anonymous,, is somewhat famous for his antics while under the influence of intoxicating beverage. He has entertained me on several evenings with his seemingly endless tales of misadventure while partying it up. Recently however, I was informed of his latest, and perhaps greatest, escapade second hand. I can't wait to see "Bob" and give him shit over this one.

I'm told that, about 11 days ago, "Bob" and a group of revelrous friends hit the Fan for some bar hopping and fun on a Friday afternoon. With Bob at the wheel of his Volvo wagon, they found a parking place within easy walking distance of their final waterhole of the evening before returning home to their spouses and children. I guess that "one for the road" multiplied and by the time Bob was ready to head home, he had a full fledged pisser of a buzz on. Well, when the group rounded the corner of the block they left the car in, Bob was sobered a bit to find his Volvo was gone…vanished. Realizing that Volvo station wagons are a hot commodity among the chop shop set, Bob knew immediately what had occurred. Some sonovabitch had gone and stole his damn car! Old Bob, being the ever resourceful one, knew exactly what to do. He did what any self respecting drunk man would do in that same situation. He called his wife and asked her what to do. Needless to say, she arranged to get the boys safely home while making all the requisite phone calls to the police and insurance company to report the crime, allowing Bob to do the only thing he could in this situation, remain drunk until further notice.

If you have ever been the victim of a car theft, you know what a pain in the ass it is. There's all the red tape and reports to be filed while you are suffering the emotional toil of feeling simultaneously boiling mad and sadly violated. The cops offer little or no reassurance that your car will ever be found in one piece again and the insurance company won't budge until completing the process of making sure your car is actually stolen and won't be found. Bob and his wife spent a week of ritualistic phone tag with the police and the insurance company, hoping in vain for some break in the case. Everyday it was more of the same: no leads yet and not enough time had elapsed to process a claim. After a week of this frustration, Bob had had enough. It was Friday, a week since the theft, and the next course of action became amazingly clear... go drinking down in the fan. With a buddy volunteering his chauffer service for the evening, the group of merry pranksters hit the saloons again, with a vengeance.

Well, the next part of the saga reminds me of a story an old drunk man once related to me. It appears that, in the recesses of the human brain, there is a secret memory compartment to which admittance is permitted by only one key. And that key is copious amounts of, you guessed it, alcohol. When Bob and his friends exited the bar last Friday evening, Bob decided to ask the group's indulgence as he mosied up the street to the scene of the crime one week earlier. As he approached the corner and peered down the side street, he sadly noted that there was still no car sitting where he had happily left it. But instead of turning to make the trudge back to his friends, that last swill of beverage, from moments earlier, kick started the magical process the old drunk man described to me. That secret memory compartment opened just a crack. Without realizing exactly why, Bob kept walking until he reached the corner of the next block. That side street looked much the same as the previous one with one notable exception. His Volvo station wagon was sitting among the rows of parked automobiles, exactly where he had left it approximately 168 hours earlier.

Well, feelings of relief at this discovery were instantly tempered with a sinking dread as Bob did what any self respecting drunk man would do in this situation. Bracing himself for the avalanche of shit preparing to hit him, he called his wife with the good news.

From what I hear, Bob is still in the early phases of living this one down. While I feel for him and don't want to pour any salt in this gaping wound of embarrassment, I'm secretly plotting how and when to bring this one up the next time we're together. I do hope it's not too long before his wife lets him back in the house so we can plan a little party.

About Your Story Sam...Sorry I Asked

I've come to the conclusion that curiosity is not always a good thing. Since my last post about Mr. Samuel James Tilden Moore III, I just couldn't resist digging deeper to find out more about what I suspected was an interesting, if not sad story. Intrigued by the lack of information readily available about Moore and his background, I was determined enough to do some real digging in the archives. Suffice it to say my suspicions of connections, voiced previously, were not only confirmed but underestimated.

Herein lies the rub. In my zeal to dig up a juicy story, I forgot that knowing more can sometimes be a bad thing. I'm left now with an overwhelming sadness for his family, both living and departed, as well as for old Sam the 3d himself. His story is not unlike that of many privileged offspring that somehow are lost in the wake of the accomplishments and expectations of their prestigious families. It's sometimes hard for those that were underprivileged to grasp how wealth, connections and advantage sometime have such a destructive impact on one's life. It appears that such is the case here.

Out of respect to a fine family, I'm going to hang up my detective hat and relate none of the specifics on what I have gathered to date on Sam and his kin. If there are those that wish to know more, there is a wealth of information if you are resourceful enough to find it. My recommendation however, would be to let it rest. It's just another tragic tale of a fine Southern family lost in the aftermath of a kingdom vanished.

Good luck Sam. You're damn sure gonna need it. GOBs are a dying breed.

T G I Freaky Foto Friday!!

Here we have a couple of shots from the wedding of Mr. and Mrs. Broaddus Z. Pugh who were married at their home in Sow's Branch, Arkansas.







Next, we have unearthed an early promotional foto of the B52s before they discovered drugs and a better manager.



And finally, proof positive that the Southern Baptists are indeed becoming more progressive. Who knew?

So What's Your Story, Sam?

Something tells me Mr. Samuel J.T. Moore III is quite an interesting character. Thanks to the Times Dispatch's coverage of Mr. Moore's illustrious rap sheet, my curiosity about this guy was definitely piqued. His perfect record of acquittals on some pretty major charges, coupled with his pedigreed moniker inspired me to do a little web searching. Turns out Sam's father is an author and southern historian of some note, having published a comprehensive history of Richmond during the Civil War as well as being a frequent presenter to and past president of the Richmond Civil War Roundtable. For those that know anything about old Richmond society and the Great Lost Cause, them's pretty impressive credentials in the GOB circle.

Think about it. Who but someone with connections (good or bad) can beat a string of charges like murder, malicious wounding, sexual assault, rape, etc. and still be around to enjoy a pretty high (albeit seedy) lifestyle in the community? Membership, status, and some damn fine lawyers must be in the mix here. Something tells me there is a good back story to this saga and I really hope some ace reporter can sniff it out. I haven't seen a potentially juicy local story like this one since Clyde "the glide" Pitchford had his infamous run.

Let the fun begin.

Way to Make a Good First Impression National Theater

I start my day today by finding the following message on the National Theater website:

In the wake of the forecasted threat of a winter advisory predicted to blanket the Metro Richmond area with ice and snow, coupled with the final wrap-up of the City inspections taking place first thing tomorrow, The National owners have decided to air on the side of caution and postpone the sold out Dark Star Orchestra concert to Monday February 25th @ 7:30pm. The National will honor all tickets for tomorrow’s sold out concert for the rescheduled show on Monday night, February 25th with the added benefit of The Radiators at no additional cost. If desired, refunds are available at the point of purchase.

There are some pissed off Deadheads out here and, dammit, we have a right to be. There are a helluva lot of people that have been planning for and anticipating this show for a long time now. Adding to the excitement was the fact that the show was scheduled for a Friday night. In the past, Richmond ususally got DSO on a week night as they passed through town for a major weekend gig. This was big. We get DSO, a brand new venue, and a night to party down with no work the next day.

People can accept the truth but, in a case like this, bullcrap is not acceptable. For god sakes, don't try to blame this lack of planning on the weather. Give me a break! There is "...a threat of a winter advisory"...and the decision is to "air" on the side of caution (nice English Mr. PI officer) and postpone the show? What the hell? Does a politician run this freaking theater? Give it to us straight National Theater owners. Tell us you screwed up. Tell us the City screwed up. Tell us something that makes sense! Take some responsibility and don't blame a fictitious weather advisory that never called for shit in the first place. If you're not ready to open, come clean with it. "Air" on the side of having some balls!!!

Now all the folks that work for a living will have to settle for refunds, be no shows on Monday, and hope that this kind of bullcrap doesn't happen again. Thanks for ruining my weekend Mr. Blame the weather can't get your shit together owner of the fucking lame ass National Theater!

Oh, in case I failed to mention it, I'm pissed.

Peace

Freaky Foto Friday Weather Warning

If you walk out the door in the morning and

see this in the sky:



Just go back in the house, pour yourself a cup of coffee with a shot, and stay there.
It probably isn't going to be a good day.

Motivational Thought for the Day

This little animal is called the Naked Mole-Rat and is from Africa.




So, if find you are having a bad day or feel sorry for yourself,

Remember:

Going through life is hard enough, but to go through life looking like a dick with buck teeth is horrible!

A Heartwarming Story!

STORY OF A LITTLE GIRL AND HER DEAD GOLDFISH

Now and then it is good to have one that is just cute and sweet.
(click on image below for larger size)



There now, wasn't that just a cute and sweet little story?

Here's to You Dead Dudes

I was the perfect house husband today. I had the day off because I work for one of those organizations that let us have Mondays off whenever one of the holidays I affectionately refer to as Dead Dude's Day comes around. I never know when they are coming. I just wait for someone at work to remind me that we have a day off. It's usually on a Friday when I leave with my standard, "See you on Monday". The strange look I receive from my staff tips me off. It's that exasperated loook that says: "you poor lost dumbass, you've been working in here for 20 years and you still don't know!"

Whatever, I like surprises. Anyway, I decided to surprise Angie by cleaning the house, washing and folding all the clothes, and preparing a wonderful gourmet meal. It was a beautiful 70 degree day today but I resisted the temptation to play on the river and set about doing all the weekend chores that we put on hold so we could do nothing. Strangely enough, today, all those irritating chores became satisfying and I occupied myself all day floating between tasks with the ease of a seasoned pro, juggling food prep with laundry and cleaning, finishing just in time to greet the love of my life at the door with a drink and a kiss.

After a glorious meal, one of my best ever, I mentioned to Angie that maybe this house husband thing may be a good idea. I could quit work, we could save money on house cleaning, and she could be spoiled everyday with my attentive service. Didn't work. "I'll quit work and do all this for you", she said.

The finality in her voice awoke me to the fact that retirement is not in my immediate future. Oh well, at least I've got all those Dead Dude Days to hone my domestic skills.

It's FFF Again!

As I have been sick with the flu for the last four days, writing anything intelligent or inspired has been out of the question. Just when I'm about to forego posting for yet another day I suddenly remember, It's Freaky Foto Friday!!! Enjoy:

Hurray it's Freaky Foto Friday!

What did we ever do without the world wide web? We certainly didn't have as many pictures to amaze and entertain us!

First we have a shot from the first Olympic competition for transplant recipients. This gymnast, from the tiny island nation of Maui Momo was the first recipient of a replacement head. As no suitable donors were found, she had to settle for a bit less. Her new "head" does come in handy in breaking nasty falls off the balance beam.




Next we have Stretch Armstrong. As a boy, Stetch longed to become a basketball player; however, growing up in the suburbs his parents preferred he play soccer. Here he is today protesting an illegal use of hands call.




And finally, we have a picture of Bob after having lunch at his favorite cantina in Tijuana.

John Wade, I Salute You

I just finished reading Richmond's Style Weekly article on John Wade who, at eighteen, was branded a "terrorist" as a result of the federal government's (Anti-) "Patriot" Act and sent to federal prison for three years. John Wade's crimes were neither against humanity nor threatening to any human's safety (other than his own). His intent was to exact a monetary price against those whose actions conflicted with or symbolized a threat to the well being of our environment. While one can effectively argue his tactics and actions as misguided and malicious, there can be no arguing the passion and commitment behind them. It is the same kind of single-minded and passionate commitment that inspired ordinary citizens to throw barrels of tea off a British ship in New England, occupy campus buildings, and burn sections of our country's cities. All of these actions are now popularly viewed as natural responses to injustice rather than the crimes they were at the time. Yesterday's "terrorists" sometimes become today's heroes. I hope environmental activists will someday enjoy such status. The impunity with which our system of government destroys land and natural resources for the sake of the almighty dollar will hopefully one day be seen as equally unjust as other atrocities that we have successfully fought to change.

We should all ponder where would we be if inspired people never found the courage to stand up and take action against status quo. Even if the extreme actions of zealots are sometimes misguided and immature, they get people's attention. Attention that, for good or bad, inspires the actions of others. Scary stuff for a country like ours that thrives on the status quo and the sheep-like compliance of it's inhabitants. And that, my friends, is why we have the friggin (Anti-) "Patriot" Act and is also the reason John Wade is labeled as an extremist and a terrorist.

Today we humans are beginning a national dialogue about our future on a depleted planet. People like John Wade, through his actions and his example help us to begin that discussion. Thank goodness he had the courage to not back down after being abused by the system. John Wade has emerged from his imprisonment remarkably committed to pick up where he left off. Only this time, hopefully, his maturity will guide him to more effective means of affecting change. John Wade for his actions as an adult, not as an adolescent, is a hero and I wish I had half the conviction, passion and commitment that he has. You go boy!

Peace

End of the Line for Twit

The political scene has pretty much dropped off my radar; however, occasionally a political piece will catch my eye enough to actually read it. Especially if it's deals with the political demise of Twit, er Mitt Romney. The Slate's political blog "Trail Head" features such a piece today and it retored my faith that people in this country are not totally out to lunch.

Chadwick Matlin writes:

"So, what now? Romney's last hope was to remain relevant in California, but that worked about as well as his two-dozen different campaign messages. The next few contests—Kansas, Louisiana, Washington, Virginia, and Maryland—don't really favor him, but that's because the country doesn't favor him. The only region where Romney did especially well was in the mountain West, where Mormons live and news stories go to die. His political life has run its course. It's time to end it."

Follow this link for the entire article.

So long Twit. Your 15 minutes are up. The only sad thing is all of the money you swindled out of hard working people that believed you were something special. Now go back to doing what you do best: being irrelevant.

Notes on a Strange Day

February 2, 2008

12:00am-2:00am

Catch up on the 2 latest episodes of L-Word. Wonder if lesbians actually watch this show. Wonder if lesbians all looked as good as these women, would there be any heterosexual woman at all. Realize that L-Word has jumped the shark. Sad. It was a good show.

2:00am-3:00am

Sleep fitfully. Awakened at three by Keith sending text message asking if I'm still up. Drunk dialing.

3:01-7:00

Sleep fitfully

7:00am-9:30am

Wake up pondering the theory that Britney Spears has actually been possessed by the lost soul of Anna Nicole Smith. Make mental note to contact Pat Robertson and Dr. Phil and suggest exorcism. Imagine the network bidding wars for that one.

Shower, dress and brace for Suzanne's funeral at 10:00. Wonder what goes on in Baptist churches. Take big slug of Bailey's Irish Cream and head out the door.

10:00am-12:00pm

Arrive at church and pleasantly surprised to find a non-traditional funeral gathering in a hall filled with tables. Mingle. Look at collage boards of pictures. Cry.

Sit at a table with Emily and Keith and listen to family and friends tell Suzanne stories. Ponder whether Suzanne can actually see and hear us as we struggle to make sense of the absurdity and awkwardness of grief. Keith and I have a giggling fit to the horror of the somber ones among us. I am satisfied that Suzanne would have wanted us to laugh. Angie and I pop Suxanne's last CD into the player and leave the funeral in search of the best Bloody Mary available.

12:00pm-2:00pm

Bloody Mary search successful. Brunch wonderful. Mission accomplished.

2:00pm-8:00pm

Watch "Five Easy Pieces and "Edward Scissorhands". Wonder how either was ever considered to be good. Busy myself by preparing the obligatory huge pot of chili for the stupid American faux holiday known as Super Bowl Sunday. Drink beers. Pour beer into pot of chili. Drink more beer. Wyatt comes by to let me know of band playing at Cary Street Cafe tonight. Decide that drinking more beer in a crowded, smoky bar full of hippies seems like an attractive proposition.

Trudge upstairs to post a blog because I made a resolution to do this every day for 365 days. Think of Suzanne. Wonder if there is really life after death and, if so, what is Suzanne doing. Probably still getting registered and moved into her new digs. What's the dress code in the afterlife?

8:00-8:10

Stare at the monitor and scan brain for excess bullshit to type into PC. Prepare to log out. I'm going to drink beer, listen to music and be thankful that I'm alive, healthy and here on earth with the rest of the fuck-ups.

Peace

Bye Suzanne. We won't forget you.