People who have near death experiences all talk about a peaceful, euphoric , bright light enveloping them. From the moment we are conceived, we are moving towards that light. This is my heels diggin' in, I don't wanna' go, reluctant journey, into the light. Stephen

Saturday, February 27, 2010

Blast From the Past / Predispositions

See that cross drawing hottie packing the hogleg?  The one hugging on my great-great-grandmother. Her name was Laura Allen. She was the niece of  my"Fat Granny." Mary Selena Hutcherson Maner.  I apparently inherited her habit of being armed at all times. LEGALLY armed.  I find myself avoiding places and situations where I cannot legally carry.  Something tells me Laura would approve. My little sister has those exact  chubby cheeks. As does my Aunt Jeanette. And that hat,,,, that there is a horse ridin' hat. When the brim is bent up the wind doesn't get under it and blow your hat off.  That way, after you outrun the commancheros, you don't get sunburned.

I think if Laura was posing for a pic today, it might be more like this. Strapped and ready to roll

Well, ok, I'm joking .  But I'm confident that Laura wouldn't play "victim" very well.  I doubt she would be assaulted, or raped without having something to say about the outcome. I believe she would take responsibility for her own well being. Empowerment!  Why are so many strong, intellectual women afraid to empower themselves by carrying a gun?  Why do so many cede their destiny to criminals?  Why are all aspects of personal self defense not taught to girls from the earliest ages?  Teaching empowerment builds confidence.  I like strong confident women.  I like Laura.

pics by others

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Dark to Dark.

The babe has 9 days off on vacation.  She cracks a looooooong whip. I'm getting worn out slaving away under her direction.  That's why you are seeing alot of pics. Easy way out.  Be back soon. 

p.s. We ARE getting alot done.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Piksher Taker Wannabe


subtle is good

I  like subtle

I can't decide if this is subtle or not.

Uh Oh!  Not subtle.

Ah, the return of subtlety

Subtleness on water. Ahh.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Great Moments in History / 2001 BC

And it came to pass that man discovered the saw.

click for mo bigger

It hurt, and he bled, but he had found it.

And it was good.

Monday, February 22, 2010


Ok Michelle,

I have a proposition for you.

 You see, I watched Mike Huckabee's interview with you. I thought it went well. A couple folks just talkin'.

As you know, I have been testifying against you on a couple issues.  That whole, "...for the first time in my life...."  thing. I've gotten alot of mileage out of that one. That's ones been used up.

 Either we have to be friends, or I have to come up with a new  motivational talking point.  I'm willing to have a redo/startover moment with you if only you could just  quietly say, "ya know, it was dumb, and immature, and  ya' know,,,,I shouldn't have said that... I'm sorry."

 I'm in if you are. Swear.

The way you spoke about the kids, and family;   You said  what I feel. Kids, we can all agree on that.

So what do you say?  Want to be friends?  I'll say I'm sorry if you will. 


p.s. Call Me.  Maaawaaah

Sunday, February 21, 2010

Food Chain / Citrus+Ginger=Good

Couple juiced tangelos. You can tell it's a guy's juicer because the sticker is still on it.

click pics to activate saliva flow

Zest of a lemon + juice

Fresh ginger grated fine. And it took 18 years, but I finally burnt the counter top.

The rest of the glaze ingredients,  onion, red pepper, garlic, quarter cup of molasses, crystalized ginger to add during reduction if it needs more ginger flavor.

Sweat the onion and pepper a little in a teaspoon or so of olive oil, then add the garlic for a minute or two.

All glaze ingredients in the pool to simmer and reduce.

Meatball time. The other half of the onion + ground beef.

Wild rice steamed and fluffed. That's a half a cup each of rice and water.

Also in the meatball pool, spicy mustard, 2 eggs, 1 jalapeno, couple cloves of garlic, cilantro,couple tablespoons oyster sauce, few dashes of soy sauce, the rice,  salt, pepper, dash of cumin seed, a little mexican oregano, a little smoked paprika.

Oven is waiting at 375 degrees

Not too big, not too small. Off to the oven.

Napa cabbage, jicama, tangelo, green onion + toasted and chopped almonds.

Dressed on the plate with a little sweet chili sauce.

Glaze is reduced.

Meatballs out and glaze poured over the top.

Served with toasted sheepherder bread.

citrus ginger glazed spicy meatballs

napa cabbage jicama slaw

sheepherder bread

Saturday, February 20, 2010

Krazy Kazoo / Memphis Shakedown

Keeping with the musical theme.  The Carolina Chocolate Drops light it up.  I HIGHLY recomend you listen to some of their stuff.  This will make you dance barefoot in the kitchen. At about the 1:20 mark, Kazoo Fireworks!

Friday, February 19, 2010

Dear Rappers, / Spoken Word Demonstrated

attn. rappers:   pay attention

"...where no man has gone before....." and going there boldy.

"..Enterprise, this is shuttle 4, it appears that California is burning,,,,,,,,,and melting."

click for mo bigger

"...Enterprise, this is shuttle 4.  Request permission to drop the terminal govenator into the molten liquid on the Arizona side."  

"Enterprise, this is shuttle 4.  The govenator is away, but there seems to be a chemical reaction,,,,,,,,, uh,  I think we started the sky on fire."

"Enterprise, this is shuttle 4.  We were off a little,,,,, wrong planet,,,,, we dropped the govenator on Mars.  Over."

Nekkid Emperors / Tiger By The Tail

So, I just finished watching Tiger Woods'  apology press conference. Not impressed. These words would describe my thoughts about it.

*Poor acting

He should have went on Oprah and cried and let Oprah hug him. That would have worked. The press conference without the press didn't.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Identifying the Enemy


Some nutjob just flew his plane into an office building in Austin Texas. There was an IRS office in that building. As of this minute, 10:50 a.m. mountain time there is precious little information about the pilot and his reasons  for going kamikaze. BUT, right now, I guarandamn T you, some leftist fruitcakes are already writing their articles about the evil right wing militias and their blood brothers, those tea partiers. Rightwing extremist crazies clinging to their guns and religion.  The same un-American zealots who caused Timothy McVey to go off the deep end.

Watch closely as this thing develops.  The quickest lefties out of the box assigning blame to evil right wing tea party types are the enemy.  I've got my money on the Southern Poverty Law Center.  RADICAL leftist group who think that if we had open borders, confiscated all the guns, imprisoned militia members, outlawed conservatism, etc. ad nauseum,  then this country would be just fine.  Last night their spokesman/head idiot went after the Oathkeepers on O'Reilly. 

Other likely hatemongers who will pop up.  NY Times columnist Frank Rich,  Matthews, Olberman, and Maddow on MSNBC,  The Brady Bunch,  Mayor of New York City Michael Bloomberg, Janet Napolitano,  Eric stud/fail Holder,,  anti-defamation league (ADL), anything associated with George Soros, etc. etc. ad nauseum.    But you get my point.

It will be a fringe person or organization like the ones I just mentioned, but watch how quickly the Mainstream Media  will jump on their theory once it is floated. This is going to get ugly.

It will also be interesting to see how the White House plays this.  When terrorist Hassan shot up Ft. Hood, Mr. Obama was quick out of the box to say, " we don't want to jump to any conclusions."  When his far left allies trot out their hate filled linkage theories about the pilot and far right extremist gun toters, we'll see about jumping too soon. 

Watch carefully for the word "terrorist" to be assigned to the pilot of the plane.  The Obama administration resolutely avoided using the T word when the Ft. Hood terrorist attack occurred. 

Because there was an IRS office in the building, another play for the far left will be the characterization of those opposed to higher taxes being "unpatriotic."  Unpatriotic, militia Rambo, homophobic, xenophobic, and GASP..... Oh NO.....christians.  They actually like Sarah Palin. 

Get your club, and get ready to play whack a mole.

UPDATE:  He's a loon.  Big online diatribe against the government, taxes, even the Catholic Church.  The moles are alllllllllmost ready to pop out of the ground. Get ready.

UPDATE: We have a WINNER.  Whack! Plenty more to come.   

UPDATE: From Daily Koss. Obviously Stack was not a mentally healthy person, and he was embittered at capitalism, including crony capitalism, and health insurance companies and the government. Reading larger political motives into this action would be preliminary, until more information emerges about whether he actually has been involved in any political movement like the teabaggers. But it should inject a bit of caution into the anti-government flame-throwers on the rightWell excuse me, but if it is too preliminary to be reading things into this, why do you read things into it in the same sentence, and the next one as well?  That's a winner.  Whack!

UPDATE: a TWOFER! We get both Chris Matthews from MSNBC and Mark Potok  from the Southern Poverty Law Center making the evil linkage. The action starts at about 3:40 in the vid.  WHACK!

UPDATE:  Another Winner. Time Magazine.    And another winner:  From New York Magazine,,,,,,, He was mad at the IRS, and left what CNN reports was a suicide note on a local website, detailing his trials with the agency. In fact, a lot of his rhetoric could have been taken directly from a handwritten sign at a tea party rally.  WHACK!  WHACK!

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

The Little Bitch / Guest Post

Today a first on this blog........A guest post.  With no further adieu I give you, The Little Bitch.

Dear peepul,  Yes that is me in that piksher.  The peepul tell me I am kute.  Peepul are smart.  Sum peepul more than uthers.
The big hairy persun who is letting me gest post cooks stuf alot. But I mite haf to bite and scratch him. He was reedin this.  I kot him.  He was laffin.  I  wurry alot now.  Jus so yoo know,  KAT TASTES BAD.  KAT IS TUFF, KAT IS NOT FOOD.  But, I luv me sum meeces to peeces.  

Thank yoo,   The Kat.
p.s. don't furget to click on the link.

Monday, February 15, 2010

Nekkid Emperors / Gone Missing


Albert Arnold Gore Jr.    alias Algore.
If you have any  information regarding Mr. Gore's whereabouts, please contact the IPCC immediately and ask for Mr.Rajendra Pachauri.

Missing subject is a male, in his late fifties.  He was last seen sprinting towards a Gulfstream 400 in Copenhagen. Clutching a golden Oscar statuette in one hand, and a Nobel peace price in the other, he was being chased by a horde of protesters wielding snow shovels.  No flight plan was filed for the Gulfstream, and Algore hasn't been seen since.

Recent pic, Al thanking Michael Mann

Mr. Gore plowing a steep hillside alongside the tenant of a dilapidated mobile home owned by the Gore family.

Possible whereabouts:

*  Suite 809 at the Fairfax Hotel, on embassy row in Washington D.C.  Or possibly in the lobby where Mr Gore was frequently seen pretending to be clearing trees with a double bladed axe.

*  Hollywood Galas or Budhist Temples.  He will be the one wearing kneepads dragging a bag of money.

*  Possibly huddled in a snow cave with a few true believers. Awaiting the spring thaw. The snow cave will have several Priuses and one Gulfstream 400 buried in the drifts outside.

Known associates:

*  Dr. Phil Jones from the University of East Anglia. aka "da Science Settler." Extensive past collaborations on bilking gullible governments and tax payers for big grant money.

             UPDATE: Within minutes of Dr. Jones admission that he was a disorganized bullshitter, someone sounding alot like Mr. Gore left a message on his answering machine. The caller said, "Phil, Phil, never tell the truth, there's no money in it."  The rest of the message was incoherent muttering about Patchouli oil and solar panels. The call has been traced to a Rainbow Family gathering in New Mexico.

*  Michael Moore, leftist Hollywood filmaker.  Gave Mr. Gore tips on how to manipulate the truth and become a leftist diety through the art of making propaganda style documentaries.  Rumored to have been seen together in a Cuban hospital.

*  Bill Clinton, ex-president.  Recently tutored Algore on the proper usage of the word "is."  Examples:  Weather IS not climate change.  Global warming IS causing the snow storms.  Al, your ass IS cooked.

Mr. Gore's family, friends, and blind faith AGW zealots miss him terribly.  Greens the world over are distraught,  and turning red .  Some say it's embarrassement, others say it's anger at their exalted leader abandoning them in their time of need.  And if you see him, tell him his cap and trade betting venture capital partners want their money back.

Please come home Al,  We all miss you.

 UPDATE:  Breaking News.   An Amish Farmer / Blacksmith in Ohio was approached just hours ago by a disheveled man he described as, "looked just like that fat guy who tongued Tipper Gore on the stage at the Democratic National Convention."  The stranger appeared disoriented and repeatedly asked about buying a mule drawn snowplow.  Police are investigating.

pics by others

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Saturday, February 13, 2010

Vegetables are Magic..........Finally...Proof!

For YEARS, I've been telllin' people about this stuff.  Did they believe me?  NOOOoooo!.  They would say, "you've been listening  to too much Art Bell."   or,,,,,  "you're scaring me."   And now, finally, the sweetest of  redemptions.  Just  like I've been sayin' all along.
Vegetables CAN  fly!   SEE!   And NO! I did not eat mushrooms in college.  Only a couple Michelob Lights.  I swear.

click pic to validate my theory
pic by the babe.

Full recipe to follow soon.  And another little should always grip your wok, just wike your 9mm  fwamethwower.

Friday, February 12, 2010



You should read this.  Her name is Nicki.  She came here from the Soviet Union in 1980.  She is a patriot.

Thursday, February 11, 2010

How To Succeed Coaching T-Ball

"the future of our youth,  depends on us all."     stephen

I miss coaching T-Ball badly.  The gullible innocence.  Little lumps of pure joy, entrusted to me.  Me, given the opportunity to introduce these lovable kindergartners to the slice of  Americana called team sports. Being the biggest kid on the block, I was a natural fit for the job.  I had already been volunteering in our little school's kindergarten and 1st grade classes. Think storytelling, and play directing, and being the smartest 7 year old in the whole dang school. That was me.  So I signed up to coach.

At the initial coaches meeting, I remember a pretty Gung Ho dude up there talking about developing their skill levels, about past league championships of older kids, about his own "Uncle Rico" moments of past glory. A loser, talking about winning.

Not ONE time did I hear the word fun. He was totally clueless about the subject matter. Five and six year olds. That guy had never once been hijacked when dropping his kid off at school by the kindergarten  teacher with these words: "Could you please come tell them a story?  Barbara is home sick and I have a meeting with the principal.  PLEASE."  Off the cuff, 15 or so enthralled 5 year olds, hanging on your every made up word.  Words like:  spinnerooski,  or holymacaronidoodlepopper.  I had been making up and telling stories to my boys at bedtime for years.  I was good at it.  Coaching T-Ball was an extension of that.

I decided that T-Ball was going to be fun. For the kids, the coach, and the parents.  And I knew all the mothers would love me. I was right. 

When you go pick up that equipment bag it kinda starts setting in.  You have to arrange practices, teach, entertain, sooth ruffled mother feathers, make phone calls, calm Johnnie Hardball fathers down, chart the weather, on and on.  There is no turning back. First practice is on Tuesday, at 4:00 p.m.  First thing I did was get down on my knees so I was at their height. Eye to eye. And eye to some running snot noses as well.  I went over the rules.

1.  When the coach yells "SMILE,"  you have to smile at somebody until the coach says "OK."

2.  No swinging bats without looking around first so nobody gets conkerized.

3. You must "high five" every teamate at least once during every practice or game.

That was it.  Three rules.  Plus one reminder:  The coach likes hugs. By the end of the season, due to some bear-trap huggin', tittie rubbin' mothers, I was rethinking that reminder.  Seriously, when you fall in love with little Johnnie, or Susie, just like they were your own kids, a few Moms, especially the single ones, push the limits a little. I was immune to their affections, I was there for the kids.

Just imagine for a moment, little mothers dropping their precious pearls off at school for the first few times. Hovering hens, clucking, proudly sheparding the little chicks into the coop of higher learning.  Their children ARE their life. It's all they talk about, all they think about.  Just the way God designed it. And the little chicks don't venture too far without checking with Mom first.  A mutually beneficial arrangement.  I decided to use that dynamic.

 For instance:  The uniform t-shirts were numbered. In order.  Alot of stuff with kids that age is getting them to "organize themselves."  Who is going to bat first?  I had all the kids turn and face the "much too close to the field" lawn chairs right behind the bench,  occupied by a gaggle of overseeing cluckers, and do funny faces.

  You know, fingers in ears, pulling the corners of your mouth back, looking cross-eyed, etc.    Funny Faces.  The adoring hens in the lawn chairs decided amongst themselves each game who had the funniest face. Funniest face bats first.  Everybody else line up in numerical order behind this week's big winner. Fun and a mathematics organizational lesson to boot.

 And, then the kids and I would have this secret huddle, and decide which Mom had the funniest something.  Shoes this time, sunglasses next time, and so on.  The winning Mom was our "Head Cheerleader" for that game.  The kids looked forward  to the funny faces and funny Moms more than the baseball. Kids like fun.   Meanwhile, they were outside, having some of that fun, with friends, getting exercise, belonging to a team.  I was a super-hero to the Moms for that one.

As to baseball skills, I stressed a couple basics.  Step and point your toe at the person you are throwing the ball to.  For throwing, I taught them the peace sign. Index, middle finger extended, other fingers closed.  I made them say "peace brother," or "peace sister,"  with the peace sign, and then put the peace sign fingers on the ball. Nothing better than a kindergartner yelling, "Hey Coach,,,,,, PEACE!"  and then chuckin' one right into the old pocket.

 Getting kids to use a baseball glove is not easy.  That whole opposable thumb thing which you use to squeeze the glove closed is not a natural action for 5  year olds sporting big clunky leather thingies on their hands.  I went the cartoon route.  I had them open and close their gloves while quacking like a duck.  QUACK, QUACK, QUACK.  I would yell "Duck Time,"  and a dozen 5 and 6 year olds would start flappin' their gloves open and closed while quackin' like mallards. When we did it during games,  the assembled mother hens from the opposition would whisper amongst themselves, "why didn't OUR coach think of that?" Ladies, it's because your coach was more worried about some possible future league championship instead of allowing kids to be kids.

  However, my favorite little player had trouble quacking his glove, and flashing a peace sign. Nathan was special.  That's his signature on the ball at the top.

Nathan had "clubbed" hands.  Birth defect.  His fingers were only 1 joint in length instead of 3 and his little  fingers were webbed.  He was the most loving adorable kid you ever saw.  His Mom was single, had other kids too, barely making it.  Dad long gone. She, like many women, sucked it up, sacrificed, and got Nathan to every single practice and game.  And this kid, never EVER quit smiling. I loved that kid.  I would have faced down an army of Satan's soldiers in his defense. And I would have beat their horned asses silly.  Nate would jam his little hand down in that glove, and grip the bat as best he could,  and from the look on his face you would have thought Ted Williams wasn't in liquid nitrogen after all.  The high point. THE high point of my coaching career involved Nate.  On a scruffy little baseball diamond in Grass Valley, California, on a beautiful spring afternoon,  prayers were answered.

You get your T-ballers playing catch at practice and before games and eventually they start to not cringe, or flinch, or jump out of the way when the ball is coming at them.  But fly balls. Forget it.  Grenades dropped from the claws of flying firebreathing dragons couldn't make them get out of the way any faster.

  McDonalds had Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle stuff in their happy meals at the time.  So I went and got a bunch of happy meal gift certificates and gave one to the coach's "player of the game" each week, keeping track, so at season's end everybody had gotten one.   AND.....anybody who caught a fly ball got two.  Nobody caught a fly ball all year, until the last game of the season.

  Nathan was playing shortstop when the batter undercut one and a fly ball was coming Nate's way.  His stubby little hand was stuffed in the glove, he stumbled, he bumbled.......he caught it.  The place went wild.  Every single kid on the team in a dead sprint to high five him. Mother hens crying and embracing, Sisters squealing, Fathers yelling, the coach got dirt or something  in his eye.  T-Ball Pandemonium.  Tears of justifiable pride overflowing the spillways of the heart. What a little dude!  What a moment.

I continued to coach baseball, basketball, and soccer till my boys reached middle school age. Lots of good  times,  But the memories I treasure most are T-ball times.  When innocence reigned.  When smackdaddydiddle was a real word, and you got hugged by the kids, hugged by the Moms, high fived by the Dads, and smiled all the way home.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010

Breathing Deep is Good

In God's Photoshop, what are those colors?  It's not peach, or salmon, or bleached  ochre.  What are those colors ?   I'm stumped, fill me in.  Is molten paprika custard a color?

Nekkid Emperors / Time Warp

Too good to not pass along.  From tweetphoto. 

click to enlarge

Food Chain / Anger Makes Me Hungry


Aromatics in the steamer water, ginger, lime, red chili.

Chicken, bought in value pack, broken down in teriyaki marinade.

yellow yam

Lemon zest and juice, molasses, touch of olive oil, salt and black pepper, on my favorite plate/lid/pan. I've had it for 35 years.

Chicken is on the grill, ready to roll inside.

teaspoon of olive oil

Babe likes breasts, I like thighs, well I like breasts too, but...........never mind.

Almonds added for the steaming, a little salt, a little pepper, a little butter later

Molasses+ lemon+a little black pepper = magic

Definitely not angry about this.