If I haven't already made you sit through my whole gun-rights opinion (oh, you'd know it if I had), you don't know that I believe in the right to posess, carry, and use handguns if it proves necessary.
But this is going a little far. Don't get me wrong, I know several people who might buy and use a pair of these pants. There's a reason I don't visit these people. They're generally a little trigger-happy, and I'd rather remain bullet-hole-free.
If you've never spent some time in the South, be it ranch country like Texas and parts of Colorado (yes, I know that's a geographical screw-up, but the culture's plenty similar), or the plantation country of the Deep South, then you don't know what I'm talking about.
Without getting into the "you can have my gun when you pry it from my cold, dead fingers" speech, let me just point out that rifles and handguns are an integral part of America's collective culture. There's a reason Colt called it the Peacemaker.
Of course, we all know that guns (and the nutcases that own them), can contribute to some real old-fashioned hell-raising. We don't want that, now do we? And that's why the sort of people who would buy pants just so they can keep their Colt ready to kill with at a moments notice are probably the sort of people we really shouldn't be allowing to have a handgun.
But whether or not they have a screw loose is irrelevant. What really matters is the fact that even though it's a little dangerous for everyone involved, these people have a right to own their guns, and pants to carry them in.
Showing posts with label yes these people are breeding. Show all posts
Showing posts with label yes these people are breeding. Show all posts
Friday, July 4, 2008
Sunday, June 8, 2008
Spare some soap?
It just hit me that my parents keep a glass jar full of soap next to the bathroom trash can. I've walked past it for years. I've stubbed my toe on it. But it just registered that it is the soap equivalent of a spare change jar, only more useless.
Every time we'd empty one of those big jugs of Softsoap, we'd trun it upside down on top of this spare soap jar and let the last few drops drip out. Over the past 15 years, we've saved--wait for it--alomst a half a gallon of soap! A buck-seventy-five! And we never have used this soap, either. In the process we've stubbed our toes countless times, wasted probably what amounts to an hour just trying to get the one bottle to balance on top of the other, and managed to totally forget about what this little redneck modern-art sculpture was originally for. Maybe we're saving it for the apocalypse, or when the store is sold out of soap. Yeah, right. You spend three decades dead broke poor, though, and I guess old habits die hard.
I got to thinking, what is this even here for? Nobody could tell me. It just seemed like a good idea to keep doing. Why are we keeping this? If we got rid of it we'd have a lot more space.
So of course I emptied the trash and turned another bottle upside down on the jar.
Gotta be good for something, right?
Every time we'd empty one of those big jugs of Softsoap, we'd trun it upside down on top of this spare soap jar and let the last few drops drip out. Over the past 15 years, we've saved--wait for it--alomst a half a gallon of soap! A buck-seventy-five! And we never have used this soap, either. In the process we've stubbed our toes countless times, wasted probably what amounts to an hour just trying to get the one bottle to balance on top of the other, and managed to totally forget about what this little redneck modern-art sculpture was originally for. Maybe we're saving it for the apocalypse, or when the store is sold out of soap. Yeah, right. You spend three decades dead broke poor, though, and I guess old habits die hard.
I got to thinking, what is this even here for? Nobody could tell me. It just seemed like a good idea to keep doing. Why are we keeping this? If we got rid of it we'd have a lot more space.
So of course I emptied the trash and turned another bottle upside down on the jar.
Gotta be good for something, right?
Thursday, May 29, 2008
If you're in a hole...
...Stop digging. Don't get me wrong, I loved Boyd Coddington's taste(rest his soul) and thought he was a good, salt-of-the-earth man (ironic, no?), but this guy did everything ass-backwards when he went out to Bonneville.
For the past 40 years, there has been a mining operation going on near the Bonneville racecourses, where the miners collect the water runoff from the flats and direct it into huge setlling ponds, collecting potash from it. Then the salt would just sit there, when it should have been sitting out on the racecourses, building up a foot and a half thick. At one point, there were just a couple of inches of salt on the Flats. That's nowhere near enough to have Speed Week. That's the recipe for Stuck in the Mud Week.
Salt, when it has been wetted and allowed to dry, forms a surface very similar to concrete, or maybe plaster of paris. Anyone who went to Southmoor while they still had the Upper Field is familiar with this--it was dirt, but practically concrete. Out on the Slat Flats, though, the mud underneath the salt is frikkin' quicksand, just about. We can't have vehicles breaking through to that at five miles an hour, let alone 200.
Starting in 1997, Save the Salt was started; a program where the water from the holding tanks would be pumped back out over the Flats. In other words, they been repaving.
Of course, if rain hits right before Speed Week or the salt pumping hasn't deposited enough, the courses and the whole shebang have to be moved somewhere else.
You standin' on unstable ground, boy.
Here's the story of Boyd Coddington's visit in 2007, as published on the Bonneville website, http://www.saltflats.com/
_______________________________________
For the past 40 years, there has been a mining operation going on near the Bonneville racecourses, where the miners collect the water runoff from the flats and direct it into huge setlling ponds, collecting potash from it. Then the salt would just sit there, when it should have been sitting out on the racecourses, building up a foot and a half thick. At one point, there were just a couple of inches of salt on the Flats. That's nowhere near enough to have Speed Week. That's the recipe for Stuck in the Mud Week.
Salt, when it has been wetted and allowed to dry, forms a surface very similar to concrete, or maybe plaster of paris. Anyone who went to Southmoor while they still had the Upper Field is familiar with this--it was dirt, but practically concrete. Out on the Slat Flats, though, the mud underneath the salt is frikkin' quicksand, just about. We can't have vehicles breaking through to that at five miles an hour, let alone 200.
Starting in 1997, Save the Salt was started; a program where the water from the holding tanks would be pumped back out over the Flats. In other words, they been repaving.
Of course, if rain hits right before Speed Week or the salt pumping hasn't deposited enough, the courses and the whole shebang have to be moved somewhere else.
You standin' on unstable ground, boy.
Here's the story of Boyd Coddington's visit in 2007, as published on the Bonneville website, http://www.saltflats.com/
_______________________________________
Back to USFRA Home Page
Bonneville can be a tough place.
As you may have heard, at SpeedWeek 2007, Boyd Coddington star of TV’s American Hotrod show had a very tough couple of days. Boyd and his wife Jo were running a beautiful roadster, hoping for a class record, with a full TVcrew recording their racing efforts. As you will read, things went from bad to much much worse for the Coddington crew.
Ron Christenson (long time USFRA volunteer) was working the Speedweek 2007 Event in his usual position as Radio Announcer on 1610 AM radio announcing the event. He captured these photos and this inside story from his ringside seat.
Photos and Narrative by Ron Christensen
Thursday afternoon the Boyd Coddington race team, complete with a film crew for Speed TV's "American Hotrodder" was heading from the starting line to the 3- Mile after Jo Coddington (Boyd's wife) had just spun their roadster at about 180- MPH (and come really close to backing into the Timing Slips stand at great speed.) The motorhome headed for the return road just as it was supposed to do. Unfortunately it broke through the thin salt (the SpeedWeek tracks had to be relocated to a risky area after the rains a couple of weeks before the event). We normally wouldn't have been driving in this area as it is quite a distance east of the usual location of the track.
With the "American Hotrodder" film crew shooting away, the Coddington group tried to get the motorhome free but it had sunk in up to the axle and even with lots of digging it would not budge. So they called a tow truck to come and pull them out. The mood of the Coddington crew was sort of giddy . . . the seriousness of the predicament hadn't seem to have sunk in nearly as well as the motorhome had. They were all standing around laughing and drinking beers, having a great time.
Two vehicles (a very large wrecker and a flatbed) arrived about two hours later like the Lone Ranger and Tonto to the rescue . . . . The Coddington crew was certain it would be out of there in minutes and heading back to the casino in Wendover for dinner, gambling and more beers! Plans didn't quite work out as hoped as both rescue vehicles promptly got stuck not far from the motorhome. It should have been obvious that if the motorhome broke through, a big heavy wrecker didn't stand a chance. So there were now three stuck vehicles. The wrecker crews were heard to say something like "We'll just get 'Big Blue' in here . . . no problem!" More beers came out and the party continued.
At about 6:00 PM, I had to leave the salt about that time to go to the workers dinner at the Nugget and a party at an old friend's home in Wendover.
When I returned at about 10:30 p.m. to my radio trailer to spend the night I noticed there were lights in the area of the motorhome so I drove over there. Things had gone from bad to critical at the scene. The Coddington crew's mood had made a 180 degree change from when I left. They looked very sullen and an air of gloom hung over the group. I then surveyed the scene. "Big Blue" (the wrecker that would save the day) had arrived after I left and had been trying to pull the big yellow wrecker from the nice soft mud into which it had become so comfortable. The yellow wrecker which had been sitting so peacefully with the salt surface firmly against the undercarriage when I left was now at about a 40 degree angle with mud coming up about 6 feet to the door of the cab on the left side. It was wedged firmly into the landscape with its right side tires about a foot off the ground and about 100 feet of 4-foot deep trench indicating where Big Blue had dragged it in an attempt to free it from the clutches of the desert.
The dragging had only gotten it deeper into the mud. And to make matters even worse, Big Blue had gotten itself in about the same situation, sinking into the mud about 4 feet as it attempted to pull the yellow wrecker free. And in a last ditch effort to get the motorhome out it had managed to damage its boom winch and a tow cable was now stretched tight like a huge steel guitar string between it and the motorhome. The damaged winch would not release and they could not remove the cable. It was about 3 feet above the salt and about 1050 feet long which created quite a hazard. One of the Coddington crewmen had borrowed some orange cones from the race course return road to mark off the cable so no one would drive into it. Unfortunately one of their own crew drove their mini van right into it as he attempted to drive between the cones!
I struggled not to laugh at this comedy as it unfolded. Another pair of cables stretched between Big Blue and the yellow wrecker. Big Blue was sitting at an odd angle with its right rear wheels buried firmly in the mud. It looked a dog cleaning its backside on the carpet. Somehow they had managed to free the flatbed which they had backed in to try to free Big Blue and it too had become stuck again, this time much worse than before. The three rescue vehicles were in a nice tidy row, half buried and held in the firm grip of the clay-like mud that lies just below the surface of the salt. The scene resembled some sort of elephant hunt with three slain carcasses lying dead on the playa. The motorhome sat unmoved in the same spot it had found itself in when it started this fiasco, no doubt chuckling to itself at the mess it had created!
The muddied and sullen Coddington crew divided up and some of them stayed in the motorhome while another group left in the mini van with a fresh cable burn on its nose. It was pitch black out with no moon and they had no idea how to find their way back to the access road. I explained that they just needed to drive to the dike behind the starting line then follow it around until they encountered the row of cones that marked the route to the access road. I returned to my radio position at the starting line where I started to prepare the Cherokee Hotel for the night. I watched as the Coddington crew left in the mini van and drove past the starting lines then proceeded to head off in a northerly direction instead of following the dike to the west as I suggested. I could imagine them driving off into the darkness and getting stuck in the muddy area towards the mountains. A perfect end to their evening!
I decided to rescue them from another disaster and I chased them down in the Jeep then guided them to the coned route to the access road. They still had the water hazard at the end of the access road to negotiate. I explained that they MUST keep the relocated row of cones to the immediate right of their vehicle at all times as there were now 3 to 4 foot deep holes hidden under the surface of the water if they ventured off the marked path. I returned to my trailer and wished them luck.
The next morning the scene at the motorhome was revealed in all its glory! You can see the carnage in the photos. I wonder how or if they will "replace their divots." About 10:00 a.m. ANOTHER huge wrecker arrived. This one was even bigger than the big yellow one and it was equipped with a third axel on the back. They carefully backed it up and removed the motorhome, the flatbed, then "Big Blue." When I finally left they were still working on pulling the big yellow wrecker.
Your friends at the USFRA encourage you to be careful out there. Bonneville can be a very tough place!
______________________________
These folks have obviously never lived in real snow country. Treat the mud like deep snow, respect it, and it might not swallow your truck. Trouble is, unlike snow, mud doesn't go away by July. I mentioned a while back that if you get stuck in Colorado, wait and we'll dig you out, it's what we live for in the wintertime. Well, that and summer. That's really what we're doing, filling time while we wait for summer. Anyway, after all of this, we coulda gotten these boys out of that jam, without the huge three-axle wrecker and all the to-do. Of course, the mountain contingent might not dig 'em out, they were just so daggum stupid. But you can't just throw big iron at a break-through problem, just like you can't just floor it on the salt. One'll eat your truck, and the other will eat your tires.
Merry racing!
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
You ain't in Washington no more
I got this email the other day... rang so true. Folks, when you go to the South (primarily redneck country), you're not in your element anymore. Don't make fun of 'em, okay? Especially not in front of no 10-year-olds (you'll see why). I ain't from the South, Colorado born and raised, but a lot of this is true all over the country to some degree. I might amend the "four men in a pickup truck" one, though, to also include:
"If you get stuck in a snowstorm anywhere near civilization, don't worry, two or more people (odds are, they're going to be mountain rednecks) will be along with shovels and tow chains. 'Ya'll ain't from aroung here, are ya? See, we don't go uphill this time of the year.' It's what we live for. In the winter, at least. Even if the folks in question only have cars, trust me, they'll get you out of three foot snow. We know what we're doing; don't interfere."
The North and SouthThe North has Bloomingdale's, the South has Dollar General.
The North has coffee houses, the South has Waffle Houses.
The North has dating services, the South has family reunions.
The North has switchblade knives; the South has Lee Press-on Nails.
The North has double last names; the South has double first names.
The North has Indy car races; The South has stock car races.
North has Cream of Wheat, the South has grits.
The North has green salads, the South has collard greens.
The North has lobsters, the South has craw fish.
The North has the rust belt; the South has the Bible Belt.
FOR NORTHERNERS MOVING SOUTH . . . In the South: --If you run your car into a ditch, don't panic. Four men in a four-wheel drive pickup truck with a tow chain will be along shortly. Don't try to help them, just stay out of their way. This is what they live for.
Don't be surprised to find movie rentals and bait in the same store.... do not buy food at this store.
Remember, 'Y'all' is singular, 'all y'all' is plural, and 'all y'all's' is plural possessive.
Get used to hearing 'You ain't from round here, are ya?'
Save all manner of bacon grease. You will be instructed later on how to use it.
(I've been made fun of for this, but it's true. Bacon grease is an excellent foodstuff, and should not be wasted.)
Don't be worried at not understanding what people are saying. They can't understand you either.
The first Southern statement to creep into a transplanted Northerner's vocabulary is the adjective 'big'ol,' truck or 'big'ol' boy. Most Northerners begin their Southern-influenced dialect this way. All of them are in denial about it. The proper pronunciation you learned in school is no longer proper.
Be advised that 'He needed killin.' is a valid defense here.
If you hear a Southerner exclaim, 'Hey, y'all watch this,' you should stay out of the way. These are likely to be the last words he'll ever say.
If there is the prediction of the slightest chance of even the smallest accumulation of snow, your presence is required at the local grocery store. It doesn't matter whether you need anything or not. You just have to go there.
(except here in the Rockies, instead of the HILLS, where if anything less than three feet is predicted, your presence is required at work. Don't worry, we'll dig you out the first few times.)
Do not be surprised to find that 10-year olds own their own shotguns, they are proficient marksmen, and their mammas taught them how to aim.
In the South, we have found that the best way to grow a lush green lawn is to pour gravel on it and call it a driveway.
(Seriously, you want green stuff, act like you don't give a damn about it)
AND REMEMBER: If you do settle in the South and bear children, don't think we will accept them as Southerners. After all, if the cat had kittens in the oven, we wouldn't call 'em biscuits.
"If you get stuck in a snowstorm anywhere near civilization, don't worry, two or more people (odds are, they're going to be mountain rednecks) will be along with shovels and tow chains. 'Ya'll ain't from aroung here, are ya? See, we don't go uphill this time of the year.' It's what we live for. In the winter, at least. Even if the folks in question only have cars, trust me, they'll get you out of three foot snow. We know what we're doing; don't interfere."
The North and SouthThe North has Bloomingdale's, the South has Dollar General.
The North has coffee houses, the South has Waffle Houses.
The North has dating services, the South has family reunions.
The North has switchblade knives; the South has Lee Press-on Nails.
The North has double last names; the South has double first names.
The North has Indy car races; The South has stock car races.
North has Cream of Wheat, the South has grits.
The North has green salads, the South has collard greens.
The North has lobsters, the South has craw fish.
The North has the rust belt; the South has the Bible Belt.
FOR NORTHERNERS MOVING SOUTH . . . In the South: --If you run your car into a ditch, don't panic. Four men in a four-wheel drive pickup truck with a tow chain will be along shortly. Don't try to help them, just stay out of their way. This is what they live for.
Don't be surprised to find movie rentals and bait in the same store.... do not buy food at this store.
Remember, 'Y'all' is singular, 'all y'all' is plural, and 'all y'all's' is plural possessive.
Get used to hearing 'You ain't from round here, are ya?'
Save all manner of bacon grease. You will be instructed later on how to use it.
(I've been made fun of for this, but it's true. Bacon grease is an excellent foodstuff, and should not be wasted.)
Don't be worried at not understanding what people are saying. They can't understand you either.
The first Southern statement to creep into a transplanted Northerner's vocabulary is the adjective 'big'ol,' truck or 'big'ol' boy. Most Northerners begin their Southern-influenced dialect this way. All of them are in denial about it. The proper pronunciation you learned in school is no longer proper.
Be advised that 'He needed killin.' is a valid defense here.
If you hear a Southerner exclaim, 'Hey, y'all watch this,' you should stay out of the way. These are likely to be the last words he'll ever say.
If there is the prediction of the slightest chance of even the smallest accumulation of snow, your presence is required at the local grocery store. It doesn't matter whether you need anything or not. You just have to go there.
(except here in the Rockies, instead of the HILLS, where if anything less than three feet is predicted, your presence is required at work. Don't worry, we'll dig you out the first few times.)
Do not be surprised to find that 10-year olds own their own shotguns, they are proficient marksmen, and their mammas taught them how to aim.
In the South, we have found that the best way to grow a lush green lawn is to pour gravel on it and call it a driveway.
(Seriously, you want green stuff, act like you don't give a damn about it)
AND REMEMBER: If you do settle in the South and bear children, don't think we will accept them as Southerners. After all, if the cat had kittens in the oven, we wouldn't call 'em biscuits.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
What could possibly go wrong?
Let me get this straight...
You build a giant slingshot, very near to a large stand of trees. You strap yourself into it and have your buddy on a his ATV tow you at least 100 feet and then let you go.
You do not bring a helmet.
You do not bring a change of underwear.
What could possibly go wrong?
http://video.msn.com/?mkt=en-us&vid=33c89eca-bd1f-4ea4-8d97-f429c2b9cee0&playlist=videoByTag:tag:most%20watched%20viral:ns:MSNVideo_Top_Cat:mk:us:vs:0&from=MSNHP&tab=m1192124571607>1=28114
If I could embed, I would. Sorry.
You build a giant slingshot, very near to a large stand of trees. You strap yourself into it and have your buddy on a his ATV tow you at least 100 feet and then let you go.
You do not bring a helmet.
You do not bring a change of underwear.
What could possibly go wrong?
http://video.msn.com/?mkt=en-us&vid=33c89eca-bd1f-4ea4-8d97-f429c2b9cee0&playlist=videoByTag:tag:most%20watched%20viral:ns:MSNVideo_Top_Cat:mk:us:vs:0&from=MSNHP&tab=m1192124571607>1=28114
If I could embed, I would. Sorry.
Tuesday, January 1, 2008
An excellent invention
The world has been in great needof one of these, even though we didn't know it. This invention, the so-called "safetybike" was invented by, well, the guys you see in the video. As one astute commentor pointed out, "Your think tank was filled with beer, wasn't it?" This is something that I would probably build a version of and ride at some point. If I ever get around to it, I'll post photos. A wonderful example of what could be described as redneck ingenuity.
Notice the gloves and helmet. An excellent idea.
The wheel behind the driver's head confuses me.
Notice the gloves and helmet. An excellent idea.
The wheel behind the driver's head confuses me.
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.
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.
Thursday, November 8, 2007
Getting the Family Together
This is what happens when you get my family together.
At my great aunt's 60th wedding anniversary, she invited the whole family. That meant four different clans. If you're familiar with the town of Lamar in southeast Colorado, they own a tree farm there.
135 blood relatives came. A large portion of the town also showed up, including the whole fire department.
The aboveground pool had frogs in it.... that were put there on purpose. It was a game for all the youngsters (you know, up to 25 year old or so) to try to catch them. Whoever got the most would get an extra bag of fireworks that night.
The food and seating were shaded by tents-- tarps duct taped between 2x4s. Not because they couldn't afford proper tents, but because that would take more effort. We barbequed three sorts of canned meat and had an impromptu chilli cookoff. My second cousin Dusty won. The whole affair was being cooled by a swamp cooler-- the one they had just unbolted from their roof and set on blocks facing the tents.
After we ate, we decided to ride ATVs. Everyone who didn't bring their ATV decided to figure out a way to attach a gas motor from one of the old lawnmowers (five lawnmowers, one patch of grass on the whole property) to anything with wheels by some kind of belt. That and slingshots made from the elastic out of old underwear (again, not because nobody could afford it, but because if it don't fit no more, do something else with it) kept folks entertained the rest of the day.
At some point in the late afternoon, several young fellas from my mother's father's uncle's side of the family (gettin' complicated?) pulled up late for the party in their pickup truck, saying "Sorry we're late, Danny forgot the cannon."
...?
Yes, they had built a cannon out of some old pipe, bolted it to the pickup bed, and proceeded to start shooting bowling balls across the field. Then we'd race to go find them on our ATVs (or lawnmower-bicyles) and bring 'em back so we'd get to shoot. The fire marshall had a good time with this, too.
Speaking of whom, bear in mind that all fireworks that blow up or leave the ground (all the fun ones) have been banned in Colorado for around a decade. That's why the whole fire department was invited-- so folks could shoot off bottle rockets and other, bigger ordinance and not get arrested. Wine and dine them, and they'll give you permission, with or without a licencse.
It got dark, and the best frog-catcher got extra fireworks. There was quite a show. The aforementioned four-year old (see previous post), being only three at the time, was only allowed sparklers and smoke bombs... and the occasional small cracker when there were a few adults around.
At some point shortly after midnight, folks started packing up to leave.
This all seemed perfectly logical and rational to us, even the guys (no relation, just local boys) who thought about seeing if a generator would run on Jack. My point is, get much of my family together, and whether they admit it or not, there will be many redneck moments.
How about yours?
At my great aunt's 60th wedding anniversary, she invited the whole family. That meant four different clans. If you're familiar with the town of Lamar in southeast Colorado, they own a tree farm there.
135 blood relatives came. A large portion of the town also showed up, including the whole fire department.
The aboveground pool had frogs in it.... that were put there on purpose. It was a game for all the youngsters (you know, up to 25 year old or so) to try to catch them. Whoever got the most would get an extra bag of fireworks that night.
The food and seating were shaded by tents-- tarps duct taped between 2x4s. Not because they couldn't afford proper tents, but because that would take more effort. We barbequed three sorts of canned meat and had an impromptu chilli cookoff. My second cousin Dusty won. The whole affair was being cooled by a swamp cooler-- the one they had just unbolted from their roof and set on blocks facing the tents.
After we ate, we decided to ride ATVs. Everyone who didn't bring their ATV decided to figure out a way to attach a gas motor from one of the old lawnmowers (five lawnmowers, one patch of grass on the whole property) to anything with wheels by some kind of belt. That and slingshots made from the elastic out of old underwear (again, not because nobody could afford it, but because if it don't fit no more, do something else with it) kept folks entertained the rest of the day.
At some point in the late afternoon, several young fellas from my mother's father's uncle's side of the family (gettin' complicated?) pulled up late for the party in their pickup truck, saying "Sorry we're late, Danny forgot the cannon."
...?
Yes, they had built a cannon out of some old pipe, bolted it to the pickup bed, and proceeded to start shooting bowling balls across the field. Then we'd race to go find them on our ATVs (or lawnmower-bicyles) and bring 'em back so we'd get to shoot. The fire marshall had a good time with this, too.
Speaking of whom, bear in mind that all fireworks that blow up or leave the ground (all the fun ones) have been banned in Colorado for around a decade. That's why the whole fire department was invited-- so folks could shoot off bottle rockets and other, bigger ordinance and not get arrested. Wine and dine them, and they'll give you permission, with or without a licencse.
It got dark, and the best frog-catcher got extra fireworks. There was quite a show. The aforementioned four-year old (see previous post), being only three at the time, was only allowed sparklers and smoke bombs... and the occasional small cracker when there were a few adults around.
At some point shortly after midnight, folks started packing up to leave.
This all seemed perfectly logical and rational to us, even the guys (no relation, just local boys) who thought about seeing if a generator would run on Jack. My point is, get much of my family together, and whether they admit it or not, there will be many redneck moments.
How about yours?
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