It's a BOWL of MEAT!

And your point is?

Hey ya'll, if you have ever been called weird by your neighbor while he was grilling a squirrel, we might have the same neighbor. He's got no room to talk, he's grilling a damn squirrel.

Everyone knows, squirrels are best when fried.

One of my friends has a great recipe for pigeon. It's a little gamey, but that's a plus. Brazed rotisserie pigeon is actually very good.

That's the kind of friend I should be hanging out with. I don't know why I have nearly vegetarian friends. Actually, yes I do. You're alright in my book... even if you won't eat beef.

I can understand somebody not liking rattlesnake kabobs, or maybe broiled ostrich, but beef replaced chicken as the main meat staple of the American diet sixty years ago. Maybe going to a place called Noodles and ordering two sides of beef (no pasta) is a little carnivorous, but you would be amazed how good and fall-apart juicy their beef is. But, no, "It's a bowl. Of meat." Like that's somehow wrong. And you call me weird. It is a bowl (a tiny one for $4.32, at that). Of meat. People need meat to survive. At least this people does.

If you think PETA means People Eating Tasty Animals, we're on the same page. We didn't get to the top of the food chain just to eat plants. So let me just put together a list of critters, cuts of meat, and good ways to cook them.

Ostrich: I like dark meat when it comes to poultry. I'm not entirely sure how Craftwood Inn cooks it, but their ostrich is worth every penny. It is tasty, fall-apart juicy, and glazed in some kind of amazing sauce. If you want to have this big-ass bird, don't try and do it yourself, go to Craftwood Inn in Manitou Springs, Colorado and get their ostrich, off of the dinner menu, not the appetizers. You'll need a reservation and a collar. While you're there, get the cheese soup. Or maybe buy that for your less adventurous friend.

Squirrel: I said it already, fry it. Non-native squirrels are considered invasive pests, in addition to good when battered. I personally recommend without batter, though. Make sure it is done through: wild critters can have all sorts of nasty things. Fry in vegetable oil, not fatback, in order to get the most squirrel flavor. take the guts out before cooking, but you could leave the fur on if you want. Cooking/cleaning-wise, it's somewhere in between rabbit and fish.

Rabbit: I have limits. Rabbits are pests to farmers, and multiply like, well, rabbits. Farmers will shoot them on sight, and then either leave them twitching to die, or take them home. If you ever see a farmer shoot a rabbit and leave it for dead, go find it and break its neck. Don't let it suffer. I won't eat a rabbit that was purposely killed in front of my eyes so we could have it for dinner. But if I saw it shot and left for dead, or I know it was killed just for dinner purposes, but I didn't have to watch, I'll eat it. They're big enough you need to drain the blood. Clean and cube. Make rabbit stew. Let it sit on the heat for at least four hours. Six if you can.

Rattlesnake: Best when pregnant. Then you get eighteen for the price of one! Although a funny joke (if slightly macabre... I do love a girl who can shoot sarcasm from the hip like that, though), don't do it. First of all, rattlers can bite poisonously for more than an hour after they're dead. Let someone else get the snake. Only ever kill snakes if they pose an immediate threat to people or livestock: snakes control the rodent population, and a rat problem is worse. If you want to kill a viper, shoot it with a low-speed firearm, but not from too close a range. It will strike at the hot bullet. You can try to use a shotgun, but you'll put a lot of holes in the purty skin, and you won't be able to make a belt out of it. Cut the head off (if it isn't already blown to smithereens) and hold the mouth shut. Tape shut, even, for at least an hour. Incinerate, not in a cookfire. Snake, especially rattler, but watersnakes are good, too (good luck surviving a cottonmouth hunt) is very good when put on a kabob and fire-roasted. You can also pan-fry, make jerky, or make a meatloaf or crabcake-like dish. Keep the rattle and display.

Pigeon: My friend won't share his recipe, and I'm not in the mood to bag a pigeon and experiment. As far as I can tell, it is citrus-marinated and fire-roasted or rotisseried like a chicken. I think he bastes with a simple syrup every now and then. Fully cook it. Don't be afraid to burn the outside if you have to in order to get the inside done.

Antelope, deer, elk, or moose: This is an art in and of itself, but jerky and old-fashioned barbecue are popular options.

Wild Boar: As with all wild animals, especially ones that forage through trash and scraps like pigs do, take your grandmother's advice: make sure it's good and done or you'll be good and done! Trichinosis is very real, and very insidious. Cook your meat well done and that risk is eliminated. Wild Boar is good cooked like a Hawaiian pig, roasted on a spit, or butchered and cooked like a beef roast. Craftwood Inn also has great boar. I highly recommend it. I'm not sure precisely what they do, but it's magic.

Frog: Egg battered and lightly fried is popular, but I find that the legs are still a little off in terms of flavor and texture. I personally prefer cooked on a griddle. Make sure it's well-greased, preferable with bacon fat, fatback or other animal grease. Cook until browned, but do not burn.

Snail: Not escargot, snail. The kind that eats your garden. Cook like the meat course in a fondue meal: in boiling oil (maybe it's an oily beef or chicken stock, I'm not sure). Think of the meat course at The Melting Pot. Make sure it's salty (the oil, not the snail). Use one of those tiny forks to get the snail out of its shell once it's all cooked and dead and stuff.

Fried ant: Crunchy, nutty, and delicious. Don't do it yourself, buy it ready-made. I wouldn't eat the ants in my yard, that's for sure.

Mealworm: Yes, that is the worm in the bottom of the tequila bottle. No, you don't want that one. Tequila is mean stuff, and getting to the worm means drinking a lot of it, and then arguing with a bunch of other drunk-on-cheap-tequila people over who gets the worm. It's an honor in some circles. I've seen the cops show up to break up tequila worm fights. Don't mess with that. Mealworms are tasty, but put them in an eggroll or spring roll in place of another meat, like chicken. Fry. Enjoy.

Prepare for complaints from a dainty friend or two.

Don't need no accurate terms!

The term "redneck" originates from the fact that we are generally white trash with blue collar jobs which require us to work outside, or we happen to hunt, fish, and four-wheel, enough to have essentially a perpetual sunburn. My dad has that problem. He's got a permanent sunburn in a "v" on his chest from keeping the top bottons unbottoned on his shirt when we went hiking one time. Never went away.



But we rednecks also wear mullets a lot. Short in front, long in back, covering our neck. I don't know about ya'll, but I've never gotten a sunburn through my mullet. So the literal use of the term doesn't fit. Ha!



In fact, I am two shades more tan than dracula. I don't know why. My dad burns a beet red very quickly, and my mom tans deep as can be. I don't burn or tan very much.



Don't get me wrong, both have happened, but it takes about twice as much sun exposure as most white folk, and the burn or tan fades very quickly. I met several people on the Dunes that had burnd more through SPF 15 in one day than I did in three, no sunscreen required. I'm pretty sure this is not a good thing. My dad burned through SPF 70.

I know that a sunburn happens when the UV rays have damaged cells. It's actually a mild, topical radiation burn. Tan happens when cells produce a chemical, melatonin, that helps block those rays. So if I don't burn or tan much, it either means that my cells aren't affected by the radiation as much as most people's would be, or they just don't react properly. As far as I know, I've done the kind of damage that UV can cause, but without the redness and inflammation reaction that leads to healing. Or maybe my skin just doesn't overreact. But when I do actually get a sunburn, which only happens from long periods of very intense exposure, even a mildly red one itches and burns like hell. Think poison ivy with a saltwater loofah chaser. That probably isn't good, either. But in any case, this is knida freaking me out. Anybody else got this problem?

Brainstorming and more serious storms

You've probably heard about the tornadoes yesterday in northern Colorado. One of them wiped out the Kodak plant in what I believe is officially Windsor. My cousin's husband works at the Budweiser can plant less than half a mile from there, in Milliken. Severe winds hit their house, and the family hid in the closet, since they apparently have no basement. Go figure. No major damage reported. The really criminal thing, though, was that the managers at the can plant did not even inform the workers that there was severe weather outside or that they were under a tornado warning, and the tornado could be seen decimating the Kodak plant. They waited until the shift was over, and mentioned causually "Oh, yeah, we nearly got hit by a tornado earlier. Have a nice day." They weren't given the opportunity to take shelter, nor did they even know that their families were in severe danger. As you can imagine, the workers were pissed off.

Milliken was without power or phone service for several hours. When our call finally got through, we learned what happened.

Lemme tell you about the process of making aluminum cans. In order to finish them, they must be cleaned with hydroflouric acid. This is evil stuff. Unlike most acids, HF does not cause burns to the skin. It penetrates through the skin without you even necessarily knowing that you have any on you, and binds to the minerals in your bones and blood. Imagine your bones dissolving from the inside out. That's what this will do if you get too much on you. The first aid is to cut off the blood supply so that it doesn't spread through your body, and then to apply a calcium cream to hopefully bind most of the HF. The toxins from dissolving your bone, though, can kill flesh in and of themselves, and the combined effect is similar to a snakebite and frostbite, where you have flesh dying, severe pain, tenderness, and swelling.... all from the inside out.

My cousin's husband once had an extremely dilute HF solution (less than 0.005%) drip a drop onto his hand while he was rinsing some racks. He didn't think anything of it until half an hour later, when it felt like someone had smashed his hand with a nine pound sledge. Since it was dilute and it was too late for the cream, he had to suffer that pain for almost a week while his body eliminated the toxins and repaired the damage.

Now imagine this stuff flying through the air at 200 miles an hour. Damn straight you're scared.

This Budweiser can plant employes almost a thousand people per shift. Let's disregard all the people downwind. If that plant had been hit during production, which came within a hair's bredth of happening, imagine now having all that uncontained acid in the air, with all these people near it. That's not something I would wish on my worst enemy.

_______________________________

Now here's the brainstorm part. I've got a third of a gallon of gasoline that has thermally degraded too much to use in an engine, but is still basically gas. I need to get rid of it. I've thought of a few ideas, but I'm sure there's a better way. How would you get rid of it?

Mower update

This past weekend I got together with my dad over fixing this dang mower (hopefully two people are less likely to make a dumb mistake), and we set about dismantling the carburetor. A complete caburetor rebuild should fix the issue... right? We know it was fuel or air, and we know that the way it's delivered is the carb. We've seen carb rebuilds fix this before. It took a day and a half to get it all done (including an evening at the Golden Super Cruise eyeballing rare vehicles).

50 combined years of mechanical knowledge. Oh, we should have shorter crabgrass by now. Not.

The mistake we made was to forget the float valve seat. Have you ever had your toilet tank overflow because of a stuck shutoff? That's what happened to us, except it was gasoline, and it was because we left the hole too big. Oh that wasn't embarrassing. Half a gallon of gas everywhere was perfectly safe, too.

Long story short, we found our mistake, fixed it, and apparently put the governor (automatic gas pedal) back on wrong. We didn't need no stinkin' notes on how it was before we took it off.

Now the motor lugs at idle, or sticks at high revs. Think, above redline. Mower blade blowing up by your feet? Nah.

Now it's personal. It'll get fixed, even if we just have to kick it until it behaves.

Global Warning Goddammit!

In other words, it is May, and I have hereby declared it sandal weather. Despite the fact that it is 40 degrees. Fahrenheit. My remedial science knowledge tells me that if our little corner of the world is warming because of emissions, it would be 40 degrees Celsius, and I would have been able to feel my feet today.

Having spent a very fun winter wearing thick and heavy clothing, and gotten sick of it, the warm days of May are the correct time to begin with the redneck fashion disasters we are known all up and down the trailer park for. But please, people, let's not forget that the "I wear it because it's comfotable and if you can't keep your lunch down that's your problem" rule also applies to socks with sandals. It's classic. And I plan on doing it several times in the coming weeks, until it actually is Colorado's fourth season: hot-as-hell. This is not to be confused with Arizona's second season, hot-as-all-hell-and-then-some. The first season being kinda-not-as-hot-but-just-wait.

So, yes, join me in the sandal protest of this cold front. Denial always works... at least I don't believe it doesn't, right? Plus, trust me, unless you really need work boots, you don't want to be caught in workboots when the season strikes.

While I'm on the topic, let me reiterate some of Jeff Foxworthy's redneck fashion tips, as well as add some of my own.

1. If your back is so hairy you have been shot more than twice with a tranquilizer gun, say yes to a shirt. Especially one with sleeves.
2. If your body is the same color as Dracula's, but your arms aren't, stick with a t-shirt.
3. If your stomach blocks your view of your shoes, cover it up!
4. When cuffing your pantlegs, keep them below the tops of your socks. Especially if you're wearing sandals.
5. We all love polished belt buckles, but make sure it won't does not shine sun in people's eyes. But at least they won't be able to punch you for it as long as you face the sun.
6. Tuck your shirt all the way in, or all the way out.
7. Don't wear one-peice jumpsuits unless the warden says you have to.

Also, other warm-weather redneck fun & safety tips:

1. Warm gas is vaporous gas. Light up your cigaratte after you fill up.
2. Waterskiing is ALWAYS a good idea. Unless it's not.
3. Your car really WILL run on moonshine or other hard liqour, but only if it's carbeurated or FlexFuel. Don't bet your buddies on it until you've proved in your driveway that you won't be the only one running on Jim Beam, though.
4. Running an engine on alcohol will shorten the life of your beloved truck, lawnmower, motorcycle, outboard, skateboard, go-kart, small airplane, weedwhacker, chainsaw, helicopter, toothbrush, or whatever else you happen to try it in.
5. Always check the slope for barbed wire BEFORE going running down it at full tilt. Even if it's your property, there might be some there, and it leaves large holes.
6. And most of all, CHECK TWICE, SAVE A LIFE. MOTORCYCLES ARE EVERYWHERE!

'Tis the Season

That's right! It is spring, and we all know what that means. You guessed it, dusting off the old lawnmower and cutting that there grass. This is, of course, if you happen to live in the city, where you can't do the normal redneck thing and burn your grass first thing in the spring like we do way out in the sticks. It helps it grow real fertile, but I'm pretty sure the neighbors wouldn't be too crazy about it.

Is it really true that out of all our modern technology, the best tool for troubleshooting a squirrely lawnmower is to poke it with a stick? Apparently. We had a lawnmower that we got used out of a large-item-pickup pile that just needed a little tweaking and it ran fine for over a decade. It might have taken a little bit of effort to get it to turn over in the spring, but it worked every time. Finally, a couple of years ago, it died once more, and rather than re-gap the plugs (that was the issue), we decided to buy one of them newfangled bagger models so we didn't have to rake all the clippings. Craftsman. Tools of champions, right? Not so much.

The first thing it did was shake to spark plug wire clean off, right out of the box. With that fixed, it gave us a year and a half of faithful service. This year, nada. Zip. Major air intake and fuel delivery issues, all made worse by a malfunctioning governor.

We decided to elect a new one.

After a combined fifty years of mechanical knowledge examined and troubleshooted the critter, we came to the studied conclusion that we need to call Craftsman. We've never messed with a centrifugal governor before. But that's not my point. Unless I get a redneck on the other end of the line when I call, that doesn't matter. What matters is the way we troubleshot it.

When priming and pulling didn't work, I let it rest to let any fuel evaporate out of the chamber, and repeated. Still nothing. Gas tank's just been filled. Oil tank's dry. Close examination discloses a gas spot and an oil spot right where the mower sat in the shed. No tools used yet.

With the oil tank topped off with straight 30-weight, she's all lubed and runs for a few seconds and quits. Maybe it's a fuel delivery issue-- gas turns to goo in fuel lines, carbs, and anywhere where a gooey substance can pobbily cause you sorrow over even a few months. But it wasn't an issue for a decade... so maybe it's the air side of things. That one's easy.

You take off the filter cover, check the filter. It's almost solid mud. Good lord, how'd this thing ever run? You've got a garage full of mechanic's tools. How do you clean it? A stick. It gets in between the filter pleats better than a finger, and a few solid whacks get all the dust out that'll move. While the filter's off, you notice an odd lever, caked in... you guessed it, mud. How do you clean it? Same stick. Scrapes the mud off just fine. At this point, you get some twine to tie the safety, put the air cleaner back on, prime, and pull. It runs for a few seconds, then quits. You try again, this time holding the lever you noticed earlier fully open with... you guessed it: a stick. This doesn't solve your issue, but it helps smooth the rough idle a little. You toggle the lever again, and decide that must be the lever working the governor, which is that dohickey you've never thought about before on top of you carb. Motor vehicles don't have governors.

You're stumped. You decide to stare at it and see what it does as the motor idles rough and dies again. Turns out it is fluctuating wildly, and pulling shut at the wrong time. AHA! Now you need to hold it open and see if that fixes things. If so, you've found your problem. You have a very specialized tool to control the position of the lever in question: a stick. Poking it with a stick reveals that while it's part of your problem, it's not the main problem.

Total times that you've used a stick as a tool: at least four distinct tasks, multiple times.
Total times that a stick wasn't the best tool for the job: 0

Apparently, when troubleshooting a machine such as a lawnmower, a stick really is still the best tool for the job.

Problem: Fuel delivery, air (new filter needed), governor.
Solution: Poke it with a stick until it works or you know what you need to take apart.

Speakerphone was invented for a reason, and that's not it.

Standing in line at my local Subway shop, I got to witness an odd bit of what happens when redneck behavior collides with the portable speakerphone. The man ahead of me was next up to order and since apparently he couldn't remember what his wife wanted, he put it on speakerphone and had her talk to the dude making the sandwich, who, understandably, was annoyed. She nagged on him stuff like "make sure you get enough mayo on it. Is he getting enough mayo on it?" Which left us wondering, what evil hath this man unleashed upon this unsuspecting restaurant? When you have someone order through speakerphone, anywhere, you're a redneck. You've solved your problem. You also apparently don't give a rat's ass that it's very annoying to everyone else.

It's always white folks doing this, too. I don't know why, but it's your average "Wal-Mart when it's not on rollback IS fancy" crowd that breaks cell phone ettiquette the most.

Speakerphone is excusable when you're at the pet food store and she wants to talk to you and you want to get 50 pounds of Purina in the cart. Speakerphone is not excusable in the grocery store, at restaurants or drive-ups, or in any other situation where you could use the earpiece. In fact, if you're ordering a sandwich, have her say what she wants, write it on your hand, THEN get in line.

Basically, before you hit the speakerphone button, think. I've gotten the urge to do the speakerphone thing whilst completing one of my mom's inane "call me for details" shopping lists many times, where she'll write vague things that send you all over the store, and then talk to you like you really care what frozen dinner she gets. Dinner is not a committee process. Anyway, if I can resist the urge to put it on speaker, drop it in my shirtpocket, and stroll the isles, so can you. So just think of that little story and have a laugh next time you're tempted.

The best idea I've EVER had

Well, maybe it's not. A lot of things look like a great idea until I think them through. Then I usually realize that it won't work, I'm too lazy, or it'll probably get me arrested. But I'm going to write down this idea before that moment of enlightenment comes.

Let me set the scene. I live on a hill. A hellishly steep hill. You know, the one that goes from Alameda to Highway 285? Well, if you are ever in Denver, you know what I'm talking about. Everything for a few miles is tilted at an angle, rendering it impossible to get home in the winter, play basketball in your driveway, get into your driveway at all, or find level land that's not privately owned for miles around. You can get on a bicycle at my house and get a speeding ticket before you get to the grocery store, if you are a speed demon and don't use the brakes. I've come real close. But see, the problem is getting home.

You can't ride a bike back up this hill. I don't care who you are, you can be a champion Tour De France mountain rider and you will be stopping for breath before you are halfway home. There is no way to get enough torque, even if you get a flying start and stand on the freaking pedals. Last year I decided to pull one of the big gears off of the front of my bike and stick it on the rear, giving me a much lower gear ratio. I still walked the bloody thing home. I'm getting real sick of this.

I know it's still winter and all and I should be complaining about powersliding onto the lawn when trying to park in the driveway, but I kind of enjoy when my dad does that, and we haven't had enough snow to cause that recently. I've been working under the assumption that it's summer for the past few weeks, and I'll be doing that until it actually is.

Anyway, my new master plan involves the weedwhacker in the shed. I know that this probably is a very bad idea, but what better way to get into trouble over the summer? That's what summers are for.

I really wish my dad had ever taught me bicycle maintenance, but I guess I can't hold it against him. He grew up in steeper country than me. I don't know if bicycle maintenance is a subject he never learned, or if he just never shared it with me. Anyway, being almost totally pedal-bike-illiterate and yet being a gearhead with a love for motorcycles, my solutions are trial and error (mostly error). I know I can solve my problem with what I have on hand, I just can't figure out how. And, when all else fails, add a motor with enough torque to help me get home.

You have no idea how tempting it is just to take the Kowasaki to wherever I'm going.

But I know that would be cheating, get me grounded, probably arrested, and it hasn't run since the '80s.

So I'm back to working out a solution to my problem while keeping my bicycle primarily human-powered. My lastest theory is to take the 12-volt motor from our weedwhacker and gear it onto the sumnabitch. Silent, lots of torque, and it's not like we really needed that weedwhacker.

Now I'm going to bed before I stop and realize that there's SO many things wrong with that idea. G'night ya'll.

Why is it that I only want to play the harmonica when I'm sick?

It's true. When I'm healthy, the word "harmonica" doens't even cross my mind. But as soon as I catch some sort of cold, flu, or other disease that I don't want to get all over my harmonica, I'm in the mood to learn to play it. I'm not really sure why. I can't play the harmonica to save my life. My harmonica playing makes Penderecki sounds like Mozart. Don't get me wrong, I think Penderecki is a genius, but an atonal genius.

Having realized the fact that I only want to play the harmonica when I'm sick, I've decided that I'm just going to go ahead and get germs all over the thing because it doesn't really matter anyway if I'm not going to play it while I'm healthy. I also figure that I'll either figure out how to carry a tune on it or someone is going to smash it, whichever comes first.

Let's talk about the harmonica for a minute. It's a great instrument when played skillfully, but the learning curve is very sharp. Either you can or you can't play it. It's always the people who can't play who like to prove this fact in public with a tip jar sitting in front of them. Whatever happened to skillful street musicians? Even in the winter when there's less competition, you're not going to make enough money to buy an iced tea.

Who invents something like the harmonica, anyway? I know I could just go look up the sucker's name, but I mean, what kind of person wakes up and says to hisself, "I'ma gonna take a plastic comb-thingy and put it in a metal case. And then I'm gonna put ten holes in that case for the air to get out. And I'ma call it... What am I gonna call it? I'ma call it a harmonica. It's gonna be a mucial instrument."

That's like looking at a bottle of burbon and an apple and saying, "I'm gonna make applesauce with this. In the microwave." That's the sort of thing that would make me wonder if you've at least partially consumed the contents of the bottle of burbon.

To all of you harmonica-challenged out there, here's a site that I have found enormously entertaining, if not very helpful. After a few hours of working off of their tips, however, I have at least figured out what note to start on. Now go forth and annoy those around you.

AAAAARRRRRGGGHHHHH!

My most articulate title yet. I just went to get some food out of the fridge, and what do I find? The fucking thermometer has fallen apart. Not only had it fallen apart, but it had then gotten frozen to the inside of the fridge. So now, our fridge freezes stuff when we don't want it to, made a thermometer designed to go to -20 crack, stuck said thermometer to the fridge wall with a layer of ice, and I still can't find my favorite shot glass that's in there somewhere.

My solution? I went outside, took the thermometer off the porch, put it in a freezer size Ziploc, and put that in the fridge. It's temporary, until we buy a new fridge thermometer. It'll be in there a while. Outside, I know it's darn cold. In the fridge, I need to be more specific.

What else? Oh, yes. I have recorded a small blues album. And I saw on the news that Purgatory freezes over at night this time of the year. This means that if I can ever get it off the master tapes and into mp3 format, I may consider getting a myspace page to put it on. Can anyone help me with this problem? Is there a program or something? How do I do analog to digital?

Speaking of music, you need to hear this band, everyone. No redneck is complete without his bluegrass and/or country. Johnny 3 Note. Unfortunately you missed "Tear my Still House Down" which was basically the best song ever, but if you ask nicely they might put it back up. They play every Thursday, I think, at White Fence Farm, admission free. You will be blown away.

In other news, Taylor, no one told you about that song because we thought you knew. Sorry.

Good ideas and bad ideas

As you've probably noticed, I harbor a strong dislike for snow. This dislike for snow went from mild irritant to full-blown pet peeve last winter. I'm sure you heard about the 90 days of snow that crippled the Midwest? Don't get me wrong, I love sledding. I am addicted to snowboarding when I don't have to pay through the nose to do it. I wouldn't mind getting suspended for a snowball fight. My contempt for snow lies in its tendency to turn into ice, and that ice to turn into work. Work for which I do not get paid. If I got my ass in gear, I could offer the only ice-removal service that I'm aware of in the area. Snow also makes a horrific mess of my beloved car. The mag chloride destroys the paint and rusts the frame. We've clipped our trees trying to get in the driveway, too, and caused damage to the cars. Overall, I hate snow when it is on paved surfaces or my family's cars.

This brings me to my story. Yesterday I was out removing ice from all the paved surfaces around our home. The melting is also getting on my nerves. When it stays below freezing, the snow sticks around for my snowsport pleasure, and can be plowed off the streets. I only have to deal with it once. But when it gets above freezing, it forms lakes and lakes of ice every night. On a bloody hill, so I can't even go skating on it. I just have to chip it off every freakin' day, before dawn so it's still brittle enough to chip. Yesterday, due to passing out at a really bad time, I found myself outside at three in the afternoon. Just as the ice was too hard to shovel and too soft to chip. If you ever want hours of frustration or maybe a really dastardly punishment for your kids, send them out to remove ice on the first 45 degree day since the snow fell.

Anyway, as I found myself just getting pissed off enough to feel like doing and/or watching something stupid, something stupid dutifully showed up. A boy on an ATV going up an icy hill with King Soopers bags. This would be the ideal way to get around, except this poor bugger had a little 1/2 horsepower air-compressor engine in it. No torque. He couldn't even spin his wheels, all he could do was get off and push it uphill. At one point he got it to where he could spin his wheels (after taking half an hour to go up half a block), and his dad, who was with him, hopped on the back and they proceeded to creep up the rest of the block, revving the engine at the redline. This made my day.

I felt sorry for them, and was tempted to run inside and sell them a better hillclimbing engine, but logic got ahold of me (I want to use that engine and they couldn't afford it) and I just watched the whole absurd spectacle unfold before my eyes. I have never seen an ATV be that hopeless, with that small of a motor. It looked like a kit vehicle, or perhaps one that they put the small motor in so that they didn't have to license it. I don't know. All I know is that they had the right idea but the wrong execution. If anything had gone wrong, I've seen bad bad things happen to vehicles stuck on that hill.

Also, I think I'm going to start an ice removal business and get a little more cash tucked away for when the shit hits the fan. Spekaing of which, look out for my little philosophical piece on the various ways shit can hit the fan. Coming soon to a blog near you.

Advertisements and the people on TV who should not be breeding.

There are many ads this time of year (and any time of year) that really piss me off. The first one is the weight-loss ads that are all over the TV. We all know that people overeat around this time of year, and these piranhas want to sell their speed and their snake oil and their herbal poisons to people who don't now any better. I can't watch anything on TV without these ads showing up. And I wind up shouting at the TV.

Lemme tell you, all these "this is bad for you" and "that is the wrong thing to eat" propaganda campaigns really make me mad. I have known people that have ate "unhealthy" and smoked and drank, and they lived into their 70s and 80s, without modern medical paranoia. How'd they do it? Well, first, they ate real food. Not processed food. Some of 'em raised their own critters before they ate 'em. Real food, even if it is eggs and mayonaise and whole milk and lard, is better for you than all of these chemistry-lab ingredients that are in modern processed foods. Eat canned foods if you don't have time to prepare meals. I was at the supermarket last night, and guess what I found in ice cream? Cellulose gel. Let me repeat that again. Cellulose gel. That's wood gel. That's the gel form of smokeless powder, for crying out loud. I don't want that in my ice cream! Do you know what's in Minute Maid? Glycerol ester of wood rosin. I don't even want to know how the fuck that's edible.

But suppose you eat just like you normally do, and still can't lose weight. Here's a thought that will lower your energy bill and help you lose weight without lifting a finger. Lower the thermostat a couple degrees and dress like you would if it was warmer. You'll burn more calories to stay warm. Put on some socks and you'll be fine.

Another solution? Chew gum at all times in between meals. Then it'll be too much of a hassle to go get a snack.

Lose the remote for a while. Having to get up to change the channel and adjust volume burns caloies. It also encourages you to be less of a couch potato. And, frantically looking for the remote is a good cardiovasular workout. Who knew?

But suppose you are still desperate and want to go buy whatever the lastest really expensive craze is. Well, my first response would be to shout that you're gullible and lazy. You're wasting money. Go shovel your diveway before you get a ticket. That burns calories, too.

Speaking of weight loss, and commercials, have you seen the commercial for the diet pill where, "in clinical trials, 78% of every pound lost was pure body fat." Where's the other 22% coming from, smartass? Your brain? Muscles? Bone? I'm not sure I really needed that femur... Water? Intestinal lining? That sounds like the diet pill equivalent of dysentery. No, thank you.

Now you've heard what I like to shout at the TV when a weight loss ad comes on promising some magical cure.

It's time to talk about the other things they sell on TV. Things I like to shout at. The things that convince you that you have a problem that you never had before and that the only way to solve it is four easy payments of 19.95! Call now and we'll admit that we're overcharging you by at least 19.95, because we'll waive the first payment!

A prime example of this is those gloves that they have that will sand the skin off of your potatoes. That's a brilliant idea, but there's really no way to wash them. But what really annoys me is the fact that the people who have the poblems in those ads are always acting like retards. The knife sharpener ad has the guy smashing the loaf of bread with his hand behind the knife, which he is not drawing across the bread, only pushing down on it. Then, the sharpener, regardless of what it did to his poor knife, has apparently taught him how to cut bread, as he uses light pressure and cuts ACROSS the bread effortlessly. Plus, who doesn't have sliced bread nowadays? what are you cooking it yourself? And you never stopped to learn how to cut it? Shame. In the sandpaper gloves ad, the woman is going to hurt herself or something the way she's peeling them. You don't peel a potato by having a seizure and stabbing it repeatedly.

And have you seen the ad for that food processor thing that's too complicated to use? Yeah, that. It looks simple, but how the hell are you gooing to store all those "bullet" containers? They'll roll all over the place!

There's another ad for some kind of slicer that will slice all your vegetables for you in more steps, time, and cleanup than it takes to slice them yourself. The woman in that ad is going to cut off a finger or something, too, the way she's holding the knife and then sticking her other hand right under it. I don't chop that way. Then they show her with an onion on the cutting board --whole and rolling all over the goddamned place-- and she just freaks out and starts whacking at it with the knife. She doesn't need a slicer, she needs medication.

Now, one infomercial I can say that I really enjoy is that one for the uber-sharp knives that'll never go dull or they'll send you replacements. You know, the one where they cut sheetrock with the knife, and then without changing cameras, toss a pineapple in the air and slice it in half? That is bad-ass. Like a samurai sword. I want one of those. I've got sheetrock and bricks to cut, and I could get a pineapple. That's the coolest thing to do with a big knife since Moldy Pumpkn Machete Baseball.