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, June 26, 2014

The Good News is,

I might probably could go home this weekend.

Thought I was going to have to drive down to Florida in a U-Haul over the weekend, but it turns out I got all that stuff onto the flatbed this morning. I really didn't think it was going to all fit. That truck driver was awesome, and he really knew his stuff.


The bad news?

I have to come back to this soul-crushing nightmare on Monday.

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Monday, June 23, 2014

Saturday, June 21, 2014

Saturday Morning Coffee #112

Good Reads

Holly has the latest addition to the Pendragon story out...

and Peter has added another sci-fi (soon to be) classic.

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Working so much, I haven't paid much attention to news, but I caught a CNN blurb on the TV in the hotel lobby a few days ago.
The sound was off, but there was a title running under some stock footage of a third-world shithole that said, "US captures mastermind behind Benghazi attack"

Mastermind? Wait, you lost me for a second there.
We're not still selling the story about a spontaneous attack protest? We even went so far as to arrest place into protective custody (in handcuffs) some goober who made YouTube videos that were offensive to someone else's religion.

My how things change.

Is there a website somewhere that I can check to keep up with which line of bullshit we're selling to the folks in flyover country? Maybe a Facebook page?

C'mon. Throw me a bone, man.

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Wednesday, June 18, 2014

Moar Hold Music

When I mentioned last Friday that blogging would be sporadic and sucky, I had no idea how true that statement would turn out to be.
I've said it a couple times before, but I've always managed to find the time to dick around on this blog.
This time it's for real.

Between the long days working in the Georgia heat, and the nights trying to keep up with the crew, I'm fucking dying here.

I got one kid, stands about 6' 5", a strapping young man who must flirt with every single female who crosses his path, and a crusty old guy in his 50's who's exactly the same. These guys together are incorrigible.

Guess who can drink me under the table any day of the week, and twice on Sunday?

That's right...the crusty old fucker.


Friday, June 13, 2014

Boy Howdy

Another one of those terms I never heard until I came to the south.


Blogging will be sporadic and rather sucky for the rest of this month. The game is on, and I must earn my keep before I diddle around on the internets.

Y'all stay out of trouble.





Monday, June 9, 2014

Monday Mood Music

Prepper jams.

Awesome.





I've been reading too many of Peter's articles on the gloomy state of the American economy...

Sunday, June 8, 2014

Sunday morning sleep-in #92

No one really felt like cooking last night.

Mrs B and I were doing some kicking back and playing cards. I had spent the day running my errands and working (conference calls), and we had just last night to hang out together before I head back out today.
So I whipped up some Ramen for dinner. We still keep plenty of that in the cabinet even though we hardly ever eat it anymore. We pushed our card game aside and sat down at the dining table to commence slurping.

Man, about halfway through those bowls, it took me right back...

It must have been twenty years ago, probably somewhere in the early-mid 90's, and here's these four big white guys riding in a Tokyo commuter train at something like six in the morning. We had been out the night before and we were trying to get our asses back to Yokota Air Base to be on a flight out in just a few hours. We were still pretty lit up, but trying to be on our best behavior.
So the one guy who allegedly knew where the hell we were and where the hell we were going gets us on this train, and it's packed with morning commuters. I mean like fucking sardines, and here's this knot of drunk white guys (us) standing right in the middle of the car, probably reeking of beer and whiskey. The place was quiet as a tomb. No one was saying a word. I don't know if it was because we were there, or if there's some sort of Nipponese commuter etiquette that says everyone just sits in stony silence for fear of offending someone. We just went along, throwing some raised eyebrows back and forth among ourselves as the doors closed and the train got going.

That's when the real fun began. Once everyone was settled and that train pulled away from the station, the lids came off the styrofoam cups and the sticks came out.
Christ onna crutch! Every second or third motherfucker on that train car started going to town on those noodles like a machine. And they were slurping. I mean serious high-speed, low-drag, max-volume noodle slurping.
It was like a competition. I kept expecting someone to start holding up score cards or something.

The train starts to brake for the next stop, and the noodle-slurping tapers off to zero. The train pulls up to the platform and a bunch of people get off, and a bunch of new riders get on. It was like changing the field to start a new inning. Once that train got back up to speed, that fucking slurping started up again. It seemed like it was even louder and more enthusiastic than before. I began to imagine that each neighborhood the train passed through had it's own team of pro slurpers, and they were having a giant competition every morning on the way to work.

Anyway, so we're looking at each other and doing the eyebrow waggle thing. Sure enough, one guy starts to grin...then there's a giggle...then a snort. Next thing you know, we're all standing there staring at the floor, making funny faces and trying not to bust out laughing like maniacs. We rode maybe half-a-dozen stops like that. We finally get off the train and stand around on the platform for a few minutes until we can get control of ourselves.

And we stopped on the way out of the station and got noodles from one of the vendors.

It took me another year or so to figure out that proper slurping of your noodles cools them as you eat them, so you don't have to sit there waiting for them to cool down or waste your time blowing on them and such. A good slurp technique means you can grab a boiling hot cup of noodles and broth and start going to town immediately.

Once I got my slurp perfected, I always wanted to get back up to Tokyo, just to ride the trains and show those motherfuckers how it was done. I never did get the chance though.

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Saturday, June 7, 2014

Saturday Morning Coffee #111

Let's get one thing straight, I'm not as nice a guy as you would think from my public actions and behavior.

Blogging aside, just because I come across as quiet, unassuming and polite in public does not mean that is my true nature. I'm usually that quiet because I'm not that good at being polite.

I am much better at keeping my mouth shut than keeping a civil tongue.

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Thursday, June 5, 2014

Piling Up Too Fast

Dammit.

Keads is down here in Anniston for a what is apparently a pretty awesome class on the M-1 Garand.

Been trying to free up some time to meet up with him for a beer, but things don't look good for yours truly.
Maybe I'll get lucky. The Good Fairy could show up and tell me to click my heels together three times or something...

It could happen, right?

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Tuesday, June 3, 2014

Sunday, June 1, 2014

Sunday morning sleep-in #91

Florida rest stop observations

I had to pull off the highway for a conference call. The new truck has all the bluetoothery you could ever need or want. I'm just no good at driving and paying attention to a conversation at the same time. Since this was a call where I actually needed to pay attention and give input, I thought it would be better if I parked somewhere I wouldn't be a danger to the general public.
Yeah. I'm that guy.

So instead of endangering the public, I end up being the weird looking guy who spends over an hour parked outside the rest stop bathrooms talking to his dashboard. Win some, lose some.

But this post it not about me being the creepy rest stop guy. It's about the lady walking her dog. One of little ones, I think it was a chihuahua or something like that. She parks a couple slots down and carries her little cutie over to the grassy area. The one right between the parking lot and the restrooms. (The area conspicuously not marked as the "dog walking area".) She sets little Fido down and stands there waiting expectantly. Sure enough, after some circling and sniffing, little Fido squats and drops a pellet or two in the grass. His diligent owner, after some congratulatory petting of little Fido, pulls some tissues out of her pocket and bends over.

I'm thinking to myself, "Well. That's nice. If you're going to have your dog poo over here where all the people are, at least you're kind enough to clean up after it."

Nope.

She grabs little Fido by the tail and. Wipes. The. Dog's. Ass.
Then she drops the tissues in a trash can and picks up the little rat and carries it back to the car.

What the fuck is the world coming to?

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