Jefe called me last night to let me know that his place on the waiting list for 2005 Bordeaux futures paid off. He wanted to get a bottle of the worlds finest wine to place in his new cellar, so that it might be ready to drink when his daughter Alexa was old enough to sample it. In the greatest coincidence in modern times, the 2005 vintage (available as futures right now) is being hailed as one of the best...ever...so everything but the prices were coming together to make his desire a reality.
In a choice between the 2005 Chateau Latour and the 2005 Margaux Margaux, I told him he should be leaning towards the Margaux. It is arguably the best wine in the world; certainly a star from the left bank, but be prepared to pay very dearly. My GUESS was that his choice of wine and all the vintage hype would place this wine at $350 / bottle on the futures market. How wrong I was became apparent last night. K&L emailed Jefe to say they had 60 bottles allotted for futures, delivering sometime in 2008, he had to act NOW or they would be gone. The price?
A bank-draining $719 per bottle, and he bought one!
Now, you must keep in mind that 30-40 years from now, with proper cellaring, he may be able to sell that bottle for $2000+. But I know he won't. We will all gather for Alexa's 21st birthday, and if the tasting notes are favorable, it will be opened.
God I hope it isn't "corked" (corked is spoiling of the wine by cork fungus, A condition unknown to the drinker until it is opened).
Friday, June 30, 2006
Thursday, June 29, 2006
In flight
12 Second clip of Jefe and I puttting the Bullet through it's paces. Speed is around 78 Mph.
Wednesday, June 28, 2006
A photo from Lake X
My friend Joddi showing his best side, and messing up my boat!
More posted on my flickr page.
More posted on my flickr page.
Dirth of Eyes
I can admit it now...not many persons stop here. I guess not having a blogroll plays a large part of that, but I don't know much about doing it.
Experienced bloggers: Do you just butt in and link to any old blog you happen to like?
Is there blogging etiquette about linking? Is the blogroll something official? How do people build up so may linked sites?
These are serious questions; I am a blogosphere virgin (but willing to experiment!)
Experienced bloggers: Do you just butt in and link to any old blog you happen to like?
Is there blogging etiquette about linking? Is the blogroll something official? How do people build up so may linked sites?
These are serious questions; I am a blogosphere virgin (but willing to experiment!)
Sweet revenge
We had trout for dinner last night; payback for the two broken rods. I doubt these fish were personally responsible, but they became martyrs anyway.
Recipe:
Trout with prosciutto and Sage
4 Dressed trout (about 10 oz each)
Fresh Sage Leaves
prosciutto
Grated zest of 1 lemon
5 T unsalted butter
2 T fresh lemon juice
1 t fresh ground pepper
Salt
Olive oil
Score the trout 2-3 times on each side in the meaty part of the fish. Sprinkle with salt & pepper. Place 3 sage leaves inside fish and wrap fish with prosciutto. Brush fish lightly with olive oil. Preheat grill on medium heat.
Grill fish 4-5 minutes on each side, or until fish flakes easily with fork. While fish is cooking, melt butter over low heat in small saucepan. Add grated lemon zest, lemon juice, and pepper. Mix well.
Plate fish on warmed plates. Drizzle with 2-3 tablespoons of butter sauce.
Enjoy!
Recipe:
Trout with prosciutto and Sage
4 Dressed trout (about 10 oz each)
Fresh Sage Leaves
prosciutto
Grated zest of 1 lemon
5 T unsalted butter
2 T fresh lemon juice
1 t fresh ground pepper
Salt
Olive oil
Score the trout 2-3 times on each side in the meaty part of the fish. Sprinkle with salt & pepper. Place 3 sage leaves inside fish and wrap fish with prosciutto. Brush fish lightly with olive oil. Preheat grill on medium heat.
Grill fish 4-5 minutes on each side, or until fish flakes easily with fork. While fish is cooking, melt butter over low heat in small saucepan. Add grated lemon zest, lemon juice, and pepper. Mix well.
Plate fish on warmed plates. Drizzle with 2-3 tablespoons of butter sauce.
Enjoy!
Monday, June 26, 2006
Wallets in Business
AS I type this, I am trying to get my head around the phone call I just finished taking. One of my largest accounts is taking their business to my competitor. The news is apparently without any reason or explanation, and lacked any inkling of notice and discontent. It was also without regard, homage, or even passing acknowledgement of the 11 years of loyal service I provided them.
I was beat out by price, when I did not even know price was an issue. One of my salesmen even had an appointment there last week where price was discussed at length. Guess it never dawned on them to say it was too high after not having had a rate increase for 5 years. It seems to me a completely schizophrenic and damaging action.
I know how this shit works. A smaller brain but larger wallet bought someone off with a "hunting trip" or a country club membership in exchange for his business; it is the only power-trip these sleazy dead-enders are capable of in their limited career paths. I don't buy people, but I have been the victim of those who do. Like the megadeath song says: "take a mortal man, and put him in control...watch him become a God." Some slobish manager is now enjoying his turn as God, while he/she anticipates the all-expenses-paid trip to Disneyworld that just magically fell into their hands.
I fucking HATE being in business. It's a game with winners and losers, but you have to be a loser to win. I loathe those who disrespect, and display no sense of loyalty and common cause. I pity those who always buy the cheapest; detest those that can be bought...and moreso those who buy them. To the interested parties, I send a fart in your general direction (hey, there has to be SOME humor in this, right?)
Edit 06/27/06
(I was right. Super sleuthing on my part has revealed is was a week long fishing trip to Canada...totally Gratis. I just knew there was money involved; it's the only thing that makes rational people make irrational decisions.)
I was beat out by price, when I did not even know price was an issue. One of my salesmen even had an appointment there last week where price was discussed at length. Guess it never dawned on them to say it was too high after not having had a rate increase for 5 years. It seems to me a completely schizophrenic and damaging action.
I know how this shit works. A smaller brain but larger wallet bought someone off with a "hunting trip" or a country club membership in exchange for his business; it is the only power-trip these sleazy dead-enders are capable of in their limited career paths. I don't buy people, but I have been the victim of those who do. Like the megadeath song says: "take a mortal man, and put him in control...watch him become a God." Some slobish manager is now enjoying his turn as God, while he/she anticipates the all-expenses-paid trip to Disneyworld that just magically fell into their hands.
I fucking HATE being in business. It's a game with winners and losers, but you have to be a loser to win. I loathe those who disrespect, and display no sense of loyalty and common cause. I pity those who always buy the cheapest; detest those that can be bought...and moreso those who buy them. To the interested parties, I send a fart in your general direction (hey, there has to be SOME humor in this, right?)
Edit 06/27/06
(I was right. Super sleuthing on my part has revealed is was a week long fishing trip to Canada...totally Gratis. I just knew there was money involved; it's the only thing that makes rational people make irrational decisions.)
And two makes...
Jefe arrived sans wife to the Q Saturday, but he brought tidings of great joy.
They are pregnant with their second child!
Congratulations Jeff.
They are pregnant with their second child!
Congratulations Jeff.
Q' Recovery
My intestinal tract is just starting to recover from the weekends BBQ. It was GREAT!
Check for the pics soon on my flickr page. I ate so much stuff: Smoked pulled pork, smoked pork spareribs, rotisserie chicken, potato salad, coleslaw, BBQ beans, strawberries. Yikes! Did I mention all the beer? There was more beer in my house this weekend than since I quit using it as a nutritional source (college).
Anyway, it started off bad. I was majorly depressed and completely strung out about work issues Saturday morning. My incapacitation broke into anger when guests did not arrive at the time I thought they should. I was overreacting, but did not see it.
After a couple of rants...and a long spin around the countryside; I finally came to my senses and recovered. My problems are not to be displaced onto my friends...they did nothing wrong. It was me having a meltdown about things unrelated to friendships.
4 Red Stripe lagers later, I was finally able to relax and enjoy my friends and the event I had organized. I did so very much from then on. Everyone ate and ate....and ate some more. Gastronomically it was a huge success, but even more it turned out that spending time with some friends is exactly what I needed.
Check for the pics soon on my flickr page. I ate so much stuff: Smoked pulled pork, smoked pork spareribs, rotisserie chicken, potato salad, coleslaw, BBQ beans, strawberries. Yikes! Did I mention all the beer? There was more beer in my house this weekend than since I quit using it as a nutritional source (college).
Anyway, it started off bad. I was majorly depressed and completely strung out about work issues Saturday morning. My incapacitation broke into anger when guests did not arrive at the time I thought they should. I was overreacting, but did not see it.
After a couple of rants...and a long spin around the countryside; I finally came to my senses and recovered. My problems are not to be displaced onto my friends...they did nothing wrong. It was me having a meltdown about things unrelated to friendships.
4 Red Stripe lagers later, I was finally able to relax and enjoy my friends and the event I had organized. I did so very much from then on. Everyone ate and ate....and ate some more. Gastronomically it was a huge success, but even more it turned out that spending time with some friends is exactly what I needed.
Friday, June 23, 2006
Thursday, June 22, 2006
Hand to Fin Combat
I went trout fishing last night and broke yet another fishing rod. This is getting ridiculous. Thing is, I've got a rod blank on order to build myself a version of the "ultimate" trout stick. At the rate I've been going...it is doomed to certain breakage. The two rods I have already broken in combat with trout were just temps to get me through until the blank arrives. We are not talking about a $40 store bought rod breaking next time, but about a $250 magic wand, that I will have invested about 20 hours into crafting.
I've GOT to be more careful.
BTW: I caught my best Brookie of the year last night, a 16" beauty.
I've GOT to be more careful.
BTW: I caught my best Brookie of the year last night, a 16" beauty.
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
JEFE LIVES!
(in my best Micheal Buffer imitation)
LET'S GET READY TO RUUUMMBLLE!
L A D I E S and Gentlemen...
Replying with belated precision to the posts of this blog, and hailing from parts unknown...
He survived the ordeal of the Mothership, and battled his way back to claim victory over the herb in Madison.
His record stands at thousands of bottles, among them only two defeats by way of corking...
Please give a round of applause for...
The middleweight champion of the Midwest Crepe-off...
The Medicine Man...JEFE "The Talon" Halomaster.
(end Micheal Buffer)
Good to see you finally commenting. I thought I was going to have to resort to insults to draw you out.
LET'S GET READY TO RUUUMMBLLE!
L A D I E S and Gentlemen...
Replying with belated precision to the posts of this blog, and hailing from parts unknown...
He survived the ordeal of the Mothership, and battled his way back to claim victory over the herb in Madison.
His record stands at thousands of bottles, among them only two defeats by way of corking...
Please give a round of applause for...
The middleweight champion of the Midwest Crepe-off...
The Medicine Man...JEFE "The Talon" Halomaster.
(end Micheal Buffer)
Good to see you finally commenting. I thought I was going to have to resort to insults to draw you out.
KRuD
That's the nickname I gave to my sister when we were growing up. It's her initials with a strategically placed vowel, for meaning. Couple of nights ago, Krud and her kids had dinner with me at Mom and Dad's where she spent most of the time talking about her kids medical problems. We ended up arguing about it.
I happen to think that kids generally are born healthy, and we make them sick by sterilizing their environment and activities, abusing antibiotics, and "telling" them they can't eat such and such. She passes off them as "natural victims", nearly handicapped really, by their ailments; nothing to do with environment or her overreaction. "So and so is now allergic to strawberries". So and so "crashed" the other day from hypoglycemia. On and on and on...I don't get it. Someone better explain to me how you add allergies to food every year. A kid eats strawberries for 6 years, then becomes allergic? Bullhockey. Case in point: My wife believed for years that she was allergic to cats...Until we got one. Guess what, no allergies. Her mother had just always "told" her that she was; probably the result of an unfortunate coincidence in which some unrelated rash appeared after proximal contact with a cat.
Food allergies, skin allergies, asthma, hypoglycemia, dyslexia, ADHD...these kids are screwed. Not because they are sick, but because they are labeled.
I happen to think that kids generally are born healthy, and we make them sick by sterilizing their environment and activities, abusing antibiotics, and "telling" them they can't eat such and such. She passes off them as "natural victims", nearly handicapped really, by their ailments; nothing to do with environment or her overreaction. "So and so is now allergic to strawberries". So and so "crashed" the other day from hypoglycemia. On and on and on...I don't get it. Someone better explain to me how you add allergies to food every year. A kid eats strawberries for 6 years, then becomes allergic? Bullhockey. Case in point: My wife believed for years that she was allergic to cats...Until we got one. Guess what, no allergies. Her mother had just always "told" her that she was; probably the result of an unfortunate coincidence in which some unrelated rash appeared after proximal contact with a cat.
Food allergies, skin allergies, asthma, hypoglycemia, dyslexia, ADHD...these kids are screwed. Not because they are sick, but because they are labeled.
2nd Mortgage
OMFG, I am in serious trouble. Design Within Reach now has a line of dog products, including some by Wegman. If my wife discovers this, I will need to get a second mortgage and a storage unit.
The stuff is really cool though, if you are bent modernist like me. Macy Mae will now be drowning in chic accessories...That are destroyed just as competently as Fleet Farm's stuff.
The stuff is really cool though, if you are bent modernist like me. Macy Mae will now be drowning in chic accessories...That are destroyed just as competently as Fleet Farm's stuff.
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
Bloggers
At some point when you start telling people about your blog, do you feel constrained about what you can write? Now that people I know (other than Jefe) are reading this, it makes me feel like I can't be as open in what I write.
Does that make me fake in real life, or fake on this blog? Interesting questions.
Does that make me fake in real life, or fake on this blog? Interesting questions.
Monday, June 19, 2006
Got Kim Chee?
It's been probably a year since I screamed the warnings about N. Korea and it's nuclear program. Apparently, that dog now hunts. With a missile that experts believe is theoretically capable of hitting the West Coast of the US, now fueled and sitting ready on a launch pad in N Korea, the US is faced with an intelligence nightmare. We all know the skeptical nature and admitted failures of US intelligence leading to the Iraq invasion. What do we know about this situation? Given the admitted possession of nuclear weapons by N. Korea, can we afford to assume this missile is but a test? What if...Admittedly it is a big if...There is a warhead on this missile? Are we willing to again take the word of our intelligence analysts; this time down playing capabilities instead of hyping them, that N. Korea has NOT the capabilities of weaponizing an ICBM? A one-off shot at the US disguised as a "test" is not out of the realm of possibility. Suicidal, but not impossible for a deranged madman.
For intelligence to err in this case, would be potentially catastrophic instead of just politically inconvenient. If that missile flies...And it looks as if it might..."The rusty wire that holds the cork that keeps the anger in" could begin to unravel. I've said it before so I'll say it again; A N. Korean conflict would be the posterchild for escalation to a nuclear exchange. Unless we are to sit back and watch the slaughter of thousands of our S. Korean allies in Seoul, the US simply cannot contain and eliminate the N. Korean armed forces fast enough without going nuclear. It's a matter of their numbers, and our stretched resources.
Pay very close attention to this situation. N. Korea, or China via N. Korea, will be the flashpoint of the next global conflagration; it is but a matter of time. When it happens it will make Iraq look like a Sunday bake sale.
For intelligence to err in this case, would be potentially catastrophic instead of just politically inconvenient. If that missile flies...And it looks as if it might..."The rusty wire that holds the cork that keeps the anger in" could begin to unravel. I've said it before so I'll say it again; A N. Korean conflict would be the posterchild for escalation to a nuclear exchange. Unless we are to sit back and watch the slaughter of thousands of our S. Korean allies in Seoul, the US simply cannot contain and eliminate the N. Korean armed forces fast enough without going nuclear. It's a matter of their numbers, and our stretched resources.
Pay very close attention to this situation. N. Korea, or China via N. Korea, will be the flashpoint of the next global conflagration; it is but a matter of time. When it happens it will make Iraq look like a Sunday bake sale.
Ho Hum
Back from a hurried weekend on the pennisula. We golfed a little, and I slept a lot...Oh my, what fun. Jodi had fun anyway, and that is what counts with a Birthday wish.
This week I'll be preparing for the big 'Q Saturday, and I have a VERY important meeting on Thursday that I just wish was over with. Friday I will be off to smoke the pork shoulder all day so that Saturday can be reserved for the ribs. It will be a short, but busy week.
Geez I wish it was Friday.
This week I'll be preparing for the big 'Q Saturday, and I have a VERY important meeting on Thursday that I just wish was over with. Friday I will be off to smoke the pork shoulder all day so that Saturday can be reserved for the ribs. It will be a short, but busy week.
Geez I wish it was Friday.
Friday, June 16, 2006
I'm outta here!
Work today, then I'm headed to Door County for the weekend. Jodi wants to spend her birthday with her parents; I really don't want to go, but what can I say?
If I am smart....nothing.
I'm feeling smart today.
If I am smart....nothing.
I'm feeling smart today.
Thursday, June 15, 2006
Test Run
Last night I did a test smoke of my new, homemade smoker. It is a contraption composed of two LARGE clay flowerpots (one inverted on the other), an electric hot plate, a pan of hickory chunks and a round grill.
It worked wonderfully. The thermometer I placed in a hole in the top read beautiful 220 degree smoke rolling out of the vent. The real test was the burner held the temp for over an hour without the thermocouple fuse cycling. Test completed...Bring on the brined Boston butt.
13 hours in this bad boy will make hickory smoked meat that falls off the bone. I will probably build one more so that at the big BBQ bash on the 24th, I can smoke both ribs and the pork shoulder at the same time. People got to eat, and when they come over to my house, that is never a problem! Ya'll stay tuned for the results, yahear?
(Jefe, you have an advantage...You're going to be there. Too bad for reader #2 that they have not perfected smell-o-vision for Weblogs!)
It worked wonderfully. The thermometer I placed in a hole in the top read beautiful 220 degree smoke rolling out of the vent. The real test was the burner held the temp for over an hour without the thermocouple fuse cycling. Test completed...Bring on the brined Boston butt.
13 hours in this bad boy will make hickory smoked meat that falls off the bone. I will probably build one more so that at the big BBQ bash on the 24th, I can smoke both ribs and the pork shoulder at the same time. People got to eat, and when they come over to my house, that is never a problem! Ya'll stay tuned for the results, yahear?
(Jefe, you have an advantage...You're going to be there. Too bad for reader #2 that they have not perfected smell-o-vision for Weblogs!)
You're outta here!
The neighborhood ladies book club is meeting tonight at my house, what fun (NOT!) My wife stupidly took this on, as if she actually has time to read. Now she pines for a graceful way out as she realizes this is not really about books, but about touring each others houses.
The hostess of the party gets to select the next book for all to read, so I suggest she select the three volume chronicle of the Civil War, by Shelby Foote. Each paperback is about four inches thick, and yes, there are three of them. I've completed it...But just barely.
They either won't meet for another year, or she will be cast out of the club halfway through the first volume.
Problem solved.
The hostess of the party gets to select the next book for all to read, so I suggest she select the three volume chronicle of the Civil War, by Shelby Foote. Each paperback is about four inches thick, and yes, there are three of them. I've completed it...But just barely.
They either won't meet for another year, or she will be cast out of the club halfway through the first volume.
Problem solved.
Holy flood in the library of death!
Halo 3 in 2007, confirmed at Bungie.net complete with storyline hints and a trailer. I know I am a little late on this, but surfing around tracking the status of a video game release is not a high priority for me. I just read it, so cut me some slack. Looks like I better start pinching pennies, because the deadline for my X Box 360 purchase just got closer.
"I am upon you" says the Elite.
"I am upon you" says the Elite.
Wednesday, June 14, 2006
A marriage poem
My wife and I are having a tiff.
Minds that used to be flexible,
now have gone stiff.
We spat over dishes
We spar over work
While she plays the bitch,
I play the jerk.
It didn't alway used to be so.
Where, oh where, did our quiet times go?
They're buried in piles of selfish and mean;
the air, like our minds,
could stand to be cleaned.
So take to the laundry of rest and regroup,
some magic of old I wish to recoup.
If quarters go in, will cleansing take place?
I hope so.
I love her.
I need to save face.
Minds that used to be flexible,
now have gone stiff.
We spat over dishes
We spar over work
While she plays the bitch,
I play the jerk.
It didn't alway used to be so.
Where, oh where, did our quiet times go?
They're buried in piles of selfish and mean;
the air, like our minds,
could stand to be cleaned.
So take to the laundry of rest and regroup,
some magic of old I wish to recoup.
If quarters go in, will cleansing take place?
I hope so.
I love her.
I need to save face.
Tuesday, June 13, 2006
I should be dead
Sunday morning I was in the boat idling through the no-wake zone underneath the I-94 bridge on Lake Menomin, when something suddenly struck me. Not an object, but the memory of JUMPING OFF THAT BRIDGE as a stupid teenager. It's tall...Man is it tall! What on the deity's green Earth was I doing crawling out 30 yards on the superstructure, and then jumping in from that height? I estimate the point of departure to be 40-50 feet above the waterline. Either my huevos have shrunk or my brain has grown since then, because I would not do it today for anything...No way, no how!
Looking back, it's lucky that none of us idiots who did it died performing that little stunt.
Unbelievable.
Looking back, it's lucky that none of us idiots who did it died performing that little stunt.
Unbelievable.
Sad Day
Jodi's most recent canine patient, the St. Bernard Greta, has to be put down today. Tom and Jenny came out with Greta last night so that we might say goodbye, and we discussed the decision over copious amounts of wine. Predictably, Jodi was devastated that she could not have done more for Greta's therapy. Even I found myself tearing up; I have become quite attached to the pooch during our dog-sitting and therapy sessions as well.
Greta's pain has become unmanageable. All interested parties agree the time has come for action. She is such a sweetheart, it is a very tough decision.
I whispered to her last night to look up a couple of old friends when she gets where she is going. I'm sure my girls will be happy to run with her.
Greta's pain has become unmanageable. All interested parties agree the time has come for action. She is such a sweetheart, it is a very tough decision.
I whispered to her last night to look up a couple of old friends when she gets where she is going. I'm sure my girls will be happy to run with her.
Monday, June 12, 2006
What do you make of this?
Shooting sporting clays Sunday, there was a kid and his father in my group that I did not know. The other 3 people obviously knew them, but I was apparently the outsider.
At one of the stations known as the "rabbit" station (because the clays roll on the ground to simulate the bouncing flight of a rabbit), a real rabbit ran out of the brush. The kid, angry at his shooting performance I guess, shot and killed the rabbit for no goddamn reason other than the fact that he could. His father, along with everyone else but me, made jokes about it and laughed like there was no tomorrow.
Bastards. I felt ashamed to even be associated with these Cretins, but worse yet...
I said nothing. I'm already the outsider, why was I so afraid to become even more so?
If I had my way, the boy & his father would have been made...at gun point...to eat the rabbit raw on the spot. I guarantee they would never kill for fun again.
At one of the stations known as the "rabbit" station (because the clays roll on the ground to simulate the bouncing flight of a rabbit), a real rabbit ran out of the brush. The kid, angry at his shooting performance I guess, shot and killed the rabbit for no goddamn reason other than the fact that he could. His father, along with everyone else but me, made jokes about it and laughed like there was no tomorrow.
Bastards. I felt ashamed to even be associated with these Cretins, but worse yet...
I said nothing. I'm already the outsider, why was I so afraid to become even more so?
If I had my way, the boy & his father would have been made...at gun point...to eat the rabbit raw on the spot. I guarantee they would never kill for fun again.
Hola Senora Klein
I got an email from my birthmother Barb today, the first in a long abscence of communication. So many things have happened since last we E-versed, it was difficult to bring her in on all the details, but I at least got a start.
Welcome Barb, enjoy my insanity. Feel free to comment on anything you see fit, because your side of the adoption equation might make for some interesting posts.
My other two readers (I'm NOT counting myself Donna!) will make you feel right at home.
Welcome Barb, enjoy my insanity. Feel free to comment on anything you see fit, because your side of the adoption equation might make for some interesting posts.
My other two readers (I'm NOT counting myself Donna!) will make you feel right at home.
Friday, June 09, 2006
Ren & Stimpy Rules!
I caught a couple of old Ren & Stimpy cartoons last night, and I had forgotten just how funny and cutting edge they were. Happpy Happy Joy Joy! What a great thing to be entertained by cartoons at 37. I must really be lost, but...
Ren Hoek is my idol!
Ren Hoek is my idol!
Gomer phone home
I am really getting interested in this whole "Alien" thing recently. No, not the illegal types that shingled your roof last summer, but the kind from space. Ever since my encounter with the strange lights, I tend to be giving more credence to the idea of ET. I've always believed that the numbers of the Drake equation were undeniable...life simply MUST exist somewhere else in the vastness of the Universe; but only recently have I delved into the possibility that we may be closer to contact than I previously thought. I'm not a nut-job government conspiracy theorist; nor am I a Raelian, a Roswell fanatic, or a champion of most kinds of unprovable theories. I simply find the concept fascinating, but often promulgated with pre-set rules that simply need not apply.
For instance:
Who ever said that a potential alien life form HAD to be similar in size to Humans, HAD to be using Volkswagen sized interstellar craft...or had to be even visible, for that matter? What about the concept of an interstellar visitor that rides the energy of a thumbnail-sized craft? One who is itself, no bigger than the average insect? Thousands of these craft could enter our skies every minute, and no one would be the wiser. The fact of the matter is that there are thousands of scenarios where we could be being visited without our knowledge, but only one that eliminates it completely...namely that they don't exist. I'll go with the odds on this one; I can think of more reasons how it might be happening, than how it is not.
Here's a home brewed theory you won't hear on Nimoy's "In Search Of" any time soon.
What if we have been visited for thousands of years...but not contacted? The difference is subtle, but often overlooked. What if an alien species is meticulously cataloging the ENTIRE biota of Earth, and simply has not made it's way to the large hominid Homo Sapien? Only a Human would be as egocentric as to assume WE are the most interesting species on a planet housing millions of others. Conversely, maybe the catalogue WAS started with Humans, but that chapter was accomplished in 5000 B.C, and they have been moving along with the rest of the species ever since; seeing no need to pay any particular attention to the now hairless ape with a penchant for violence. If you landed on a planet, in the name of your science, which housed hundreds of thousands of new species...where would you start to make contact? With the ones who are most destructive? With the one's who appear the smartest, or the prettiest, or smelled the best? Would you start with the species of greatest perceived threat to you...or save the worst for last? An ET Steven Segall would dispense with the worst first...then work on the rest over martinis and a rub down. An ET Woody Allen would go to any length to avoid us, while nervously asking all the others about our true intentions. My guess is that we occasionally see glimpses of a Woody Allen visitor. If we ever meet the Steven Segall one, we won't be around to talk about it.
For instance:
Who ever said that a potential alien life form HAD to be similar in size to Humans, HAD to be using Volkswagen sized interstellar craft...or had to be even visible, for that matter? What about the concept of an interstellar visitor that rides the energy of a thumbnail-sized craft? One who is itself, no bigger than the average insect? Thousands of these craft could enter our skies every minute, and no one would be the wiser. The fact of the matter is that there are thousands of scenarios where we could be being visited without our knowledge, but only one that eliminates it completely...namely that they don't exist. I'll go with the odds on this one; I can think of more reasons how it might be happening, than how it is not.
Here's a home brewed theory you won't hear on Nimoy's "In Search Of" any time soon.
What if we have been visited for thousands of years...but not contacted? The difference is subtle, but often overlooked. What if an alien species is meticulously cataloging the ENTIRE biota of Earth, and simply has not made it's way to the large hominid Homo Sapien? Only a Human would be as egocentric as to assume WE are the most interesting species on a planet housing millions of others. Conversely, maybe the catalogue WAS started with Humans, but that chapter was accomplished in 5000 B.C, and they have been moving along with the rest of the species ever since; seeing no need to pay any particular attention to the now hairless ape with a penchant for violence. If you landed on a planet, in the name of your science, which housed hundreds of thousands of new species...where would you start to make contact? With the ones who are most destructive? With the one's who appear the smartest, or the prettiest, or smelled the best? Would you start with the species of greatest perceived threat to you...or save the worst for last? An ET Steven Segall would dispense with the worst first...then work on the rest over martinis and a rub down. An ET Woody Allen would go to any length to avoid us, while nervously asking all the others about our true intentions. My guess is that we occasionally see glimpses of a Woody Allen visitor. If we ever meet the Steven Segall one, we won't be around to talk about it.
Thursday, June 08, 2006
Bagging the butcher
Al-Zarqawi is dead. Amen to that, brother. There will undoubtedly be many stories in the coming days about how it was a "mistake" to kill him; he should have been captured, and made to face trial instead of allowed to become a martyr. Don't fall victim to this line of thinking. The major news outlets need something to print, and can't really overtly celebrate the death of anyone if they are to remain "objective".
Al-Zarqawi will indeed become a martyr amongst his loyal followers, fellow insurgents, and blood-thirsty beheaders everywhere. So what? They are ALL walking dead-men as far as the coalition and Iraqi Government is concerned anyway. It's doubtful that sincere and peaceful Muslims the world over are going to rally to HIS death; he's done more to harm Islam in the last 10 years than anybody could do if they tried.
Go ahead, you remaining killers of children, and continue rejoicing at the martyrdom of brother Abu in the Jihad of your creation. Your voice can then become a beacon for the next laser guided bomb.
Al-Zarqawi will indeed become a martyr amongst his loyal followers, fellow insurgents, and blood-thirsty beheaders everywhere. So what? They are ALL walking dead-men as far as the coalition and Iraqi Government is concerned anyway. It's doubtful that sincere and peaceful Muslims the world over are going to rally to HIS death; he's done more to harm Islam in the last 10 years than anybody could do if they tried.
Go ahead, you remaining killers of children, and continue rejoicing at the martyrdom of brother Abu in the Jihad of your creation. Your voice can then become a beacon for the next laser guided bomb.
Wednesday, June 07, 2006
The Mothership
This is so weird, but I know it is true because I have the picture to prove it.
On of my wife's co-workers was on vacation in CO, I think it was Vail or Aspen. When she returned, she was sharing the details of the vacation with my wife about what a great time they had. My wife is looking through the pictures, as this woman is explaining each one, and they get to a picture of two couples sitting around a table in a pub, and she says "we shared a table with this great couple for drinks, and I had the waitress snap this picture of us. They were really fun."
Jodi was stunned. The picture was none other than "The Mothership"....Jefe's mom! Jodi asked if she could have the picture, obviously knowing I would not believe her. The co-worker apparently never had a deep enough conversation with her table-mates, to make any kind of connection other than they "lived near her son".
So to recap. Two Wisconsinites share a table in a crowded bar in Colorado with a woman and her date from Arizona. The Arizona woman's son is the best friend of the Wisconsonite's co-workers husband...Me. That son even helped me cook a gourmet dinner for the Wisconsonite, who is now partying with his Mother, a thousand miles from any common geographical reference.
Nobody knows anything about anybody, until Jodi sees the picture weeks later. How weird is that?
PS. Jefe, hope I did not offend you by posting about the mothership!
On of my wife's co-workers was on vacation in CO, I think it was Vail or Aspen. When she returned, she was sharing the details of the vacation with my wife about what a great time they had. My wife is looking through the pictures, as this woman is explaining each one, and they get to a picture of two couples sitting around a table in a pub, and she says "we shared a table with this great couple for drinks, and I had the waitress snap this picture of us. They were really fun."
Jodi was stunned. The picture was none other than "The Mothership"....Jefe's mom! Jodi asked if she could have the picture, obviously knowing I would not believe her. The co-worker apparently never had a deep enough conversation with her table-mates, to make any kind of connection other than they "lived near her son".
So to recap. Two Wisconsinites share a table in a crowded bar in Colorado with a woman and her date from Arizona. The Arizona woman's son is the best friend of the Wisconsonite's co-workers husband...Me. That son even helped me cook a gourmet dinner for the Wisconsonite, who is now partying with his Mother, a thousand miles from any common geographical reference.
Nobody knows anything about anybody, until Jodi sees the picture weeks later. How weird is that?
PS. Jefe, hope I did not offend you by posting about the mothership!
Monday, June 05, 2006
I sound like Harvey Feinstein
Friday's dinner was really great, but then Saturday morning I was ill. Not ill from the food like a poisoning, this is just a good old fashioned summer cold. Thrown in with my allergies (which are RAGING right now), it caused me to be pretty much bed ridden all weekend. I've lost my voice almost completely, what comes out now is a gravelly bed of baritone squeaks.
It was beautiful here the last two days. Everyone was doing fun things like canoeing, fishing and riding the bike trails. I was wrapped up in bed, sweating this thing out.
Being sick sucks.
It was beautiful here the last two days. Everyone was doing fun things like canoeing, fishing and riding the bike trails. I was wrapped up in bed, sweating this thing out.
Being sick sucks.
Friday, June 02, 2006
Let's kick it up a notch
J is plying me for information the other day about who I did and did not have, physical relations with in high school. Since I was one of the "popular" people, and he was in a different clique, he must like to live vicariously through my experiences with girls he never had a shot at. It's all I can figure. Men DO talk about these things...Contrary to popular opinion, and especially when trapped in a boat with each other for 8 hours. The topic is ancient history, and not as offensive as it initially sounds.
Anyway.
He starts telling ME about girls he got physical with that we went to high school with (I was not asking for this info!), and he gets to a certain name and uses the phrase "made love" instead of "nailed", "banged" "boinked" or "did".
"Wait a minute" I say. "Why did you just say the two of you "made love" instead of a more colorful term." He thinks for a minute, and can't really give me a reason except that he now associates that phrase with that experience.
"J, this is a goddamn social quandary" I say. "The social scientist in me is demanding you think about this, and give me a satisfactory explanation as to why you "make love" to one person, and "get laid" with someone else. I'm not chalking this up to semantics".
"Could it be who initiated the encounter?" I say.
"Could it be the duration of the encounter?"
"Could it be the level of enjoyment of the encounter?"
"Could it be a factor of effort expended to GET the encounter?"
"Could it be the number of times the encounters happened"?
"I don't think any of those are it" he says. "I think it's more that I THOUGHT I was in love with her at the time, so I subconsciously used that phrase because that is how I remember feeling about it".
"So you used the rest of them for sex." I said. "Could it be that THEY are the ones that subconsciously get the unflattering term in retrospect, out of your guilt?"
"You wanna get punched don't ya...Keep it up Gomer and you'll get what you want"
I think I found the answer. Unfortunately I had known it all along, having come to grips with and corrected my past objectification of women years ago. I simply helped another man to breakthrough in a Dr. Phil moment, and admit the majority of his sexual experiences were of the "using" variety, however innocent and consensual they appeared at the time.
PS. J is not a misogynist, wife beater or abuser of women in any way shape or form. Never has been and never will be. He is a super nice guy, responsible father and loving husband. I post this simply to expose how perceptions change with time. What is acceptable...Even desirable...At one point in your life, can be viewed differently later on. This type of information is universally missing from young men's sexual educations, just as it was with my generation. Sadly, more and more women are following in mens shoes these days. More and more I see young college girls treating men as objects and conquests. They too will someday realize that casual sex was a meaningless, dangerous, and degrading act for both participants.
They may even feel a little guilty.
Anyway.
He starts telling ME about girls he got physical with that we went to high school with (I was not asking for this info!), and he gets to a certain name and uses the phrase "made love" instead of "nailed", "banged" "boinked" or "did".
"Wait a minute" I say. "Why did you just say the two of you "made love" instead of a more colorful term." He thinks for a minute, and can't really give me a reason except that he now associates that phrase with that experience.
"J, this is a goddamn social quandary" I say. "The social scientist in me is demanding you think about this, and give me a satisfactory explanation as to why you "make love" to one person, and "get laid" with someone else. I'm not chalking this up to semantics".
"Could it be who initiated the encounter?" I say.
"Could it be the duration of the encounter?"
"Could it be the level of enjoyment of the encounter?"
"Could it be a factor of effort expended to GET the encounter?"
"Could it be the number of times the encounters happened"?
"I don't think any of those are it" he says. "I think it's more that I THOUGHT I was in love with her at the time, so I subconsciously used that phrase because that is how I remember feeling about it".
"So you used the rest of them for sex." I said. "Could it be that THEY are the ones that subconsciously get the unflattering term in retrospect, out of your guilt?"
"You wanna get punched don't ya...Keep it up Gomer and you'll get what you want"
I think I found the answer. Unfortunately I had known it all along, having come to grips with and corrected my past objectification of women years ago. I simply helped another man to breakthrough in a Dr. Phil moment, and admit the majority of his sexual experiences were of the "using" variety, however innocent and consensual they appeared at the time.
PS. J is not a misogynist, wife beater or abuser of women in any way shape or form. Never has been and never will be. He is a super nice guy, responsible father and loving husband. I post this simply to expose how perceptions change with time. What is acceptable...Even desirable...At one point in your life, can be viewed differently later on. This type of information is universally missing from young men's sexual educations, just as it was with my generation. Sadly, more and more women are following in mens shoes these days. More and more I see young college girls treating men as objects and conquests. They too will someday realize that casual sex was a meaningless, dangerous, and degrading act for both participants.
They may even feel a little guilty.
Weeksend
John and Lynn are meeting my wife and I at Mona's in Eau Claire tonight. Mona's has some of the best rustic Italian cuisine I have ever had; plus a phenomenal wine list.
I'm hoping to get some early morning fishing in tomorrow before the heat and bugs start. There has been ample amounts of both lately...Miserable amounts really.
I have no idea what is happening the rest of the weekend. I imagine I will watch some TV or take a nap, get in trouble for it, then do some house cleaning to make amends. I also imagine the lawn will need cutting and various kinds of crap like that. Imagination is about as far as that will go. F*** the grass, and all my neighbors as well, for looking down on me because I refuse to worship at the altar of the traditional lawn. At least I am not polluting the lake with all those pesticides and fertilizers!
My buds J, Jefe and John are all busy this weekend...So I'm out of luck there.
Sheesh, I just realized all three of my friends names start with "J" and so does my wife's. Is there anything to that? Do I have a "J" fetish or something?
Overall it's looking like a HOT, lazy, and unproductive couple of days.
Straight from the template of Summer. Awesome.
I'm hoping to get some early morning fishing in tomorrow before the heat and bugs start. There has been ample amounts of both lately...Miserable amounts really.
I have no idea what is happening the rest of the weekend. I imagine I will watch some TV or take a nap, get in trouble for it, then do some house cleaning to make amends. I also imagine the lawn will need cutting and various kinds of crap like that. Imagination is about as far as that will go. F*** the grass, and all my neighbors as well, for looking down on me because I refuse to worship at the altar of the traditional lawn. At least I am not polluting the lake with all those pesticides and fertilizers!
My buds J, Jefe and John are all busy this weekend...So I'm out of luck there.
Sheesh, I just realized all three of my friends names start with "J" and so does my wife's. Is there anything to that? Do I have a "J" fetish or something?
Overall it's looking like a HOT, lazy, and unproductive couple of days.
Straight from the template of Summer. Awesome.
Thursday, June 01, 2006
Enough about C. This is the last one
Here is the story that I will forever remember as one of the funniest series of events I ever saw. I'm sure you won't even crack a smile, because you don't know C and what he looked like, but here goes. Picture John Belushi when you're reading this...It might help.
C and I were scheduled to fish a tournament on a local lake, right in town as a matter of fact. At most, C's house was a mile from the boat ramp, so this would not be as early a morning as some. To C, this meant he could just stay out later and drink more. C had been, at this point, married for about a month. The Canada episode that would mark the end of our friendship, was a couple of months away.
I arrived at C's house around 6 AM that morning and waited out front for the light to go on, indicating he knew I was there. After a couple of minutes with no light, I knew I was going to have to wake him up. I also knew that there was now a very good chance that C was still drunk from a night of parties. It was going to be one of those mornings that had become all too familiar for me regarding C, but somehow still managed to be amusing enough that I let it continue.
I banged on the door...No response. The dogs were yapping non-stop inside, the kind of thing you just can't sleep through. Still no one answered. I let myself into the house, looked in the TV room, then went up the steps to C's bedroom. Sure enough, there he was. He was laid out in a tornado of sheets, his belly hanging over the side of the bed, snoring mercilessly while a fan blew directly at his head. I gently woke him up (you take your chances surprising a 300 pound drunk brawler) and he started to pull himself together and out of bed. He did not even know I was there. Instead, he stumbled naked over to the patio door and proceeded to piss through the screendoor, mumbling the whole time about "who the F*** was talking to him". When he was finished, he stumbled back to the bed and was snoring with 5 seconds.
I made an interesting observation to myself...His wife was not in the bed. No wife in the entire house to be exact. "That explains the drunkfest" I say to myself, but regardless I had to get C going, so I started yelling his name about a foot from his head.
I had not even gotten the first syllable out of my mouth, when C bolted straight up in bed, coming to rest sitting on the edge. His eyes were as big as saucers; so wide I thought his eyeballs would fall out of their sockets. He looked at me, then at the bed, then back to me, and eventually all around the room.
"C, get up man, we're late" I shouted directly in his drunk face, to no response. His eyes still resembled pie plates.
"Where the hell is (his wife) J------?" I yell at him.
His eyes again scanned the bed, the room, and eventually met my own. Then a long pause of revelation ended in near instant sobriety.
"GOOD QUESTION!" he says emphatically.
I have laughed for years replaying those two words in my head. It was classic C. The expression on his face was like a psychotic Hulk Hogan that had just been hit in the nuts with a folding chair. It was priceless.
C and I were scheduled to fish a tournament on a local lake, right in town as a matter of fact. At most, C's house was a mile from the boat ramp, so this would not be as early a morning as some. To C, this meant he could just stay out later and drink more. C had been, at this point, married for about a month. The Canada episode that would mark the end of our friendship, was a couple of months away.
I arrived at C's house around 6 AM that morning and waited out front for the light to go on, indicating he knew I was there. After a couple of minutes with no light, I knew I was going to have to wake him up. I also knew that there was now a very good chance that C was still drunk from a night of parties. It was going to be one of those mornings that had become all too familiar for me regarding C, but somehow still managed to be amusing enough that I let it continue.
I banged on the door...No response. The dogs were yapping non-stop inside, the kind of thing you just can't sleep through. Still no one answered. I let myself into the house, looked in the TV room, then went up the steps to C's bedroom. Sure enough, there he was. He was laid out in a tornado of sheets, his belly hanging over the side of the bed, snoring mercilessly while a fan blew directly at his head. I gently woke him up (you take your chances surprising a 300 pound drunk brawler) and he started to pull himself together and out of bed. He did not even know I was there. Instead, he stumbled naked over to the patio door and proceeded to piss through the screendoor, mumbling the whole time about "who the F*** was talking to him". When he was finished, he stumbled back to the bed and was snoring with 5 seconds.
I made an interesting observation to myself...His wife was not in the bed. No wife in the entire house to be exact. "That explains the drunkfest" I say to myself, but regardless I had to get C going, so I started yelling his name about a foot from his head.
I had not even gotten the first syllable out of my mouth, when C bolted straight up in bed, coming to rest sitting on the edge. His eyes were as big as saucers; so wide I thought his eyeballs would fall out of their sockets. He looked at me, then at the bed, then back to me, and eventually all around the room.
"C, get up man, we're late" I shouted directly in his drunk face, to no response. His eyes still resembled pie plates.
"Where the hell is (his wife) J------?" I yell at him.
His eyes again scanned the bed, the room, and eventually met my own. Then a long pause of revelation ended in near instant sobriety.
"GOOD QUESTION!" he says emphatically.
I have laughed for years replaying those two words in my head. It was classic C. The expression on his face was like a psychotic Hulk Hogan that had just been hit in the nuts with a folding chair. It was priceless.
Scary
I found out yesterday that someone a year behind me in high school died of a massive heart attack last weekend. He was 35 years old, with a 3 month old infant.
If that does not make you take stock of your condition as an out-of-shape, 37 year old man...You're an idiot.
I really need to start exercising again. But wait, if the same thing happened to me, my wife would get a million bucks, and her financial future would be secure. In the interest of her future happiness...
I'm headed to McDonalds.
If that does not make you take stock of your condition as an out-of-shape, 37 year old man...You're an idiot.
I really need to start exercising again. But wait, if the same thing happened to me, my wife would get a million bucks, and her financial future would be secure. In the interest of her future happiness...
I'm headed to McDonalds.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
